It Never Ends

The sun was high in the sky, bright, beautiful, and warm. I crossed the sea of tall grass in the prairie to reach a small hill with a lonely tree providing shade and comfort. There my wife was waiting for me as she always does when I leave. I spent two months hunting a notorious cold-blooded killer. They called him Dead Eye, for his right eye was blind, his pupil milky blue.

My hunt had led me to the small town of Clover, where I he was last spotted. I entered the woods near Clover, it had already been searched but I felt like he would be in there. It was still morning; the sun light was poking through the leaves of the trees high above. There were sounds of birds chirping, deer moving around, and other forest critters going about their day. After thirty minutes of walking through the woods, I found a man, I used the scope on my Whitworth rifle to get a better look at the man. I had taken the rifle from a dead confederate Whitworth sharpshooter.

I took position under a well shaded tree, not wanting the sun to hit my scope. I was about three hundred feet away from him. I hid behind a log and placed my rifle on it for a better aim. I looked through my scope to see what he was doing. The man was skinning a deer, the grass around him was crimson red. When he turned around, I saw his face, though I could not see his eye I somehow knew it was him, and I fired.

The surrounding animals scattered from the noise, and I approached the body, he was dead like his right eye. I claimed the two-thousand-dollar reward. With the money, I bought a gold marigold brooch, with small sapphires on the center of each petal for my lady.

Her long, beautiful blonde hair was rippling in the air from the warm spring breeze. Her pretty yellow sundress was clinging to her body. Her glistening light-blue eyes and gentle smile made me run towards her. I hurried up the small hill, grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up into the air. She laughed as I brought her down, our faces met, and she gave me a peck on my lips.

“Ugh…where am I?” I looked around, realizing that I had just awoken from a dream. I was laying on a red leather seat, in front of me was a window and another seat. The sun shone through the window, and outside the land was passing by. I got up, realizing I was in a train. I saw that all my clothing and boots are black.

The car I’m in is empty, yet luggage filled the racks above the seats. The floor is wooden, seats along the sides of the car, middle aisle is decorated by a long red carpet. The roof of the car is dark iron. At either ends of the car are sliding doors, I decided to head to the one closest to me which was to the right of where I had awoken. I slid it open and realized there are no gaps between the cars, it’s like the cars are fused together.

I entered the next car; it looked the same as the last with nobody here either. Warily I stepped back into the car I was last in and went to the rack above the seat I was sleeping on. I could not remember boarding a train but perhaps my luggage would hold some answers. I brought down a small, brown leathered suitcase that was on the rack above the seat I awoke on, though I must admit I do not remember owning this.

Inside were two shirts, a pair of pants, socks, and a pipe. I closed it and placed it back on the rack. I started looking around again, I entered the car I had exited earlier. Then went to the next car, then the next, and the next. Eventually I entered the locomotive, again there was no gap between it and the previous car. I looked for the conductor, but he was not there, frightened I looked ahead out of the window.

Straight ahead there are only tracks and the dirt path they laid on. To either side of the train were dirt hills, they were high enough that I could not see past them. In a panic I tried the brake, but it would not stop. Frightened, I looked around for an exit, but the only door was the one that lead to the previous car. I then decided that I would make my way to the caboose, so I rushed out of the locomotive. When I was out the door slid shut behind me, the train whistle pierced through the air. I immediately turned around and tried to open the door, but it would not move.

“Where the hell are we?” A rough, gravelly voice said behind me.

I turned to look and saw a man; he’s wearing the same clothing as I. I stared at his face and noticed his right eye. It’s milky blue.

“How are you still alive?” I asked the man in disbelief.

“What do you mean? Is this not the world of the living? Do not dare play a trick on me, I don’t like ‘em!” the man was becoming aggressive.

I inched closer to the man. He took a step back; I was not scared of the killer. I am confident in my strength and speed.

“How did you survive?” I asked as I walked closer.

“What do you mean?”

“I shot you in the heart. You should be dead!”

“Lies, you spout nothing but lies!”

The killer charged at me; I raised my hands ready to for his attack. He tried to grab my right arm, but I took a short step back, just enough to make him miss. Then I smashed my right fist into his nose, blood spurted out and he fell to the floor. I got on top of him and began to pound away at his face, then I stopped. “You are the killer that terrorized the towns of Lue, Clover, Buck, Red Creek, and Linfield! The man who targeted families, and never left any survivors! ARE YOU NOT?!”

“How do you know. How do you…” the killer mumbled and eventually stopped; his good eye wide with fear. “Oh god, am I really dead?”

“Aye, you should be rotting but somehow, you are here, with me. Your killer.”

“But if I am truly dead then you mus—” before the man could finish his sentence the train’s whistled blared through the air multiple times. One, two, three, four times, then the door I was pulling on earlier slid open. I left the killer on the floor with his broken and bloody nose. I went over to the door and looked inside just to see another empty train car. Where is the locomotive?

“I do not like this. Let us pry open the windows and risk the jump,” the killer said as he stood up, spitting blood onto the floor.

I seemed to have spooked him enough to calm him down.

“Alright,” I said. I went to the window closest to me. I tried to lift the window open as hard as I could, but it would not budge. Then I heard a boom to the left of me, it was the killer. He tried smashing the window with his elbow but only managed to injure himself.

“God dammit, that hurt!” The killer wailed, clutching his elbow in pain.

I turned away from him and decided to head into the next train car.

“Hey, wait for me!” I heard him running up behind me, to my dismay. We walked to the next door, and it opened, it led to another empty train car. The two of us continued and eventually, after about ten more train cars we found others. Four men, who stopped talking when they saw us two, one with a bloody face and the other with bloody knuckles.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” one of the men said in a deep voice, his grey eyes fixated on me.

“If it isn’t Glenn ‘The Hunter’, here I thought…Wait a minute, how can you be here?” another man said with a deep Scottish accent, his forest green eyes observing my face.

The other two remained silent, they all stared at me with a bewildered look in their eyes. “You four know this man?” the killer said from behind me.

“Aye, we know him. The man shot me dead,” the Scotsman said. “He shot all of us,” this time it was one of the silent ones that spoke. He has brown eyes, his voice is light and also has a Scottish accent and a malformed nose.

“I’ve never met you four before in my life,” I declared.

The one with the dark brown eyes smiled and laughed. “You don’t remember us? You do not remember shooting us dead?!” The man with dark brown eyes said in a raspy voice.

“It’s strange…he remembers killing me though,” the killer said behind me, cackling. “Whatever, we must have been given a chance at revenge. Aye boys!” The killer shouted, I turned around to face him, sensing danger. He grabbed my shoulders. I grabbed his shirt and pushed him against the doorframe.

“Aye, hold him tightly!” a deep voice said, the others hooted and hollered. I tried my hardest to break free but was too late as the four made it to me. I felt the breath go out from me as one of them struck the side of my body. They knocked me to the floor.

There I laid as they kicked me relentlessly. I tried to protect myself with my arms.

“Hold him down,” the raspy voice said. My vision was blurry as blood slid down my forehead into my eyes. I could see a man get close to my face, getting ready to kick me.

“Wait, let me. I owe him one,” the killer laughed. The man who was going to kick me gave the killer a courtesy bow and moved away. The killer moved in front of me, brought his right leg behind himself, then kicked me hard on the face with the tip of his boot.

The pain made me close my eyes, sparks flashed, and then darkness.

“It’s getting late, we should head home,” she said with a voice as sweet as honey. I never loved her more than I did now, no other woman could rival her beauty.

She rose but then I suddenly remembered the gift I got her. “Wait!” I scared her and she looked at me with a smile. “You fool, I almost fell,” she playfully smacked my head. “I’m sorry my lady, but I got you something. It’s in the pouch on my gun belt, let me fetch it.”

I went over to my belt which was hanging off a branch. I heard some rustling in the tall grass, I looked around but saw nothing. I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed the brooch, it had costed me one hundred and fifty dollars. The marigold is my lady’s favorite flower, the gold matches her beautiful hair, and the sapphire matches her eyes.

I put the brooch into my right pants pocket and went to her. I slid my right arm around her waist and brought her close to me. She giggled and kissed me. We stayed like that for a while, then she broke free from my embrace, giggling.

“So…what is the gift?” she said. I was about to pull out the brooch when I heard more rustling in the grass behind me. She gasped, and I turned around to see a man with grey eyes pointing a rifle at my face. Instinctively I went for my revolver on my hip, but I remembered where I had left it. Then I heard others, four more had come out of the tall grass. They had us surrounded.

“What do you want!” I backed my girl up to the tree, keeping her behind my back.

“The Hunter…do you know who I am?” one of them said in a deep Scottish accent.

I turned to the right, and there was the Scotsman wielding a copper revolver. “Don’t play games with me and tell me what you want!”

“I want, you Glenn Sherfield. For what you did to my sister,” the Scotsman said.

I looked around at the others, another with a rifle, another with a revolver, and one with a double-barrel shotgun. “I’ve never killed a woman, in my life!”

“Oh, so you didn’t kill Leslie Kelly?” When he said that name a memory flashed in my mind. I felt as my lady’s hand gripped my back. “Aye, now I remember. She and her husband robbed coaches,” I looked at the Scotsman’s face as I talked. “Their bounty was too low for me to want to hunt them. One day they killed a driver and passenger, their bounties shot up and I went after them.”

The Scotsman face twisted in anger as I continued. “I did not plan on killing the two of them. I found them camping along a river. When I approached they opened fire, I fired back.”

“So, you do admit to killing them,” the Scotsman said with a sly smile and signaled for his buddies to get closer. The one with grey eyes went for my wife’s arm but I lashed out. Trying to strike the man, but someone grabbed me from behind and dropped me to the ground.

“When my little sister died, I wept for days on end,” the Scotsman had begun to talk. He had placed me in front of my wife, I was lying on my stomach, she was on her knees. The man with the grey eyes pointed the rifle’s barrel to my wife’s head. The Scotsman continued with his story. “Our father worked all day, and my mother passed when we were young. Life was hard in the city; I had to raise and protect my little sister. One day, when she was nineteen years old, she met a man. They had fallen in love, and he asked me for her hand in marriage.”

The Scotsman smiled at my wife, at me, and then he continued. “She found my approval more important than our father’s. The man she liked was a nice young man who was to inherit his ill father’s farm. I was hesitant but I couldn’t say no to her.”

The Scotsman’s voice broke, tears came out of his eyes. “She…she said ‘I love him brother. He also vowed to take care of you.’ All with a smile on her little, slender face.”

He walked to me and squatted down to get a good look at my face. “One year after her marriage, I decided to go visit her. When I arrived at the farm she was supposed to live at, a different family greeted me, and they told me what had occurred. The father was angry at his boy for not marrying the girl he chose for him. He wrote his son out of the inheritance. The father decided to let the bank take everything upon his death. This entire time I thought she was living happily but no she just did not want to worry me.”

He got up, and then looked at my wife who had her eyes fixed on mine. She would not stare at anything else. “Then one day I heard about a string of robberies. A wife and husband, when they came out with their sketches, I immediately realized it was Leslie and her bastard husband. I spent months looking for her until one day I read in the paper that she and her husband killed two people. I was terrified for her safety and spent another week looking for her without any rest. Eventually I bought a paper that announced The Hunter had killed them both and claimed the bounty of two hundred dollars.”

He let the silence hang, as he stared at my wife who was still looking at me. He then turned to me. “I spent the past ten years traveling around the countryside. Forging bonds and making a new family,” he said with his hands outstretched, showing off the men around him. “They brought life back into me but still the thought of you living, made me sick. They vowed to me that if I ever found you, they would help me bring you the same pain you brought me.” He cocked the hammer of his revolver and pointed it at my wife’s head.

“NO! You leave her alone; she has done nothing wrong. Take my life! Hang me! Do your worst to me! But let my wife live, please!”

The eyes of the Scotsman were dark and devoid of life. He was fully intent on killing my innocent wife. “Glenn,” she said, with a weary smile on her face. “I love you.”

I had no strength left, I stared at her lifeless body. They stomped on me, punched me, and spat on me but my eyes never looked away from her body.

I awoke, my head pounding and covered in blood. They had let me live but that would cost them greatly, I thought. I looked around for my wife, but her body was no where to be found. I got up from the ground, trembling from the pain. My body was badly beaten but my anger allowed me to move. I grabbed my gun belt and went to my house. They had broken and ransacked the place, I looked around my home for her, but she was not there. It was a mess; they had taken anything with value.

I went to the stables to look for my horse. They left her in her stable but took my wagon and other horses. I saddled my horse. A perlino Andalusian, with a silver mane and tail, and silky white eyes. I mounted her and rode off. I had found their tracks; they did not call me The Hunter for nothing.

The tracks led me to a small, abandoned hut in the woods close to my home, or so it used to be, now the men who killed my wife rested in there. I got off my horse five hundred feet away from the hut, and slowly walked towards it. The night sky was cloudy, covering the moon, allowing me to get closer without being spotted. I peeked out from behind a tree to see the situation. To the sides of the door were windows, the one on the right had its shutters closed the other did not. From a distance I was barely able to make out four figures through the left window. The fifth one appeared to not be there, I approached slowly heading to the right of the hut with the covered window. I walked along the wall, they were talking and laughing too loud to even hear me.

I removed my revolver from its holster, it was a Colt Dragoon Revolver, I had kept it after the war. The metal was all bronze, and the light oak varnish had a carving of an eagle. Holding it filled me with confidence.

I took a deep breath, moved in front of the door, and raised my foot; I kicked the door open. The four men were sitting around a square table. To the north of the table was the Scotsman, west was the one with grey eyes, east was the one with brown eyes, and south had dark brown eyes.

I shot the Scotsman, the shot echoed in the night, the bullet struck the man on his left breast. Then I quickly cocked the hammer of my revolver again and shot the dark brown eyed man on the side of the head, killing him. I then quickly took cover outside of the hut, to the left of the smashed in door, the other two discharged their weapons but they missed or hit the wall. I peeked through the left window and saw the grey eye man with his gun pointed at the door. He must have sense something because he turned around right before I fired my gun. He managed to fire his revolver before my bullet struck his neck, he hit my left shoulder. The last man had a double-barrel shotgun, and he was not making a move.

Next to my feet was a rock, I leaned down to grab it. I threw it through the window. Hoping that the one with brown eyes would turn to look at it, even for a second. As the rock flew through the window and fell to the ground, I immediately poked my head and right arm into the hut. I saw the man with the shotgun try to turn after being distracted by the rock, but I was already aiming at his head.

I entered the hut and heard groaning, the last one alive was the Scotsman. He was clutching the bleeding hole on his chest. Across the room was his copper revolver, I picked it up and cocked the hammer.

“Where is she?”

The Scotsman groaned and with a bloody mouth he said, “In the casket…behind the h—”

I fired all the bullets in the gun, dropped the revolver his on the floor, and walked out.

Behind the hut was a wooden casket, in it I found her. I opened it and carried her down the road. After a while I heard a horse galloping, hoping it was mine returning after being spooked, I turned around.

“What have you done!” It was the fifth man; I was holding my wife and could not reach for my gun. He was already holding his rifle, aimed it at my face and fired.

I awoke to the sound of the train’s whistle. The dream left me shivering and covered in sweat. I touched my could feeling the dried-up blood, lumps, and cuts. There was no one else in the train car, they must have left after beating me senseless. I got up, using the seats to steady my battered body.

The whistle did not stop, it just kept blaring. The door at the end of the train car was opened and I went to it. After six cars I found the five again, the man with grey eyes trying to open the door to the next car, but it refused to open. As I stepped into the car, the whistle stopped, and the door slid open.

“Well, I’ll be damned, I always knew I was the strongest! You should all be happy to have me around,” the man with grey eyes said jokingly and the others laughed, except for the killer, who spotted me.

“Still alive I see. Good, I want you to go through this hell with us,” he said grinning at me.

“Oi, come along you bloody bastard we need to find out how to stop this train,” the Scotsman said.

Angrily I said to him, “You killed my wife!”

I must have looked a sorry sight. I was barely standing, trembling; blood stained my face and shirt. They all went quiet.

The man with dark brown eyes broke the silence. “You killed Kelly’s little sister; he killed your wife. You killed us, and somebody killed you. We are even, no?”

“Your remaining man killed me, and no, we are not even! Not until you four are gone for good!” I tried walking towards them without leaning on the seats, but I almost fell. The Scotsman rushed towards me and helped me up.

“Fine you can kill us later, right now we are in the same boat. So, let us get along, yeah?” He patted my shoulder, and reluctantly I agreed.

The killer was happy to have me along again, he said so. After hearing about my bounty hunting days, he thinks of me as an equal.

After going through a couple of cars, we came across huge doors, like the ones you see at a barn. They had handles to pull them open. The killer, the Scotsman, and I opened the door on the left. The other three opened the right door.

A strong gust of hot wind shot dust out of the huge doors. I shielded my face with my arms and walked inside. When the dust settled, I saw a disgusting creature in the center of this huge, empty car holding stone tablets. Its body looked like it was made from slithering, dark, oily snakes, constantly moving around. Its eyes are a bright orange, it has no legs instead its lower half was like a tree, a long body rooted into the floor of the car. It has claws for fingers, and an egg-shaped head.

The car was also strange, the floor was covered in dirt, the walls were iron, and there was no roof just an abyss of darkness above us. The monster looked at us and when it did, we all froze. It began to open its mouth; it had no lips instead its oily dark flesh ripped open to produce a mouth.

“Baxtor Kelly, Bruce Timmit, Sean O’Connor, and Luis Cortés, come,” the monster said in a wet, deep echoing voice.

The four it called out did not move, the monster seemed annoyed at this and from its body four black, oily tentacles shot out. They wrapped around the four men and pulled them close. It studied each of them with its glowing eyes, the four were petrified and when the monster looked at the grey eye man, he fainted.

“You four have killed many. Luis,” it looked at the man with dark brown eyes. “For murdering and robberies, you are to be tortured for two hundred years in level two of Ignis Tenebrae Mali.”

Luis started to weep but then shrieked as a flaming hand descended from the dark abyss, it grabbed Luis lighting him on fire, and yanked him up. Disappearing into the abyss.

Next was Sean, the other Scotsman with brown eyes and a malformed nose. Then Bruce, the man with grey eyes. Those three were all sentenced for the same things as Luis and for roughly the same number of years. Finally, it was Baxtor Kelly’s turn. His crimes were the same as the others except he was also sentenced for executing my wife. He was sentenced to five hundred years in level six of Ignis Tenebrae Mali.

“James Brown, you’re next,” the monster looked at the killer. “See you in hell Glenn,” the killer said to me as he walked to his sentencing.

I must admit, he faced his sentencing like a man. He walked towards the monster without faltering, and faced it, staring into its eyes. He was sentenced to level seven of Ignis Tenebrae Mali for one thousand years.

Before the hand came to get him, he turned to me, and with a smile said, “Remember Glenn, you’re a killer too.” The hand came and pulled him up, he did not even scream as he was taken.

Aye, I am a killer. That was my livelihood, that is how I fed my wife, even now I cannot remember her name. I was tainted like the five before me. If there is a hell, there is a heaven, meaning there is a god. Did he send those men to punish me?

“Glenn Sherfield, come forward,” the monster said. I approached it, unlike the others I decided to talk with it. It took all the courage I had to ask, “Is there a God?” The monster looked at me dead in the eyes, annoyed. I nearly pissed myself.

“Yes, there is but you humans do not worship this God. God does not care about being worshipped, so no need to worry about that.”

“Did God send those five to kill me that day? Did God send them to kill my wife, for the crimes I committed?”

“God does not meddle with the world of the living. Your choices led to you and your wife’s deaths.” I nodded, my body shaking uncontrollably. It is terrifying talking to this monster.

“Why place us on this train?” I asked with a cracking voice.

“This is the last question I will answer you hear me,” the monster told me calmly. I nodded quickly. “This is a never-ending train, the waiting room for the dead. It has a mind of its own, it made it so you six encountered one another before receiving your sentence. The reason? I don’t know why.” The monster finished talking and returned to its work.

The monster was fiddling with some stone tablets, I could see my name on one and it was writing down things in an unknown language. “You may have noticed the luggage, that is the luggage of the good who are waiting to go to the Calor Lux, the peaceful land. It is their favorite clothes and favorite items from when they were alive. Something to comfort them as they move on. The bad ones get dark clothing and no comfort.”

The monster stopped writing and pulled a lever by its feet that I had not noticed before.

It must be the one that calls for the arm. I have a lot more I wanted to ask. No words would come out of my mouth, then I remembered. I reached into my pocket pulling out the gold brooch.

Holding the brooch gave me confidence, and I calmly told the monster. “Give this to Justine, my wife, please.”

The monster took it from hands with one of its claws and nodded, it made me smile. Then it said, “You have killed many throughout people your life. For this you will face six hundred years in level seven of Ignis Tenebrae Mali.”