Chapter Three
Duster and a Gun: Reaper
Gregory Blackman
One Good Deed
With any luck, the feeding den over the next ridge would be where I finally catch up with my memories, however cruel they may be. I had tracked the Abaddon to this bleak place, and now stood within a hundred paces of the only safe haven its kind was allowed. Unlike the trickster in the saloon, this monster was unable to hide amongst humans.
I lifted myself off the ground and made my way back to Betsy. I tied her to one of the fallen trees that littered the landscape and grabbed a few things from her saddlebag. I stuffed the extra firearms into my waist for good measure.
I’d been up against frightening creatures before, vampires, quasi-demons and countless monsters in between. Yet, I’d never gone up against anything quite like this. The feeding den was nothing more than a dilapidated shack, in the middle of nowhere and hidden to all but the otherworldly creatures that roamed the land. It was their place, where no mortal dare find themselves.
“I’ve got you now,” I muttered under my breath as I hustled towards the boarded up building. “Run or hide… I’ll find you demon… to the ends of the earth if I have to.”
I pressed against the den’s plank siding and readied my weapon. My nerves were on edge, it wasn’t the battle that got to me, but the waiting that caused the twitch in my fingers. I was always good under pressure.
I rounded the corner of the building, headed towards the front door with the sole purpose to eliminate everything in my way. Heads would roll, of that I would make certain. It was quiet. I should’ve never gotten this far without finding some fiend looking to make supper out of me. It was a trap, or at least that’s what every fiber of my body was telling me. They were waiting for me, biding their time until I inevitably slipped up.
Not today, I told myself, as I kicked in the front door of the shack, my revolver raised high as I scanned the room for any signs of movement.
“What the…,” I gasped as I caught sight of the inside this cesspool. “Even for demons… this just isn’t right.”
My travels had taken me to several of these dens, yet none looked like this. Usually the ghouls and underlings of the demonic community would serve as caretakers for these places. They would maintain some order here and give the appearance that a man might live here. None dared enter this den, however, at least not while the Abaddon had taken up residence.
Blood was splattered across the walls, so much that it was indistinguishable from paint on the walls in places. Human and some type of animal gore were strewn on the floors and other surfaces, the remains of the carnage that had taken place. It was the definition of a hellhole, and it needed to be wiped from this earth.
I came to the grim realization that the monster I sought was no longer here. Whatever happened in this den was recent and I knew he couldn’t be far away. With a little luck I could be on his trail before the sun set.
An unsettling feeling came over me. I wasn’t alone. Something was here, right now, watching and judging. “Who’s there?” I asked with my gun raised. “I’ll only ask this once, after that, I start shooting.”
“Elp…,” said a hushed voice beneath the floorboards. Whatever was making the noise, it sounded of little threat. Still, I kept my finger on the trigger in case of another hidden danger.
“Help… us…,” said the voice again, this time much clearer than before.
It was a man under the floor, perhaps more than one. They were trapped and needed to be freed. No one deserves to be waiting for that moment when a demon would find nourishment in their flesh and blood.
“Stand back!” I shouted and began prying at the planks of wood. “Is there a hatch of some kind?”
“I… don’t remember,” the voice replied. “Please… you have to hurry.”
There had to be some way to get below, because these floorboards just wouldn’t come up. Whatever sealed this hatch, it wasn’t meant for my eyes to find. I gave up my search and decided my time could be better spent elsewhere.
“There we go,” I said, scanning the repulsive interior once more. Weapons came in all shapes and sizes, limited only to the imagination of the user. I’d seen a fork wielded with such skill that it killed a man in a second flat. I’d also seen a man with a broadsword cleave, and cleave some more to kill. Gruesome weapons, I thought, not nearly as clean or effective as a pistol.
Still, for those times when brute force was needed, nothing came close to that of a massive war axe with blood still etched across its edges. I picked up the axe from underneath the front window.
“Stand back!” I shouted as I lifted the axe to my shoulder. It came crashing down and turned wood to splinters under its hefty weight. A few more swings and l I had removed enough of the floor to reveal a small and dark passageway
Like the den above, the walls were painted with blood and gore it couldn’t have been in a more revolting place.
I approached an iron door at the end of a small tunnel. It was locked and marked with several demonic signs and hieroglyphs. It was a warning, that death would be swift for those that dare enter unannounced. “Like I haven’t been told that before, Demons and their silly curses… they’ll never learn.”
My axe came crashing down on the lock and the door swung open. It crashed against the cement wall inside. The darkness from the room masked whatever lay on the other side from my sight.
“I’m here to help.” Two silhouettes emerged from the blackness and crept towards the door inch by inch. I could hear the sound of metal scraping, a pair shuffling in unison towards what they probably never thought they would ever see again, freedom.
The taller of the two was an old man; sickly looking with a scraggly white beard and covered in rags that barely covered him. He must’ve been seventy, an age that would’ve given him the title of respected elder among any of the cities I’ve ever visited, but here, in this hellish place, he was nothing but a meal. Likely it was his frail stature that allowed him to survive this long. He was undesirable to all, save for those monsters near starvation.
“We’re forever in your debt, kind stranger,” said the elderly man, “You’ve saved not only our lives, sir, but our souls, as well. What we owe can never be repaid. Both the boy and I will sing praises of you until we can sing no longer.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said, raising my hands in surrender, “I was merely doing my duty, you’ll be safe now.” The boy was no older than ten, but even after the unspeakable atrocities this child had seen, he carried his head high with bright blue eyes that seemed to beam with hope. His hair was matted to his head, dripping of sweat and the blood of his fallen companions. His clothes weren’t in much better shape than the old man’s.
“Come on,” I said to the freed prisoners. “Let’s get out of here.”