Traveling Merchant (Book 2): Pestilence

by Seymour, William J.

  Moans and the pains of hunger fill his ears until they bleed. Merchant keeps them at bay with the only weapon he has left. They circle him, and he cannot run. Those that have fallen begin to rise regardless of their injuries.

  He looks back to the stranger. Shadows swirl and cloak him in a shroud of death and mystery. A crooked hand lifts Merchant’s way. The first monster catches his arm and the touch burns down to the bone. Nails cut through flesh and muscle. Blood fountains and the knife falls. Merchant will not follow. Another grabs and he wraps his good hand around throat and rips until blood and tissue fly away.

  Another glance to the stranger. This is the end. His days are finally over. A wash of relief floods Merchant’s body. He always swore he’d die on his feet. Throwing the two monsters separating him from the unknown away, Merchant stares in defiance at the shadow aiming to claim him.

  Light flashes from the end of a pointed finger. Pain slams into Merchant’s chest with the force of a tornado and blood balloons out with the little breath he has left in his lungs. He topples to the ground as his mouth fills with the salty taste of iron and each breath chokes him. A third burst rips his chest across the sternum and he watches another streak of light flare its life across the sky.

  Shadows look down on him. Yellow eyes stare hungrily into his torn flesh. He is done. He is dead.

  The darkness takes what it wants.

  11

  You Cannot Refuse

  Dead bodies do not move.

  They tend not to breathe either.

  Red squats on her haunches and pokes Merchant in the chest with a long finger. He grumbles and stirs but does not open his eyes. The smell of death is everywhere, and she does not blame him. Bodies rot in the morning sun and the darkness filling in from the west tells a story of the pain and misery to come.

  She pokes him again, and he grumbles words in a language she doesn’t understand. With a sigh, she stands back up, stretches her back and feels a few pops relieve the stress. It has been a long three days on the road and she is too tired to deal with his lazy ass sleeping in the middle of a cow field where the cows were smart enough to have left a long time ago.

  “I hope you aren’t too mad about this,” she says.

  Spinning on her heel, she lets a kick fly and hits him square in his ribs.

  Air jets out followed by coughs that rack his huge body and Merchant curls onto a shoulder and spits on the ground.

  “What… what the fuck is going on?” he demands.

  Red stands there with her fists buried into her hips. He doesn’t notice her at first. His eyes move over the dead bodies and he shakes his head.

  “Don’t even think I was willing to give you CPR or anything like that,” she says.

  He turns his head, a small look of confusion that quickly fades to anger and then his normal pained look of hatred.

  “Can’t get rid of you, can I?” he asks.

  “Many men far better than you have tried, but none of it ever lasted,” she answers

  Stepping away, she distances herself from him and the corpses littering a circle around him. The smell of the infection and decay is bitter sweet like rotting apples and sour milk. Her stomach churns. A buzzard swoops down a dozen feet away and bites down on an arm and tries to pull it away.

  “Where did they all go?”

  Red chuckles.

  “In the grave most likely. Probably where you would be if I didn’t find you out here passed out drunk in the middle of… where the fuck are we?” she asks.

  Merchant looks up at the sky and then in all directions.

  “How the fuck would I know?”

  He grunts as he struggles to get himself off the ground. Knees wobble and his center of balance sways above his feet.

  Is he really drunk?

  “Well, I’m the one who found you here. I figured you knew where you were going you were in such a hurry to leave.”

  Rubbing the top of his bald head, Merchant pulls his bag closer to him and stretches out. The popping of his bones crunches louder than the birds gnawing on the bodies in the distance.

  “This is west,” he says.

  “West? You led us all the way out here to end up in a deserted field?”

  Merchant, with the grace of a man sixteen drinks past liver cancer, swings the duffel bag over his shoulder and begins to stagger forward. A crack of thunder in the distance roars like a cannon.

  “I’m headed west. This is more west than I was a day ago. Tomorrow, I’ll be farther west than I am right now. What part of that doesn’t your infected brain understand?”

  She watches him go, his confident walk of anger and destiny gone beneath the labored stumble of pain and exhaustion.

  “There are a lot of places west of here, Merchant. Wherever it is, you are going is a long way off and at this rate you aren’t going to make it.”

  A wave of the back of his hand is accompanied by a streak of lightning and a boom loud enough to rattle the buzzards back into the air.

  “I’ll make it. No matter how hard I want to stop, the road won’t let me go, Red. Go back to town and those who cured you. You’re better off there than with me.”

  Anger flares in her gut. Stomping the ground dead beneath her feet, she runs up behind him.

  “Don’t you think I’d be there right now if I wanted to be?”

  “What’s stopping you? Sure as hell isn’t me.”

  Red punches him in the shoulder and he doesn’t flinch. He hardly cocks his head to the side. Just one foot in front of the other.

  “The town needs you,” Red says.

  Merchant chuckles and shifts the weight on his shoulder across his back.

  “I’m fairly certain I’m the last thing that place needs. Go back, Red. A storm is coming, and no one is going to be left out dry when this is all done. Live your life. Enjoy it while you can.”

  With the strength returning to his legs, Merchant picks up the pace.

  “It’s not them who needs you, Merchant.”

  He doesn’t slow.

  “The town is in danger. Some guys. Real bad ones. Ex-soldiers if I’m guessing right are ready to shoot up the town if someone doesn’t stop them.”

  Merchant keeps walking.

  Droplets of water splash in tiny explosions across the dry dirt of the ground leaving craters over the dark soil. A few here and there at first but with each passing moment it begins to turn into a minefield as red splotches lift into the air before falling to the ground to as mud. Red watches the distance between them grow. She doesn’t know what to do if she can’t convince him to come back with her. The memory of this Logan Barnett creeps into her mind. His wicked smile. That stupid hat of his and the thousand-gun army at his back.

  Her palms sweat, and she wants to run back and shoot the man dead herself. But she can’t. She isn’t Merchant. He’s an army himself and without him, the people, her new family, are as good as dead.

  Warm streams of rain run down her cheek and she lifts a wet strand of hair away from her eyes. The soft silky feeling on her fingers tickles as she holds it out enough to see it.

  Look what they gave her. Asking for nothing in return, she is back to who she was meant to be. The wind howls and lightning flashes across the darkening sky. Empty husks of trees long dead sway beneath the coming storm.

  Merchant is already a hazy figure in the distance. His broad shoulders sway as his swagger returns and he quickly becomes a memory. Growling at herself, she cannot give up. If he won’t listen to reason, then she’ll do whatever it takes to change his mind. Even if she has to threaten to kill him herself, he will come back with her and save the only family she has left in this world.

  Because if she doesn’t, life itself won’t be worth living.

  The fury of God unleashes across the plains. Red is fairly certain it is barely mid-day and the small fire Merchant is able to start is the only light for miles. Huddling beneath the half-fallen roof of a bomb gutted house, they sit and wait out the storm.
>
  Sheets of water rake across the barren ground, mud splashing in giant waves. The wind howls and the clouds above roll by, angry and determined to destroy everything in their path. Red pulls her knees to her chest and gnaws on the end of a jerky stick.

  “Now, I know it’s been awhile, but I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed these,” she says, her back pressing against chipped drywall and pealing wallpaper.

  The dry as death meat cuts at the roof of her mouth and it takes what feels like several minutes of chewing to soften the meal up enough to swallow.

  Merchant bites down hard on his own piece and crunches it like dried bone between his teeth.

  “You didn’t complain when you had to beg for it earlier,” he says.

  Drawn off into the distance, she watches his eyes as they gaze with an unblinking stare.

  “Like I said. I’m not complaining. Though, I always wanted to ask why you never seem to be out of them. It wasn’t like we raided a jerky factory every couple of days.”

  He doesn’t turn to her, but he shrugs his shoulders.

  “I have enough for what I need.”

  Red pulls her knees tighter against her chest. A bomb of thunder rattles the floor over their head and dust and debris falls. More drywall and broken plaster. All of it bleached white from the sun. Lightning brightens the sky, and an explosion rips a mushroom cloud from the ground and sends it up into the air.

  “Gods are angry today,” she mutters.

  The jerky turns stale in her mouth. This isn’t going to get her anywhere. The more time they waste here, the less time those depending on her will have.

  “There are no gods,” Merchant says, less to her and what seems more to himself.

  “Brother George seems to think differently.”

  He shifts his weight and lays back against the wall, hands behind his head he closes his eyes.

  “They’ll all learn soon enough. Eventually this shit-hole of a world will catch up to them.”

  Red takes a deep breath.

  “See, that’s why I’m here, Merchant,” she says and turns to face him on her knees. “They are in big trouble. None of them understand what is coming for them. They think God will come down and save them from everything that is out there. Only we can help straighten this before it’s too late.”

  Merchant shifts himself until he’s seated upright, back straight against the cold wall.

  “What is this we?”

  Anger flares in her gut. Insolent asshole doesn’t even want to bother.

  “I came all the way out to the middle of bumble-fuck nowhere to find you Merchant, and it sure as well wasn’t for your great company. We need to help them before it’s too late. He said they have a week, and it took me three days to find you.”

  “We?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Merchant. I can’t help them on my own.”

  Red is on her feet pacing along the edge of their shelter. Stopping, she plants her fists on her hips.

  “And what makes you think I can do anything about it?” Merchant asks.

  She doesn’t turn to look at him.

  “I know what you can do, Merchant. I’ve seen the blood on your hands. These people can’t fight. For fuck’s sake they carry around pigs as pets. They’ll be slaughtered to the child if no one helps.”

  Red spins on her heels and he’s looking off into the distance.

  “Not my problem. I’m no hero if that’s what you think I am.”

  She growls.

  “I don’t need a fucking hero you asshole!”

  With the side of her boot she kicks a wad of mud and dirt onto him.

  “What is it then, Red? Why the fuck did you track me down out here? You had everything you wanted back there. Your health, your life returned. What else could you want? I’m heading west and that is final. You can tag along if you want. It will end your life sooner than you hope, but I’m going where I need to go. They’ve survived this long without my help, they can keep going on their own.”

  “Uh! Do I need to spell it out until it sinks into your thick head? I don’t want some knight in shining armor. This world would spit and swallow that shit up like it does the poor souls of people like Brother George. We need a killer, Merchant. A cold-hearted bastard who knows how to spill blood and put an end to people who shouldn’t still be walking this God-fucked world.”

  Merchant waves her off.

  “If it isn’t this person, it’ll be the next. What then, Red? Are we going to stay and babysit them until we are old and gone? When the storm clears, I head west. Enough talking.”

  Pulling his bag closer to his side, Merchant tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

  “Uh!” Red storms around their dry island.

  Fuck this shit and fuck him!

  She stomps out into the storm. Warm water rushes over her body and soaks her to the skin and bone in seconds. Tasting salt on her lips, Red looks to the sky. Water droplets fall in waves and she closes her eyes as the tears flow freely.

  Her hands shake, and she just wants to scream, but it won’t do any good. The asshole has made up his mind. She thought she knew him better than this. He fought his way through all those men and that monster of an asshole to save that woman who couldn’t have given two shits about him.

  Why is this different?

  Lightning flashes across the sky in a jagged bolt. Thunder rumbles like angry boots crushing the clouds and she can see more fire in the distance. Not small campfires like theirs, but the harsh glow of something burning that spreads over the horizon. The thought of that little village becoming a smoking ruin spreads its way through her brain.

  She can see Brother George and the others burning inside of buildings or being shot down by bloodthirsty men with rifles and no sympathy. Then there is Kelly. A young girl. Not too much unlike she was at that age. So much to learn, maybe with enough teaching she’d become strong enough to make it out here in the wilds. But the image of her body, riddled with bullets lies on the ground at her feet. The mud swirls a dark red and those eyes of hers are blank and staring directly into her soul.

  They cry for an answer. Why? Why wasn’t she there to save them?

  Fury burns through Red’s veins and her muscles twitch. She will not have this. He is coming back with her whether he likes it or not. Reaching into the pouch that hangs off her belt, her fingers wrap around the revolver like a glove. Her finger caresses the trigger, and she pulls it free from its cage.

  Stomping through the mud like an angry bear, she marches back into the alcove.

  “Hey asshole!” she yells.

  A shot echoes into the afternoon storm. Thunder answers in giant booms from drums a thousand miles away.

  Merchant opens his eyes. He doesn’t flinch as the flakes of fading wall settles on his shoulder.

  “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

  One eyebrow lifts, but Merchant doesn’t answer.

  “Next one, I don’t miss, asshole. Grab your shit and let’s get moving. We don’t have any more time to waste.”

  He doesn’t move. A big arm settles on his bag and the fabric crinkles under the weight as it rests against his ribs.

  Blood splatters against the wall where the bullet tears through fabric and tissue. Merchant doesn’t move. A knot ties itself into her throat as the gunpowder smoke settles in the growing darkness and then unravels as she confirms she isn’t that bad of a shot. Only a flesh wound as the bullet barely nicked his coat and only enough to graze him.

  “You done yet?” he asks, turning his shoulder to see the thick stream of blood leaking from the open wound.

  “What kind of monster are you?” she demands.

  Huffing, Red turns back to the storm.

  “I’m not sure I even know,” he answers.

  Tears run down her face again, mixing with the water dripping from her hair.

  “I can’t leave them behind, Merchant. I don’t know how you can. Isn’t there any humanity left inside of yo
u?”

  Looking back, the man is tending to the cut in his skin and shows no sign he is listening.

  “What am I to do, Merchant?”

  Red throws herself against the wall and ground beside him. Deep sobs shake her body and her fists rub her eyes so hard they hurt.

  “Everybody can’t be saved, Red. This is your choice to make. They made theirs and I made mine a lifetime ago. You are the one who has to decide what you are going to do with your life.”

  She looks at him as he pulls a piece of cloth, torn from the bottom of his canvas jacket, tight around his lower shoulder. He doesn’t flinch as the material squeezes into the open flesh and quickly soaks itself red.

  “I… I can’t do this anymore, Merchant. All I see is their dead faces. If I go back, I’ll end up like them. I can’t fight off an entire army myself, but…”

  Tears cut her words off.

  “But what?”

  Merchant settles himself against the wall again and closes his eyes.

  “There is nothing out there for me either. If I go west with you, what will I find? More death and heartache. They are still alive and all I can see is their deaths following me everywhere. Once we leave, they’ll have no chance and I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Her hands are weak and the revolver tips into her lap.

  “The pain fades over time. Ghosts can follow you, but the pain and the memory will fade.”

  Red runs her finger over the curved edge of the weapon’s grip.

  “I don’t think I can live with that, Merchant. Until we met them, I thought my life was nothing but a ticking clock until the infection took me for good. Then they showed me I could have everything back. For once I saw a light in this world I had forgotten ever existed. They gave that to me, Merchant. I can’t leave them to die on their own.”

  “Then don’t. Go back. Fight alongside them,” he says.

  His voice is deep and distant, and it unnerves her.

  “They won’t fight, Merchant, and I can’t just kill myself fighting a battle I know I can’t win.”

  Red turns her head to him and lifts the revolver into her hand. She does not put her finger on the trigger, instead turning it so that she holds it by the barrel. The tears on her face a warm stream that tickles as it makes its way down her neck.