When the Devil Cries (Arthur Morgan X Male OC)

30. The Collapse

From Arthur's POV

BEAVER HOLLOW

Bolting back to camp, Eddie and I powered through the roads like there was no tomorrow as we rode towards Beaver Hollow with the speed of a cheetah, completely forgettin' about the stagecoach or the loot that was supposed to be in it.

At the moment, the thoughts in my head were rushin' even faster than I was forcing my horse to go, and with every agonizing second that passed, the more my heart pounded in my chest.

Who knew what the hell Atticus was planning? If he and Cornwall stationed that many guards to protect a single stagecoach -- a trap that was meant to just capture me and Eddie alone -- I didn't even wanna think about what he had in mind for the rest of the gang.

There was no doubt Atticus knew where our camp was -- all thanks to Micah -- and I just hoped we would be able to get to Dutch before anything else happened.

Our time may have been comin' to an end...but I sure as hell refused to go down without a fight.

"...Arthur!" Eddie suddenly exclaimed in an alarmed tone, his voice shaking as he pointed to the sky. "...L-Look...!"

Bringin' my attention to the top of the tree line, I felt the color drain from my face when I realized there was a monstrous cloud of smoke coming straight from our camp, its ghostly texture tinted with an orange glow as bright red sparks danced wildly around it.

There was no way in hell a simple campfire coulda produced that much smoke, and considerin' the fact that I wasn't at Dutch's side to protect him right now, I could've only assumed that the gang had been attacked.

This was the perfect opportunity, after all. Our gang's leader had been left alone with the very same rat who drove us into this hellhole in the first place, and without me or Hosea to keep the camp safe, Dutch was nothin' more than a target to shoot.

I just hoped they weren't all dead already. Our gang was vulnerable enough as is, and to be ambushed by someone like Atticus Rose...well, it didn't leave much chance for survival.

We was at the end of our rope, here. We had done our worst, and tried our best, but now...it was finally time to face reality.

It was time for me to be a goddamned man, and protect the people I loved.

Skiddin' to a stop, my horse's hooves dug deep into the dirt below as I quickly hopped off and hurried back into camp, not wasting a single second while Eddie followed me from behind.

All around me, I could see fresh corpses littering the ground with their jaws hangin' open as smoke rose from the barrels of their guns, and numerous flies began gathering on their flesh.

The stench of gunpowder and death filled my nose and caused me to grimace, my face twistin' in disgust as I investigated the gruesome scene.

So far, I didn't see anyone I knew buried in the pile of bodies -- and most of the casualties appeared to be from Atticus' side -- but the situation still looked more than dire in the camp. In fact, it was downright nightmarish.

There were flames still ragin' from what appeared to have been a hellish fight, many of the tents and wagons had been destroyed, a handful of our mounts had been slaughtered, and it looked like Dutch's donation box had been smashed to pieces.

...Jesus Christ. What happened here?

Slowin' down our pace a bit, Eddie and I cautiously ventured deeper into the ruined camp as the two of us gazed around in pure horror, unable to believe that this was the same place we left behind just an hour ago.