Black Creek

by Dan Kemp

  "Whoa, now," the man said, moving to grab at her wrist. Skye slipped it easily away from his grasp. He was a stocky man with thinning red hair and a full, tangled beard.

  Skye eyed him up and down. "Watch where you're going," she said.

  The man laughed. "You're a pretty one," he said, reaching a hand toward her.

  Skye drew her revolver and shot him in the head. A pink mist hung in the air as his body dropped to the floor with a wet slap. No one in the bar reacted, other than the man's compatriots, who simply looked on with mild interest.

  Skye stepped over him and took a seat at the end of the bar. "Sorry," she said to the bartender, a thin, bald man with glasses.

  "No problem," he said, with a slight German accent. "I didn't much care for them anyway." As they spoke, the man's body was being dragged out of the bar by his friends, who didn't return. There was some soft laughter from a couple of other men who sat nearby.

  "Free drink?" the bartender asked. "For cleaning the place up."

  "Would appreciate it. I have nothing to trade anyway. Whatever you've got."

  The man poured her a drink and slid a whiskey glass in front of her.

  "Thanks," she said. Her chains clanked on the bar as she drank, and the man eyed them suspiciously.

  The past week had gone much like this. She would drive until she found a settlement, spend a few hours or a night there, then move on. They were relatively few and far between, and most were walled off and none too interested in admitting strangers. There were a few like this one, open towns that seemed mainly to be thoroughfares for bandits and other undesirables. People like her, she often had to remind herself.

  Mostly, she was listening for any rumors of James, or whatever his real name was. He was a frequent enough topic of conversation. Naturally, any criminal hearing stories of a magical man roaming the countryside wiping out dozens of his own kind was likely to listen. The rumors were getting more frequent the last two days, which told Skye she must be traveling in the right direction.

  She had heard any number of different theories. Once she heard speculation that this whole ordeal was a CIA experiment gone wrong, and the man was a genetically-modified supersoldier who went rogue. There was some discussion of aliens, as well. Plenty seemed to think the stories were exaggerated, that there was no supernatural force hunting down bad guys, only a particularly adept vigilante. The end of the world was simply a terrible natural disaster, they would say. Of course, this explanation didn't account for the dinosaurs, as Skye was often quick to point out.

  "How about that shit on the old man's farm?" she heard one of the nearby men say to the bartender.

  "Anderssen's gang is lucky that freak got to them before I did," the other man added.

  "I can't imagine how they'd have fared any worse against you," the bartender replied. The first man laughed.

  "What happened?" Skye interjected. The two men at the bar ignored her, but the bartender answered.

  "There's a farm on the edge of town. Old man has lived there his whole life. His sons run the place, try to keep the peace, protect the farm so we can all eat. Local gang has been causing trouble, salted the crops. Would have killed the old man and his sons, too, if this guy didn't show up and kill every last one of them himself."

  "Craziest shit I ever seen," one of the patrons added, turning toward her. "This fucking guy roasts 'em all like it was nothing. And then after they're all dead, he gets down on the ground like he's praying or some shit, and when he gets up the plants are all healed."

  "When did this happen?"

  "Yesterday."

  Skye turned away, finished her drink, then stood and left the bar. The body of the man she shot had been dumped unceremoniously in the grass outside. Her car, a rusty old sedan, still sat where she'd left it next to the bar.

  Along the street, a dozen or so people could be seen hanging out their windows or gathered on porches, chatting in the cool evening air. There was no light but for the faint glow of candles in a few windows, and the headlights of a pickup truck which rumbled along the dusty street. The handful of pedestrians made way as the vehicle passed by.

  It wasn't until the truck pulled alongside her that she saw what was in the back of it. In the bed was a steel cage which held two women, and two younger girls. The girls and one woman just sat with their heads down, but the other woman screamed as the truck rolled past.

  "Help!" she cried. "Heeeelp!" It was a terrible, pleading shout that went ignored. Some walked on as if they heard nothing. People sitting on their porches endured the moment of uncomfortable silence before redirecting their conversations. Men passing by averted their gaze or ushered their families along.

  Skye stood, frozen, watching the scene unfold, until that poor girl in the back caught her eye.

  "Please!" she screamed. "Help me!"

  Skye was already moving before she even realized what was happening. One shot from her revolver burst the front tire of the truck, and the next shattered the passenger window. The truck swerved as its bald rim squealed across the asphalt, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of the homes across the street.

  The door nearest to her was just beginning to open when she unloaded the rest of her bullets through the broken window. An armored man caught one shot in the chest, which staggered him, then a second in his head. He slumped unceremoniously back across his seat. The driver had been merely grazed across his arm, but his door was wedged up against a porch railing. He could only watch as Skye holstered one revolver, drew the other, and shot him between the eyes.

  Then the rest of the convoy arrived.

  Three motorcycles squealed to a halt, and their riders stood for a moment taking in the scene before them. Behind, two more trucks could be seen approaching. Shots rang out and holes riddled the crashed truck as Skye dove to cover behind the front of the vehicle.

  She dug through her pockets, reloading both of her weapons as quickly as she could.

  Stupid, she chided herself. Stupid fight to pick.

  With a flick of her wrists, the cylinder on each gun clicked into place.

  Bullets whizzed past her once again as she popped her head up, firing twice at the first man she saw. Without waiting to see if she hit her mark, Skye dropped back down behind what little cover she had. To her right, the wall of a house. To her left, fifteen feet of open space between her and any other cover. Nowhere to go.

  Skye stood up once more, firing twice. She hit one in the leg and he fell to the ground, wounded but still alive. The other two were advancing on her quickly, and their backup would be here in no time. Skye closed her eyes, a little silent prayer to no one in particular, then leapt out from behind the truck. She strafed out in an arc to the left, firing with both guns as she went.

  Another man went down, and then something hit her. A terrible, piercing, ache at her breast which stole all the breath out of her. Skye's feet staggered, and when she tried to lift her guns again she found that her arms didn’t have the strength. They fell from her hands and clattered on the asphalt. She looked down and saw the red running down her chest, and then her legs failed her.

  The world went black as Skye slumped to the cold ground.

  ***

  Skye was in the dark abyss. Though her eyes were open, she could see nothing at all. Somehow she could still hear, the distant sounds of fighting echoing across some vast expanse toward her. She could feel that this place was simultaneously somewhere very distant and nowhere at all.

  She spun around, for the first time in her life feeling motion free of effort or consequence, but wherever she moved it was all the same. There was nothing but the dark, and the steadily fading sounds of the fight. As they grew more distant, she tried in vain to chase them, but soon all was silent.

  There was light now though, just the faintest dim glow in the distance. She tried to swim toward it, and it grew brighter and brighter, more quickly than she could possibly have been moving, until it blinded her and she finally opened her eyes once a
gain.

  A man was leaning over her, his hands on her chest. Get off of me, she tried to say, though no words came. You've already killed me. A warmth was spreading through her body, and the man finally met her eyes.

  They were just like hers, she noticed, an unnatural neon green. Skye tried to reach out to him, but she was too tired to move. He placed a gentle hand on her forehead, and she slept.

  ***

  When she awoke next, Skye was lying in the backseat of a van. At first, she couldn’t remember any of what had happened, and her mind was still foggy, as though she had slept for a very long time.

  Suddenly recalling the fight, she jerked herself up onto her elbows, pulling away the blanket which had been draped over her and feeling at her chest for wounds. When she felt nothing, she pulled the neck of her shirt forward and looked down. Her skin was intact, but dried blood told her she hadn’t imagined what happened.

  "Where am I?" she managed to say.

  The man driving didn’t look back, but he spoke. "Oh, you're awake. Good. How do you feel?"

  "Alright. Tired."

  "You could be much worse."

  "Was I... dead? I couldn't have been."

  "Damn near," he said. "I saw what you did, so I brought you back. Lucky for you I was there."

  "Yeah, that was a bad idea," she said. Skye sat the rest of the way upright and pressed a palm to her aching head. All the rest of her memory began to flood back to her then. "The girls," she said. "What happened to them?"

  "One was killed in the gunfight. The others, I freed. They ran away before I could help them any more."

  "You said you brought me back. Why not her?"

  His green eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. "She was too far gone. I might have been able to, but true death does no favors for the mind. I saw you, struggling to breathe but still living, and made my choice."

  He studied her reaction, which was minimal. "I see," she said.

  "Do you not find any of this strange?" he asked.

  "No," she said. "I know who you are, James."

  She could see just the hint of a frown at the bottom of the mirror. "And you are?"

  "I'm Skye."

  "And how do you know me, Skye? While I'm at it, let me ask what is going on with your eyes, and the chains around your wrists?"

  "I was in a group called the Church of James. They worship you."

  There was visible anger in his eyes, but his voice was still calm. "Worship me for what?"

  "For ending the world."

  He was silent for a moment, his eyes back on the road ahead. Skye shifted in her seat.

  "Maybe I should have left you to die, then," James said.

  His words hit Skye like a punch to the gut. She leaned back in her seat, unsure what to say. James hit the brakes suddenly and the van came to a stop in the middle of the empty highway.

  "Let me make two things very clear to you, Skye," James turned around in his seat, fixing her with a terrifying glare. "I don’t want to be worshiped. And I did not end the world. If you're here looking for a religious revelation, get out of my fucking car right now."

  Skye gulped, unable to speak.

  "What have you got to say, then?" he asked.

  "I left the Church," Skye said. "I didn't even realize it then. I had no idea, not even when I left did I fully understand it, but I was brainwashed. They captured me, put me in this prison. Broke me down until there was nothing left. Then, when I was at my lowest, they showed me you. Not the real you, I guess. But what they showed me was beautiful. A god, not somewhere up in the sky but right down here on earth with me. One who had the power to heal, and destroy. One who cared about me becoming the person I had the potential to be."

  "Whatever they showed you was a lie," James said.

  "I know that now. And it was a dark, evil lie. You were a loving god, they told us, but one who would not tolerate weakness. So we did... I did... terrible things. And then, the worst part was that I was good at it. Really good. So that power over people became attractive all on its own, even when I started to have some doubts. But then I learned it was all bullshit. You weren't in charge of the Church. So I left. I decided I'd find the real you, and find out what you really want us to do. So now I have, and you aren't at all what I expected."

  "Sorry to disappoint you. So what do you want to do now?"

  "I want you to tell me what I'm supposed to do next."

  James laughed and shifted the van into drive. "Like I said. If you're looking for a revelation, you've come to the wrong 'god.' But if you come with me, maybe I can show you the right thing to do."

  The van started back down the highway once again. After a few minutes of quiet, Skye climbed over into the front passenger seat.

  "I'm sorry for what I did, in your name," Skye said.

  "Don't apologize to me. But I'm sure there are people you need to apologize to, if you still can. And as for your Church, I believe I'll be dealing with them soon enough."

  "Yeah."

  "Do you have anywhere safe to go?"

  "Not really,” Skye said.

  James sighed. "A friend of mine has a safe town, apparently. You can go with me there. Just one more stop on the way."

  "Alright. Thanks."

  The highway cut through a marsh that went on in all directions as far as she could see. Off in the distance, she saw a herd of brachiosauruses roaming.

  "What's up with the dinosaurs?" Skye asked.

  James shook his head. "I have no goddamn idea. I don't know why he's obsessed with them. Just an instrument of fear, I guess."

  "Is 'he' Martin?"

  He took his eyes from the road and turned to look at her. "And how do you know that name?"

  "I met him. He was the one running the Church, claiming to be you. He said he destroyed the world. Is that true?"

  "It is."

  "Who is he?"

  "He’s a monster of my own creation. My greatest mistake. And one I intend to fix, before I go."

  "Go where?"

  He didn't answer. "Will you take me to him, Skye?"

  "Yes."

  They drove in silence the rest of the way, though it wasn't long before they arrived. Their destination, it seemed, was a little lakeside town. A dozen homes and other buildings had been built in a circle around the lake, which was fed by a river flowing down out of some mountains on the horizon. Makeshift barricades filled in the gaps between the homes, but it was clear to Skye that several of them had recently been torn down.

  James stopped the van and the two of them climbed out. As they approached the nearest barricade, two men appeared with rifles.

  "Stop right there," one of the men shouted.

  Skye stopped, her hand tentatively hovering at her waist until she realized there was no gun there. When James continued to walk, both men fired on him. He raised one hand, and the bullets came to a dead stop several feet ahead of him. They hung in the air for a brief moment before falling into the grass.

  "I'm not looking for trouble," he said.

  "Neither are we," one of the men answered. "But we've had a bit too much of it lately anyway."

  "I've heard. The men who attacked you are dead."

  The two looked at each other, then back at him, clearly unsure what to make of the strange man. James advanced, hands raised, toward them and they did not attack him again. Skye followed tentatively behind. All around the lake, fearful faces peeked out from the windows of every home.

  "Who are you?"

  "Nobody. But I'm here to help," James said.

  The lake was brown and stagnant. Small docks bobbed on the shore in front of most of the homes, little rowboats and canoes tethered alongside.

  "What did they do?" James asked.

  "They dammed off the river, poisoned the lake. Salted what few crops we had. Every week they would return, bringing us our pittance of food and water, threaten to kill us if we resisted. They..."

  The man seemed to be holding back tears. "They raped our women,
and the little girls. There were too many of them." The man was crying now. James rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close, whispering in his ear. The man nodded, wiping his cheek.

  James caught Skye's eye, unfastening his belt and letting his weapons, two pistols and a pair of knives, fall to the ground. He walked forward into the lake, trudging ahead as the water rose to his waist and then to his chest. He stopped then, halfway out to the middle of the lake.