Traveling Merchant (Book 2): Pestilence

by Seymour, William J.

  “What is that for?” he asks.

  She chuckles. It is a sad and long sound.

  “Take it. It’s all I have left. Only has three rounds in it, but I figure if you use one to put me out of my misery, then there will be enough to end a couple more infected before you are done. At least with that I can say I helped do something in this God forsaken shit hole.”

  “Put it away, Red. I’m not going to kill you,” Merchant answers and closes his eyes again.

  “Do it you stubborn son-of-a-bitch! I can’t do it myself and I know you have an ocean of blood on those big hands of yours. What is one last little whore’s life going to do to you?”

  “I said…”

  “I know what you said you piece of shit. Take this gun and kill me as surely as you are all those people back in that village. Because if you won’t kill me, then at least take it and help me kill that bastard who is going to murder Kelly and the rest who don’t deserve to die!”

  Merchant opens his eyes and shifts his body until he is looking at her. His gaze travels from her to the pistol shaking in her hand.

  “Your choice, Merchant. It’s all I have left in this whole world. Kill me and put me out of my misery or fight alongside me one more time. That is all I ask.”

  With a sigh, Merchant slides back against the wall.

  “Get some rest, Red. We’ll move once the storm stops.”

  “We don’t…”

  Merchant’s arm snatches the revolver out of her hand and its on his lap before she can blink.

  “If there are as many as you say there are, you’re going to need all the rest you can get. Close your eyes and shut your mouth. I have some thinking to do.”

  Red goes to say something, but the words lock in her throat. He isn’t looking at her, but deep down she knows he will not let her speak again. She settles back and closes her eyes. The images of the soon to be dead rush into her mind. But this time they do not hurt as much. If they hurry, maybe they will still have a chance. If only they can get there in time.

  12

  A Choice and A Supper

  The stink of rot is heavy. Like nothing Kelly has ever smelled before. People scatter in all directions, aimless and going in circles. The rain continues, and small rivers run through the streets.

  Her feet are cold as the water sloshes around the insides of her shoes. Pulling her coat tighter across her shoulders, she moves across the street toward the Sick House. Two of Mr. Tarlem’s boys stand out front. Big arms bulge beneath wide shoulders, but both are young and keep their eyes locked on the roads leading out of town. They don’t even turn to her as she approaches.

  She knows it is all for show. Brother George told them to go home, but some of the other men in town, much older than she is, demanded they watch over their newest guest. A wind blows hard against her skin and it bites her down to the bone. The stench does not follow it. She can taste the rot and mold on her tongue. Like week old bread, it sours in her mouth and she spits on the ground.

  One of the men, no, boys, looks at her. Too much is on her mind. She should know his name but can’t remember and he’s hardly a year or two younger than she is. Returning his glare, he turns away and eases to the side of the entrance to the house.

  A cough forces its way out of her lungs. Each step and the smell of poison and death chokes out everything. She can practically swim in it. A single candle burns in the room for the sick. A soft golden light flickering its way through an open door and into the empty hallway.

  Kelly hears two sets of breathing. One is labored and full of liquid. Bubbles and coughs are wet enough that she can feel it in her own chest. Death is in this room. Its presence looms over the door as darkness pushes down on the single candle burning inside.

  Then there is Brother George. He sits beside the dying man. Shoulders hunching forward, he looks years older than she has ever seen him. Deep furrows cut through the dark skin of his forehead and he rocks as he watches over the infected man. A wash cloth twists between his hands as he rolls it back and forth, a wet spot smeared across his lap.

  “Brother… Brother George?” she asks.

  He doesn’t look at her. His eyes do not leave the patient in front of him, but he releases one hand from the towel and waves her in. Slowly, she steps into the room. There are eyes watching her from the corners. She can feel them.

  How many times has she come here? A hundred times? Maybe even a thousand?

  Now it is foreign to her. A stranger waiting to take her from all those she loves. A small voice in the back of her mind screams for her to forget it all and run back outside, throw herself into the mud and drink up the dirty water. Anything that could possibly cleanse her from the mistake of ever entering this place.

  “Are… y… you… O… K?” she stutters as she speaks.

  A crooked smile bends the crease of his lips.

  “Did you come all this way to check on me, child?” he asks.

  Kelly rings out the bottom of her shirt onto the floor. A crack of thunder explodes like a canon and she jumps beside herself. The light of the candle bounces as the little table it sits on rocks.

  “I…,” she is ashamed to admit it. “Yes, Brother. I did come to check on you.”

  He sighs and for once turns away from the sick man in front of him. A new and this time soft and gentle smile glows on his face.

  “You are also worried about us all, aren’t you?”

  “They have so many guns, Brother George. What are we going to do if they come back? Can’t you heal him?”

  She doesn’t think, her feet move without any direction and she is by his side kneeling on the floor. His bright eyes look down at her and inside she begs for something to hold on to. Even if it is only enough to get her back out of this room where the darkness of the outside is better than the death that this room has surely become.

  “God will provide for us, my daughter,” he says and then chuckles. “My daughter. You really have been one for me all these years, haven’t you?”

  Kelly nods and his smile grows a fraction of an inch.

  “Heal him then, Brother. Take away the infection and let him go back with those monsters. Maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

  She takes a firm grip onto the sleeve of his arm. A warm hand pats the top of hers softly.

  “If it was only that easy, my love. See, the miracles do not come from me. They are a work of God and his alone. What is the one thing God always asks of us when we have sinned? The only thing that he ever needs from us before we can stand before him.”

  Rolling back onto the balls of her feet, Kelly looks at the man lying on the table. Infection peels away at over half his body. Flakes of dead skin melt away as black blood seeps from open wounds and some pus filled green liquid crusts across his eyes and at the edges of his mouth. A deep yellow stain weaves its way through his nails like snakes scratching to come out.

  “We must ask for forgiveness,” she says.

  Brother George nods and turns back to his patient.

  “And above just asking for forgiveness, Kelly. We must want to be forgiven.”

  Taking his hand away from hers, he reaches out and places it on the infected’s chest. A soft moan comes out as dry lips crack open and small droplets of blood dribble down pale white cheeks.

  “Whatever he has done, I’m sure he regrets. Doesn’t God know that?”

  Lightning flashes in a show of strength and the thunder that follows rattles the roof and floorboards. Gripping the back of the chair, Kelly does everything she can to stop herself from crying.

  “God knows everything, my daughter. Even the dark hearts of men cannot be hidden from him. That is why inside, I do not think he wants to be saved.”

  In shock, Kelly takes a step back.

  “What do you mean he doesn’t want to be saved? Who would ever want to be a monster like this? He’s dying. Are you saying he asked to die?”

  Pulling his hand back, Brother George goes back to ringing the wet cloth b
etween his hands.

  “No, I don’t think he wants to die. Something isn’t correct. I don’t feel as if the infection is such a burden on his soul. Deep within, there is something else there. A…,” Brother George says and then stops with a shake of his head. “Forgive me, Kelly. I’m only rambling because I’m tired.”

  She tries to smile and feels how fake it must look.

  “I understand,” she says and puts her hand on his shoulder.

  It is so tiny compared to the muscles that sit ridged with tension on the man she has come to call her father. He pats her hand again as he turns back to her.

  “Have you had dinner yet?” he asks.

  Kelly tries to feel if she is even hungry, but the smallest thought of food turns everything upside down as her nose burns at the mere mention of food. She cannot tell him that.

  “No, I haven’t,” she answers.

  “Good. Go round up the others. I’d like us all to sit down tonight and eat together as we discuss the future and how things will be,” he says and then with a big sweep of his arm pulls her in against him and the chair for a hug.

  “How things will be?” she asks as she pulls away.

  “Yes, how things will be, my child. I think no matter what happens with this man, things will not be the same. Let us all come together and talk about what the future holds for us all.”

  She goes to say some more, but with a shift of his seat he is back to tending to his patient. Kelly turns and watches another flash of lightning cross the sky. The two boys outside cast large shadows that have now found their way inside the door and beneath the dry roof.

  Round up the others? She hopes they are hungrier than she is. Because after tonight, they have less than two days left before those men return.

  Silent dinners are horrible. Especially after an argument or when you’re trying to hide something. Sitting in a room with a dozen people with less than a handful of words between them all, the emptiness can be suffocating. Kelly knows this all too well as forks and spoons clack off wooden bowls and grinding teeth. Nothing is said as the soup passes across the single table capable of holding twice as many using both sides. The bread is split amongst all the guests as it moves from one end to the other.

  The urge to stand up and demand to know what everyone is going to do is overwhelming. The twelve longest standing members of the church and community are here. A mix of men and women from some of the largest families are gathered and Brother George sits at the center of them all. Head down, gives no notice to those around him. As if he is in another world, he keeps entirely to himself, his eyes locked to a spot some place off in the distance. Very unlike him and it unsettles Kelly to her core.

  Even Bert has found his way here. Sitting to the left of his father, Kelly tries not to spare too many glances his way. It is nice knowing she has a friend here. For as much as this whole town is her one big family, nobody is as close to her as he or Brother George are, and at this moment, the latter is as silent as a mouse.

  Tink.

  Tink.

  The tapping of a spoon on a bowl turns them all to the center of the table. Brother George suddenly waits for them all to settle in with their eyes locked on him and he smiles. He sighs loud enough to draw all the air from the room. A sense of relief washes over Kelly and she can see the others shift and relax into their chairs. They do not turn away, but stiff shoulders and arrow straight spines grow soft as they settle in.

  “My sons and daughters,” he starts, his arms open in warm greeting. “I am thankful that you all have come here tonight. I could not think of a better group of friends and family to share this dinner with.”

  Everyone voices their agreement as several pick up glasses of beer or water and toast to his good health. With a lifting of his hand, everyone falls back into waiting for him to start over.

  “We all know that a danger approaches from the outside, and it is one that without the help of God himself, we are unequipped to handle by ourselves. A man currently lays within the confines of our Sick House and with him he carries the infection that has plagued this world for years. He has been with us now for almost six full days and he has made no progress since joining our community.”

  He speaks the words that they already know. Kelly looks back and forth between them all. They all know what is happening, why don’t we just get to the point?

  “You mean being dropped at our feet,” Bert’s father Harold cuts in. “God tells us, Brother, that we should take in the sick and the weak. Tend to our flock and protect those with the gifts that he gives us, but what of those forced on us as judgement? Is there anything in the good book about what to do when healing a man is done as a test to see who lives and who dies?”

  Kelly turns to Brother George who at first does not answer. Heads nod in agreement and some sit with eyes too wide or bloodshot with tears to answer themselves. Meals that are barely touched sit in front of all of them, the steam cooling in the tension filled air. She knows she has barely let a sip pass her lips because this is the only reason she is here.

  “The story of our father and his love for us speaks of many trials and judgements, my son. Who are we to speak badly of the newest placed at our feet? How do we know that God has not put this man here himself to show us that the gifts he has given us are not for us to decide who shall be healed and who shouldn’t be? Would you have us turn out this man and those who brought him here though God has given us so much by accepting everyone who has come here seeking aid?”

  Harold looks back at his plate and spins his spoon around the bowl.

  “As you said, Brother. The man is dying. Talking with the nurses, even you yourself haven’t been able to do much for the man. We all heard what Mr. Barnett said. If this man is not cured by the time he returns in the next twenty-four hours or so, he will take out his punishment in flesh and blood. What do we do then?”

  Kelly remembers the looks on those men’s faces. So many guns. An army against the men and women of this town. She thinks of Red, probably the only person there that day that didn’t look scared and helpless. But she left. Within an hour of those men riding off back the way they had come, she vanished as quickly as she had arrived. A small bit of anger ignites within her and she doesn’t know to be angry or jealous. Pushing it all away, she realizes she wishes Red was here to help them figure out what to do.

  “That is why we are here tonight, my son. To discuss what must be done,” Brother George adds before he turns back to everyone. “Many things will happen over the next two days and I want us all to be prepared for what will be coming.”

  “What is coming is death to those who fight and pain for those who remain and wait,” Derek adds. He pushes his seat back and pivots to lift himself up, but a soft hand from Mary keeps him in his chair. “I for one do not want to see the consequences of either choice. I say we all pack everything we can and head down river. Mary, I, and the others have traveled out more than a hundred times and the paths are dangerous, but there isn’t anything we couldn’t get through. We pack and leave by the morning. Those who want to fight can stay and do their best, but those of us strong enough help those who can’t will head out at the rising of the sun.”

  A few more murmurs come from lips unwilling to give full support. Brother George smiles and nods Derek’s way before the man slides his chair back to the table.

  “A fine suggestion, my son. Though your heart is in the correct place, I do not see that as an answer for our dilemma. God, our father, put us here on this earth for a purpose. By that I am sure we did not find this village and build it from a pile of dust and weeds for any other purpose than it has served up to this point. If we are to abandon it at the first sign of trouble, then what are we to answer when we question the gifts he has given us?”

  Questioning eyes, wide but soft sweep across the room and everyone shies away from his glare. Kelly has no answer. This has been her home for as far as she wants to remember. The thought of abandoning it makes her as sick as the
idea of those men and their guns coming for them all.

  “Then what, Brother? Do we all sit here and wait for our demise to arrive at sunset? Like sheep waiting to be culled by the wolves?” Harold adds in.

  “Wolves and sheep were both put on this world by our father, Harold. Both have survived for centuries and the pain of thinking this will be the end of it all is hard to fathom. Though it may seem so, and I do appreciate your sentiments and ideas, I truly do, this is not why I have gathered you here tonight.”

  Like an audience stunned into silence, even the sound of breathing stops as they all await his next words. The back of Kelly’s throat is dry, and her tongue goes limp as her heart beats against her chest. If they aren’t here to discuss what they are going to do about Mr. Barnett and his men, then why are they here?

  “I have brought you all here tonight to share this dinner with those that have meant the most to me and shared my secret for the longest of time. We have lived, loved, grown, and died on this land and in the end, this village is who we are. When those men come tomorrow, our visitor will be just as he arrived. We will not fight Mr. Barnett for our father would not have willed it to be so.”

  “But, Brother…” Kelly blurts out.

  His hand raises, and her words are cut short by the look in his eyes. Sad and distant. He knows what is coming, they all know what is coming, and they aren’t going to do anything about it.

  “I know several of you will have your doubts about God and even more so myself after this night. I ask of you only one thing and that is to trust in me and for the sake of all our people, trust in God our father for one more day. I know and feel the same fear that you all feel at this very moment, but I know there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. What feels like the end will only bring a new beginning for us all. After we end this dinner tonight, I want you all to go home and share with your family these words. God has a purpose for us in this world. Through me, we have seen life and love in a world driven mad by the sins of our people and in the hour of our greatest need, we cannot forget that. Hug your children close. Talk to your neighbor who sits at home right now shaking within the darkness of their own minds. Comfort them with the knowledge that we are not forgotten, and when the sun rises on the second day. This village and its people will still stand.”