Is this chapter too short? I tried to add to it, but I just felt like I was adding unnecessary stuff just to make it longer, so I deleted it. Let me know. Thank you, readers and reviewers, and I apologize for flooding you with so much writing in the past few days.
Also, even though we never saw any horses in the game, I'm going to say that some people travel in horse-drawn wagons out in the country.
9
Twenty-One
I think I am going to be sick. The scene is that of carnage and destruction, something that can only be done by very cruel men. I am one of them, and I stand among the other five.
The day is hot, and my skin swelters in the sun. I can see heat rising from the ground, and we are all sweating. The smell of death wafts thickly through the air, never thinning, even as it spreads, and the other men are laughing and rummaging through the wagon. Usually, this would be my favorite part of a robbery, looking through all the loot, but the blood and the bodies are a bit off-putting.
Why did I fire the gun? I should have just let Lex or Dusty do it. They were standing near me, but I wanted to prove myself to some nobody-bandit. Or maybe I just didn't care, until I actually took a good look at my target.
"He's running," Jarvis had said. "Shoot him!" I turned and shot without a moment's hesitation, but I wish I had hesitated. Then, maybe I would have seen him a little better.
His body lies a little ways down the dirt road; the boy didn't make it too far. He is thin, face-down in muddy blood. The bag he carries on his back is ripped, and some of the items have fallen onto the road. I see a toy horse, a pencil, a wooden compass, and a melted piece of caramel candy, wrapped in wax paper. I take the horse and the compass, stuffing them into my bag, and leave the rest.
I turn and raise my pistol, my heart beating quickly in the middle of all the action. All in that moment's time, I can hear screaming. A woman screams behind me, and someone is yelling at her. A man moans in pain.
"No," someone keeps saying. "No, no, no!" My pistol is aimed at the moving target. It is slow, and I can shoot it without even thinking. I squeeze the trigger, and that is when I realize...
I join the others at the wagon, where the bodies of a man, a woman, and a horse lie. The horse is still attached. I step around the blood, sticking my head inside the wagon with everyone else. What is this junk worth?
Lighters, cigarettes, little candies, chewing gum, and other trinkets. The man must have been a peddler. Boone has found the suitcases and opens them, throwing assorted clothes onto the ground, and Brady studies the man's shoes.
"These are worse than mine," he says, frowning.
I see the man first, as the wagon passes by. Jarvis shoots the horse, and the man and woman go flying off the front. The horse is panicked, and Jarvis shoots it dead. Now, it is time for the rest of us to strike.
The flies have already started to gather around the bodies, and I take my eyes off of them. I need to do my job. I don't know what's gotten into me. I knew that people were going to die, didn't I?
I guess I didn't realize that everyone we robbed would die.
The man is the second to die. He is shot in the stomach, and Brady takes his gun from him before he can even reach for it. Jarvis and Boone have the woman, and she shrieks as they drag her behind the wagon. I help Lex turn the wagon on its side, while Dusty tries to detach the horse from it. He does not know how to do it, though.
We all reach into the wagon, stuffing our bags with greedy hands. Most of it we'll give to a contact in Dunwall, who will sell it. I don't know him, but Jarvis says he can get good prices for even the cheapest junk.
I want to be excited. I was so eager to start last night, but for some reason I am being... difficult. Whatever I am feeling, I need it to leave. It is only holding me down.
I'm probably just angry because Nico isn't here to do the dirty work for me. I hope he misses me too.
"I hope you're not planning on cooking that for dinner, tonight," I say to Jarvis, pointing at the horse. His gray eyes lock onto mine.
"No, of course not," he says lightly. "Because you're the one who's cooking it." We laugh, and I relax a bit. Just a bit, though.
Something jumps out of the back of the wagon as we tip it, running around the opposite side.
"He's running," Jarvis yells. "Shoot him!" My pistol is out, and I am ready. I turn my head to the right, straightening my arm to aim. The target moves straight down the road, and I know this will be an easy hit. There is chaos behind me, but I pay no attention to it. It is nothing but useless, meaningless noise. Right now, it is only me and my target. I hold my breath and - no. No. NO.
Not again.
My bag is filled, and I wait for everyone else to finish. Lex holds something in his hand, turning to me.
"Here, Martin, try one of these," he says. "They're the cigarettes that the rich people smoke." I take it from Lex's fingers, and light it, inhaling smoothly. The smoke is flavorful and strong, and I look at the smoking paper in my hand, thinking back to my first cigarette. I hated it the first time. I remember wondering why anyone would smoke, but I kept on smoking, and after a while, it stopped hurting my throat, and I started to enjoy it. Yeah, I guess that's how things are. Even killing. It's difficult the first few times, but after I keep doing it for a while and get used to it, it will be nothing. I might even start enjoying it. Killing is just like smoking cigarettes. Right. Just like cigarettes.
