“Wine is a mocker, strong drink a brawler, and whoever is intoxicated by it is not wise.”
* Solomon
The sun had begun its descent behind distant Sugarloaf Mountain by the time the taxi pulled up to the quaint little inn. Kain tipped the driver and grabbed his old military issue bags out of the trunk. He tossed the bags over his shoulder and made his way to the office entrance. He could feel the temperature begin to drop quickly as he watched the sun finally fall completely behind the Rockies. The weather around here would take some getting used to. Especially for a southern boy who spent the last several years in deserts and jungles, he chuckled to himself. His smile turned into a grimace as his thoughts turned to his time in the military, specifically his recent separation. He had slipped up, and the Army had finally caught him.
Kain made his way into the quaint little lobby of the inn, nodding in appreciation at the rustic décor. The owners sure had good taste! He walked up to the counter, behind which stood a kindly looking woman who smiled at him as he approached.
“Hi there and welcome to our little slice of heaven! Did you have a reservation with us?” she asked in a relaxed, friendly tone.
“Yes ma’am. Kain Hunter,” he responded in his deep, southern drawl. His accent, coupled with his southern manners, tended to put people at ease when first meeting him, which was always useful considering he often had trouble interacting with others.
“Ah yes, Mr. Hunter. We spoke on the phone earlier. I believe we have you booked up through Halloween in one of our cottages?” She had his reservation pulled up in no time and retrieved his key for him. “We certainly hope you enjoy your stay with us! You let us know if we can do anything for you.”
Mr. Hunter, he thought as he smiled and thanked the lady, accepting his key. It was a name that he had assigned a lot of meaning to over the years, both good and bad. But it was never really his. As he walked to his cottage in the now very brisk evening air, he pondered that name. He thought about the circumstances that led to him claiming the name as his own. He thought of his father, who hadn’t bothered to pass on his name. Granted, he hadn’t bothered to pass on much of anything to Kain, not even memories. He supposed his mother had done her best to tell him about the man, but her best had never been very useful to him.
“He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen,” she would slur in one of her drunken or drug induced stupors. Apparently, his nameless father had been quite the catch, typically tall, dark and handsome. If her incessant blathering was to be believed, he was not only good looking, but wealthy and powerful as well.
“You juss’ wait,” she would say over and over. “When he ge’s back, you’ll see. He’s gonna take care of us.”
Of course, he never came back. Kain did not blame him either. What was there to come back to? A broken woman with a drug and alcohol problem? A kid he had never even seen and who would probably just be an inconvenience? Kain almost laughed as he opened the door to the cottage and stepped inside. He did not blame the man at all. Still. A name would have been nice.
Kain walked through the tastefully furnished little home. He supposed he could have gone the traditional tourist route and opted to stay in a cabin or on a nearby ranch, but he rather liked the modernized décor of the cottage. Besides, he had spent enough time working on a farm during his teenage years, after he had emancipated himself. He enjoyed his lush creature comforts these days.
He remembered that day in the courtroom with both fondness and a little embarrassment. When the judge had ruled his mother unfit and given him his freedom, he was not so much elated as relieved. He finally had the freedom to properly attempt to survive in the world. He had not even looked at his mother as he strode out of that courtroom, and he had not seen her since. He did at least make the funeral. Small victories, and everything. He had hated her at the time, which embarrassed him now, looking back. Sure, a serial killer would probably have been a better mother, but she was still his. She was also the product of his father’s actions. Whatever had happened between them had broken something inside of her, so blaming her entirely for the events of his life was probably a little unfair.
He tossed his bags on a bed and went to take a shower, the plane ride and the memories leaving him feeling rank. As he allowed the water to wash over him, his thoughts turned to his plans for the weekend. Originally, he had planned to be sitting on a beach in Florida, drinking his problems away with the help of a Cuban beauty. That had all changed about a week ago when he had received a letter at his home in Tennessee. That was odd in and of itself, considering that no one he knew other than the old farmer and his wife even used letters anymore. It was a digital age after all. That, along with the fact that the envelope had gold filigree without a return address, had piqued his interest. Upon opening it, he saw that it was an elaborate invitation for what appeared to be some sort of job opportunity. The invitation was scarce on the details, merely stating that the job was private sector work and that his “unique skills” made him a prime candidate. Considering that he had just been discharged from the army and narrowly avoided serious prison time, he almost trashed the invitation out of hand. Instead, here he was, another sucker lured out to nowhere, USA for a job opportunity that probably didn’t exist. Oh well, he thought as he finished showering. At least the scenery is nice.
**************************************************
It was around 7:30 pm when Kain pulled up in front of a local bar. He was dressed in what he hoped was standard clothing for the area: a light jacket, a flannel shirt, and some old jeans. Of course, he had his Stetson and boots as well, looking like he had stepped out of an old Marlboro commercial. He had chosen this particular venue because it was supposed to be the oldest bar in Laramie, and he had a thing for history. He smiled as he looked up at the old building, a relic of a bygone age. The interior was a modern-day western movie on display. Mounted animal heads and antlers hung on the wall over a long wooden bar with old style barstools. The twang of a country song immediately filled his ears as he entered, reminding him that whiskey was the perfect answer for heartache, or pretty much any problem the world threw at him.
“Almost like home,” he muttered to himself as he strode over to the bar, looking for an empty stool close to the band. He was surprised how busy the bar was this early in the evening. He had expected the usual local crowd, and maybe a few other tourists looking to check the place out before the real partiers arrived. What he found instead was a packed house. The locals were there, along with some college students and tourists. He even picked out cowboys from what appeared to be several different outfits. He pulled out his phone as he took a seat at the bar and began scrolling through local news. He came across an advertisement and groaned internally. So much for a quiet weekend, he thought. The ad was for some big Halloween-themed rodeo going on Saturday and Sunday.
“Aw, it ain’t that bad is it baby?” a bartender in a skintight, black halter top with the bar logo on it and daisy dukes that left very little to the imagination walked up. “What’re ya havin’?”
Kain appreciated the outfit, and the bartender filled it out perfectly. Probably a rodeo queen herself, he joked to himself before answering. “I’ll have Bulleit and coke if you have it.”
She smiled and walked off to get his order, leaving him with an opportunity to observe the crowd around him. Mostly, it was the same tired old scene that played out in a thousand tourist bars. Locals huddled at the pool tables and dart boards, keeping to themselves and occasionally shooting annoyed glances at the out-of-towners. Some of the cowboys and buckle bunnies mingled with the locals, while others gathered at a group of tables near the band. Tourists popped in and out, having a drink or two and snapping some photos before moving on. College guys thinking with the wrong head were drinking themselves into oblivion, too soon in Kain’s opinion, while awkwardly attempting to hit on college girls, who, in turn, were shooting them down while eating up the attention and looking around for some action themselves. It was a typical mixture of egos, hormones, and alcohol. A good old American bar. And then there were the other people scattered around.
Kain began paying more attention as he noticed several outliers, most sitting alone, although a few had grouped together. Most of them were dressed similarly to him, clothing designed more for functionality and comfort than fashion. They were doing a good job of blending into the background for the most part, but there were a few oddities that marked them. One had a slight bulge under his jacket, his free hand never straying too far from it. Another was wearing military issue combat boots and kept his ballcap pulled down too low so that no one would notice him constantly scanning the room. One of the ladies wore loose fitting clothing and no makeup, moving with the fluid grace of someone who had studied martial arts. All of them constantly assessed the room for threats.
Kain felt a familiar sensation begin to creep into his gut. Whatever else these people might be, they were professionals. They were like him. Well, not exactly like me, he thought with a smirk. They probably weren’t bastards recently acquitted of multiple homicide. Definitely pros though.
His drink arrived and he tipped the bartender, who then vanished, off to help some other poor sap forget how pathetic their life was. That was one of the things Kain loved about bars. They were an escape. People could check their memories and worries at the door and be free, for a little while at least. He took a sip of his drink, the whiskey slowly burning its way down his throat to spread its warmth through his body, as he looked up into the mirror behind the bar. A tall, lithe stranger in a cowboy hat stared back at him with cold, measured eyes. He supposed he was handsome, with his dark hair and gray eyes. He had a three-day shadow on his face, giving him a slightly rugged look, but still not quite hiding the soldier that he used to be. The killer that he was. He considered what his reflection would look like if it showed his soul, rather than his shell. Maybe it was his imagination, or the whiskey kicking in, or maybe it was just the poor bar lighting, but for just a second, he swore something else took the place of his reflection. Something inhuman and dark. As quickly as it appeared it was gone, leaving Kain staring hard into the mirror, slightly shaken. For this reason, he did not notice the man who sat down on the stool next to him until he spoke.
“You know, sometimes I feel like I’m looking at a ghost when I look in the mirror, too,” the quiet, lilting voice startled Kain, but he managed to hide his surprise. He turned to the man now sitting next to him, taking him in. He had slightly curly reddish-blond hair, well-groomed and matching his neat goatee. He had broad, well-defined shoulders, his physique speaking of long hours spent at the gym. He wore a dark green, long-sleeved button-up and a pair of cargo pants. What was strange was that his demeaner did not match his appearance at all. Even as he sat there, drink in hand, Kain could tell the man was tensed up, as if ready to strike out at a moment’s notice. His green eyes had a wild, hungry look, like a tiger seeking out its next prey. The man might look civilized, but he was a savage, just like Kain.
“Sometimes it’s worse than a ghost,” Kain replied, still thinking of the distorted image that he had briefly glimpsed.
“The truth, innit? Name’s Kieran. Most folks call me Ki, so you might as well. Guessing you don’t mind if I sit here? Seems like the least rowdy area,” Kieran explained. Kain agreed. Things were starting to ramp up around the bar as the liquor flowed, and the area of the bar they were in seemed to be the calmest.
“I’m Kain and be my guest, although it looks like the real party is out on the floor,” he replied, flagging down the bartender for another drink. “What are you drinking?”
“Whatever you’re buying,” Kieran joked. “Much obliged.”
Kain smiled and placed the order, sending the bartender away again. Once she was gone, Kieran spoke up.
“So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you aren’t a native, with that accent. What brought you out to Wyoming, Kain?” Kieran asked.
“Well, if I was a betting man, I’d bet it’s the same thing as brought you here, Ki,” Kain responded with a smirk. “Although, that brunette over there looks like a good reason as well.”
Kain nodded over at the woman and her friend, who had been eyeing the two of them since Kieran sat down. Unlike her friend, who happened to be the girl not wearing makeup that he had noticed earlier, she seemed to be doing everything in her power to stand out. She was stunning, wearing a long, blood red dress that hugged all her curves flawlessly and had a slit that ran clear up to her hip. Her dark eyes had a sultry, exotic look about them, and her plump lips were painted to match her dress. Four-inch heels framed her long legs nicely, completing the look perfectly. As a general rule, Kain avoided picking up women in bars these days. They were often not worth the little bit of pleasure they brought to the table, but in her case, he might have to make an exception.
“Now there’s a maneater if I’ve ever seen one!” Kieran laughed as he looked over at the two women. “Her friend isn’t bad either, although a little more…subtle. So, you think we’re here for the same reason, eh? Why is that?”
Kieran’s smile was still friendly, but the warmth he had been injecting into his tone cooled considerably. His posture also changed slightly, becoming more aggressive as he turned back from looking at the girls. Kain smiled. He was sure Kieran would give him a good fight if it came to that, much better than the couple of cowboys that were slowly making their way over with trouble written all over their faces, but he doubted he would have to fight him.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“That’s something we should discuss, for sure, but first I think we have some admirers,” Kain said, just as the cowboys arrived. He had been doing so well at blending in, too.
“Hey man, what brand you ride for?” the taller cowboy with a lazy eye asked, drunk, but still very steady. Kain sighed and looked at Ki with an annoyed expression, hiding the small tingle of excitement he felt. Finally, things are getting interesting.
“I don’t ride for any brand, but you already knew that. How can I help you gentlemen?” Kain responded in a bored voice.
“See?” Lazy-Eye nudged his partner, who was wearing a huge, gaudy belt buckle. “Told ya he didn’t ride. He just thinks it’s cool to show up in Wyoming dressed like a cowboy and try to impress some women. Pisses me off.”
He spit at Kain’s feet while Buckle Boy laughed stupidly. Kain sat quietly for a moment as he considered his options. He did not really want to get in a fight this early, but he did need to blow off some steam. And Lazy-Eye was really asking for it.
“I see,” Kain said seriously, as if he was contemplating the man’s words. “But just how bad does it piss you off? Enough to actually step up? Or just enough to run your mouth like a crotchety old lady?”
Kieran snorted loudly as Lazy-Eye’s face went from red to purple. To his credit, he did not offer any more bluster. He stepped toward Kain throwing a badly telegraphed right hook. Kain slid off his barstool allowing the punch to pass over his right shoulder. He slipped his own arm under the punch, then trapped the man’s neck, using his own momentum against him, sending his head straight into the side of the bar. Lazy-Eye crumpled immediately to the floor, a dazed look in his eyes and blood now trickling from his forehead. Buckle just stared at his downed friend, confused for a second, before turning to Kain with both rage and fear in his eyes. Kain wondered which would win.
“You bastard!” he yelled as he grabbed a beer bottle off the bar and swung it at Kain’s head. Anger it was then. Kain dodged the bottle and kicked Buckle in the knee, which, unfortunately for him, he had locked when he swung. Kain barely heard the crack over the music, and down went Buckle. His screams, however, were much louder, drawing more attention than he would have liked. A bouncer came running over and Kain stepped back with his hands slightly raised. The bouncer just waived a hand at him.
“You’re good man. I saw what happened. It was self-defense,” he said as he checked to make sure Lazy-Eye was still lucid. “These boys ride for a brand out Cheyenne way. They ain’t gonna be happy you roughed up two of their wranglers.”
Kain just shrugged. “I’ll leave my address with the bartender in case they wanna settle up.”
The bouncer laughed as he helped Lazy-Eye to his feet. “Alright man, whatever you say. Just try not to hurt anyone else while I escort these gentlemen out of here.”
He called another bouncer and together, they got the cowboys to their friends waiting outside. Kain turned around to see Kieran still sitting exactly where he was prior to the scuffle, a twinkle in his eye.
“Thanks for the help,” Kain snorted as he took his seat.
“Hey, you’re the fake cowboy bastard,” Kieran shrugged.
“I mean, it did seem a little rude of him to call me out on that,” Kain joked. “I didn’t call him out for looking at you and me at the same time, did I?”
“To be completely honest, I think you fixed that problem for him,” Kieran said seriously. “Awful nice of you.”
The two men laughed.
“I do believe we should celebrate your victory good sir!” Kieran teased in a fair mockery of a British accent as he waived down the bartender for another round.
The bartender arrived shortly, eyeing both of them with wariness and curiosity. It was not the fight that caught her attention. This was cattle country, after all, and brawls were commonplace. A stranger waltzing in and laying out two cowboys without any real effort, however, was a first for her. She would have to keep an eye on them.
“What’s your name, hun?” Kieran asked as she approached. The band was finally taking a break, so speaking like a human being was possible again.
“Aliza,” she replied cautiously. “How can I help you boys?”
“Well, Aliza,” Kieran began, mischief in his eyes. “My new friend and I would like to celebrate the unique hospitality of Wyoming. Got anything in your repertoire that kicks harder than he does?”
Aliza just looked at him for a second, before snorting out a laugh and rolling her eyes. “You know, I think we might have just the thing.”
“Perfect!” Kieran said. “You may as well pour two more for the ladies walking over here as well.”
Aliza looked up, and, sure enough, two women were indeed navigating through the drunken maze, heading in their direction. One was wearing a blood red dress, the other a loose-fitting button-up and pants. As Aliza walked off to get the drinks, both Kain and Kieran turned to face the approaching ladies. There was a brief moment’s pause as the two pairs sized each other up. Then the woman with the red dress spoke.
“That was certainly an interesting performance. I hope you don’t finish all your physical encounters so quickly. It would make for quite a boring evening.” Her satin voice was both teasing and seductive in its tone, adding an extra layer of appeal to her already irresistible nature. Here was a woman who could turn every head in the bar without wasting effort. She was taller than Kain had thought, almost intimidating, with long, toned legs that occasionally teased a peak at the world through the slit in her dress. The dress itself was a work of art, concealing the woman’s ample assets while also accentuating them, showing just enough cleavage to leave the men around her drooling for more.
Kain unabashedly looked her up and down before meeting her eyes. Even accented to match her seductive lure, her eyes gave her true nature away. Intelligent. Cold. Hungry. They betrayed her for what she really was. Kain just smiled.
“I was under the impression that eight seconds was the golden standard around here,” he replied, nearly making the casual-looking friend spit her drink all over Kieran.
“Judging by the two cowboys you sent packing, you aren’t wrong!” the woman laughed. “I’m Layla, and this is my new friend, Raven.”
Raven, even without makeup and tight-fitting clothing, was anything but plain. She had a quiet, natural beauty which complimented Layla’s flashy style perfectly. Now able to get a closer look at her, he could see that his initial assessment was correct. She moved with the fluid grace of a fighter, her body honed into a weapon through years of training. Her amber eyes were filled with challenge as she nodded to both of the men.
“I’m Kain. This is Kieran,” he said. “What can we do for you ladies?”
“Hopefully, a lot,” Layla smirked. You could start with joining us at our table, preferably before we lose it.”
Kain was about to respond when the new round of drinks arrived…on fire. Because of course they are, he thought. This situation needed just a bit more cliché.
It was Kieran who spoke next as he made room at the bar for the ladies. “We’d love to join y’all! Right after these shots.”
Neither of the ladies shied away from the alcohol. They simply stepped up to the bar, grabbed their shots, and toasted Kieran and Kain before slamming the flaming liquid back. Kain could taste that it was some sort of whiskey, probably local. He was not a huge fan, but he supposed it wasn’t terrible. After the shots, their little group moved to the table. Kain noted that the ladies had chosen a table in the corner with a relatively unobstructed view of most of the bar; a fact for which he was grateful, having already made a few enemies tonight.
“Nothing like pissing off half the bar just by sitting down, eh?” Kieran joked, noticing the jealous looks they were getting as they sat down.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Kain replied.
“Awe, don’t worry,” Raven teased in a baby voice. “We can protect you from the big, bad cowboys.”
“As you should!” Kieran shot back. “I am a delicate flower, after all.”
They all laughed. Judging off his instincts, Kain figured that anyone attempting to harass their table was in for a long night. He tipped back his drink, then addressed the table at large.
“Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way,” he began, eyes suddenly sharpening, “what are all of you doing here?”
His tone was not hostile perse, but it was blunt. He doubted he would catch any of them off guard with the sudden switch, but he was at least hoping they would take off the masks. He wanted information and suspected that they might have it. It was time to clear the air. His new friends did not disappoint. Kieran’s smile disappeared, his eyes growing cold once more as he assessed Kain. Raven shifted forward ever so slightly in her seat, fire in her eyes, as if she were preparing to pounce on him. Only Layla betrayed nothing as she calmly regarded him.
“I’m not sure I take your meaning, Kain,” she answered quietly and took a sip from her drink. “I would think we were all here to blow off some steam.”
Kain admired her commitment to her roleplay. The more he interacted with her, the surer he was that she was the most dangerous person at the table, next to himself. Normally, he would have continued the façade that they all seemed so fond of, but he needed to know what kind of situation he had stumbled into by coming here.
“Are we? That’s a good thing then. I was starting to think we were all here because we were invited.” Kain made sure to give the last word extra inflection, leaving no doubt what he was insinuating. This time, the reactions of his comrades varied greatly. Kieran’s eyes narrowed and Kain saw him reach into his pocket. He made no move beyond that, however, simply content to see how events unfolded. Raven relaxed a bit, understanding dawning in her eyes. Once again, it was Layla’s reaction that impressed him.
“Why Kain, are you inviting me back to your hotel? We just met after all,” she was smirking, but he could see the message in her eyes. Let’s talk, but not here. He applauded her caution.
“What can I say? I’m a man who knows what he wants,” he replied, before turning to the others. “Y’all should join us. The cottage I’m staying in has two extra bedrooms, and y’all seem like my kinda people.”
“Yeah, sure. Count me in,” Raven agreed. Kain could tell that she too badly wanted answers, her curiosity almost palpable. “What do you say, Kieran? Want to make some bad decisions with me? I’d hate to be a third wheel.”
Kieran looked as if he was still contemplating whether he should just run Kain through, right there in the bar. But finally, he nodded, the tension leaving his body as his mask went back on. “I’m always down for a bad decision.”
With that, the four of them made their way to the exit, newly ordered drinks abandoned. Events had unfolded with a much better outcome than Kain had initially hoped for. He did not for one second believe that he had made new friends, and odds were likely that at least one of them would try to kill him before the night was over, but he was still enjoying himself. He had high hopes that he might get a few answers before the night was over, which would be a nice change of pace from running around blind. Kain’s attitude began to sour as their little group made its way out into the cold Wyoming night. Something was off.
The street before them was empty and silent, not even the wind uttering a sound. Streetlamps fought back the dark of night, while creating sinister shadows of their own along the sidewalks and alleys. Kain looked at the three people with him, finally focusing on Kieran.
“Afraid there ain’t a barstool here for you to sit this one out,” he joked softly, not ready to give the game away just yet. Kieran surreptitiously cut his eyes up and down the street.
“Nope!” he replied quietly. “But there is a bench over there. That’ll work just fine, assuming they’re just here for you.”
“Your empathy is awe-inspiring,” Kain snorted as he prepared to spring the trap waiting for him. “Ladies, this might take a few minutes, and it is kinda chilly out here. Y’all might wanna wait inside.”
Raven just laughed as she put her hair up into a ponytail, relaxing into a ready stance. Layla, however, was now wearing a haughty, annoyed look. It appeared her mask had finally come off.
“Do you really expect me to wait inside like a good little girl?” she spat. Her voice rose as she continued to speak, making sure their hidden antagonists got the message. “I will be extremely disappointed if my plans for the evening are interrupted.”
With her warning made clear, Layla stepped away from the entrance and lit a cigarette, still looking rather irritated. Kieran walked over to the bench and took a seat, looking almost excited. Raven moved into the shadows cast by the streetlamp to their right, seeming to vanish entirely. Kain pulled out his phone and cancelled their taxi with a sigh. He was starting to feel annoyed as well. It had been entertaining, inviting trouble when he was in the bar. But now he had plans, as Layla had put it, and this whole situation was delaying him.
Two cowboys stepped out of an alley across the street, strolling casually in Kain’s direction. Three others rounded the corner to their left, coming to a stop not far from Layla. One stepped out of the shadows down the street on the right, and began walking their way, just as two more came out of the bar behind Kain’s current position. One of those two, clearly the leader, was dressed in an expensive suit. He was tall and broad-shouldered, most likely a cattleman himself in his youth. Time spent at the top had softened his sharp features a bit and earned him a decent gut. He smiled congenially as Kain turned to face him.
“Evening, sir,” he said in a formal but warm tone. “I was wondering if we could speak for a second before you take off.”
Kain said nothing, simply looking around at the rancher’s men before looking back at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes, well,” the man’s smiled widened just a bit. “You can’t blame a man for being cautious. After all you did just send two of my men to the hospital.”
Kain had heard enough. The man obviously wanted something from him, or the cowhands would have just attacked him outright. Since he had no intention of giving the man anything, that made the outcome of this overly boring and cliché conversation a foregone conclusion. Kain smiled.
“You should have walked away when you had the chance,” he said coldly. “Now you won’t be able to.”
The rancher was completely taken aback, having thought he was in control of the situation. He was about to try to talk some sense into the young man, since he really did not want to hurt him, when the man’s entire group exploded into motion.
**************************************************
Jack Pruitt was the closest officer to the downtown area when the 911 call came in. The Laramie Public Safety Department receiving such a call from a bar was commonplace on a Friday night, and he liked to position himself to respond quickly, just in case. The fact that Aliza had been slightly hysterical when she called set Jack on edge, though. Just what the hell was going on?
He pulled up to the bar running full code and was a little surprised to see the street almost completely blocked off by a wall of people. He pulled over and jumped out, looking for someone who could tell him what had happened. Luckily, his lights had drawn the attention of the crowd, who parted for him. There in the street, some coming to, some not moving at all, were eight bodies, laid out in a rough approximation of a circle. Jack recognized one of the men as William Praither, a rancher from the outskirts of Cheyenne who was in town for the rodeo. As he took a closer look around the circle of bodies, he began to recognize several of Bill’s top hands as well, more than one of which was currently lying in a puddle of his own blood. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steel his nerves. When he opened them, he walked over to the rancher to try and see if he could make sense of this chaos.
“Bill! Are you alright? What happened?!” Jack was about to help the man stand up when he noticed that both of his legs appeared to be broken, sticking out at odd angles. Bill was extremely pale, and his breathing was shallow. He looked at Jack with slightly unfocused and fearful eyes as he spoke.
“Jack? Wha-ˮ he began, stopping as realization dawned in his eyes. He quickly looked around, taking in the macabre scene, before finally looking down at his legs. Then he began to scream.