Act 5: End of Black River

Jess saw you through the window and came out crying. Her dress was torn, and her wrists were red.

“The second you left… These men… They came inside and went straight for James… They tied me down, while they hung James outside. They were WAITING Bill, WAITING!”

Jess cried into your shoulder and you fell to your knees. You couldn’t shed a tear, though your lip quivered in pain. James’ small body swayed gently from side to side in the afternoon breeze. Some Black River citizens strolled past and offered little condolences, “Queer.”

You walked up to James’ body to pull him down, and found a note on his chest.

“No place for him here.”

You cut the boy down, his cold body light in your arms and carried him to your horse.

“Jess?”

“Bill.”

“Start packing Jess, we’re leaving.”

“I understand Bill.”

“I’ll meet you at the train station when I get back. I need to take care of James here.”

“I understand Bill.”

You grabbed a shovel and rode through the town with the corpse of your boy on the back of your horse, some offered gasps, most gave glares. The joyful trot of your horse felt like mockery, but it was necessary to make it to James’ favorite spot.

You caught him here after dark far too often, at least before Pastor Clark. It wasn’t under a tree, it wasn’t by a rock, but it was a comfortable place to lay down and enjoy the stars with the sound of the real Black River.

You dug him a grave, deep and painfully, and laid his body inside as you found it. You left him upward, gazing towards the stars as you often found him, and blanketed his body in the earth.

The ride home was sad and mournful. Former hecklers stopped, even they understood what you just did. Your house was painfully empty, Jess stripped all she needed. You went to your room and grabbed the family arms collection, two revolvers and a rifle. You wanted to pass down the McAdams family revolver to James, but you were waiting for his tenth birthday. You grabbed your stash of cash from the fireplace, a sack of clothes, and headed to the train station.

The trains usually roared past you, heading to greater places out of town. You were dreaming of a life anew, far away from Black River. But this time, one was still out of place. You trotted up and saw a crowd had gathered at the head of the train, still in the station. You hitched your horse and walked up yelling.

“Jess!?”

“JESS?”

“JESS WHERE ARE YOU?”

You stormed, shoving through the crowd, and Micheal the train station manager laid a calm hand on your chest. He knew the family, he was waiting for you to show. Micheal pulled off his hat with a shaking hand.

“Bill… I’m sorry Bill.”

He pulled a ring from his pocket. A silver band stained crimson, Jess’s ring.

“Was it quick?”

“I’m sure it was Bill.”

The crowd gave you space and sympathetic sighs. You never saw Jess’s body, you just left. You hopped on your horse and walked home, simply too shocked to show emotion. Back in town people avoided you, partially out of respect, partially out of fear. When you got home and gazed at your empty house, there was a moment you felt…sad. You would have shed a tear had it not been for a brash deputy.

“Heard your wife took the train... Maybe you should too.”

You turned slowly to the deputy. Had people been in the street, this is where they’d hide. You’re not a murderous man, but you do have a short fuze, and this deputy never knew. You slowly reached for your revolver on your hip.

“Whoa there Bill, you wouldn’t want to shoot a deputy.”

The steeled gaze in your eyes never faltered.

“Or are you that desperate to see your family again?”

You took your revolver and threw it at the deputy’s head, and you used the confusion to cross the distance and tackle him to the ground.

“Normally you shoot with a pistol.”

You swung a mighty fist at the young deputy, ringing his head into the ground and instantly making his nose bleed.

“Quiet.”

“Now we ta-”

You hit him.

“I said quiet.”

“Ain’t y-”

You hit him again.

“I SAID QUIET.”

You hit the young man until his nose caved inwards, his teeth were in his throat, his skull was cracked and rattled, and his only words were…

“Please.”

You beat the young man to death in the street, a pool of blood under his head. But when you looked around, nobody was there. They’re all still too afraid of you, rightfully so. You grabbed the young man and pulled his body inside. You kicked dirt over the bloody mound and hoped it bought you enough time to get your revenge.

When night fell, you set your house ablaze with the deputy’s body inside. The flame burned slowly and quietly, giving you enough time to visit the sheriff.

You broke into his home as he slept and found him in his bed, sleeping peacefully. You covered his mouth and drove your knife slowly and painfully through his eye. His thrashing woke up his wife, but you had half a mind to knock her out.

*WHAM*

You made your way next door and repeated the process with the mayor’s guard. The two brothers lived together, so one by one, you knocked them out and tied them up. Then, as you left, you set the house on fire.

You mounted your horse and strolled back towards the mayor’s house, but by now he’d been woken up. He sprinted outside in his robe to find his guard, finding only you.

“BILL! You bastard I know this was you!”

You didn’t offer a rebuttal, you merely shot him where he stood. He bled on the steps of his fancy home and you made your way towards the church.

You grabbed a bottle of liquor, a box of matches, and headed inside. The hallowed hall of the chapel was dimly lit by many small candles. You walked all the way inside to the altar and started pouring the liquor at the foot of the cross.

“Bill.”

You turned around to find Pastor Clark, in his robe, brandishing a shotgun.

“I’m a man of God Bill. So I’ll let you leave if you never come back.”

“You’re a man of God? After what you did to my boy? YOU’RE A MAN OF GOD? LOOK AROUND YOU, LISTEN.”

The pastor looked through the stained glass windows of the church to the town outside. Flames flickered in the distance through the window, and endless screams were produced by waking townsfolk.

“Alright Bill, I’m no saint, but this is madness!”

“MADNESS? I have had the most hellish day on earth at your hands. The hands of a pastor HUNG MY BOY BY THE NECK, for his own sin. You’re no man of God, you’re hardly a man. You’re the devil himself Clark.”

The pastor lowered his shotgun and tipped his head at you.

“And what if I am Bill. What if the job of the devil isn’t to judge sin, but to create opportunity so that God may judge it.”

“You Goddamn monster.”

“ ‘You give your mouth to evil. Your tongue frames deceit. You sit and speak against your brother. You slander your own mother’s son...'" 

Pastor Clark strollers closer as he quotes. 

"'...You have done these things, and I kept silent. You thought that I was just like you. I will rebuke you, and accuse you in front of your eyes. Now consider this, you who forget God, lest I tear you into pieces, and there be no one to deliver.’ Don’t fear the pain of the devil Bill.”

“Fear the punishment of the Lord.”

“Good Bill, now put the bottle down and I can promise a full funeral.”

You took the bottle and hurtled it at the wall beneath the endless candles. The liquor exploded everywhere and it immediately caught under the fire.

“NO!”

Pastor Clark screamed out as the fire stole his attention and you shot him in the knee. He dropped his gun and fell to the ground in immense pain.

“AGGHHHH! You… you GODDAMN BASTARD.”

“Ain’t a good idea to use the Lord’s name in vain pastor.”

The pastor crawled towards his shotgun as you walked past. You grabbed it one last time to blow out his other knee *BANG* and went to leave it by the door.

“GOD WON’T FORGIVE THIS BILL!”

“He won’t forgive you neither!”

You locked the door as you left, and the wooden chapel burned violently, seemingly fed by the Pastors' unholy soul.  The screams of Pastor Clark were almost as loud as the roar of the fire. You mounted your horse and made your way back through town. The crowd that gathered saw the blood on your body and the smile on your face. You nearly made it to the edge of town before a hero stepped out into the street.

“You won’t get away with this! Yo- You… You butcher!”

He went to draw his revolver, but you were there and back before he cleared leather. You shot him the arm with a smirk and walked past. The people of Black River never saw you again, but they would never forget.