[This feels a bit of a dry skeleton at the moment. Hopefully that can be fixed. Advice and comments most appreciated.]
“We are the merciful. We are the unwavering. Six souls, six bullets.”
Identical form, identical pattern; the monotonous chanting broke the night’s calm. The wind brushed the very tops of the towering Lattice trees, and they swayed gently, emitting a low creaking that unnerved those around the small makeshift firepit. The trees seemed to give out a collective sigh, and considering their innate structure, they very well could have been. Oddly, the group heard no call of native insect or small creature alike.
“We are the merciful.”
The fire cracked and an angry ember leapt up and hit one of the six; a man. It exhausted itself on his leg, but he saw it as little more than an annoyance. He slapped the spot as if a mosquito had bitten him and was instantly back to his trance-like state. The others around him scarcely noticed.
“We are the unwavering.”
The only woman among the six grabbed a small wooden box and opened it. She pulled out an old antique pistol, a relic from the distant past. Its craftsmanship was exquisite. The woman caressed its ivory handle and then passed it on around the circle. Each of the men kissed the side of the barrel.
“Six souls, six bullets.”
From inside the box, she snatched up the six bullets and loaded them. The pistol was given to the first man, a squat, ugly little fellow. He took the gun with a solemn look on his face, but then smiled after the woman gave him a small peck on his cheek.
“The Accountant,” the woman said and fell to her knees in prayer.
He pointed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.
Chaos. The young man to his right took off running. During the Accountant’s suicide, he had been spattered with blood, bone, and a gelatinous consistency, what he surely thought must be brain. He was not ready for death. He was young; he had a chance yet.
The woman yelled at the others to catch him. In one moment, silence; the next, frenzy. Three were useless. They had never truly been privy to the chase. The other was the Hunter. His life was centered around such self-important spectacles. With a tranquil alacrity, he trailed the youngster, The Farmhand, to the very depths of the wilds. He spotted a broken limb; the kid was close. The whole hunt was more a chase than anything else as there had been so little of a head start. Every few minutes, the four men would hear the crackle of a breaking branch and start off in its direction. The kid had to be close.
Soon the Hunter was separated from the rest of the group. He had caught on to a nearly invisible trail, one that the Farmhand would likely take. The roots of the Lattice trees provoked him to go forward, wringing side to side in an eerie dance. They groaned madly and the Hunter did all he could to ignore their haunting call, but they were persuasive beings, those trees. Instead of the true trail, the man was sent into the direction of a large escarpment. A thousand whispers penetrated his thoughts. The Lattice threw compelling arguments his way and he at last accepted them.
The enormous chasm sank out in front of him, barely three steps away. The first step was pure and utter glee: a birthday present, a new house, hitting the jackpot. The Lattice worked their wonders on him, a shallow breath in his ears. The second step was ecstasy; he felt passion--interminable passion. His body warmed and he started panting. An invisible force came over him, and when he tried to object, a beating pulse spread through his body. He shivered. Whatever held influence over him was much too strong; he couldn’t think properly. His thoughts were exceedingly clouded.
He felt excitement rise up within him, and he could barely contain himself. Such hunger, such drive. He indulged on every fantasy his mind could muster; there were no taboos, no rules at all. His body asked for more, one more step. The whispers wanted just that one step. He shivered without stop. It was sheer euphoria. Few times in his life could he say he ever experienced such a feeling. Likely, he never had.
No more thoughts.
He let the feeling take over and lifted his bulky foot off the ground. His leg went forward. He was nearly to the edge.
A grating voice called his name and he turned swiftly. The trees’ whispers scattered, broken. He recognized the voice calling his name as human and rushed for it.
“Did you find him?” the man asked.
The Hunter hesitated. In the split second that it took for the thought to make it to his mind, he came to a decision. “In a way.”
“In a way?”
“He’s dead. I chased him off that chasm-- stop! Don’t take another step. You see it now, don’t you. Well, he didn’t see it either and that’s how he fell.”
“How in the hell did you not fall yourself?” The other two had joined the man with the grating voice and were now asking questions.
“I am a hunter. Or was, rather, in my past life. But that’s over now, as you know. All our lives are over.”
The four made their way back to camp, the Hunter leading them past any pits or other hazards that might have caught them up otherwise. They soon came upon the familiar orange light of their tiny camp.
“Where’s the Farmhand?” the woman asked.
“Dead,” said the man who was known as the Bartender.
“And you know this for a fact?”
“I chased him over a cliff,” the Hunter spoke up. “He’s dead.”
“Good.” She paused and contemplated something. “Now that he’s dead, what should we do with his bullet?”
“We could find another to replace him,” the Bartender suggested.
“No,” she said and shot the pistol into the fire. Fragments of metal and wood showered the group and the men took cover behind whatever they could find. The Hunter lifted his coat to deflect the small burning bits. “He is dead; that serves out purpose. I find no need to delay this any longer.”
The men looked at her with wide eyes while they took their places. The Bartender glanced at the Salesman, who returned an equally suspicious glare.
The woman handed the gun to the Warden. “Continue.”
They continued. “We are the merciful.”
The Warden.
“We are the unwavering.”
The Bartender.
“Six souls, six bullets.”
The Salesman.
When the final shot rung out, the Hunter fell to his knees. The wind was blowing hard again, and he could hear the Lattice trees calling for him. He grabbed the pistol, stood ,and gave the woman a tight embrace and warm kiss.
“Get off me!” she yelled and pushed him backward.
“What’s the matter, Lilah? We did it. Everything’s ours.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that. It’s not even my real name.” She grabbed the pistol box from the ground and seized the gun from the Hunter’s hands.
“Well, I don’t really care what your real name is. Lilah will just have to do.” He smirked and turned toward the fire to warm his hands. “You know, when I was out there in the wilds, right after I had chased that farmhand off the escarpment, I had this feeling.”
“You always have feelings,” the woman replied. “Usually it’s the need to get on me. Or gas.”
“It wasn’t quite like that. Well… it was, but not in the usual way. And I’m not talking about the gas, by the way.” He rotated his head back and saw her sarcastic smile. His face was cold, and he turned back to soak in the warmth. “No, it was different. Quite possibly the best feeling I’ve ever had in my life.”
“The Lattice trees,” she said. “They are persuasive, yes.”
“This wasn’t persuasion. This was something else. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
“Then it definitely wasn’t gas.”
“Oh, stop belittling me, Lilah. I’m sick and tired of it. You always seem to do that when I try to express any emotion. It’s not easy for me, you know. And you just make it more difficult…” The Hunter complained for a solid few minutes. When he had finished, he turned to gauge Lilah’s response, but she was not there.
“Lilah? Lilah? Where’d you go?”
“Jack.”
He turned and saw Lilah standing a few feet away, pointing the pistol at his chest.
“Goodbye, Jack.”
“But… I thought. I love you, Lilah!”
“Oh, don’t be a fool, Jack, I know you. You’re a hunter, after all. I knew the very moment you approached me what you were about. And don’t give me any of this business about love. You don’t know it.”
“But I do! I felt it just a bit ago, standing atop that cliff. I didn’t know it then, but I do now, thinking on it. It was love, all right, and I feel the same way about you.”
She ignored his pleas and started the chant. “We are the merciful.”
“Lilah, please. I’m begging you.”
“Don’t call me that!” A tear rolled down her face. “We are the unwavering.”
“I can’t take this, Lilah! You’re crying!”
“Six souls…”
“Please!”
“Six bullets…”
“For the love of God, Lilah!”
Her finger tightened and the antique pistol rang out. There were a few panicked whispers from the Lattice trees and then silence.
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