The town of Black Bellows sits silent. A hint of grey dawn alights over the eastern steppe and veils of morning mist blanket the empty streets. The hunter treks down the road, out of the forest and into the town. As he limps past the darkened windows nothing stirs, but he can feel the presences of the people inside. Watching him. He walks through the town and out onto the vast steppe from whence he came. As he approaches the town sign he sees a silhouette waiting for him beside it. He does not break stride.
It is the elderly shopkeep from the town general store. He stands alone in the middle of the road leaving town, a weathered shotgun clutched in his hands. He waits unmoving until the hunter stops in front of him, then he points the gun at the hunter's head. "You fuckin bastard," he says and bares his teeth, tears shining in his eyes.
"You killed my son. Waylan was a good boy. He never hurt nobody, was a kindness to everyone around him. And you killed him for nothing." The shopkeep sobs and the weapon sinks slightly. "...my only boy." He sniffles and the tears roll freely down his face. The hunter does not move.
After a moment the shopkeep looks back at him, anger flashing in his eyes and solidifying his stance. "Now I kill you. For him and all the others."
They stand like that for an eternity, unmoving, only the shotgun barrel quivering between them.
"If you're gonna do it then—"
The shopkeep pulls the trigger and a shotgun blast explodes the still morning silence.
The buckshot catches the hunter in the chest and spins him off his feet. He collapses facedown into the dirt and chokes out a gurgling cry and shudders, then lays still. The shopkeep stands in shock for a moment. He drops the shotgun and rushes to stand over the fallen man. He watches the still form then reaches down and turns him over. A slew of holes pepper the hunter's chest, the wounds gushing black blood. Blood still bubbles softly between his open lips and spills down his chin. His dark eyes stare blankly up, unblinking. Dead.
The shopkeep lingers for only a moment, then he grabs his weapon and turns to leave. He stops briefly, considering whether to grab the bandolier and the two guns that the hunter dropped, then he decides against it. He wants nothing that belonged to that demon.
As the shopkeep trudges away he does not notice the wounds in the hunter's chest spit out the metal shrapnel and begin to clot. Nor does he see the fallen man's fingers begin to twitch and animate.
The hunter lays in the road, dark eyes peering up at an indifferent morning sky. He inhales a first shaky breath wheezing and coughing up blood. Then another.
THE END.
YOU ARE READING
The Hollow Hunter
FantasyA quest for vengeance leads a strange man known simply as the hunter to a frigid and ramshackle mining town at the edge of the world. Here he faces off against his mysterious foe, the Baron of Black Bellows, as well as the denizens of the town and o...
