Down The Cold Dark Barrel - Part Two

As quickly as Winston faded into the night sky, he opened up hazily to a morning ceiling. His glaring blue eyes striking wide after feeling the sun gleam in from a window that also permitted a pleasurable breeze and the elegance of birds singing. Picking his head up slightly to view his surroundings, his own neck had him locked in place and kept him down in the awfully comfortable bed. Never had he felt so much comfort while being in so much pain in his life.

The room was longer than it was wide. The white sheets of the large bed felt on his skin as if brushing his fingers through feathers. The walls were of a simple blue that could almost be reverted to a white in certain light. Square beams stuck out along the sides with carved designs of white flower vines along their surfaces. Two tall oak dressers were placed against a wall a few feet away from the right side of the bed. The entire length of the left wall had half cut windows and a curving cut out in the middle that fit an ornate desk into its place. Sitting at this desk would share a perfect view out to the glowing green landscape of the expansive fields.

With an aching groan, Winston ripped the blanket off his covered body, tossing the warmed sheets onto the floor. Barely able to move his head, he delivered three short and sharp breaths until cracking his neck with a twist of his head. Rubbing the pain away, he sat up but felt the ache continue into his stomach and chest. Looking down he would notice the reddened bandages crossing over his body. Pressing into the bandages, the blood now on his hands was fresh.

The door furthest past the dressers had opened and entering through was the frustrated countenance of a young woman. Her complexion was that of a well kept painting as if nothing could or would affect her natural beauty from radiating. Her hair would have this same effect, for its honey blond curling exuded a light that the sun could never compete with. And her eyes… those eyes that could drag a man’s soul in and leave him there mesmerized with their aura for hours on end. Days on end. There could be no limit to being enveloped with emotion by her presence. She wore a teal silk dress that puffed up on her shoulders and did not show her feet as she walked. Before Winston’s eyes she glided in like an angel and for a moment he thought he had finally reached heaven.

“Oh,” she said with a surprised jump. “Wonderful, you are up. What happened there?”

Winston glanced down to the wounds where she pointed on his body.

“I was attacked. I think.” Winston pondered if any of it was real.

“Yes, I know that,” she continued while dashing towards him. “You should have stayed down to heal. Now look at what you have gone and done. You have re-opened your wounds and now I will need to re-sew.”

She reached down to touch the bandages but instinctively Winston caught her wrist within his strong grip. “Who are you?” he asked aggressively.

In reaction to his use of force, she ripped her hand from his grip with the same delivery of aggressiveness. “Do not dare touch me like that. Who do you think you are? You are breathing at this moment of time only because of me. Quit with the insensitive brooding anger, or I will be lenient with how careful I am in poking other holes in you while stitching.”

A man cleared his throat at the center of the room, turning them both from sharp looks toward one another. Carter stood there, a bandage over his forehead from where he was knocked down. He wore a baggy shirt with suspenders over from his trousers.

“Come now, sister. Is that the way to treat our guest?” Carter asked, stepping closer to them. “Insulting someone in pain is not very lady-like. Especially when that someone saved the life of your dear brother.”

Rolling her eyes and turning to her brother. “Very well.” Walking past Carter without even looking at him, she continued in her derisive tone, “I have saved him. The debt is paid and if you want to, you can sew up his disgustingly shredded body. Get some blood under your fingernails for a change.”

Carter folded his arms over and scratched along his nose. “I think I did get a lot of that last night. Thank you, sister!”

The walls vibrated with the shocking slam of the door as she left her spite with them to linger.

“My apologies for her. My sister is a bit over-reactive and protective even though being the youngest of us both. When I dragged you across the yard half dead, she gave me nothing but hardened stares at each moment for bringing you here. Especially in such a grueling state.”

Winston slid his legs out to hang off the side of the bed. He sighed and said, “I tend to have that effect on people.”

“Oh no, do not blame yourself for your current predicament. If anyone is to blame it is me. And my late compatriots, may they find some rest.”

“You dragged me, possibly miles to your home when in yourself you had just as much injury. Why?”

“Because you needed help. I owed you a debt for saving me.”

“But I could not save the others. I am at fault for that.”

“Not everyone can be saved though, can they? You cannot put that on yourself. You did warn us. We were the fools who did not listen and damned we did not see the truth.”

Winston pondered these words then slowly rose to his feet, standing tall but then achingly hunched over as the pain pulled him down.

“You really should not be on your feet, friend. Rest will heal you better than stubborn thought.”

Winston glared at Carter as an uncomfortable notice to back off. “I’m fine.”

“That is what you said last night. Then you passed out in the middle of nowhere, leaving me to drag you back here.”

“I did not ask you too,” Winston asserted, pushing past Carter.

“No, you did not, but I happen to have this strange thing in my chest called a heart. I know, I know. Such a rare commodity these days, but still it doesn’t change the fact that you needed my help just as much as I needed yours.”

Winston stopped in the middle of the room worrying his eyes around the space. “Where are my things?”

“What?”

Winston turned aggressively toward Carter. “My supplies! My weapons, my journal, clothes, bags. All of it. Where are they?”

“Everything you had is here. You are safe and all will be returned to you once you are ready to leave. On my honor,” Carter said, placing one hand to his heart and another facing palm forward above his head.

“What is that?” Winston asked, wondering the strangeness that Carter exuded.

“It is on my honor that you will receive everything you previously owned returned to you whenever you do so need it. For if you do not receive them, well there goes my honor. I do love my honor which is why I put it on the line,” Carter continued walking past Winston to the door. “However, please do take your time to get well. If you find hunger at all in your current state, come down to the living area and we will fetch you something nice and filling, alright?”

Winston did not answer and neither did he turn to meet eyes with Carter as he walked out of the room. With the door shutting, Winston took his time to settle his scarred appendages into some well folded and cared for clothing. A pair of brownish trousers with bronze buttons and a solid faint blue longsleeve shirt left tousled out. After finding comfort with the clothing chosen, Winston opened the door out to the hallway of this home. A rather small hallway with no real discernible detail besides the shaven wood paneled walls and a few aimless paintings. From what he could tell, this home looked to be newly built and in the process of continued renovation.

Coming around the corner of this hall led into what appeared to be the main foyer of the home. A wide angled staircase lowered down to the main floor and further on was the presence of a doorway. Winston thought to himself whether he should just leave. Avoid the pleasantries as they never really agreed with him. However, they had all his affects and he would not be leaving them behind at any point.

Winding down this staircase and reaching the bottom, Winston had greeted a great deal of shocking creatures in his time. None had truly scared him enough to cause him to almost jump out from his trousers. Only that of a child who leapt into his vision which was locked on the doorway. A young girl with curly blonde hair and rosy red cheeks stood proudly in front of Winston with her hands crossed behind her back and a large smile crossing her face.

“Hello,” the girl said. “What’s your name?”

With a groan at the back of his throat, he answered, “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first!” the girl shouted.

“Linnea! Hush, there is no need to shout,” a stern appearing man approached the girl.

The girl named Linnea stepped around Winston and dropped her arms to her side. “I am sorry, father. I was only curious about the strange man.”

Winston turned over his shoulder, unmoved by the girl’s remark about him. Her father was of average height for his probable age of in his middle thirties. His brown hair slicked to the side, parting from the left. He had a tough structure to his body, a little wider in his shoulders than Winston but relatively evenly matched. Only in appearance however.

A woman came around from behind the father. Her hair was blonde as well, matching similarly to the girl. “Linnea, he is not strange. He is our guest and should be treated with respect. Apologize to him now.”

Linnea turned to Winston and bowed her head down in shame. “I apologize, sir. My curiosity got the best of me.”

Winston glanced at each of them in confusion. “It is fine.”

“Breakfast!” another woman’s voice called out from a distant room.

A smile brightened on Linnea’s face from her sullen expression. She skipped with a pace through the doorway into that same room.

The woman followed her swiftly from behind. “Linnea, please be careful.”

The father approached Winston who took a few steps further back in anticipation. Weary Winston was of this unknown individual.

“Quick step. I mean you no harm, friend,” the father said, leaning back in hopes to give Winston some peace of mind.

“I do not know you.”

“Let us get to know one another then.” He moved beside, wrapping his arm over Winston’s shoulders and led ahead to breakfast. “The name is Marcus Smith. Formerly from Boston but after marrying into the Carter family, I was moved out here to this… adequate land.”

Winston was less than pleased to be touched and guided, shaking himself loose from Marcus’s hand over his shoulders.

“I hear you are an explorer. Or so Quincy has told us. You have been all around the territory then?”

“More or less.”

The dining room set was very well established compared to the rest of home. In similar fashion to the room he had woken up in, Winston noticed the walls had been painted over with thick bone tinged paint. A long chiseled wood table was outstretched vertically across the middle of the room and covered with assorted silverware, plates, and glasses. Linnea ripped a chair out from the side of the table and climbed up into it. Two more children ambled into the room and held themselves up with standard. A female and male twin, both with striking blonde hair that seemed the trend in heritage. They continued their direct path around the table, pulling out chairs simultaneously on the opposite side of Linnea.

Winston stood back, cautious to continue as Marcus walked forward into the room.

Turning back to Winston, Marcus asked, “Do you not eat? Is that not a custom for your kind?”

Winston shifted his eyes slowly from the table, sharpening them to meet the lean man. “I eat.”

Following the entrance of the twins, Carter stepped into the room and upon noticing Winston standing in the opposite doorway, he stood tall beside the chair at the head of the table with a large smile on his face. “Ah, my friend, you’ve made it just in time for breakfast,” Carter waved his hand forward. “Please, come sit.”

Marcus stepped around the table and sat down beside his daughter placed in between him and the other blond woman who was seen earlier. Winston approached the opposite head of the table, wrapping his hands firmly around the chair’s backrest as the feet scratched against the floor ever so slightly that the screeching lasted forever in the room. Sitting in the chair, Winston left one leg out from underneath the table in the hope of needing to make an exuberant exit when the time came. The table was silenced by Winston’s sitting. The entire family looked to Carter at the head to strike up conversation while he only prepared his silverware and napkin.

Carter gazed up in wonder at his family who was only staring at him curiously. “This table has never been so silent before. You must come dine with us often, my friend. Wrangle the talk of this table to a manageable volume.” Carter lifted up the pitcher of lemonade in front of him and poured the woman at his side a glass. He then shifted over and poured the twin girl on his opposite side another glass. Leaving it to her he said, “Pour your brother a glass, my dear.”

The twin girl then picked up the pitcher and poured her brother a glass before placing it down in the middle of the table. Linnea followed by jumping up on her chair and trying to reach across to grab the pitcher.

“Linnea, sit down. It is rude to reach,” the woman at her side ordered, holding her back.

“But mother, how else am I supposed to get it?” Linnea asked, dropping back down into the chair.

“Quincy,” Marcus interjected. “I was just talking to our guest here about his life out there. It is quite fascinating how roarous this land is. Especially after what you both had gone through.”

“Yes, me and Winston here are lucky to be alive. Well, I’m the one who is lucky that he was there to save me.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Winston said.

“Do you kill things?” Linnea blurted out.

Her mother pulled her back down into the chair. “Linnea! What has gotten into you?”

Linnea appeared nervous by the sudden yank from her mother.

Carter chuckled. “It’s alright, my little daisy. We are not accustomed to many guests out here as you can see. Everything is so curious to mind here. Especially for young ones. Allow me to introduce some of my lovely family. This is Linnea, my grandchild who is the daughter of Penelope, my daughter and her husband Marcus. Over on this side are my two middle ones, Richard and Anne. Then there is my youngest, Juniper, born just over the summer. My wife Beatrice who you will meet in a moment. And then you have already become acquainted with my sister, Sarah. They will be joining shortly to bring us the delicious cooking they have prepared.”

Suddenly through the doorway from which Carter entered, Sarah came through holding two large breakfast plates. She placed one in front of Carter and the other in front of Penelope. From behind her, Beatrice entered with rolling red hair stretching down her back. In her hands were another set of plates for which she walked over to Winston and placed one of them down in front of him. On the plate was one crisp biscuit, two cooked eggs with bulbous yolks and a mellow hankering of rich beans. The rest of the table got their own plates and eventually Sarah and Beatrice sat down to join them. Both had sat on either side of Winston.

“It looks delectable, but is there no meat today?” Carter asked, looking down the table to Beatrice.

“No, my love. Unfortunately, the babes in the pen are too young as of yet. We will need to wait longer until they have reached maturity. But the eggs are fresh from the coop, which is exciting. That grain is proving wondrous for their production,” Beatrice explained.

“Wonderful. Good and bad news together makes the day better, I always say,” Carter chuckled and picked up his utensils to dig in.

Everyone else at the table began to eat from their plates at their own pace. Winston, studying each and everyone of their movements, felt a strange sense of being watched. Looking to his side, he caught Sarah staring at him until she shifted her head down to her plate. Gazing at her until Carter interrupted. “Will you not eat, my friend?”

Winston turned his eyes to Carter who had a biscuit shoved to his mouth.

“I insist that you do. It was a long night and a good full stomach would prove to heal you better. “Isn’t that right, sister?”

“Maybe,” Sarah answered, glaring at her brother, then to Winston, and then down once again to her plate. “Depending on the strength and will of the individual.”

“Oh I believe there is no question of strength here. I saw him launch a monstrous beast through the air with no effort at all. It was quite extraordinary,” Carter exclaimed, clacking his teeth against his fork.

“Like the stories of the heroes you tell us at bed?” Linnea asked excitedly.

“Quite so, my daisy. Quite so.” Carter admired Winston until returning to his plate.

Winston jerked the chair closer to the table, but still left his one leg out from the tablecloth. He pushed the plate only a bit forward so that he could clasp his hands up on the table and leaned his head into them. He prayed to the god in his head. He could feel eyes drawn on him but continued on until its completion. Picking up the utensils, he began to eat the generous amount of food given to him.

“What was he doing?” Linnea tried whispering to her mother.

“He was praying, my dear,” Penelope answered.

“Are you a religious man, Winston?” Marcus asked assertively.

Winston swallowed rough. “When I can be.”

“When I can be?” Sarah mocked. “You cannot pick and choose when to believe or not.”

“Sarah, manners,” Carter issued.

“I don’t pick and choose when I believe. I always have belief, but when you are in my occupation you start to have variations of said belief. Ones that make you question if there is a god, why did it leave us here?”

“It?” Beatrice asked, placing down her glass of lemonade. “I grew up in a very catholic household and god was always considered a man, Mr. Winston. Not some thing or object.”

“Have you met him? How could you know? Something of a higher being or purpose in belief should not be tied down by our ordinary views. I have never met god. Nor do I know if he is watching. There is only assumption to the fact we have no idea if there is anything to a god that exists. I do what I do, and if god does so exist, I will do what is right within my belief.”

The silence strengthened its constriction around the table’s occupants' mouths. Winston continued eating, feeling the scolding stare of Sarah striking him at his side.

“That is exactly why we don’t say a prayer before a meal. Given the right to choose which my father never did for us is something I want to ensure upon my children. And their children, and on and on,” Carter explained. “Freedom to choose is what this country fought for and–”

“And even though our father fought in the war he still chose to force us into his religion not by our own choice. But of his own,” Sarah dropped her fork onto the plate and rose up from her chair. “Excuse me, I no longer have an appetite.”

Hurrying from the room and leaving a curiosity on everyone’s faces, Winston only turned slightly to see her strut from the dining room in haste.

“I apologize for my sister’s temper. She tends to get very passionate when it comes to talking about our father,” Carter sighed, drinking from his glass. “He was not a very good man to us.”

“Neither was mine,” Winston added. “They rarely are.”

Silence snuck onto the table once again for a moment.

“Anyway, I was always under the impression that you all were a myth,” Marcus said, through the constant chomping of food. “Stirred up by the politicians in hopes it will get some votes for them. Before we left Boston, I had heard rumors of exploration westward, but never did I think to actually see one with my own eyes.”

“See what, father?” Linnea asked, pulling on her father’s shirt for which he gently yanked back from her.

“A Pioneer,” Carter added proudly. “Men sent west to explore the unknown lands. One such land we have found ourselves making a home in.”

The children’s eyes shined bright looking at Winston in amazement.

“Is it true you can see in the dark? Like a bat?” Richard asked softly.

The silence came forth once more as Winston glanced at each of them and sighed. “Yes, in certain predicaments I can.”

“Extraordinary,” Marcus exclaimed.

“How can you accomplish such things?” Beatrice was quick to question. “I am having a hard time finding belief in such claims.”

“Beatrice, please.” Carter sat forward intently to address the table. “Everyone, why are we continually insulting my savior's existence? Winston is a good man. You can tell by the way he holds himself to a standard like no other. By what he has shared with me, he has similar beliefs that we do. We may not know the true extent of what he does or who he truly is, but that gives him a wonderment that is only one small part of this even more magical land.”

“What else can you do?”

“Linnea, do you want to go to your room?”

“No, mother. I apologize.”

Winston cleared his throat, pulled the chair forward and slid his leg underneath the table. “I am but one man of many. Those that are called Pioneers. This is because our duty, as signed off on to the government, is to study the land and report in extensive journal entries. I have been traversing the land for a long while, so I have not heard the stories, myths, legends you all claim to speak about me. I cannot prove any of these claims as true or not. For myself, I am only discovering as I go along. The world is changing, the land is revealing the sinister truth. The truth that has always been there. You saw it for yourself, Mr. Carter. This place is not safe for any of you. As long as you remain here, your lives will be threatened.”

The silence was now louder than ever heard before. So much that the chirping birds could be heard with clear distinction without the surrounding windows opened.

Carter sat back in his chair, picking up his utensils once more to enjoy his platter. “Let us agree to disagree.” He smiled, shoving some more eggs into his mouth.

Breakfast went on with more questions asked and answered. Winston's body loosened and he seemed almost calmed by the presence of the constant speaking to him. It was becoming natural and comfortable. Soon enough he was out on the front porch, sharing stories to the children on his adventures so far. All the strange and unnatural creatures he had come across who he had to pick fights with all logged in his journal. The children were amazed by the detailed words and drawings and also of him. Winston could not help but let out a smile once or twice.

It had been a whole day turned into four of strange scenarios for Winston. He ended up helping around the home for which Carter was insistent upon him to not overwork himself. The children found Winston so intriguing that they wanted to follow his acts, so they were even helping as best they could. Gathering eggs, collecting fresh water from the well, finishing off an unfinished area of fencing. When he was chopping wood which had strained his body a bit, he felt eyes were watching him. Turning and seeing for a slight second, Sarah dashed from the porch into the home.

On that fourth night, Winston leaned over the porch railing looking up at the starry night. He could finally get some quiet aloneness from the hectic days of pandering to the pleading screeches of children. However, to interrupt his quietness, Sarah moved out from within the home and gently walked to the edge of the stairs.

“I am sorry,” They spoke at the same time, interrupting one another.

“You first,” Winston said with a slight grin.

“No, I just wanted to say I was sorry for how I have been acting towards you. It was uncalled for, and truly had nothing to do with you,” Sarah explained, sitting down on the top stoop.

“Are you sure? Ever since I had arrived, or since you first saw me that morning, it seemed you had already made your mind up about me,” Winston said, leaning back on the railing.

“Yes, when my brother who was bleeding himself came carrying a half dead stranger to our doorstep, I grew bitter at the thought of what you could have gotten him into. He is my only family left. Well, from my childhood that is. I would die if anything were to happen to him,” she continued, folding her arms and leaning her head down on her knees. “But I have been watching you. The children adore you and I believe they are the best judge of true character.”

“They are only children. Children who have not even witnessed the horrors of the world. Blinded by their own innocence. It will be a shock when they realize that all that I had told them was true. When they see it in the flesh.”

“Men who turn into beasts.” She sighed. “I knew it was a bad idea to come here.”

“Why did you? I have never been to Boston, but it cannot be as bad as what is out here,” Winston expressed.

“Boston had nothing more for us. Quincy has always been a fanatic to nature even if not properly trained to deal with its dangers. He was always the one to save the deer instead of shooting it. I remember he jumped in front of our father’s gun once before he could shoot one down. He was beaten severely for it. There is no stopping him once he sets his mind to something that fascinates him. Even if it means putting himself in front of that danger.”

“I guess he grew out of that fascination with the deer then. Considering I found them out there along the corpse of one.”

“We all have to grow up sometime. How far can we go with blinded innocence in our way?” Sarah asked.

Winston gazed back to the stars. “Not far at all.”

Once that next morning had come it was time for Winston to move on. He packed his supplies and weapons, gladly accepting some nutriments for his journey onwards. Especially that lovely apple and berry delicacy that Beatrice had made for him.

Stepping down from the porch, the Carter family gathered outside to see him off. The children, even though only spending a few days with him, were crying asking their parents to not let him go. Winston could only smile gently as he packed his stuff away. It brought him a warm sense of comfort knowing he was wanted.

Throwing his pack around his shoulders and strapping his weapons firmly to his body, Winston approached the bottom of the steps where Carter was standing with Linnea at his side.

“Thank you, Winston. You will always have friends here. Please do not be scared to visit us from time to time on your travels,” Carter said, rubbing Linnea’s head softly.

Winston looked over to Sarah who stood back in the open doorway, sharing a kind smile between themselves. “I just might.” Winston knelt down in front of Linnea. “Hopefully when I return, I will have more stories to share.”

“Hopefully, they are stories to last a lifetime,” Carter added.

Winston gazed up at him. “Stories to last forever. To share by a fire maybe.”

Winston stood up and patted Linnea on her head. He then did similarly to Carter on his arm. “Walk with me.”

The two of them had sauntered further away from the home.

“You have a good family there, Mr. Carter.”

“Please, call me Quincy. Friends call me by my first name.”

“You are very quick to name me such. I have shared little with you about who I am, or what I have done. You do not know me.”

“Oh, but I do. You are a survivor. Surviving whatever life has thrown your way. I know this as a good quality because I have such qualities in me. Not the quickness to violence or the resourcefulness you have, but I have survived many tribulations growing up. Based on your story and comments, you have as well.”

Winston sighed. “I keep warning you because you need to know. This land is dangerous. For your family’s sake I implore you to return to Boston or wherever else that is not the west.”

“Then my proclamation is that you stay here with us. You work well in home life. It seems you enjoy it, and it is less dangerous than what is offered to you out there.”

“I wish. I have a job to do. A promise to keep.” Winston turned his head to face the growing fields of grass. He whispered to himself, “One I wholly regret making.”

“I cannot return to Boston. I will not. This is home now. In the coming week or so, Marcus will be heading to Louisiana to purchase some goods and some builders to finish up the home. Maybe hire some extra riflemen as well. I know how to keep my family safe. Not with brawn, but with mind and money.”

“That will not always be enough.” Winston unlocked the strap of his rifle along his torso. Pulling it around him, he handed it out to Carter. “Take it. You need it more than I.”

Carter admired the slick rifle, rubbing his hands over the silver grating, but had apprehensions. “I cannot accept this. How will I need it more than you?”

“I am fully capable of handling myself with what I have.”

“Are you sure?” Carter snuck a smile. “I did have to carry your dying body across my front yard.”

“Well, I guess I am more prepared alone. Use this to protect your home. Maybe one day I will be back for it.”

Carter gazed at the rifle inches from his clasp. He gripped his hands around both ends and held firmly in his grasp. “Thank you, Winston. Again, for all that you have done. I hope to see you again.”

Winston patted him a final time on the shoulder. “Me too, friend.

As he said his goodbyes, Winston wondered whether or not he would see the Carter family again. He left on his feet, traveling over the plains and looking back once more to the sunny enshrouded fields and the cooling white home on the horizon.

Something stuck with Winston from this experience. A sense of peace he had not felt in the longest time.