Nightsea Outlaw

Sam woke up alone in an empty house. Outside, the rising sun peeked over the horizon, but she couldn't see it because her room had no windows. She stretched and sighed as she sat up in bed. She was the only one she could rely on, so she had to get moving.

She got ready quickly, changing into her work overalls after taking a cold bath with some precious water she had saved from the last rain. That was one benefit of being alone: she could save on water.

She grimaced. It wasn't funny.

She ate a cold breakfast of jerky and stale bread. She would have to go into town today to see about buying some supplies. However, first, she would have to do all her morning chores. She stood from the table, leaving the empty farmhouse and going outside.

Her boots clattered on gravel as she looked over the orchard surrounding her family's home. A decent crop of apples was growing, and she would need to harvest soon. She wished her brother was still around to help her. As near as she knew, he had just run off and disappeared two years ago. He had left her alone after their parents had died without a word. She didn't have the strength to hate him anymore.

"I'll make it," she said, stomping toward the barn. "You'll see. I'll survive all this."

She filled up a bucket at the well and made her way into the barn. She watered the chickens first and then ensured that the water trough for Winny, her mule, was also filled to the brim. Once she was done with that, she proceeded to go to the next item in her routine.

All in all, the sun was almost at high noon by the time she was done with all her chores around the farm, and her body was exhausted. She could barely pull the cart out and get Winny when she was done. She practically collapsed in the seat after strapping the mule to the cart. She had to force herself to sit up to slap the reins and click her tongue to send Winny down the dirt road that led up to the barn and went toward town.

She was able to rest as she rode over the bumpy road. Mentally, she counted how much money she had left in her pouch. She needed enough to buy grain and food for herself for the rest of the month. She had a good amount, but it was still before harvest. Until then, she could only string along her budget.

The sun was at about a mid-afternoon height when she made it to Dry Gulch. It was a dying town on the frontier of the island of Tombstone. Even Sam could recognize that. The stranglehold Sheriff Goldfist held over Dry Gulch meant that there was no more trade. There was no more prosperity. The only option any of them had was to run, and that just ended in death in the desert. So, they did what all people did in hard times. They got used to it and resigned themselves to fading away.

She stopped the cart next to the general store. It took real effort to push herself off of the cart. Her muscles groaned as she stood up, and she winced as she got on her feet. The cart ride hadn't been comfortable, but being off her feet alone had been a major relief. She walked back and forth a few times to get the blood flowing back into her legs before she stepped inside.

Sloan, the manager of the general store, sat at his counter at the front, polishing a glass in the sun's light from his many windows. Sam stepped through the open store and waved. She didn't like Sloan, but she had to deal with him.

"Why if it isn't my favorite customer." Sloan grinned as he said the same thing he said to every customer. "What can I do for you, Samantha? We only have a few hours until dark."

"Good to see you too, Sloan." Sam forced a smile on her face. "I'll take a grain sack while grabbing a few necessities."

Sloan heaved himself on his feet, grumbling as he went behind the counter and down the steps to his basement. That was where he kept both the grain and the alcohol he sold. One was a precious ingredient to make the other. Sam made her way through the store, grabbing some necessities. By the time Sloan made his way up the stairs with his grain sack, Sam had the few items stacked on the counter. It would be enough to survive for a little longer.

"Ah." Sloan sluffed back down in his chair after he sat the grain sack on the counter. "That'll be ten silver dolers."

He had an eye for math, as everyone in the town knew. Sloan could look over any group of items and immediately tell you what they were worth. Whether he had it right was something few of them could tell, but he was the only store left in town.

Sam bit her lip. She had enough, but with that, she wouldn't be able to make it to the end of the season. She began to reach out for the fresh bread loaf, ready to pull it away and live without it. It wouldn't be fun, but she had lived through worse than being hungry.

"Don't do that," Sloan said, his hand catching hers with his own.

It was warm, and Sloan's skin was rough from years of hard work and age. He was as old as her parents would have been. For over fifty years, he had lived in Dry Gulch. Sam paused, but Sloan didn't let go of her hand. His grip was firm.

"We all see that you're struggling out there," Sloan said. "An apple orchard ain't fit for one struggling girl to take care of. You should give up on that old farm and come into town. There's plenty of work here for a girl your age."

Cold pinpricks ran down Sam's spine. She knew she had grown a lot over the last two years, but Sloan's statement was sickening. The man had known her as a child.

"What kind of work?" she asked.

"You know..." Sloan's hand was sweaty as it held hers. "The kind of work that can be done on your back. A pretty girl like you only really needs to lay there..."

Sam pulled her hand back, but Sloan's grip just strengthened around her fingers. Crushing pain ran up her arm, and she clenched her teeth. She didn't scream. She already knew she was on her own. That was what Dry Gulch had become.

Slap.

She pivoted on her hip, bringing her left hand across Sloan's cheek with all her strength. His jaw dropped in shock, and he let go of her hand. Sam didn't take the moment for granted. She ducked down as a fist came for her head and darted toward the door.

The pain in her body was forgotten in the rush as she jumped back onto her cart and whipped Winny into motion. The donkey whined but pulled the cart down the dirt road. Sam had a moment when Sloan came out the door as her cart went by. She could see his face in that frozen moment. It was red in bluster and fury as he yelled after her. She ignored it, holding hard onto Winny's reins as they rode out of town.

There was no one in town she could turn to. The people in Dry Gulch were the only ones left after five years of Goldfist's rule. The lawlessness hadn't been immediate, but five years of having an outlaw as sheriff had corrupted them. All they cared was that supplies kept coming in, regardless of what they had to do.

Sam pulled on Winny's reins, and the mule slowed as she got out of sight of the town. She hadn't realized it at the moment, but tears were streaming down her eyes. She ran her hand across her cheeks to dry them as she looked around her. The sun was setting in the west, bathing the town of Dry Gulch in orange light as shadows lengthened. Sam would need to hurry up to get home before dark. She needed to make sure there were solid walls around her and Winny before the mist came out.

She made Winny ride hard, and they made it back to the farmhouse by the time the sun was a faint pinprick on the horizon. Around her, mist rose, clinging around the cart even as she parked it by the barn.

Sam didn't know why it had started, but soon after Goldfist had arrived in town and taken over, a dark mist would take over the town every night. The deeper in the night, the thicker the mist was. It would be annoying if it were just mist, but not a problem. However, there were things out in the mist. Creatures of warped flesh with horrible claws and pale skin. They only came out in the mist and disappeared with it when the sun was out. That was the reason they had no way to escape. No one knew how far out the mist reached, but no one who tried to leave town ever returned, and help never came.

Sam couldn't sleep in the house, not if she wanted to get Winny secure in the barn. She opened the barn door after she untied Winny from the cart and slammed the door closed behind her after getting Winny in. She locked the door from the inside, placing a broom between the handles to make sure it would hold. The monsters weren't very strong, at least none that she had heard of. Solid locked doors and strong wood walls were good enough to hold them back.

She helped Winny into her stall and made sure the mule had hay to munch on. Outside, she could hear scrambling feet and heavy breathing, but she ignored it. If she didn't draw attention to herself, she would be fine. She prepared to sleep in the hay by taking a pitchfork up to the second floor. It wouldn't be the most comfortable sleep, but she would be fine.

She looked at the barn's ceiling as she lay in the hay. Outside, she could still hear the footsteps. Sometimes, sharp claws cut across the wood outside. It was never forceful, just probing.

In the farmhouse, Sam had taken up residence in the centermost room after her parents had died. Her brother had been with her then, and it made sense to separate themselves as much as possible from the mist so they could get a decent sleep. While it had been hard after he had left, she hadn't had to sleep near outside walls like this in a long time.

She wasn't sure how much time passed before she heard the noise. It wasn't the same noise as the monsters outside. There were shuffling footsteps and heavy breathing with scratches against the wood, but that wasn't what she heard. Instead, it was more like...

Crack. Thump. Crack. Thump. Thoom.

At first, she thought it was a thunderstorm, but nothing had looked like that outside. Rain was rare enough in Dry Gulch, hence the town's name. She sat up, reaching for the pitchfork beside her. She was on the second floor, so she felt relatively safe. She had never done it, but she felt she could fight one of the mist creatures if she had to.

"Scraw!" a long, piercing scream licked up her spine.

"Arc Slash."

Crack. Thump.

The scream stopped as quickly as it had started with a solid hit, and she heard a body hitting the ground outside. Surely, no one was dumb enough to be outside after dark. She made her way over to the barn, where there was a window that looked down on the yard below. It took a moment to open; the hook was almost completely rusted to the latch. She held her breath as she opened the window to look out into the yard.

Seven mist monsters were out in the yard, their vacant black eyes searching the yard for anything living as they shuffled between the farmhouse and the barn. They were abominations of men, their flesh wrapped and warped around their skeletons. Large flesh sacks hung off at random places on their body, practically glowing yellow with puss through their pale skin. Their jaws were long rotted away, leaving jawless teeth along the top of their mouths and nothing more.

At the center of them stood a tan-skinned man in the pale moonlight, shrouded in a brown leather duster. He had a strong but scrawny build like he had drawn out all the strength his body could handle and more. Across his shoulders, he held a long black staff. His short black hair was tousled and sweaty.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded before she could catch herself, and the man flashed a smile up at her.

"Fighting," he answered as his staff caved in the skull of one of the monsters, sending white blood flying across the yard.