Ch. 55
AN: Hey there friends. So sorry for neglecting this story. I've been busy during this whole thing. I caught the Coof and since I got asthma it kinda hit me pretty hard. But I am back and I re-read this story and I forgot how much I had planned and ready for this story. I re-planned some parts of the story and I'm ready to hop back into this. I hope all of you guys like it and I'll let you get onto reading.
The blade plunged into the throat of the cannibal just as Sam's hand wrapped around the fiend's mouth. He could feel the body tense up and the vibrations of the man, if he could be called that, scream ripple into the palm of his hand. He clamped down his hand as tightly as he could and scanned his eyes across the town, as dozens of men roamed in search of Sam and his charge.
The body went limp in his arms and Sam let it drop to the ground as gently as he could. Giving the street a final glance over he looked back and waved Dorothy over. The young girl was quick to run to his position, staying low as he had instructed.
Sam moved his head so he could look over the car. He read the signs on the shops. Shoe store, grocer, clothes store, Sam tried to peer through the darkness but couldn't spot the pharmacy that he and Dorothy needed to find.
"Come on," he whispered, "We'll head down a little more and see if we can find your dad some medicine."
Dorothy nodded. Sam looked at the girl a bit perplexed. She hadn't said a word since she had agreed to do as he said when he said it. He knew that she wasn't used to the horrors of the world, but the farther North Sam had gone the more common Cannibal tribes had become. For her to not to of run into any seemed unlikely.
Breaking away from his thoughts he moved forward and took cover behind another broken down car. Dorothy trailed him and Sam nodded approvingly. She seemed to be so shell shocked she was on a sort of autopilot.
Down the street a group of cannibals began to fight amongst themselves, one brandished a knife and thrust it into another's face shouting that he would skin the man and then roast him alive. The other raised his own knife and slashed wildly snarling and baring his teeth in lieu of words.
They had been so caught up with attempting to cow the other into submission that they hadn't noticed the sound of hoofbeats. As the sound of charging horses became louder and louder the men stopped arguing and turned to face the dark street wondering what the racket was.
Several dozen muzzle flashes blazed in the night and several of the men dropped dead, large holes torn through their bodies. The rest of the men screamed and scattered screamed to their comrades.
Riders, draped in black and brandishing rifles rode forward into the town firing at anything that moved. The Cannibals all screamed, trying in vain to stop the invaders, firing arrows and charging with knives and swords. But they were all cut down easy by lead fired from the men on horseback.
Sam, still behind the car taking cover, was amazed at the sight of the many mounted men that had stormed into the town. He chuckled to himself as he watched nearly all of the cannibals charged the mounted men in a near-suicidal display of courage. Glancing down at the opposite end of the street and grabbed Dorothy's hand and dashed her along as he ran still looking at the store signs hoping to find a pharmacy.
Seeing a sign marked Drugs Rx he grinned and pulled Dorothy toward the storefront. The windows were boarded up and a sign hung in the window reading "Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight!" The door was ajar and Sam pushed Dorothy through before shutting the door.
The shop was dark, the few shelved that remained standing were barren but Sam knew that anything that was worth anything would be behind the counter. Moving forward he told Dorothy to watch the front door.
The door leading to the back of the pharmacy was shut, and after testing the door handle most defiantly locked. Sam Shoved his shoulder against the door and felt the door give way. He moved into the back and began looking through the stocks of whatever was left.
Dorothy had cracked the door a bit to try and see what was happening. She saw a Horse ride past her. It had a rope trailing it, and a cannibal tied at the hand, his body being torn by the asphalt and the debris all over the street.
Another few Riders rode past laughing and firing at the rooftops. She could see one carrying a torch. The light-giving her a clear view of him. His coat was green, with gold trim, and there was a symbol embroidered on his lapel. It was a Golden W writing in cursive, with a bird perched on the ends of the W.
Dorothy's heart skipped a beat when she saw the sigil. She backed away from the door and felt her throat tighten.
"Tie 'em up! The Wagons are coming up!" She shook her head and tears began to leak down her face. She shuddered and felt the urge to fall to the ground and curl into a ball.
She felt a hand on her back and she jumped almost screaming in fear had it not been for Sam's hand covering her mouth. She looked back at him and took several deep breaths before calming down. She nodded her head and Sam took his hand off of her mouth.
"What's wrong?" Sam whispered.
"Those men," she whispered, "I know them."
"How?"
She felt tears begin to well up again. "Daddy and I, we escaped from them. They're salvers."
Sam looked up to the half-open door and then down to Dorothy. He swallowed nervously and gently took her hand.
"Listen, I have your father's medicine. There were a few vials of penicillin and some anti-biotics. But we have to get to him."
Dorothy looked over to the pack on Sam's back and nodded. "Good. But how are we gonna get out of this?"
Sam moved to the door and saw the Horsemen gathering the surviving cannibals together while a group of them stood guard. The Majority of the Horsemen rode through the town hunting down the remaining cannibals. A few though, still milled around town going through the stores in pairs. Sam pulled his knife and motioned for Dorothy to follow him.
More gunfire was still going off in the town. It was similar to what Sam imagined the Fourth of July to be like. Only instead of hamburgers and hot dogs, there was the threat of enslavement and death.
He placed Dorothy behind the counter of the drug store and heard a pair of horses stop outside of the drugstore.
He knelt to Dorothy's level and pulled out a blindfold.
"here put this on. Now what I want you to do is cover your ears and don't move. You'll know I'm back when I tap you on the shoulder three times like this," He tapped her shoulder in three different places.
Dorothy had tears streaming down her eyes and held the blindfold in her lap. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.
"Now you promised to do what I said. Now, do as I say. Cover your ears and put the damned blindfold on. And don't you dare move." He moved her hands and tied the blindfold on tightly. The door opened and Sam grabbed Dorothy's hands and put them to her ears.
The girl was already shell shocked. She was already trying to process the thought behind men wanting to eat her flesh like they were walkers. The last thing she needed to see was what he was about to do.
He twirled his knife in his hand and moved to the darkness of the shop. Sam took a deep breath and waited for the two men to enter the shop.
The two men kicked the door open and brandished rifles, flashlights mounted, and shining light into the dark store. Sam crouched and carefully walked toward the men. Gunfire was still going off drowning out most small noises. Sam hoped that it would drown out anything in the store should anything go wrong.
"Looks picked clean," one of the men said with a heavy drawl.
"Yeah well, no harm in checking 'round anyway."
Sam moved forward and stabbed with his knife. The blade cut into the soft flesh of one of the men. He made a yelping noise but it was cut short by gurgling as blood began to fill his throat and bubble into his mouth.
"Shit!" Sam tried to draw his knife but the body fell to the ground too quickly, taking his knife with it. The man that still stood tried to raise his rifle but Sam kicked the weapon and moved to grapple with the man.
His hands grasped the green coat and he threw the man into a pile of overturned shelves. The man was quick to recover and threw himself at Sam taking the boy to the ground. Sam felt several blows land, the warm coppery taste of blood already filling his mouth.
He brought his arms up to his face to try and protect himself from the blows, but only left himself open to body shots.
Sam felt a fist connect with his side and then all the air in his body seemed to leave him. He gasped for air but then felt a pair of thick rough hands wrap themselves around his throat. His eyes went wide and he reached up to the man's face trying to get the grip released.
He saw the man's face through the darkness. It was red and angry. His eyes were dark, but bloodshot, filled with anger and a strange sadistic glee. Sam pounded on the man's hands but the man was simply too strong.
Reaching down to his belt he pulled his pistol. The gunshots were still ringing outside, and what was one more shot among the dozens he heard even as he was being choked to death.
Drawing his pistol, he pulled it on the man but as he squeezed the trigger one of the thug's hands knocked Sam's aside, sending the shot into the ceiling. Sam felt part of his airway clear and sucked in some much-needed oxygen.
The man attempted to readjust in order to account for the gun, but Sam brought his other arm to bear and began hitting his would-be killers face trying to throw him off. The man grunted and attempted to remain in control of the grapple, but with one hand holding a gun and the other to Sam's throat, there was not much he could do against Sam's attack.
Sam raked his hand across the man's face, his nails finding the man's eye. He felt the mushy organ and drove his nails into it until he felt the organ begin to weep blood over his fingers. He heard the man scream and he snarled in delight.
He used every last bit of his strength and shoved the man off of him. The thug hardly offered resistance as he brought his hand to his face, clutching his now worthless eye in his hand. It seemed that Sam had managed to tear the red much out of its socket.
Hearing the gunshots from outside Sam raised his pistol and ended the man's life quickly. More quickly though, he rushed and grabbed the coat off of the now dead man's body.
His lungs hurt and his vision was quite fuzzy, but he needed the coat as clean as possible.
He pulled the coat off the man and began to spot check it. There were spots of blood on the front of the coat, but nothing that would be noticeable at night during the chaos outside. Nodding to himself he placed thee coat off to the side and went to check the other man.
Kneeling down, he observed the knife wound and nodded to himself. It appeared that the knife was able to keep most of the blood from getting on the coat. He searched the man for ammo and found a few magazines of pistol ammo that suited him and quickly pocketed them. He then took the coat off of the man he threw it on and found that while the coat was slightly bigger than what he wore, it wasn't such a noticeable difference. Glancing at the other coat, he worried about it on Dorothy.
Deciding that it would have to do, he quickly walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder in the same three different places as he had before. He had never seen someone so quick to take off a blindfold, but her red eyes and tears stopped his amusement.
She looked so frightened and gulped when she looked over his face. She shook in her place and began working up the nerve to speak to him.
"Is that your blood?" She whispered. Sam glanced down at his hands and shook his head. "Not that blood. On your face."
Sam's hand went to his face and he felt small drops of fresh blood. But again, he shook his head. He also thought it best to not tell her what the chunky bits that dotted his face were either.
"We have to go," he whispered handing her to coat. "Put it on. We'll take the horses they hitched outside and ride out of here. With all the chaos that's going on, it shouldn't be too hard."
Dorothy took the coat with her shaking hands and slowly slipped it over her shoulders. Sam did the same with the other coat. He brought Dorothy close to him and shielded her eyes from the bloodied bodies of the men that he had killed.
Stepping over the bodies they made it to the door. It seemed none of them had been roused by the gunfire in the small store, nor did they seem any the wiser that two of their own men were missing. Standing straighter Sam placed Dorothy in front of him and walked to the two horses that were hitched on a street lamp.
Sam helped Dorothy on her horse and then mounted his. He kept his pistol drawn and led Dorothy's horse away from the mass of laughing men that were slowly chaining up the cannibals. No one seemed to top them, as they were all caught up in the post-slaughter looting that they seemed to take great delight in.
Sam whispered a prayer under his breath begging that they wouldn't be stopped. He could lead Dorothy to safety against cannibals on Horseback, but not experienced riders like those men.
They continued to the edge of town and Sam squeezed the side of the horse putting in into an easy canter that drew several eyes but they turned away once they looked upon the coats that they had stolen.
"Where y'all going?" Sam pulled the reigns and cursed. He coughed and turned his horse to face the speaking man. He was a short man, with a bit of a protruding stomach, and a thick bushy mustache over his lip. He wore a gun belt lined with dozens of pistol cartridges but gave off an air of friendliness.
"We got word on a girl and a man ran off into the woods. We're gonna check it out," Sam forced an American accent and spat on the ground keeping his head bowed. The outfit of men seemed to be rather large and Sam hoped that this man wouldn't know everyone that he rode with.
"Who told you that?" The man asked, smiling but resting his hand on his hips, near his gun.
"Not sure. My buddy told me to check south since he got ordered to check north. We was just gonna go and see 'bout half a mile down the road, hope we can catch whoever was seen."
The man nodded. But paused looking Sam up and down. "Who we work for again?"
Sam froze. He knew that there might have been a challenge at some point. He thought of how quickly he could draw his pistol and kill the man. But that would in turn cause others to ride after him.
"The Wraiths," he turned to Dorothy and heard her speaking in a gruff voice. She was bent down in the saddle and Sam assumed it was to give her more of a deeper voice, which it did. "We work for the Wraiths."
The man nodded. "Alright, go off then. But you report to me when y'all are back got it?"
Sam nodded. "Sir!"
He turned his horse and began riding fast down the road, Dorothy trailing him. He felt a few chuckles rise in his throat and thanked the lord that he was still alive.
Two Weeks Later
"Well, your colors back. And the fever broke in the night. I'd say you're well on your way to recovery Mr. Pilgrim," Sam said as he stuffed what was left of the medicine into his bag.
"I told you to call me John Sam," the older man said, though he was smiling.
"I know. Mr. Pilgrim just sounds better though," Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and walked back to the horses. The extra horses that they had managed to steal from right under the noses of the Wraith Men were a godsend. All three of them were able to ride together, long as they didn't tire the horses too much.
"So, where do we go from here Sam?" John asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm on the road to recovery. My infections gone, and I can walk on my own. I suppose what I'm asking, is, do you plan to leave us?"
Sam chuckled to himself and shook his head. He looked over to the horses and spotted Dorothy brushing out the horse she had chosen for herself. She patted the flank of the horse and laughed when the horse snorted, its tail whipping back and forth.
He looked over to Mr. Pilgrim who was leaning back on a fallen tree. A few bruises still covered his face and large dark scabs covered his knuckles. Sam's eyes went to the man's arm where he had been and the scars that were covered by the shirt that John wore, scars that he would carry for the rest of his life.
"I'm not sure about that yet Mr. Pilgrim. I've enjoyed your company. Yours and your daughters. Besides, those Wraith riders are still out in the woods somewhere. It wouldn't be right to just abandon you,"
John nodded. He stretched his back and then stood up. He huffed a bit at the exertion and the soreness that his not fully healed body gave him. He took several steps toward his tent and crawled into it.
Sam looked over to Penny and saw her setting the horse brush into her pack that lay on the floor. She patted the large beast and sighed, content with herself and her place in the world at the moment.
Sam chuckled to himself and remembered when he had been able to do that. It had been a while since he had thought that all was right in the world. Last, he could remember was the funeral home where he, Beth, and Sophia had hunkered down for a bit.
Sophia. He felt his mind pick at the scab that the little girl had left in his mind. He felt his eyes draw themselves to the grass. It had been quite some time since he had thought of the girl. He felt guilty about that. That he hadn't allowed himself to think about her. To be burdened with the weight of her death. It felt wrong, but he supposed it was natural. Sophia had died nearly four years ago.
Sam furrowed his brow as he though on the math. He had been on the road by himself for six months, Sophia had died perhaps four before that. From the time he had arrived at the Kingdom, then waged war against the Saviors, that had been a year by itself. Combined with the two years he had been in his so-called exile.
Goddman it. It really has been nearly four years. He sighed again and leaned his back against the tree he sat in front of. He laughed and shook his head. Four years had seemed like a hundred.
"You okay?" He looked up and saw Dorothy standing over him. She looked at him with what Sam thought might be a concern.
"Fine," he said. "Just tired is all."
"I can take a watch if you want," she offered, but Sam chuckled. He knew that the young girl had never fired a gun. She was liable to shoot at shadows than actual people.
"I'm not that tired. Besides, I doubt your dad wants you on watch."
Dorothy rolled her eyes and took a seat on the ground across from Sam. She picked at the grass and kept her head down. Sam adjusted himself and clicked the hammer of his pistol forward before holstering it.
"You did good," he told her. Dorothy's head shot up and she looked puzzled. "When we escaped. It would've turned bloody. But you kept your head. You gave them an answer and we got out without firing a shot."
Dorothy was silent and looked back down to the ground. She seemed to be mulling his words over in her head. Every so often she would look up and open her mouth to speak but then she would shut it and look back to the grass as if she had made a mistake.
Sam shook his head at her tepidness. He shook his head at anyone's tepidness. It was the apocalypse, there was no room for it. If one was tepid then they would die. He knew she was capable, she had kept up with him in the town, kept true to her word of following his command. And just as he had said, been the reason they had made a clean getaway. Though perhaps clean was not the word he should use, as there had been quite a bit of blood in order to get their disguises.
"I just gave them the name," she said quietly.
"You did. But that means more than you think. That name was what let us leave alive."
She shook her head. "I didn't do much."
"Come off it. You did more than you think. You kept a level head. You didn't run or scream or cry. Or well you didn't cry too much. But you're learning. That's what's important."
She brought her knees to her chest. "I was scared. You saw me, I froze up when those men started chasing up. And again, when the riders came into town. I've never done stuff like that. I'm no good at it."
"Do you think I was? What, did ya' think that I was able to just, kill, and sneak around just like that?" Sam scoffed and gave Dorothy a glance over. She was young. Younger than he was. Her face was soft, and she barely had any of the scars that he knew most people had collected over the years. "How old were you when, well when everything went to hell?"
Dorothy looked down as the ground again and shrugged. "I was about eleven."
"And your dad, he protected you from most of it?" She nodded. "So that makes sense. You and your dad escaped then? Held up somewhere safe for a bit before you had a run-in with the Wraiths whoever they are?"
Another nod, this time with tears welling up in her eyes. She shook in place and Sam felt his curiosity get the better of him.
"What did they do to you?"
She let out a sob and shook her head. She looked up and Sam could see her red-rimmed eyes in the darkness. She took in a shaky breath trying to steady herself.
"Papa, momma, and I—we were just looking for food. Three of them, they came out of nowhere," Dorothy shut her eyes and shook her head. "They beat papa like those damn bandits did. Then they tied him up and threw him on their horse. Momma tried to scare 'em from us. She used her knife but… they just shot her. They shot her and then they laughed about it."
Sam closed his eyes. He wished he could think that the story wasn't true, but in the apocalypse, the story was all too common.
"They tied me up and brought me back to the Wraiths with daddy. They made us work on their plantation. We grew their food and worked for them. We did that for three years." Dorothy sniffed and Sam saw her clench her hands into fists. He nodded, working with anger was always good. "There was a fight. A group of workers killed an overseer, and then others began fighting them. Daddy and I ran, we didn't want to fight. But a lot of people ran too. After the Wraiths got everything under control they started sending groups out to capture everyone."
"How long ago was this?"
She shrugged. "A few months. I thought you were a Wraith at first."
"Why? I don't wear a coat like theirs," Sam pulled at the brown coat that he had been wearing ever since the Savior War.
"You look like some of their men."
"How?"
"Your eyes," Dorothy looked up and her eyes met his. Sam could see the blue irises surrounded by red and white. She sniffed and nodded. "Your eyes are, well, they're cold like theirs. Plus, you seem like you like it."
Sam didn't have to ask for clarification. He was used to people thinking that he enjoyed killing. He wouldn't deny that there was some sort of primal thrill he got from winning a fight and proving that he was better. It was a strange and sometimes frightening excitement, but he would be lying to deny that it existed. But he believed that what he enjoyed about it all, was that he was just good at something, even if it was something such as killing.
He didn't know if that made him sound better or worse, so he kept that part to himself.
"Killing is killing. Just something that needs doing Dorothy." He got up and held the pistol out for her to hold.
Dorothy's eyes went wide and she looked from the gun to Sam. She swallowed nervously and wrapped her hand around the gun's grip and brought it down to her lap.
"The safeties on the side. Make sure you pull the hammer back before you pull the trigger. Wake me in an hour." He walked off to his own tent and laid on the ground. Within seconds he was asleep.
The infirmary was white and sterile. He could feel the multiple cleaners stinging his nose with every breath that he took. He adjusted himself in his seat and felt his wrist sting. He hissed in pain and brought his arm up. There was a deep gash on his wrist and he brought it close to his face so she could observe the wound.
There was no bleeding but the red irritated flesh told him that the wound still needed attention. He brought up his right hand and poked the sticky flesh wincing at the stinging.
"I told you not to touch it!" He froze at the sweet voice, with a slight drawl to it. He closed his eyes and slowly turned his head, praying to God that he wouldn't wake up because there was no way that he was awake.
Beth stood in the doorway to the infirmary, wearing a white nurse's outfit, looking angelic and absolutely beautiful. She had a hand on her hip, and she scowled at him. He felt his throat tighten and didn't say anything as she rolled her eyes and walked into the room.
"Just lay back and I'll patch you up. Just be glad that they managed to stop the bleeding," Sam stood up from the bed and walked to Beth. Her back was to him as she prepared a needle and thread. He reached his hand and placed it on her shoulder.
She turned around and raised an eyebrow at his touch.
"What are you doing now?" She smirked and giggled.
Sam brought his hand to her cheek and sighed in amazement at how real she felt. Her skin was cool and smooth. He closed his eyes and brought his forehead to hers.
"Sammy?" She asked softly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he whispered. "I just missed you so much."
He pulled his head back and looked into her deep blue eyes. He felt tears in his eyes and moved his head down to capture her lips.
His eyes opened and he felt anger shoot through him. He looked up to see John looking down at him.
"Suns up, we need to move," John said. "I spotted a few of the Wraith men by the river."
Sam groaned but didn't say anything as he quickly gathered his gear. John lifted Sam's gun up and offered it to him.
"Here. Dorothy said you gave it to her."
"Keep it," Sam said walking to his saddle and drawing his rifle. "I have another."
Sam slung the rifle over his shoulder and patted Cork gently smiling as the horse leaned into his hand. He looked back at John and frowned.
"You know how to use that right?" Sam called out.
John nodded pulled the pistol from his waistband. He ejected the magazine and popped the round out of the chamber catching it in mid-air. He placed the spare cartridge back into the magazine and walked over to Sam.
"I may not seem like it," John said, pulling the slide of the pistol back to allow the catch to disengage and let the slide lock forward, "but I protected my family as best as I could when everything began."
"I don't doubt it," Sam said taking a spare magazine from his belt and placing it in John's hands. "Even I've been whipped in a fight."
"Hasn't everyone?" John smiled as he inserted the magazine into the gun and racked the slide, loading a cartridge into the chamber. "But has your defeat led to slavery?"
"Worse," Sam said pulling the last of his spare magazines from his belt and giving them to John, "Exile."
"How is Exile worse from Slavery?"
"Worse for me. Though to be fair I've never experienced bondage like my ancestors."
John nodded and slipped the pistol into his waistband again. He sniffed and saddled his horse. Dorothy came with their tent rolled up and handed it to her father to be placed in one of their saddlebags. She pulled out a sack of berries and offered a few to her father who gladly ate them. Walking over to Sam she offered him the same.
He glanced down at the small cloth sack of berries and took a few enjoying how they popped and filled his mouth with their sweet juices. Chewing on the pulp and skin of the berries he looked over to Dorothy again.
"You didn't wake me up," he said.
"You hadn't had a full night's rest since you saved us," she said carefully. She fidgeted uncomfortably and glanced at her father who was finishing saddling his horse. "I just wanted to give you a few hours of sleep."
Sam nodded and took a few more berries. "I know. But don't. If I tell you to wake me, wake me."
"Why? You need to rest."
Sam scoffed and mounted his horse in a swift fluid motion. He tried to keep his tone even and neutral and he looked down from his horse. "Just don't let me sleep that much next time. Okay?"
Dorothy nodded and put the berries away. She too mounted her horse with the help of her father. The three of them set off and tried to keep an even pace.
Walk. Canter. Trot.
Walk. Canter. Trot.
Walk. Canter. Trot.
It wasn't the fastest that they could go, but it kept their horses fresh. They managed to keep the pace for most of the day, though they rested for a time to eat and to give the horses a rest. But for the trio, the better part of the day was spent on horseback.
Sam enjoyed the countryside that surrounded them as they went. They had broken from the dense forests and were soon breaking into open prairie. Dorothy had gasped at the wide-open country and asked her father if it was okay for her to go a bit faster.
John had hesitated but relented telling her to stay close. Dorothy had smiled and thanked her father profusely before squeezing the side of her horse. The animal kicked up speed and Dorothy laughed as she rode ahead of the two men. Sam smiled as she reached the top of the hill ahead of them and she gazed out at the prairie ahead of them. She had a look of awe on her face and was quick to ride back toward them.
"There's a town!" she called out. "There's a town ahead!"
Sam looked to John and the man seemed just as shocked as Sam was at Dorothy's claim.
"A town?" John asked. "How so?"
"People and buildings! There's a lot of 'em!"
The three rode to the ridge. As they crested Sam was shocked as there was indeed a town out in the distance. He took out a pair of Binoculars and looked down at the town. It was small, but there were indeed people down there. He observed the buildings, carefully. They were wooden structures, designed in a basic way, but they reminded Sam of old west towns that he had seen in movies. As his eyes passed over the town he stopped as he saw two men on top of a building looking at him.
One had a rifle with a large scope and the other a pair of binoculars. The one with binoculars gave a small wave and Sam actually laughed. He waved back and the man holding the binoculars moved his lips and the rifleman retracted the gun and held it across his body. The man that had waved did so once again but this time a beckoning motion.
Sam pulled the binoculars from his face and looked to John and Dorothy.
"Wanna go?"
John chewed his bottom lip and his stomach grumbled. He sighed and looked at Dorothy and shrugged his shoulders.
"If we don't want to eat foraged Berries for the rest of our travels I suggest we go," John said.
"Agreed," Sam clutched the reigns and spurred his horse. He gave a nice steady canter toward the town leading his companions in.
As the neared the mouth of the town Sam pulled the reigns as Several men slowly walked forward and blocked Sam's path into the town.
A man carrying a rifle walked forward, he was tall and had a long beard that reached his chest. He spat out a long string of tobacco juice and snorted.
"This here's a respectable town. IF you're here to cause trouble, then there's no place for ya," the man warned. The men behind him nodded and shifted their arms which carried a variety of firearms.
"We're a respectable kind of people," Sam promised, "Won't cause no trouble if no trouble finds us."
"If it do…" the man did continue. He smirked and spat another line of tobacco juice to the muddy floor. He moved out of the way, as did his men, and flicked his head toward the town.
The road in the town was muddy and a wagon hauled off crates of goods away from the town. There was light coming from a large building in the center of the town and Sam could hear piano music coming from inside. He ushered his horse forward and stopped at a hitching post in front of the building.
Sure enough, it was a bar. Well, a bar that also doubled as a hotel from the sign. He looked over to John and raised his eyebrows in question. John looked to Dorothy who seemed enthralled by the establishment. Sam chuckled and nodded. John ducked his head and shrugged but began to dismount.
They hitched their horses to the post and Sam adjusted his rifle and checked his knives nodding as he found them all to be in the proper places. He walked onto the wooden platform that held the structure of the bar and took a deep breath before he pushed to the door to the bar open and took a step in.
The room was warm and smoky, with lighting that was surprisingly bright. The room itself was lit by flames in gas lamps that hung from the ceiling. The piano kept playing though several gruff men seemed to size Sam and John up as they entered the establishment. But they were left alone other than a few glares.
Walking to the bar Dorothy's excitement had faded quickly and she drew closer to her father.
The bartender saw the three approaching and walked to meet them. Sam noticed that he was a scrawny man, though short and balding. He wore a white apron that was stained brown in various places, though he seemed friendly enough.
"I help ya?" he asked.
"Can we get a room?" Sam asked.
"Ya' can," the man smiled, "Though we don't just hand 'em out for free."
Sam pulled up his pack and searched for something to barter with. After a moment he pulled out a bag of shotgun shells.
"This work?"
The man nodded. "Aye."
"Good," Sam tossed three shells on the counter. He paused for a moment and tossed three more. "We'll all take a meal too."
"I'm gonna need a little something more than," the bartender smirked.
Sam chuckled and shoved the bag of shotgun shells into his pack. He pulled out two knives in leather sheaths. "This do?"
"Indeed, it will."
Sam took the knives out of their sheaths and set them on the counter. The bartender was about to protest but stopped himself. The shells and the knives seemed like good enough compensation. Sam saw the bartender mull it over for a moment before nodding and taking the items to the backroom. He returned shortly with a key with the number 3 on a chain.
"Rooms at the top of the stairs. You can put ya stuff there then come back for ya meal," the bartender said. "All we got is a stew on right now, but it's got some lamb and potatoes in it. You paddies like that right?"
Sam rolled his eyes and began walking toward the stairs. John held Dorothy close to him and followed Sam, his eyes scanning the crowd who were either too deep into their cups to notice him, or seemed intent on following Dorothy with their eyes.
"Sam," John whispered. "I don't like this."
"Calm down Mr. Pilgrim. Anyone tries anything I'm sure we can kill them," Sam spoke loudly and adjusted the rifle slung across his body. His eyes roamed the bar and several of the leering men averted their gaze and went back to drinking.
Dorothy rushed up the stairs and Sam walked behind John, though he was confident no one would try anything.
They arrived at their room, which was sparsely decorated and only consisted of a bed and an electric lamp powered by a car battery that came on when the light switch was flipped. There being only one bed it was unspoken that Dorothy would claim it while Sam and John would take the floor.
Shrugging his pack from his shoulders he leaned it by the door and took off the rifle setting it down on the bed. He stretched his shoulder out and turned to John and Dorothy who had also taken off most of their gear though John kept Sam's pistol on his person.
"Alright," John said adjusting his belt. "I suggest we go and get that dinner then we'll take a glance at the map. See where we'll be heading tomorrow."
"Sounds like a plan," Sam said his stomach rumbling as he thought of the stew that awaited them.
They left the room together, Sam making sure the John covered the pistol on his hip. Other men were obviously armed, but Sam thought that it would be best to keep their guns discreet. Sam walked ahead of the two and as he walked down the stairs he felt his stomach drop.
"Fuck," he gasped.
A group of men in dark green coats embroidered with a golden W and two crows perched on either end of the W stood in the center of the bar. The lead man, was short, with a bit of a protruding stomach, and a thick bushy mustache over his lip. He wore a gun belt lined with dozens of pistol cartridges and was smiling a brilliant smile.
"Hey there!" He said, a drawl filling his voice. "I thought those horses looked familiar. Then I checked the brand and what would ya know. They're our horses."
Sam looked behind him and saw that Dorothy and John were hidden up the stairs looking worried. Sam turned back to the group of men before him and swallowed nervously.
"How'd you find me?"
"Did ya think I was an idiot?" The man laughed. "We've been following ya for days. We were hoping you'd lead us to the others that escaped."
Sam looked to the other patrons who seemed interested in the exchange but more in the way of dinner and a show rather than wanting to help.
"So, tell me, where's that other one that you escaped with?" The man asked drawing his sidearm and pulling the hammer back.
"I never escaped," Sam said. He glanced back and saw that Dorothy and John had left their hiding spot. "I just like killing Slavers."
He charged them. He had nothing but his knife, as well as nothing to lose. It seemed like the best course of action to try and kill the salvers, but unfortunately, they had seen it coming and before Sam could even reach them he felt a shot pierce his shoulder. He dropped the knife and fell to the ground grasping his bleeding shoulder.
"Shitty idea," the lead man chuckled. "Patch him up and take his shit."
A large man in a green coat and carrying a rifle walked to Sam. Sam bared his teeth as an animal would have. The man chuckled and quickly brought the butt of his rifle onto Sam's face knocking him out.
AN: Well there it is, hope you guys like it. I think I did a pretty good job in the chapter but if ya guys read anything that you didn't like then let me know I'm gonna try and respond to comments more. So please Review! ~Pacco1