That night at the church was one of the longest of my life. The whole town, or at least all those that had survived long enough to get into the church, were there. Most of them helped fend off the attacks, those things just kept coming in wave after wave. As bad as the fighting got though it was nothing compared to the moments between, those times of eerie silence when people began thinking about those they’d lost or worse the ones that were taken. Time became the enemy that night, I was tired and tried to sleep but each time I’d start to drift off another wave would come, eventually I gave up on sleep.
At first we were busy, helping the doc tend the wounded, boarding up the windows, sending out parties for supplies, and generally getting people organized. Once that was done there was nothing to do but wait for the next attack and watch the minutes tick by to sunrise. Father Pietro said that the demons would leave when the sun rose. I hoped he was right but only time would tell. So, we sat there waiting, and thinking. A lot of folks just couldn’t take that their worst nightmares had come to life. The doc for instance started drinking, hard drinking, and didn’t stop for the rest of the night. The barber stopped talking and instead sang everything he wanted to say to the tune of “O’ Suzanna”, and he apparently had a lot to say as he sang it badly almost non-stop for hours. Most that began to lose it sat quietly their eyes never stopped moving as the constantly looked around as if afraid the very walls were going to come alive and eat them. During that night I began to wonder if they would as well. Jeb Franser a sheep farmer who was in town buying supplies with his wife and two boys kept claiming he could hear his family outside calling to them, even though his wife and boys hadn’t made it to the church. Nothing anyone could say would convince him otherwise and he kept trying to open the doors to get to them. We stopped him several times but he eventually managed to get out a window in the back and ran off into the darkness. A few hours later he and his family returned, or at least what was left of them. They were mostly skeletons with some patches of skin hanging off them, their clothes hung in worn rags. It looked as though they had been dead for fifty years which like most things that night didn’t make any sense. Pietro said these husks were possessed by some great evil and destroying them would release the victim’s souls to heaven. It made it easier to shoot them, but it was still a hard thing.
At one point a small girl stepped up onto a pew and began singing “Shall we gather at the river”. Her perfectly pitched voice filled the church, it was so beautiful even the barber stopped signing. As she sang I looked around and saw many faces light up and more than a few even smiled in what I imagined was the first smile since this all began. It filled me with hope, but then reminded me of how hopeless things were as a tentacle smashed through one of the windows. Even though it burst into flame the moment it entered the church it still managed to reach the little girl, wrap around her, and pull her out. It happened so fast no one could react, and the church was filled with a deadly silence. Then the barber began to sing, “O’ there was a little girl that sang a song, but a tentacle done took her now she’s gone. O’ there was a little girl, but now she’s left there world. Now there’s ain’t no little girl here anymore. O’ the…” His head exploded to the roar of a gun, and I turned to see Isaiah Johnson staring down the smoking barrel of a colt forty-five. All eyes turned towards the sheriff, who was standing next to me. I heard him sigh as he walked towards Isaiah, who nervously pointed the colt at the sheriff. “Sam.” I warned, but the Sheriff just stopped in front of Isaiah and extended his hand. After a tense moment Isaiah gave the pistol to Sam, but he just put the gun in his other hand and extended his hand again. Isaiah hesitantly took Sam’s offered hand. Sam shook it saying, “I am so very sorry for your loss.” He then handed Isaiah back the pistol, and came back to the window. Without looking at me he whispered, “I was about to shoot the barber myself.” Then the creatures came again.
I’d never had much truck with religion, and honestly still don’t, but that priest is the sole reason many of us survived that night. He kept us fighting, kept us sane, and he never stopped giving encouragement. It seemed anytime the monsters were about to over-run an area Pietro would be there shouting damnation at the creatures, or quoting scripture strengthening our resolve. Folks started saying he was blessed by God and that’s what gave him his powers, but I think it had more to do with his faith and it was we who were blessed to have him with us.
In those times when I couldn’t keep busy I thought about my ranch and my hands, hoping by some miracle that these things hadn’t attacked and that the boys were somehow alright. Mostly I thought about miss Shannon, and how I was going to find her when this cursed night finally ended. My eyes fell to the blue ribbon I had tied around my wrist, Miss Shannon’s ribbon. I told Sam as much and he just looked at me. I could tell he thought it was a fool’s errand and that I shouldn’t go, but he wouldn’t say it. He believed a man should make his own way regardless of what he thought and I respected him for that. Instead he asked where I was going to look. I said I was going to start near the mines where they found that dark stone, even then I felt that damned rock was part of this. It was about then the Father Pietro happened by and having overheard us asked what we were discussing. I told him of my plans to find Shannon and before he could argue I told him I loved her. It surprised me to say for it was the first time I had admitted it to myself let alone to anyone else, but it felt true which made the pain that much more unbearable. He didn’t argue, instead he asked if I had ever done any mining. I said I had and asked him why he wanted to know. He said we needed some dark stone. The expression on my face must have showed my revulsion at the idea, and he read my thoughts easily (a trait of mine that has kept me far away from the poker table). He explained that the blacksmith had received a correspondence from another blacksmith explaining the method of using dark stone and turning it into weapons that could be used against these demons. Our blacksmith felt he could do the same though he had never tried. I asked why not go to the original blacksmith, but it seemed he had died when Brimstone had been destroyed. Sam asked about the supply of dark stone we had in the bank, but someone said the bank had been destroyed and the creatures had taken the stone away. I agreed to get as much as I could.
Just when we thought we couldn’t go on, our ammo was running out, and it seemed that the creatures would over-run us after all the sun came up. The creatures fled the light. It was the first sign we had that they feared the light, though it would become one of our strongest weapons against them. The surviving townsfolk walked out of the church, rolled up their sleeves and began cleaning up the town. By mid-afternoon it was business as usual which may seem strange to folks back east, but we’re from the frontier used to adversity and we’ve learned how to recover from it fast. I caught a few hours sleep and headed over to the general store for some supplies. I wasn’t too surprised to see the store owner Cob Wilkins had raised his prices one hundred percent. In fact ever since dark stone had been discovered I figured it was only a matter of time. I just shook my head in disgust, got my supplies, and dug a little deeper into my pockets. Wilkins just smiled at me, twisting his handlebar mustache, the smell of his hair grease enough to make a horse pass out. I quickly left the shop before I shot him.
The sheriff lent me his horse telling me he expected her back. It was a close to him telling me to be careful as he was going to get. I shook his hand, mounted up. Father Pietro came up, gave me his blessings, and wished me safe return. I nodded to them both, as I turned to ride out of town I heard Sam ask Pietro, “Think we’ll ever see him again?” Later Sam told me Pietro’s eyes had become bright lights as he said, “He is the first hunter of the dark, and soon he will meet a second. The second is a woman of dark hair with a savage spirit. You will be the third, and I shall be the fourth. Together we shall fight the darkness not just on this world, but on a world of fire, and a world of ice, a world teeming with life and death, even in a place that lies among the very star, and many many others. The road will be long and filled with peril and heart-ache but we must not fail. For we fight for the survival of not only this world but of all worlds.” Then his eyes returned to normal though they stared off into the distance. “You okay, Pietro?” Sam asked. “I’m sorry my boy, it seems that I was day dreaming, did you say something?” To see if he’d get the same response Sam asked again, “Do you think we’ll ever see him again?” “I truly do hope so, but as they say there is only one thing that will tell.” Sam gave the response he felt Pietro wanted, “God?” Pietro smiled at him, “Time. Only time will tell.”
The pirates split into three groups and charged the beach where the longboats had landed. The lieutenant ordered his men into a line to repel the piratical scum.
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