Ghost Town

It was mid-day, either the sun at its highest point or so close it didn’t matter, when Benny rinsed and spat water and pointed out northwest.

Fel glared at him with contempt. It was the middle of the desert, in the middle of the summer, in the middle of the worst job he’d ever agreed to, and the worst partner he’d ever had the misfortune of getting paired up with had just spat out water, mostly onto his horse. The droplets that had made it to the ground were already gone, soaked up by either the dry air or the drier earth.

After a few seconds, when Benny was still staring hopelessly out into the horizon, Fel rolled his eyes with everything he had and followed Benny’s still pointing finger.

God take him, there actually was something out there.

The sun was reflecting off something. The reflection didn’t move or shimmer, so it wasn’t water. It was something hard, and solid. Unmoving. Glass window?

There were shapes. Hard to make out , what with how bright the glare in the middle was and the heat shimmering off the ground, making everything roil like boiling water. But there were definite shapes.

“Let’s check it out.”

“No way.”

Benny finally tore his eyes from the glare and the fading shapes to cut him a look.

“Don’t you want to check it out?”

Yes.

“No,” Fel said. “Damn it, Benny, it’s a hundred and four degrees and we got another two days ride. We ain’t got the time nor the supplies to be looking into what’s probably nothing more than the sun hitting still water at exactly the right time.”

Even as he said it he knew he was full of it, and Benny knew it, too. Still water? Out here?

“Might be a dried up town,” Benny said, looking back at the shapes. “Could still be a working well.”

Now that got Fel’s nerves up a little. Well water. Cold well water. If buildings were still up, a shady spot to eat something, too.

“Who knows what people left behind?” Benny said.

Well, it didn’t surprise Fel nothing that Benny was only thinking of treasure. And, heck, maybe if Fel found himself something, some old forgotten pocket watch or cash hidden under a bed, it would keep him out of the desert for a few weeks.

“Fine,” Fel said. “Don’t look too far, anyway.”

It didn’t, but neither were surprised when it took near an hour to get there. The desert and the ocean: the world’s greatest tricksters. With every step Minnie took underneath him, Fel became more certain they were making a big mistake. Every minute it took to get there was another minute to get back on track. Plus however long they lingered. They would be late getting to Cannon tonight, maybe late enough that the saloon would be full up. They’d end up sleeping with their horses on the dirt outside of town. Sleep would be patchy. They’d wake up late, eat breakfast late, head out late, get to Woodland just as late. Late, late, late.

Fel kept his trap shut. He hated Benny, but had worked with him long enough to know his quirks and pica-dillies. There was a firmness to his jaw and a sort of aliveness to his eyes that hadn’t been there the entire trip. It told Fel even if he peeled off, went back to their route, Benny would keep going forward toward that little glare on all his lonesome. Arriving in Felicidad without Benny would mean suspicions. Everyone knew how much Fel hated him. No one would believe Benny had just walked off on his own two feet. He needed Benny to keep out of a jail cell. Benny wasn’t going to turn back until he saw whatever was at the end of this chase.

And, not that he was currently admitting it to himself or would ever admit it to Benny, but there was a small part of him that was as desperate to see what could be out here in the middle of nothing as Benny was.

It was a town.

“See? Ain’t I said?” Benny asked, face split in half by a shit-filled grin. “You were nothing but doubt but as always, I knew something you didn’t.”

Fel took the quietest long breath he could and counted to twelve.

They were standing at the top of what had once been a main street. Little wooden buildings sat side by side in two rows, glaring at each other. The usual suspects. General store. Lawman’s abode. Saloon. Rival saloon. Further down they could see some houses, tiny little wooden things all bunched up together. Even further, so far they shimmered in the heat, bigger houses.

“Something ain’t right.”

Benny shot him a look and made some kind of noise that sounded more like the horse underneath him.

“You’re just upset I was right.”

This was mostly why Fel hated him. Ever since the day they had met three and half years ago, Benny had seemed to be under the impression that the two of them were rivals in some sort of never-ending contest. Whatever Fel did around Benny, Benny was sure it was to score imaginary points against him. Whatever Benny did, he was sure Fel was watching, calculating, deciding who won. In reality, Fel barely thought about Benny at all, except to get bothered and then annoyed and then downright hateful of all this stupid, non-existent competition.

“I ain’t. I don’t…Look, something is wrong here.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong except you,” Benny said. “You just letting the ghost town spook you.”

Fel bristled but kept his mouth shut as Benny dismounted his horse and tied him up in front of the nearest saloon. He’d been in three…no, four…four ghost towns over the past decade. Happened all the time out here. People build a town for a mine, mine dries up. For a trade route, trade goes south. For a river, river shifts north. You get a little jumpy in ghost towns, sure. The emptiness, the spots where folk are supposed to be ain’t, the way the wind blows through it like it ain’t even there, and, of course, the very real fear of squatters jumping out at you to protect what is now, sort of, theirs. You know, the sort of edginess you get used to.

This wasn’t that. And it wasn’t that Benny had been ‘right,’ neither. This was…this was…

Well, shit. He didn’t know what it was. But he knew it wasn’t good.

Across the way Benny entered the empty saloon and Fel had to champ back to keep from shouting at him not to.

Something is not right.

When Benny didn’t scream…when nothing jumped out…when the whole town didn’t fall out of one building, weapons in hand, Fel got off Minnie and tied her up next to Big John. Maybe he was overreacting. His brain boiled from the heat. He agreed to come because he hoped there was a well. Maybe he could still find it.

Fel walked down that used up main street carrying his two canteens. He looked between the buildings, trying to spy a stone well or a pump, but mostly kept his eyes toward the dust he was kicking up. He was afraid to look in the windows. Sure some face – human or otherwise – would be staring back.

Finally, down the other end of town, between the last few houses and the little church, he found it. A stone well, still full, bucket still attached to its little rope. He inspected it a bit, making sure nothing was floating in it, and then drank straight from the bucket. The instant that cool water hit the back of his throat he could feel the temperature in his skull come down by several notches.

Maybe it was the heat after all.

He stared at the well as he drank. Was there something off about this, too? Yes, he decided as he dropped the bucket for more. The well was too damn big. Twice as wide as well he’d ever seen. And who even made wells anymore? Why not just the pump?

“Felipe.”

Fel sputtered and choked and cough and dumped half the bucket down his shirt and only after half a minute of all that did he finally see Benny standing just a few feet away from him.

“Damn it, don’t be sneaking up on me like that.”

Fel waited for Benny to argue. I wasn’t sneaking, you’s just jumpy.

Instead Benny only stared at him. Despite the heat his face had gone pale.

“You have to come see this.”

“What now, Benny?” Fel asked before drinking more water.

“It’s just…I don’t know…please, come and see.”

Oh, sure, when I’m nervous I’m just being a baby, but now that he’s scared off his tits, it’s just dandy!

Still, Fel followed Benny back into town, down main street, not into the first saloon he’d gone into, but the second.

It was a bloodbath.

Or had been, anyway. Now it was a blood painting. Dried blood everywhere. The floor, the tables and chairs, the bar, the mirror behind it. There were even some spatters on the ceiling. Tables were on their sides. Chairs had been smashed. The mirror was cracked in three separate places. The brass bar at the bottom of the bar, the one you were supposed to rest your feet on, had been pried off, taking some of the wood with it. It was now leaned up against the back wall. One end was covered in more blood, and something dried and gray.

“What the hell is all this?” Fel asked, surprising himself. He was half scared to death, but that other half was…angry. Yeah, angry. Like it was Benny’s fault.

Benny is just a putz, as always. The putz who brought us here, but yeah, just a putz.

“I don’t know,” Benny said. Three words Fel was sure he’d never hear coming from the man’s mouth. He looked like he was ready to faint. “It looks like…well, it looks like everybody killed each other.”

“That don’t make no sense,” Fel said, his mouth running away from him. “Where are the bodies, then?”

“Dunno. This, uh…this ain’t the only place that looks like this. Blood everywhere. Stuff broken. No bodies.”

“Okay. Well. What the hell do you want me to do about it?”

Benny looked at him with a face like he’d been struck, which just made Fel angrier. How dare Benny bring him into all of this and then think Fel could do anything about it? All because of that stupid glare…

Glare.

Fel looked around to the front of the saloon. Without saying a thing to Benny he left out to the main street. Looked around at the buildings. Really looked.

“What?” Benny asked, making Fel jump.

“God damn it, I told you not to sneak up on me!”

“I didn’t.”

“The windows, Benny. How long you been wandering around this dead town and ain’t noticed the windows?”

They were all broken. Every single one. In every single building. Busted out. Broken glass scattered below.

“Yeah. Broken. Like everything else, it seems.”

“Use your fucking head. If all the glass is broken, what was that glare we chased all the way here?”

Benny’s eyes widened like it hadn’t occurred to him yet. Of course it hadn’t. Benny was a putz, and an idiot, and a liar, and a-

And now he was running out the front, avoiding the blood stains like they might catch him, hold him down, start hitting him, over and over and over and-

Fel shook his head and followed after Benny. Weird town. Weird saloon. Weird thoughts. That was all. Stuff was getting to him more than he’d like to admit.

The sun had finally entered afternoon and started climbing down, but that only seemed to make it angrier. The heat was stifling. Choking. How the hell had they even made it in heat like this? And it was bright…so bright…

“There!”

Benny had been standing in the middle of the little dirt road, whipping his head all around like some demented bird with an ear infection. His face was tomato red, his eyes two perfectly round spots.

Losing his cool. Needs water.

But Benny was already moving toward where he pointed. The well.

No, not the well.

The little church behind the well.

“Ben-”

He was hustling. Not listening. This town had gotten to him, all right. Gotten in deep.

Better cut the infection out.

The scene played out in his mind in distinct, prickling detail. Fel would chase after him. Knock him down. Keep him down with his knees. Then he would get his pocket knife out and open up the blade and ever so carefully drive it right between the ribs and-

“What is the matter with me?” he muttered to himself. And then, glowering. “Fucking Benny. All his fault.”

Fel ran after him.

To kill him?

Maybe. Maybe. It was the heat. It was this empty town. It was chasing after Benny. Always, always, fucking always chasing after Benny. Cleaning up his messes. Listening to him gloat. Watching his stupid face as he once again found a way to be better than him. Always had to be better! Couldn’t just exist! No! Had to the best! The best! The fucking best whether it killed him or not and-

Fel burst through the church’s doors. He hadn’t noticed he’d accelerated into a dead sprint. Fast enough to knock one of the doors completely off its hinges. Sunlight followed the two men halfway down the aisle between the pews. Enough of it bounced off the white painted wood to illuminate the rest.

Benny was on his knees, panting.

Screaming?

If there had once been a Jesus hanging on the far wall He was gone now. What hung there instead was some grisly abomination that could have been human. If you squint. There was something greasy about it. Greasy in his mind. No matter how much Fel looked he couldn’t make the details stick.

It was getting harder to make anything stick. The specific details of his current situation seemed to be sliding away. They had been going somewhere. And then…they weren’t there. They were here. Where was here? Who was they? Was that him? Who was him? None of it seemed to matter. Nothing mattered. Why did he think it did? Did he think? There was only one thing that mattered and he was beneath it.

Something was screaming his name.

A few feet away. Something. Someone. He once knew the name. Screaming. Constant screams. Coming from his face. Pointing. Pointing. Pointing.

Whatever remained of whoever he was looked. More blood. Painted on the walls. In designs. Pretty designs. It swam around his head. Into his head. Filled him up until there was nothing left.

He turned his eyes on Benny, still screaming. Whatever hung on the wall watched as Fel released the anger that had been building in him until what remained of Benny was unrecognizable as it was. Blood spattered on the pews, the ceiling, the walls, the pretty designs, the words written on the wall in blood.

we dropped the boddies in the well

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