"Extra! Extra! 'Blackwater Slasher' claims third victim! Lurid details revealed!" a newsboy hawked his papers to the disembarking passengers.
John Marston walked down the ramp onto the pier in Blackwater. The two "government men", Ross and Fordham, flanked him as they made their way to Blackwater Station. Marston noticed how empty the streets looked.
"What day is this...Sunday? Where is everyone?"
"Tuesday, you moron," Ross grumbled, "And I assume many of the good folk of Blackwater are seeking what safety they can find...behind locked doors or perhaps kneeling in church. Don't tell me that you haven't felt something over the past few months? Sure, New Austin has always been a little odd...full of local color, superstition and legends. Even I've seen some shit I can't explain, but not like this...this is different.
"There's a malevolence that's stirring, Marston. Maybe Judgment Day...maybe the stars are finally right...crazy badness is coming, mark my words. I'd be vigilant, if I were you. Williamson may end up being the least of your worries, though I wouldn't recommend taking too long with that little chore, either. It could be bad for your heart." Ross laughed gruffly and slapped John on the back, right on the geas mark.
The ride into Armadillo was uneventful. John half listened to the conversations of his fellow travelers. Two old biddies behind him kept up a near constant scathing dismissal of just about every topic they could think off. A man of God in the seat ahead appeared to be providing spiritual guidance to the young woman beside him. John had never had much use for "men of God", himself. Some of the biggest liars and thieves he'd ever met had hid behind a Bible. The two biddies had changed their topic of discussion to Spiritualism.
"Do we really have to go all the way to Armadillo for this session, Mrs. Ditkiss? It's so dusty and, frankly, a bit dangerous?" said the lady on the aisle.
"Don't I know it, Mrs. Bush, but Mrs...um, I mean Madame Frigozi lives all the way out in Rathskeller's Fork. Seems Armadillo is the closest East she's willing to come for the séance. I guess we should feel fortunate that we don't have to take a stagecoach all the way out there. I hear she's really good, too...we're lucky to get her. She get's excellent results with a ouija board, or so I am told. Mrs. Carver and Mrs. Gaines will be there already. They left last night to stay with Mrs. Carver's son. I'm a little put off that we have to meet in the back room of a common saloon, though. Civilization and culture cannot come to this land fast enough for me!"
"Aren't we running a bit late, Mrs. Ditkiss? It's nearly noon, and I thought that we were supposed to start by then?" Mrs. Bush fretted. She seemed to end every statement with a questionmark.
"Oh, indeed...I wouldn't even be surprised if they've started without us. I'm sure the 'Widow' Carver will once again try to reach her husband. Humph...If you ask me, he's not even deceased, just ran off with that secretary of his. I warned the stupid woman to not allow her husband a female secretary."
Both ladies cackled and continued to cluck and sniff about this and that.
One other passenger caught John's eye...a handsome young woman who looked more rancher than fine lady, but she wore it well. The woman locked eyes with him as she walked up the aisle of the train. She sat down near the front, then glanced over her shoulder at him with a concerned frown. John simply nodded to the woman, which caused her frown to deepen a bit...she then turned back around and ignored him for the rest of the trip.
The sky was heavy and gray as the train pulled into the station at Armadillo. A few raindrops started to fall.
"Well, here we are, Mrs. Bush...Armadillo."
After leaving the train, John walked through the small station and made his way to the local saloon. Ross had told him he would meet up with a man named Jake, who would lead him up to the last known location of Williamson. Before entering, he lit a cigarette, leaned against a post, and took a moment to look up and down the muddy street that ran through town. The place was small, but seemed to be doing well for itself. He heard they even had a place that showed those moving picture shows. With a final puff, he flung his cigarette butt into the street and turned to go inside. The swinging doors of the saloon creaked audibly above the ragtime music being banged out on the slightly out-of-tune upright piano.
"Mr. Marston? Mr. Marston! Over here!"
The call came from a grizzled old coot over on a couch, who...with a look of regret...shooed away the young working girl in front of him and waved John on over.
"You must be John Marston," the old man said.
"Sometimes..."
"I'm Jake...your friends from Blackwater hired me ta' guide ya'."
"They ain't my friends, but pleased to meet you Jake."
"I got the horses saddled up an' ready out front."
As the two men turned to leave, every piece of glass in the place...window panes, shot glasses, bottles, even a man's spectacles...cracked or shattered. A piercing scream rang out from somewhere behind the bar, and a well dressed, clearly terrified older woman ran out through a door. Her eyes were wide and mad with fear.
"HELP! It's HORRIBLE! Madame Frigozi..."
...and with that, the woman promptly fainted. The sky outside turned as black as night, and a foul stench suddenly blew through the saloon on a cold wind. Without even thinking, John bolted for the back room, hand on his pistol. The barkeeper and a couple of other men followed.
Through the door, John saw Mrs. Ditkiss...from the train...standing in the doorway of a second room, her back turned towards him. An eerie, bluish-green light streamed out of the room. Another woman, who John didn't recognize, stumbled out of the room as well. She fell to her knees and clutched John's hand.
"I was looking for my husband! Oh, God...she was contacting my poor Louis...but THAT'S not Louis! Louis wouldn't float in the air! Louis wouldn't flay poor Mrs. Bush!" The woman collapsed on to the floor, blubbering and cowering.
John continued to the doorway, pushed the silent Mrs. Ditkiss aside, and glanced into the room. Hell looked back at him.
A pale-skinned woman, presumably Madame Frigozi, was floating up near the ceiling, thrashing and howling. Her face was twisted in rage and...something else. Her mouth seemed to open way too wide, and was full of sharp, pointy teeth. Her lips, gums and eye sockets were very dark, but her eyes were solid white. Her gray hair, once in a prim bun, was floating around her face as if she were underwater. In one claw-like hand, she gripped what appeared to be a skinless human corpse by the throat. Gore was dripping down like rain from the mutilated body, sprinkling the floor and lower walls. With her other hand, she threw down to the floor what must have been the flayed skin and shredded clothes of the poor woman. John could still make out Mrs. Bush's features in the mask-like skin of the face...mouth open and eyes empty.
"Holy SHIT!" the bartender gasped, as he brought up his shot gun and began firing up at the monstrosity. The blasts seemed to hit...one of her legs hung limply from a few tendons, and a large, wet hole appeared in her chest...but the abomination just grinned at the shooter and flung the body of her victim across the room. It hit the bartender square in the chest, knocking him down to the floor. He shrieked in terror as he tried to crawl backwards as fast as he could, pushing at the grisly weight laying on top of him. All the blood that covered him made it quite slippery. Another man dropped to his knees and began loudly praying.
"FOOLS! Free we are now! Free to take our pleasures in this realm! The doors are open! Your useless weapons and meager faith will not stop the advance! Nekoti stirs...and seeks to feed once more! Greet your once and future master and despair, for Nekoti draws nigh!" When it spoke, it's voice sounded like several people speaking in unison, simultaneously a deep growl and a shrill, keening whine. The sound made the back of John's eyes itch and brought bile to his throat.
The creature flung itself through the air, latching onto the throat of the man praying. His scream was cut short as his head neatly popped off of his shoulders. Blood pumped up out of the stump, and the monster placed it's wide mouth over the stump and gulped greedily.
While the other men either screamed in sheer panic or ran, John noticed something on the floor. A board of thin wood, upon which were painted letters and numbers. The board looked warped, even slightly out of focus, and felt very wrong in his hands when he impulsively picked it up. It hummed in his grip like a hive full of bees.
"Hey! You ugly bitch! Is this something you need?" John shouted at the monster. It turned its head around on its shoulders, like an owl, and stared at John. When it saw what he was holding, it dropped the headless corpse and made the loudest scream yet.
It once again rose up into the air, and held its claws out towards John. Before it had a chance to spring upon him, John took the ouija board and smashed it against the edge of the table. The thin wood broke into flinders, and instantly the very dead body of Madame Frigozi fell unceremoniously to the sticky, red floor.
For a few moments, John just struggled to catch his breath and make some sense of what he had just witnessed. His heart raced in his chest...crazy badness, indeed. Only Mrs. Ditkiss was still present, still standing in the doorway. Her jaw was slack and her stare was utterly blank...a bit of drool hung from her chin.
"Pardon me, Mame," John said quietly as he pushed past her. Unbeknownst to John, Mrs. Ditkiss would spend the rest of her days in this catatonic state, occasionally silently crying tears of blood. In the main saloon area, only Jake was left.
"Mr. Marston...we'd better go, now. We don't need to draw undue attention."
John just glared sideways at him as the two men went outside to find their horses and ride to Fort Mercer.