"Red for Dead" An RDR Universe Short Story (Male Character)

Pull Me Out

I felt a hand on my shoulder, not a gentle one, more like a "get the fuck up!" type of shove as a man yanked me to my feet. It in blurs, but I have a good idea of what happened.

I looked up in a daze to be face to face with John, tear stained face, bloody shirt, god knows what happened to him as well. 

"You don't get to die here! Not yet." he yelled at me, trying to snap me out of it." It worked, I came to my senses and looked around me, one last look at my family, or what was left of it. I allowed him to lead me away from the burning wreckage, the heat of the flames still searing against my skin. Together, we stumbled through the smoke-filled streets. John dragged me and essentially willed me out of that house, throwing me away from the house's radius as debris rained down from the houses around us.  In the chaos, John brought me over to a grassy area and left me there, saying he had to go back for the rest of the kids. He was pretty much going to kill himself if he went back. With trembling feet and hands, I rose to my feet and nodded my head, if he dies, best bet i'm dying to. John and I began to round up any children we could find, leading them to safety away from the inferno raging behind us. Their frightened cries echoed in the night, a haunting reminder of the terror that gripped our small community. Blocking any memory of what had occured, we sprinted back into the neighborhood, coughing up smoke, yanking people out of their houses, when we were sure we most of our friends grouped up, we did a head count. We had almost everyone, except... 

where's Riley? 

"Shit, John! Wheres Riley??" I yelled across the group of crying and trembling children around us, still numb to what had happened to myself, desperately trying to repress it into the deepest parts of my mind. Panic clawed at my chest as I scanned the faces around me, searching desperately for any sign of her familiar features. But as the realization dawned upon me that she was missing, a surge of adrenaline flooded my veins. Without another word, I sprinted back into the neighborhood, by this point there was almost nothing left but fire, it engulfed the houses, the roads, there's no way Pinkertons weren't on the way, nonetheless, I ran through the streets. Calling out her name, I searched desperately through the flames, driven by whatever the fuck I was feeling then. Every fiber of my being urged me to turn back, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her behind. The fire roared around me, its heat pressing in from all sides as I pushed forward through the chaos. Each step felt like an eternity, my heart pounding in my chest as I called out Riley's name into the smoke-filled air.

But as I searched desperately through the burning wreckage, fear began to gnaw at the edges of my mind. What if I was too late? What if I never found her? Stopping at the remains of Riley's house, there wasn't anything left, or so I thought. I stood there outside the house. Quiet. There wasn't a lot to say. "Sooner. Fuck. I wish I told her sooner".  I thought to myself, a wave of sadness coursing over the already numbing pain of my family. 

The sounds of her voice brought me back to life. Not a pleasant sound, but it was hers. I heard her screaming around the back ends of the house. Sprinting over to that side, I came face to face with a man holding her by the hair, trying to drag her away. A rush of anger was all I felt as I thoughtlessly charged at the man, bringing him down to the floor. A familiar feeling that could only be replicated from a bar fight ensued, this time however, the stakes were higher. One punch turned into another, back and forth. I yelled at Riley to go, to find John, and watched her slowly back away, another yell got her to run, as her figure turned into a distant blur. Watching her, I lost focus, a kick from another man to the side of my gut was enough to turn me away from the other man, who rocked me in the head. 

"Oh you wanna be a hero huh?" A man spat out, another punch to the back of my head, sending me crumpling to the ground.

The next thing I saw was the butt of a rifle, sending me out, hard.