continued to suck down the man’s blood. The expression on her face was one of supreme bliss. She seemed to want this to go on forever.
Unexpectedly, she lurched back. Two vermilion streams connected the wife’s lips to the man’s neck. The farmer could make out the steely black shape that’d poked out of his wife’s back. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised. What the farmer felt was a mysterious peace.
Sputtering nonsensically, his wife grabbed the blade in her chest. Her body still fought for life. As she grabbed it and pulled, her fingers dropped off one by one. Like a doll whose mainspring had snapped, the woman’s body gave two great shudders, and then moved no more.
Keeping his foot pressed against her belly, the leader pulled his longsword out of her. Her head flew all the way to the farmer’s feet. She’d already begun to decay.
“I really must thank you,” the farmer said, waving farewell to his wife. “Would you be so kind as to kill me, too?”
“With pleasure,” the leader replied, his left hand pressed against his neck. He’d dropped his gun on the floor.
“I wanted to die. I’ve wanted it the whole time we’ve been out here. Morning and night, I’ve pictured nothing but my own death. And yet, I didn’t have the courage to do it myself.”
“I feel the same,” the leader said, sympathizing with the farmer from the bottom of his heart.
“I thought maybe some traveler who stopped by our place could do it, but none of them were up to the task. Instead, we actually ended up killing visitors who came out here to steal our money. So, tell me something: where do you find death?”
The shotgun barked. The buckshot traveled out into the wilderness through the open door, while the farmer looked up above him. And there the outlaw was. For a moment, he appeared to stop in midair, but then he drifted back to earth without a sound.
Bright blood gushed from the farmer’s body, making a sound like rain beating against the roof as it drew a crimson X on his form. It was unclear when the leader had unsheathed them, but the swords he held in either hand had cut the farmer from above one shoulder down to the opposite hip, forming that X.
Once the farmer had fallen, a bloody mist still whirled for a while before the outlaw’s eyes. Perhaps he’d only dreamed most of this.
“He’s dead,” the leader said with a strange sort of acceptance. He got the feeling something he’d long forgotten had come back to him. “Will that happen to me, too? I have to wonder. But who in the world could do the same to me? If there were such a man, I’d probably fight him out of fear for my life. When will I meet someone like that?”
Returning his two swords to his back, he looked around the room. If there was nothing of value, they’d take food. That was his henchmen’s job. But the corpses of two of his men lay on the floor.
As he was heading for the door, he suddenly halted. Something still seemed to bother him. With a heavy gait, he trudged into the kitchen. A large refrigerator caught his eye. There was a lock on it.
“A safe? No, I don’t think so.”
Grabbing the lock, he tore it off the door. The lock had been made to stop human beings.
The iron door opened. A stark chill struck his face. One look was enough to survey the refrigerator’s contents. Seeing them, he waited a moment before giving a nod, and then he began to laugh. It was like the laughter of a man having a fit of insanity. Tears even streamed from his eyes.
“They tried to fight it, my ass! What was that about them resisting? All that talk about wanting to die but not being able to kill themselves! No, these two never had any intention of dying.”
He slammed the refrigerator door so hard that the whole house shook. Then he went back into the living room. His swords felt unbearably sweet as he drew them from their scabbards. They felt equally good as he whacked them into the corpses of the farmer and his wife. He continued to
Unexpectedly, she lurched back. Two vermilion streams connected the wife’s lips to the man’s neck. The farmer could make out the steely black shape that’d poked out of his wife’s back. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised. What the farmer felt was a mysterious peace.
Sputtering nonsensically, his wife grabbed the blade in her chest. Her body still fought for life. As she grabbed it and pulled, her fingers dropped off one by one. Like a doll whose mainspring had snapped, the woman’s body gave two great shudders, and then moved no more.
Keeping his foot pressed against her belly, the leader pulled his longsword out of her. Her head flew all the way to the farmer’s feet. She’d already begun to decay.
“I really must thank you,” the farmer said, waving farewell to his wife. “Would you be so kind as to kill me, too?”
“With pleasure,” the leader replied, his left hand pressed against his neck. He’d dropped his gun on the floor.
“I wanted to die. I’ve wanted it the whole time we’ve been out here. Morning and night, I’ve pictured nothing but my own death. And yet, I didn’t have the courage to do it myself.”
“I feel the same,” the leader said, sympathizing with the farmer from the bottom of his heart.
“I thought maybe some traveler who stopped by our place could do it, but none of them were up to the task. Instead, we actually ended up killing visitors who came out here to steal our money. So, tell me something: where do you find death?”
The shotgun barked. The buckshot traveled out into the wilderness through the open door, while the farmer looked up above him. And there the outlaw was. For a moment, he appeared to stop in midair, but then he drifted back to earth without a sound.
Bright blood gushed from the farmer’s body, making a sound like rain beating against the roof as it drew a crimson X on his form. It was unclear when the leader had unsheathed them, but the swords he held in either hand had cut the farmer from above one shoulder down to the opposite hip, forming that X.
Once the farmer had fallen, a bloody mist still whirled for a while before the outlaw’s eyes. Perhaps he’d only dreamed most of this.
“He’s dead,” the leader said with a strange sort of acceptance. He got the feeling something he’d long forgotten had come back to him. “Will that happen to me, too? I have to wonder. But who in the world could do the same to me? If there were such a man, I’d probably fight him out of fear for my life. When will I meet someone like that?”
Returning his two swords to his back, he looked around the room. If there was nothing of value, they’d take food. That was his henchmen’s job. But the corpses of two of his men lay on the floor.
As he was heading for the door, he suddenly halted. Something still seemed to bother him. With a heavy gait, he trudged into the kitchen. A large refrigerator caught his eye. There was a lock on it.
“A safe? No, I don’t think so.”
Grabbing the lock, he tore it off the door. The lock had been made to stop human beings.
The iron door opened. A stark chill struck his face. One look was enough to survey the refrigerator’s contents. Seeing them, he waited a moment before giving a nod, and then he began to laugh. It was like the laughter of a man having a fit of insanity. Tears even streamed from his eyes.
“They tried to fight it, my ass! What was that about them resisting? All that talk about wanting to die but not being able to kill themselves! No, these two never had any intention of dying.”
He slammed the refrigerator door so hard that the whole house shook. Then he went back into the living room. His swords felt unbearably sweet as he drew them from their scabbards. They felt equally good as he whacked them into the corpses of the farmer and his wife. He continued to
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