Ghost of the Red Reaper Part 1

It’s past noon and the sun shines in the sky. As Asa drives, a caravan comes into view. An old woman stands outside it and waves to them.

Her hair is gathered into a high bun. She’s tall and skinny. Her face is long and her eyes seem sad, but kind. An old man, who appears to be her husband, sits in the passenger’s seat of their vehicle: a solar powered truck made specifically for bulk deliveries.

A large trailer is hooked to the truck’s bumper. Her husband, a kind looking man with a deep tan, watches them as they draw nearer. He’s reclined the seat as far back as it will go and has his feet propped up on the dashboard. His eyes look as kind as hers do and his silver hair is styled into an overgrown bowlcut. A bushy mustache sits under his nose. “I think she wants us to stop.” Observes Asa.

Mint looks at the couple with curious eyes as Asa pulls over. He pulls off his goggles. “You guys having car trouble?”

The old woman chuckles. “No, we’re just resting. When you get this old, even driving gets to be too much.” She says, joking.

“I just have a warning for you.”

“A warning?”

“There’s been a lot of crime out here lately. Somebody’s been robbing people who travel down this path.” She leans in closer and speaks in a conspiratorial whisper. “Some are saying it’s the ghost of The Red Reaper.”

As much as he doesn’t believe in ghosts, the woman’s convincing tone makes a shiver run down Asa’s spine.

“Who’s the Red Reaper?” Asks Mint, not seeming to be particularly spooked.

“You’ve never heard the story? I can tell you, then.”

“Over 150 years ago, Nue was more wild than it is today. The few cities were far apart and traveling between them could be arduous and, oftentimes, deadly. The towns rarely had organized law enforcement, and this gave rise to rampant crime.

“Outlaws would rob delivery transports, killing the workers and stealing the valuables inside. One of the worst was The Red Reaper.”

“Sometimes, at night, an unfortunate transport would come across a sole woman, red hair flowing in the wind and a rifle on her shoulder. She’d shoot the driver and storm the vehicle.”

“The workers, being law-abiding men, would only have swords. She’d tie them up and then shoot them in the back of the head, execution style. The last thing her victims would see is her waving red ponytail and her smirk, eyes hidden behind the brim of her hat. She robbed countless yingium trucks. There’s no doubt that she became extremely rich.”

“The story usually ends with her settling down in the countryside and living a quiet life, but some say that she was gunned down by a rival crime lord right here in Chi. Filled with rage, she was unable to rest and came back as a vengeful spirit.”

“Now, she wanders the path where she was murdered, robbing anyone she encounters. The strange thing is that she doesn’t kill any of her victims, and everything she steals is found the very next day, abandoned in a different spot each time.”

“They all say they saw the same person: a woman with long, red hair and a gun.”

“Some think that she’s searching for the one who killed her and that she’ll be disinterested in anyone who doesn’t fit the bill. If you’re not the right person, she’ll leave without a word.” She says, ending the story.

Asa and Mint are now both visibly freaked out, a faint tremble in their frame. She continues. “Well, ghost or not, people are getting robbed. Be careful, you two.”

After a brief conversation, they wave goodbye and get back on the bike.

“Do you think there’s actually a ghost out there?” Asks Mint, hoping Asa, the reasonable adult, will dispel his fears.

“It won’t matter either way, because we’ll be in town before nightfall.” He reassures his traveling companion. However, he didn’t deny the existence of a ghost.

☼

Just as Asa said, they arrive during sunset. As they walk down the street, a certain place calls to them. It's a small, cozy building with a bar on the first floor and an inn on the second.

The door is open, spilling warm light onto the sidewalk invitingly. The smell of cooking food wafts from the windows.

“How about we stay there?” Says Asa. “I can buy you something as an apology for leaving you alone.”

☼

The atmosphere is homey. Only a few regulars are present and a pleasant, low chatter resonates through the room. Asa and Mint are seated at a table, each with a menu.

“They have a lot of things that aren’t alcohol. How about some ice cream?”

After so much traveling, Mint’s brain is fried. Ice cream does sound good, though.

“Ok.” He mumbles.

☼

Empty plates sit on the table, with only crumbs left. Asa leans back with folded hands and a content smile. Mint lazily pokes at his ice cream, half asleep. Asa makes eye contact with a mysterious man across the restaurant.

He’s sitting by himself with a full poker set up, but no partner. He’s in his late 30s or early 40s. His clothes are loose and his shirt exposes his collarbones. A shawl is loosely wrapped around his shoulders and a scarf is tied over his chin length, lavender hair. His wavy bangs elegantly frame his eyes. They have a pleasant allure.

It’s a purposeful allure: a skill that he has no doubt refined over many years. His gaze doesn’t leave Asa’s. It’s an invitation to his table.

Mint raises his head as Asa pushes in his chair. He watches as he approaches the table. “Do you have anyone to play with?”

“No. I’ve been waiting for one.” Says the man. His voice is smooth and has a dreamlike quality.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Please do.” The man says with a gentle smile and a slight nod.

☼

Asa runs his hands through his hair as the man, a gambler named Zaki, takes another pot, dragging 80g of yingium to his side. A zoned out Mint has joined them at the table and continues to stir his ice cream, now a soupy liquid at the bottom of the bowl.

Asa lets out a deep, aggravated sigh.

“We can quit if you want.” Zaki offers.

Asa clenches a fist with a determined frown. “No way! I’m going to win against you at least once, then I’ll quit.”

Zaki is dealing more cards when he feels a sharp gaze on them. The source is obvious. It’s coming from a man in a leather motorcycle suit. He wears a dusty cloak and hasn’t taken his helmet off. He’s nursing a well drink: a small vodka soda.

Nursing isn’t the right word. He doesn’t appear to have taken a single sip. No one bats an eye. It isn’t usual for travelers to stop at this bar without taking any of their gear off, but they nearly always take their helmet off so they can drink.

The regulars have brushed him off as a weary rider who purchased the cheapest drink as the fee for sitting inside the bar for a while, but Zaki’s instincts are never wrong.

This person is dangerous. Zaki continues playing poker with the young man. The boy with him has started letting his head droop face-first into the bowl. Tired and preoccupied, the two don’t seem to have noticed the man staring at them.

☼

Asa lumbers down the dark street with an expression of resigned humiliation. Mint is feeling more awake after his nap in the ice cream bowl.

“Is it because he was charming?” He asks, with an accusatory look.

Asa looks offended. “No!!”

Then returns to humiliation. “Well, maybe.”

“You really shouldn’t gamble with government funds.” Mint chides.

“I didn’t use government funds! It was my personal savings.”

“Could that affect us negatively in any way?” A figure stalks from the shadows.

“It might mean less ice cream.” It takes a few silent steps. And a few more.

“I only had one bowl.” Mint says, half defensive and half sulking. “And why do we have to walk more? Wasn’t there an inn attached to the bar?”

“If we had stayed there, I would’ve ended up cutting into government funds.” A church bell rings in the distance. The figure looms closer.

“That’s strange. It’s 8pm.” Asa says. “Maybe it rings every hour here.” A blade suddenly darts toward Asa’s neck.

A body slams against brick and metal clatters to the ground. Asa and Mint spin around. Zaki is pinning the helmeted man to a building. “I didn’t like how this guy was looking at you in the bar! I knew he’d pull something!”

He pauses, adjusting his grip on the thrashing assassin. “One of you, get help, and the other, help me hold him down!”

Mint pulls the sedation gun out of his medkit and injects it into the man’s neck with a fssh. He falls limp, his top half awkwardly folding over as Zaki just barely supports him by the armpits.

“That works, too.” He says, stunned.