The Arrival

THE ANSWERS TO YOUR PAST LIES WEST

BLACK HOLLOW

John Crowe looked around his camp, seeing no one, he pocketed the letter he had found just underneath his clothes.

He wondered how it had gotten there. And who else knew he was looking for answers?

John wondered if he should go West, or keep going North, as he always did.

And what the hell was Black Hollow anyway?

***

The sun was high up in the sky when he decided to go west, at least, for a change of scenery.

The dreams that had plagued him ever since he was younger, were still there. Following him around and keeping up like his own black shadow.

Now he was supposed to have something to do with Black Hollow.

The scenery changed fast. He ate some of his food and drank water from a stream.

On the road, he met a man riding a carriage. He wore a hat that covered his forehead but his grey beard was visible.

John Crowe stopped. The rider stopped the carriage beside him. John Crowe took one look at the horse's hooves and guessed the man hadn't traveled that far. So he must have left from somewhere.

"Hello," John said.

"Who the hell are you?"

"A traveler. Just a question. What's Black Hollow?"

The man raised his head and John saw his eyes. Felt like they saw through him.

"Sounds like you're not from these parts, huh?"

It wasn't a question, so John didn't answer.

"Well, go on up. You'll see soon enough."

The carriage went past and John continued on his journey.

The man was right. He found out what Black Hollow was when he saw the wooden signpost right at the side of the road.

It read:

STRAIGHT IN TO BLACK HOLLOW

As he walked through the street, people watched him from both sides, wondering who he was. Well, John wondered what he was supposed to be doing in such a place. Place lived up to its name, anyway.

Nothing lively about it.

Well, he soon found out. Five men walked out from a corner and stopped him.

"Can I help you?" John Crowe asked.

"No, it is the other way round," one of them said. "We are going to help you."

They all had hats on and it was difficult to know how old each man was.

"All right, then. I need a room, then. So if you don't mind, kindly point me in the right direction. It's been a long day."

They looked at one another and chuckled.

"You don't need room to rest yourself, sir. What you need right now is to follow our leader."

"Who?" John asked.

"Lucas Miller," replied another, with much emphasis on the first name.

"Never heard of him. I'm just coming into town."

"Of course, you are. See us as your welcoming committee. You either come with us, and we'll take you to him ourselves."

Well, John had never been threatened before. And he had been almost everywhere. How come he missed this place?

He saw the men weren't going to let him say no so he let down his bag. Big mistake.

They took that as a negative response, and the first two men charged at him as if he were a beast to be captured.

John moved backwards, hoping to put some space between him and their hands, but they were too fast for him to maneuver. One grabbed him and the other hit him in the stomach hard enough to make him cough up blood.

It felt like a log of a tree.

How was the man able to pack a punch?

The next one was his face. John fell to the ground. They didn't let him get up but kicked him. People were watching. John didn't like it. Where the strength came from, he didn't know, but by the time he knew what the hell was happening, John Crowe had put four of them on the ground and had his hands around the last man's head.

"Let him go," said a man who stepped forward.

"Who are you?" John wanted to know.

"Lucas Miller."

Sure, he had heard the men say his name.

"They started the trouble," John Crowe said, in a manner of defending himself.

"And you responded with violence," Lucas returned, as if putting all the blame on John.

John said nothing. His head was spinning. How the hell had he been able to do what he did to the men?

"Let him go," Lucas repeated. "You have done much already and I won't tolerate it anymore."

Well, John thought the man was being very unfair. He was only defending himself. He watched the man's head and stepped back, but it wasn't because he wanted to. It was because he suddenly felt sick.

As if he needed some air.

Then the sickness turned into something else. Pain. He felt his body burning as if he were on fire. But it was worse because it came from inside him and there was no way to put that out.

Then it was gone and his vision cleared. John stared at the most beautiful face that he had ever set his eyes on. And that had been a while. Her hand was on his chest and he felt peace and sanity return to him.

"Get away from him, Sarah," Lucas commanded.

"Don't hurt him, Lucas. Let him go," she said, her eyes not leaving his weary face.

"Let him go? We need him!" Lucas yelled at his sister.

"He is a visitor. He doesn't know anything," Sarah defended. She had been watching as well, and the moment John Crowe walked into town, she became interested in the man.

"Oh, don't be naive!" Lucas snapped.

John didn't wait for anyone to tell him that he had gotten a savior. He bent and picked up his sack. "Thank you," he said to the lady named Sarah.

John left the place. No one followed him but he knew that it was far from over.

Who the hell kept that letter? And was that the reason the person wanted him in Black Hollow?

To kill him?