Traveling Merchant (Book 2): Pestilence

by Seymour, William J.

7

  Miracles Do Happen

  A heavy, dreamless night.

  Unwanted rest and a morning long passed.

  Merchant turns from his bed where it sits, tucked in and undisturbed. He shifts his bag where it rests below the window. He shouldn’t be here. The road calls to him, pulls at his soul as the western horizon stretches to the end of the world.

  Heat lifts off in waves where the shadows burn away. Men, women, and children keep to the shriveling areas of shade as they pass between buildings and the unexplainable trees this town seems to possess. All varieties. Healthy and beginning to bear flowers and new leaves that should be no more than distant memories. Pinks and reds. Whites and oranges. Untouched and thriving in the middle of a country gone to shit. A countless collection of homes and storefronts, long porches wrapping around, and a quiet civility belonging to another time. A mirage of safety and comfort. Reality has come to a standstill here. There is no other way to explain it.

  Though not everything can remain untouched.

  Wood panels crack and peel from the intense sun and dust kicks up beneath scurrying feet. Long hats shield eyes and a few dogs, pigs, a single goat, and at least a half-dozen cats meander their way across the dirt road. Noses to the ground, ears held at the ready and twitchiness in their limbs, the animals know the truth. All but the careless goat. The beast munches on peeled bark as it stands in front of the building across the street. Door hanging wide open, Merchant watches as men and women make their way in and out, wool sacks of goods held in their hands or over their shoulders as they leave.

  They all pet the goat

  He stands there and munches away. Chin high, he regards them with little more than passing interest. Servants to his whims which at the moment consist of little more than the hard pieces between its teeth.

  No one forgets to pet the goat.

  Floorboards creak above Merchant’s head and he regrets how high the sun is already. He should have woken up before the day broke the cover of night. Taken his stuff and disappeared into the darkness before they could drag him to stay and become part of their family.

  Hadn’t he heard enough of that already? Come back to God. He’ll save this world.

  Merchant holds onto his bag with a grip that could choke the air out of a tree. God has given up on this world. Moved on to better pastures. There is no Heaven when Hell is all that is left.

  “Almost high-noon, cowpoke,” Snake-Eyes jokes.

  The ghost materializes in the bed behind Merchant, cowboy hat tipped forward on his eyeless skull and a long piece of straw dangling between his perfect teeth. A large brass colored belt buckle shines beside two holsters empty of pistols and the eyes on his neck remain half closed and leery.

  “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” Merchant asks.

  The bed doesn’t make a noise and the floorboards are silent as Snake-Eyes climbs to his feet and walks over. He pulls out the straw and blows out a long drag of smoke and now there is a cigarette burning with a mile of ash hanging between his fingers.

  “Need to fit in with the crowd before you kill them,” Snake-Eyes says with a wink. “Nice people if you ask me. Naïve as fuck, but nice people. Too bad they don’t understand what they let in through the front door.”

  Merchant turns away before hefting his bag onto his shoulder. The wood beneath his feet groans with protest as the weight shifts.

  “I’m hitting the road no matter what any of them say. We’ll put miles between us and them before nightfall.”

  A smile opens a wide mouth of teeth and a small tear drips from empty sockets.

  “You said we,” Snake-Eyes fakes fainting on the floor.

  “Don’t press your luck. I’d kill you a second time if I had the chance,” Merchant grumbles and turns to the door.

  Pulling on the nob and cracking the seal is like sticking one’s head into an oven. The air blasts everything his lungs empty, his skin pulls tight and sweat glands erupt as the heated vacuum dries everything out. Merchant’s eyes water and he shifts the bag over his shoulder as he shuts the door behind him.

  Just great. Now I don’t just live in Hell, I have to walk right through it.

  No one pays any mind to him as he leaves his shelter behind. Dust kicks up around his boots as he turns west along the road and keeps his head down. People talk, dogs bark, and everyone moves along as another day passes.

  “Wouldn’t think of skipping town without saying goodbye, would you?” Brother George asks.

  Merchant stops but does not turn around. Snake-eyes spins on his spurs and puts both hands over empty holsters as he backs away three paces.

  “Give me the word and I’ll take him out now,” the ghost says.

  “I told you that I’d be gone by sunrise,” Merchant says.

  “Looks like you overslept,” Brother George adds.

  Merchant shifts his face toward the sun scorching the blue sky.

  “Appears I have. If it means no difference to you, I’ll be on my way, priest. There are plenty of hours left in this day and I need to keep myself moving. I have a long road ahead of me.”

  Brother George steps up beside him and places a firm hand on his shoulder.

  “We all have a long, hard road ahead of us, my son. How we choose to walk it and with whom by our side is the real question we must answer.”

  Slowly, but with little gentleness, Merchant drops the man’s hand off his shoulder.

  “What I do and what lays ahead of me is of my concern. Keep your flock with you. Protect them any way you can, but there are things in this world you don’t understand, priest, and I am one of them.”

  “I understand more than you’ll ever know, Merchant. There is a plan at work between you and me. My father above has put into motion events that neither of us can change, but it is up to us to find a way to overcome these obstacles if we are to see the other side.”

  The bag shifts again and the objects inside settle with a weight that pulls on the skin of Merchant’s shoulder.

  “Whoever your father is has clearly underestimated how truly fucked you all really are. There is nothing left of this world and the path for me is west. I didn’t come to your village by some divine intervention. I nearly drowned trying to keep a stupid woman from drowning herself before the disease killing her had a chance to do the job for me.”

  “Your friend, Red,” Brother George cuts in.

  “Call he what you will. She’ll be dead in a few days and I’ll be long on my way. Trust me on this, priest. It is better for you all that I keep moving.”

  Not waiting for another word, Merchant steps away.

  “You can see her if you would like,” Brother George says.

  Merchant shakes his head and continues to walk away. A strong sniff of baked bread clings to the air as dirt grits between his teeth. He pats the inner pocket of his jacket and feels the jerky inside. There is enough to carry him the rest of his trip.

  “Your problem now,” Merchant says to the wind.

  Brother George does not follow him.

  “She’s been asking for you,” the priest calls. “Says she needs to talk to you. It’s about a collector.”

  Merchant stops. Anger flares up, hot and wild. The goat walks up to him and taps his leg with the top of his head. Teeth opening wide, the beast grabs a hold of his pant leg and begins to pull.

  “Her mind is gone. The infection has driven her crazy. That is all,” Merchant tries to convince himself.

  “Not from what my nurses say. Woman has been nothing but chatty and insists she needs to see you. Says you’ll understand.”

  A buzzard calls into the air as it circles the town. Wings wide in its slow glide, the shadow is a jet plane making a long surveillance run of its target below.

  “Tell her I already left,” Merchant says.

  He doesn’t move. There is no reason to. He already knows the answer.

  “She says she’ll follow you and I will not lie to her. I am a man of the church after all,” Br
other George answers.

  The small chuckle at his own joke is evident from a mile away.

  “Can she follow me? Does she have the strength to do that?” Merchant asks.

  “Why don’t you see for yourself?” Brother George is behind him without the slightest of sounds. “She waits for you in the Sick House right beside where you slept. It will take nothing more than a few moments for you to see her.”

  No other choices, no other options. Merchant sighs.

  “Tick Tock,” Snake-Eyes says and points to a gold watch on his wrist. “High-noon is coming, and you have these people in your cross hairs.”

  “Make this quick, priest,” Merchant says and follows Brother George back the way they had come.

  This house does not match what it should be. Clean air, fresh soap, and the gentle touch of warm milk carried between four walls and a short roof.

  Merchant follows behind Brother George as the man takes his time leading the way. The Sick House is not unlike the home where he spent the night. Two floors, with the lowest level split into a half dozen rooms with a cast-iron stove at the center of the hallway warming everything within reach when the weather finally reaches that time of year to need it.

  “How much further do we have to go, priest?” Merchant asks.

  Snake-Eyes does not follow. The ghost disappeared before they ever stepped foot through the door.

  “Not much. Be patient, my son, you are as anxious as she is.”

  Merchant looks through a couple of cracked open doors as they pass by. All of them empty. Beds are made and small tables with pitchers of water sit ready and waiting.

  “I do not have time to delay. Every minute we waste here is another I lose finding my way back to the interstate.”

  “The road you travel will be there when the sun rises again, I can assure you of that. Patience is a virtue. You would take heed to remember that.”

  A growl grows in Merchant’s chest, but he suppresses it by shifting his bag over his shoulder. Surprising even him, the burden he carries does not pull so tightly on his body. Prying his thumb under the thick strap, the weight shifts onto his hand with little resistance.

  “Ah, here we are,” Brother George says when they reach the end of the hall.

  Before them sits a closed door. Solid oak stained dark with a polished knob waiting to be turned.

  “Don’t make her wait any longer,” Brother George whispers. “She’s already expecting you.”

  Merchant eyes the man who now has the smile of a father happy to give his daughter away.

  With a silent twist, the door opens easily and Merchant steps in.

  The room is no different from what he saw earlier. A single bed rests by a window looking into the afternoon light outside. A thin curtain flickers from the wind making its way through the opening and on the edge of the bed sits a young woman. She does not turn to look at him. Dark waves of red hair lay across her shoulders and she sits straight as she gazes toward the outside.

  “There must be some mistake,” Merchant says as he turns back to the door.

  The priest puts a single finger up to his pressed lips and pulls the door shut before him.

  “No mistake here, Merchant,” Red’s voice says.

  The bed creaks as the girl at the window turns. Merchant’s eyes go wide and then narrow.

  “Red, is that you?” he asks.

  Her smile is alive with youth and the fire in her eyes glows brighter than the sun of a warm summer afternoon. Her cheeks are as red as her hair and the skin of her face and arms is pale but shines with the beauty of a woman hardly past twenty.

  “It’s me, Merchant. Look what they did to me.”

  She holds out her arms and there isn’t a single mark on them. No scars, no wounds leaking pus all over the clean sheets. He was never able to take notice before, but the woman would be heart stopping if his heart didn’t burn with the hatred that drives him down the highway.

  “How did they?” he begins.

  Red giggles and shakes her head.

  “God did this for me,” Red says and bounces onto her knees on the mattress like a child. “The nurses told me how the work of God comes through the hands of Brother George. With a single touch he can cure the infection.”

  “That isn’t possible. I’ve seen thousands of infected. This isn’t some cold, Red. You don’t wake up one day and the disease is gone. It’s fatal.”

  Merchant turns back to the closed door.

  “You haven’t been infected,” she calls out to him.

  He drops his bag onto the floor and the contents rattle, but the sound is hollow and empty.

  “I’m different.”

  She crosses her arms.

  “How different?”

  Walking around her, he puts an arm across the top of the window frame and watches children at play and men and women finishing up their work as the sun continues to dip toward the west.

  “It’s a long story,” he answers.

  “Tell me it then.”

  Merchant shakes his head no.

  “Too long and I don’t have enough time. I need to get back on the road.”

  “Still going west are you?” she asks.

  Red swings her legs off the edge and her feet tap onto the wooden floor. The skin is smooth enough to shine the light from the window like a mirror and she wiggles her toes back and forth.

  “There is no stopping where I’m going.”

  He turns back to the window. Dark clouds blot the horizon and the wind rattles the rod holding the curtain.

  “Why can’t you stay, Merchant? This place is like heaven on earth. The people are nice, and they have enough for everyone. Even if the infected find their way here, Brother George will just cure them,” Red says.

  A small laugh and he turns back to her.

  “He’s going to cure a thousand infected if they charge the limits of this village? Even if I believed he had the hand of God himself, there is only one of him and a million hungry monsters out there. They’ll eat him alive and anyone stupid enough to stay here.”

  Red plants her feet on the ground and stands up to him. Her eyes flash with anger and she presses herself against him and she barely reaches his shoulders.

  “We’ll protect them,” she says.

  “Protect them?” he laughs again. “You and what army?”

  A finger pokes the center of his chest twice.

  “Me and this walking monster who dragged my infected ass here. I’ve seen what you can do. Those things may be monsters, but you are something else, Merchant. There is enough blood on your hands to drown that river that washed us here.”

  Anger flashes through his eyes and he pushes her aside with his shoulder. Losing her balance, she falls onto the bed.

  “I’ve had enough of this place, Red. I’m leaving, and you can stay if you’re smart or follow me if you want to die. I have no understanding of what has been done here, but part of me is glad you get a second chance. Don’t waste it. I’m leaving and there is no coming back. Make your choice quickly,” Merchant says.

  He hefts the bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the door.

  “Asshole. We finally find a place that has everything we need and you’re going to leave it in the dust behind you. What the fuck could possibly be out there, Merchant? What is so fucking demanding that you’d give up your life to claw your way half way across this damn country? Tell me, Merchant. None of this, someone stole something from me bullshit. We have something here, Merchant.”

  He does not answer her. Grabbing the doorknob, he turns and pulls it open.

  “Goodbye, Red.”

  “Fuck you, asshole! Just tell me! What is so God-damn important you will leave me for it?” Red screams.

  Merchant shakes his head and walks out the door.

  8

  Let’s Make This A Home?

  The storm rolls in quickly.

  Earth shaking thunder. Lightning flashing across the sky. A bolt hits a tree and spli
ts the trunk through the center and sends embers of burning wood and pitch high into the darkened sky.

  Shutters rattle and crack as the wind howls and screams its fury. Candle flames flicker and the demons of the night dance in the corners as dinner is put on the table and everyone waits for the storm to pass.

  “He left you behind like you were nothing,” Kelly grumbles.

  There are so many questions and not enough words to get them out as everyone eats in silence. The woman who calls herself Red looks up at her, a small bit of potato hanging from the corner of her ruby red lips. She eats like it is the last time she will ever see food. Shoveling it in faster than it can be served.

  “An asshole, through and through. More monster than man if you ask me,” she says and turns back to her plate.

  Roasted chicken, potatoes from last year’s harvest and the remainder of the spring peas before they all bolted and became bitter. Biting down on her own serving, Kelly can tell the two days they had to harvest was still too long as the taste of iron from the dirt mixes with the starchy fiber between her teeth.

  What would it be like to think this was the best food left on the planet? Putting her spoon down on the plate, she pushes it away.

  “Very quiet for a monster. All he talked about was going west. Why were you traveling with him if he treated you so badly?”

  Derek slaps the edge of his plate with his fork. There is a darkness to his eyes this evening. A brooding beneath the deep ravines stretching across his forehead.

  “Hush now, girl. Let the poor woman eat in peace and recover some of her strength. There is no reason to go on interrogating her like she isn’t welcome at our table,” he says.

  He turns back to his plate and takes another bite, the same uninterested look on his face that she knows all of them feel. Mary taps him on the leg. He spares her a quick look before hunching over his cooling food.

  “I never said that she wasn’t welcome with us. I’d never say that. All I want to know is why this Merchant would leave her behind like he did. Would you leave Mary behind? Could you make her wait here while you went off across the country?” Kelly asks, her own words too harsh for her liking.