The Ocean’s City

Staying as low to the floor as I could, army crawling away from the deadly shots filling the sky. There was no fear, but a determined goal that my mind stayed focused on. Don’t look back and get to the house.

There was tremendous yelling, horse hooves hitting the earth like thunder, a thin layer of dust floating through the air, and the consistent, almost rhythm-like pop of ammo. I was inches from the door when a man screamed out in pain. It faded by the time I reached the door.

Hands flew to my shoulders, lifting me up. I fought against the hold and let out a scream. “Get inside!” Hutson demanded, as he held me tightly and dragged me to safety.

The moment we were in the house, he let go of me and hurried to the back. “Stay down,” he shouted over his shoulder. I was already on the floor in a fetal position.

The gunshots didn’t slow as I heard the hooping and hollering of the men— almost like it was a game to them.

One familiar hoop and holler stood out to me. I listened carefully from the other side of the wall as Dalton maneuvered the environment like he was born and raised in some cowboy movie.

Hutson opened a window and crawled through. He hopped on one foot, trying to maintain balance as his black booted foot swung through the window to meet the rest of his body. He checked his revolver, spun it, and glanced at me before taking off.

It was hard to decipher the sounds from outside; I thought about peeking my head out of a window but thought against it as a stray bullet pierced through the wall, leaving a small hole for extra sunlight to shine in.

Stay down

Finally, there was a single yell as a horse neighed before the hooves pounded on the desert floor, the sound getting more distant with each step. “Get out a’ er,” Dalton’s familiar voice shouted in an unfamiliar accent.

A calm was calling me to will my shaky legs to stand and see the damage outside. I stepped out to see Dalton and Hutson checking each body that lay on the floor.

Dalton was dressed head to toe like a cowboy. He had a wildness to him as he moved from dead man to dead man, giving them a few soft kicks, making sure they were actually gone.

“All clear,” he called to Hutson as he wiped the spit from his mouth. He turned, and his eyes immediately caught sight of me. I stood there, unsure of what would happen next.

“You hurt?”

I took in how he looked, far from the businessman he seemed like at the Ocean City. The wild in his eyes told me he enjoyed playing out this daydream from childhood.

I gave him a short shake of my head, causing me to get a glimpse of the man who tried to attack me in my peripherals. I watched a man die. I almost felt upset by the gruesome image of his eyes turning lifeless and the blood flying off of him as he was shot. Still, one curious point stopped me from being too phased by his death.

There is something more dangerous than death. Hutson’s words sang in my thoughts. If Dannie died in one of these false reality worlds but is still somehow alive, did that also mean the same for him? Or was this man no different from a robot ready for disposal at any point?

Hutson cleared his throat, catching my attention. His eyes wore a warning like he knew what I was thinking. The way his body sauntered away from the deadman he probably had snuck up on and shot told me that Dalton couldn’t know about our conversation. We made a promise. We built a layer of trust. Don’t break it, Silvie, I told myself.

Dalton was watching me still as I looked at the massacre. Three men were dead, and one horse remained, sniffing his deceased owner. The two horses Dalton and Hutson rode sat completely calm and unphased by the commotion.

I didn’t know what to say or do, and it was like Huston and Dalton were staring at me, measuring how I would take all this distraction foreign to the world I once lived in.

A shaky breath snaked through my lungs, and I said the only constant thing in my mind. “Are we going to get Dannie now?” It was all I cared about.

The boys didn’t seem shocked by my reaction. Dalton turned on his heel. The imprints of his boots were left on the desert sand as he walked to his horse and untied a sack from the saddle. He then tossed it at my feet.

“Get dressed. We will clean up here and then meet with a connect that may help us.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I looked into his gaze and saw him patiently waiting for me to grab the bag and return inside. He didn’t break eye contact until I nodded my head and leaned down for the bag.

He barked orders at Hutson as I went inside. The bag wasn’t too heavy. I knew what clothes were inside, but I was hoping it wasn’t what I thought. I untied the sack and groaned a little to myself. I had hoped that Dalton would have been sensible and given me the same clothes a man would wear. Instead, my hand petted over the fabric of an old-fashioned layered dress.