Desert Rain

Mexico, San An Pablo, 1872

It had rained the whole day and night in the small town of San An Pablo. Desert rain that fell from the sky like trillions of shimmering diamonds. Rain that was soft to the touch yet warm like morning sunshine. It fell heavily from the sky, each tiny droplet bringing itself to rest on the grounds and buildings of the small town, soaking the bodies of its residents that littered the street. Two hours ago it was a place teeming with life, a peaceful and welcoming place with a small population of 87 people. Now it was a ghost town, it's people all dead. Their lives taken in the most horrific and barbaric of circumstances.
San An Pablo was a town that had drowned in its own blood. It's own savagery and greed. It was a place where its residents had been gripped in the midst of a plague that had swept through the town like a wildfire, a plague that had driven them to their own self destruction. The horror that lingered in San An Pablo was a sight that would have sickened even the strongest of minds and heart. But the rider who had come to the town had seen much worse in his lifetime. He had seen horrors the likes of which no mortal man had ever laid eyes on. Horrors that would forever stain and haunt the mind of a normal man.
Of course, the rider who had come to town was no ordinary man. He had come from the desert, riding atop a horse whose skin was as black as the night itself. He wore a long, dark coat made of leather and had a long hat to match. His face was covered by the shadow cast by his long hat, and only strands of white hair was showing. He cast no breath. He did not need to because like the former residents of San An Pablo, he was not living.
The body beneath his clothing was that of a man who had died decades ago, a body once full of life and was now nothing more than a rotting skin suit of dead flesh, held together by millions of insects and bugs crawling inside his carcass, moving every muscle and rotting joint in his body and controlled by the power of his own thoughts. With cold, dead eyes, he looked down at the bodies of the towns residents, bodies that had been torn, mutilated and killed in the most brutal of ways. Some of the puddles in the streets were discoloured with blood and there was a strong stench of death in the air.
The rider sensed that something had come to San An Pablo, a presence that was neither good nor evil. A presence that had corrupted the minds of its townsfolk and driven them to complete madness. He had seen this in other towns before and every time it was always the same. Wherever this presence went, death and destruction followed.
He got off his horse, his long boots gently coming to rest on the muddied ground. With a gloved hand, he reached down at a puddle and dipped a single finger in the bloodied water before bringing it up and tasting it. Instantly, his senses came alive and images flashed through his mind. Images of chaos, madness and death, events that had passed two hours ago befoe he had come. And within the midst of these muddled images, he saw a figure of a man, young and smiling, his arms outstretched, He was surrounded by an aura of light and was standing atop a mountain of dead, rotting and decaying bodies, each one piled high on top of one another. He was looking up at the sky, a sky that was darkened and from it, a rain was falling, a rain that was dark as the night itself, washing upon his skin and the bodies beneath him. It was only then that he knew who it was, the same thing he had been hunting for three whole decades.
"He has been here, hasnt he?" spoke a voice behind the rider.
The rider stood upright. He was tall, almost six foot, an imposing and intimidating figure. He clenched a gloved hand and turned to face the person who had spoken. As he did, his whole face revealed itself in the light of the pale moon that shone down on the town, revealing an almost grinning skull with pieces of rotting flesh and skin hanging off it. His eyes were sunken hollows that glowed a faint red, and now and again, dark bug like insects crawled out of his nose and eyes and down his body.
He cast his coat back and rested both his hands on his gun belt. He had two colt 45's resting in their holsters either side of his belt and several bullets held in small pockets on his belt. The rider faced a small midget that was only about a foot high. It had grey skin and long yellow eyes and a wide mouth that was contorted in a grin. It was fat, and it's feet were big. It looked harmless, yet like the rider, it seemed unaffected by the death and carange that surrounded it.
"He does his work well," commented the little midget as it looked around. "Comes to them like a saviour, a man promising so much in riches and treasures. Gives them all what they want then turns them against each other. Brother against brother, man against man. Then he takes their souls".
"I already know that," spoke the rider in a low and deep voice. "Is it not why you brought me back? To hunt him down?"
The little midget made his way towards the tall figure of the rider, looking up at his rotting face. "Your time is running out," he told the rider. "How long do you think that body of your will hold together on this Earth plane before it falls apart?"
The rider clenched his fists even tighter. He knew what the creature spoke of.
"I will finish the job," he said to the small creature. "I will take him down and bring him to Hell as I was instructed, even if I have to drag his carcass kicking and screaming. Then your boss will grant me what I want, a ticket out of that infernal shit hole".
The creatures grin spread even wider. "You really want to get out? But you were such a catch when we had you. Personally I cannot see how your soul can gain redemption. Think of all the bad things you have done in your life, all the lives you took, the evils you committed, and you did it all with a song in your heart, a perverse pleasure in your soul".
The rider turned away from the small creature, his eyes glowing ever brighter. "I don't need to be reminded of my past deeds. I never had a chance at life".
The midget inched a step closer to the tall rider. "Just look at your now, a lost soul inhabiting the body he once owned in life, rotting and decaying even as we speak..."
Before he could even finish his sentance, the small creature found himself staring down the barrel of a colt 45. He looked up to see the rider was facing him again, his eyes blazing with fierce intensity. The little midget could senese that the rider wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger.
"I might be on borrowed time here," he said. "But you forgot the powers your boss gave me to hunt this bastard down. Powers that not even you can take away from me. You wanna tempt me to use them right now?"
The grin on the small creatures face dissolved and he leapt a few feet away out of the range of the tall rider. The dark rider sheathed his weapon and then turned to make his way back to his horse. He knew he was wasting his time hanging round this ghost town. He knew where his intended prey was heading and he was almost a days ride away, but he could catch him in less than three hours using the powers he wielded. His time was running out and he had to make haste quickly. After years of hunting down creatures like the one he was chasing, he knew he was closer now to the freedom he so desparately craved. Tonight he would end his torment permently.
"You don't have much time," shouted the small imp. "Five hours tops. Then after tonight, when the sun rises over the desert and the rain stops, your body will break up and fall apart becoming nothing more than a pile of rotting flesh and decaying bones. If that happens, I guess we will have to find another rider to take your place". He began rubbing his hands with glee. "After all Kaine, there are trillions of desparate souls down below all wanting the chance that you have".
The rider climbed back atop his steed and before riding off, he took one last look at the imp. "It ends tonight," he told the little creature. "I will have his carcass ready. You just make sure your boss lives up to his end of the bargain".
With this, he rode off, bringing up a spray of mud and water in his wake.
The small imp knew how determined the rider was to complete his mission, and he knew he had every chance of succeeding. Kaine had nothing left to lose and everything to gain, and that was what made him the perfect hunter.