She forced open her eyes to a metal pipe in her face. Two, she realized, and the smell of gunpowder was barely noticeable, but there. A click rang out, echoing all around.
"Get up," a voice demanded. It was a man's, with a thick southern drawl, but weak force behind it. The pipes moved, and Heather saw that it was a shotgun being pointed at her face. Its holder was backing away. She propped herself up onto her elbows, reaching up to rub her head when something fell off of her chest. The bible… she saw. "I said get up," the man said again, with a little more force.
"I'm getting there. Hold yer horses," she mocked, shakily. "Pardner."
"Do you want a bullet in that sassy mouth of yours?"
"Well maybe I'd be nicer if you weren't pointing a gun at me." She got herself up onto her feet, still shaking. She felt like everything was spinning. "Where am I…?"
"What? How the hell do you not know? Were you drunk when you…" his voice trailed off after 'drunk'. The world stopped spinning just enough for her to get a long look at the man.
He was only as tall as she was, and very thin. His face was horribly gaunt and grey, with thinning brown hair. A hook of a nose protruded from his face, looking quite dangerous as he shook his head in a daze. He wore a brown outfit and a purple padded coat. He regained his thoughts and looked at her with hateful and betrayed eyes. "Where do you think you are, huh? Take a good look around you, girl; this ain't a lakeside view!" Around them were rocky outcroppings, with wooden platforms put up all around. Behind her, past the railings, the fog devoured and hid any sight beyond fifteen feet, but she could see a waterfall just before the thick of the fog. Judging from the echo of the waterfall, this place was massive.
"The pit of Hell?" she joked.
"The Devil's Pit," the man corrected, unmoved. She just looked at him blankly; this was a place she'd never heard of, before. He rubbed his nose in irritation. "A natural trench through this area, once the site of a major mining operation. Has a drop of over a mile," he sounded like he had said these very words hundreds of times before, and they had long since lost any wonder they might have carried. Heather was uninterested. "Well, I suppose you don't quite care for the rundown, do you?"
"Not really," she said as she looked over the railing. She could see nothing. "I don't remember this place from the last time I was here…"
"'The last time'?" He was shocked. "You've left here, the town? You've gotten out?"
She shrugged.
"And you came back?!" He sounded almost angry with his disbelief. They stood there for a moment in awkward silence. Heather contemplated running from this place, but the lack of visibility here could mean the death of her if she weren't careful. The thought of taking the shotgun from the man also crossed her mind, but he seemed too on edge at the moment, ready to fire the gun with just little warning. She noticed a glint on his shirt, under the jacket. A small badge just barely readable. J.P… she mouthed as she read it. The man noticed.
"Sater." He said, sadly. "Why did you come back here if you've gotten out before?"
"I have unfinished business here." She picked up the book at her feet. "…There are people after me."
"People…" He let out a laugh. "Count your blessings that it's just people." His grip on the gun shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, they do have their pets they send after me." Sater laughed for a moment, understanding. Again he scratched his nose; Heather guessed it was a nervous tick or something. "Now what would anyone from this dinky ol' town want with a kid like you?" Whatever humor he had suddenly drained from his face. He looked down sadly. "No one ever gets here without sin…"
"I've never done anything without a good reason. They've been after me all of my life, since before I was even born." Her chest hurt, knotting from the anxiety of a time that she herself couldn't remember, but a part deep in her did. She glared at Sater. He looked frightened and shifted his grip on the gun once more then pulled the collar of his jacket tightly around his neck, shivering.
"Come… come on, kid." He started walking away. "I've got some coffee left in the kitchen, I think. I could cook some up for warmth. It's like death out here…" She followed, though wary. She made sure she still had her knife in her pocket. This man was hiding something, but there were hardly any people here who didn't have some sort of terrible secret.
