Ch8: He Who Marked by God

[ John Wick POV ]

As we ventured forth from Valentine, the chilly breeze enveloped me, its touch a stark contrast against the warm comfort of my coat. We had been traveling for a few hours now, and in that time, we had left the town far behind.

The sights and sounds of civilization were replaced by the serene beauty of nature followed with glittering stars illuminating the road. I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the stunning landscape that surrounded us.

As we made our way toward Saint Denis, the creek we passed was a sight to behold. Dewberry Creek, as it was known, was a gem of nature. Its crystal-clear waters flowed gracefully, while the gentle rustling of leaves provided a soothing soundtrack to our journey.

Rickets had told me that the creek stretched from Heartland Overflow to Greenbank Mill, at the border of Lemoyne.

As we rode onward, battling against the howling wind that whipped at our clothes and tugged at our hair, I couldn't help but marvel at the picturesque surroundings that unfolded around us.

Verdant hills rolled out in all directions, with patches of wildflowers adding splashes of vibrant color to the otherwise muted landscape.

"This would be the perfect place to build a ranch," I exclaimed, my voice barely audible above the din of the wind.

Rickets, who was riding beside me, chimed in, "I agree. If I'm not wrong, northwest from here, we'll come across Emerald Ranch, they usually herd their sheep here." I gave him a nod, urging Nyx to pick up the pace so that we could set up camp and rest for the night.

After riding for a while, my eyes caught sight of some weathered wooden planks in the distance, barely visible through the swirling dust. "Pleasance," I read out loud, turning to look at Rickets behind me.

"That's where we'll camp for the night," I said confidently, earning a shocked look from Rickets.

"Camp there? In that ghost town?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. 'ghost town?' I thought as I gave him a nod, and he added, "You can't be serious!" Ignoring his protests, I spurred Nyx ahead, leaving him behind.

"Hey! John! Wait!" he called out, struggling to catch up with me.

As we drew closer to Pleasance, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The town seemed deserted, the buildings decrepit and boarded up with an eerie silence that hung in the air.

Riding into the abandoned town of Pleasance, the creaking of my horse's leather saddle and Rickets horse's hoves was the only sound that echoed through the empty streets.

As I rode through the deserted streets of Pleasance, The buildings that I see were all boarded up, and their weathered wooden planks had seen better days.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The town was abandoned, but as the midnight hour approached, I can see Rickets and the horses grew more and more tired, we knew we had to make camp somewhere.

"We need to rest," I said to Rickets, "and I knew you don't want to risk traveling through Lagras in the middle of the night with those Night Folks you mentioned before."

Rickets nodded in agreement, his eyes darting around the empty town. "But do you think it's safe to stay here? This place has a bad reputation."

I sigh. "It's better than nothing." Looking around for a bit, "Let's find a spot to make camp." I added as I get down and hitched Nyx to a nearby tree.

As we scoured the desolate town for a suitable campsite, my eyes were drawn to a quaint church that stood at the heart of the settlement. Its pristine white steeple soared towards the sky, a beacon of hope amidst the gloomy surroundings.

However, the church doors were bolted shut, and the once-illuminated stained-glass windows were now darkened, covered with old boards.

'What happened here,' I can't help but thought to myself.

My thoughts were interrupted by Rickets' call, "John! come here!" I hastened over to him. As I approached, I can see why he shouted. "Looks, there's a bunch of graves here," he said with his lantern pointed at his front, illuminated a series of graves. I knelt down beside him, observing the epitaphs etched into the stone.

"Glen Yeatman, killed by kinfe wound, September 1883," I murmured, reading the inscription on one of the headstones. Another read, "Curtis Baines, murdered. His love taken from him by hate." My gaze wandered to the other graves, all perfectly aligned in two neat rows.

All of them were either killed by knives or a gunshot, "It seems they all perished on the same day, September 17th, 1883," I remarked, scrutinizing the surroundings more closely. The silence was palpable, the air heavy accompany by some fog that filled the air.

"Are you sure you're up for camping in a place like this?" Rickets exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Personally, I'd prefer to shoot something that I can shoot, if you catch my drift," he added, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

The mention of the shooting brought to mind the massacre that had occurred in this very town. The thought made me sigh a long breath, and I couldn't help but whisper, "A massacre? Here?"

I shook my head, trying to clear the thought from my mind. "Let's just focus on finding a suitable place to rest," I replied, forcing myself to push the thought to the back of my mind.

Together, we scoured the town for a place to camp, our eyes scanning the empty buildings and abandoned roads. We found a barn and a house with writing on them; "Ill with sin" and "Stay out, plague."

Choosing to ignore it for now, we continued with The eerie silence broken only by the creaking of old wooden doors and the occasional flutter of wings as birds took flight from the dilapidated buildings.

Finally, we stumbled upon a burned-out school building, with a large tree fallen on its roof. As we approached the building, I couldn't help but notice the charred remains of books, desks, and some bottles filled with snakes scattered amongst the rubble.

"Looks like we've found our spot," I said, my voice full of resignation. Rickets nodded in agreement, and we set to work, him preparing our makeshift beds inside while I gathered wood for a fire outside.

As we sat around the flames, our tired bodies finally started to relax albeit a little. Under the temporary sense of safety, I began to remember the details of the building that we saw before.

The buildings were old and decaying, the paint chipping away to reveal the wood underneath, followed by the writing I saw before. 'A plague?' Sighing a bit, I turn toward Rickets,

"So what about these Night folk you told me about earlier?" I asked, interrupting his daydreaming.

He sighed deeply, his mind clearly troubled by the memory. "At first, I only heard about them from some folks in a saloon. I ain't believe it for a second. But then, I met them. Not too long ago," he said, his voice trembling slightly.

"The thing is, those Night folk can't be killed, no matter how many times you shoot'em," he continued, his gaze fixed on me with intensity. "They only meet their end if you put a bullet right through their skull."

"Like zombies?" I asked, with a hint of amusement in my voice.

"Zombies? What are those?" Rickets asked, looking puzzled. Shaking my head, I asked, "Do you know how they became like that?"

He lit up a cigarette and closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought. "If I'm not mistaken, some folks say there was once a community in Lagras or Lemoyne,"

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he continue, "They practiced voodoo and other dark arts." Pondering for a moment, he added, "I'm not sure which version is true, but every time people encounter these Night folk, it's always at night, and with some gruesome dead bodies in the vicinity."

"A community practicing voodoo... stay out, plague... and ill with sin," I murmured, my eyes wandering to the bottles of snakes on the shelf. "Is racism still prevalent in this part of the country?" I asked, earning a puzzled look from Rickets as he opened a bottle of whiskey.

"Racism? Well, I still encounter some of those folks from time to time. Why do you ask?" he queried, taking a swig from the bottle. I paused for a moment before posing another question that elicited a strange expression from him. "And what about religion? Is there a dominant faith in these parts?"

"I ain't know much but..." he replied, "Most of the towns I've visited have a church now." after taking a gulp of whiskey, he added,

"Why do you ask these strange questions? Are you a believer folk?" he inquired, giving me a curious look.

I let out a sigh and shook my head. "Not really. I'm just pondering something," I said.

"About what?" he asked as he started to prepare some meat to grill.

"About what happened to this place and the Night folk you told me about," I replied, helping him with the meat.

"They might be connected,"

***

[ Bessie POV ]

As I tidy up the tent that Hossea and I have been using, my thoughts drift to Susan and the others. 'It has been two months since I last saw them, and I wonder how they are doing right now.' With a sigh, I pause to gaze up at the glittering stars above me.

Beside me, Hossea breathes evenly in her peaceful slumber, and I can't help but admire his serenity. "You look absolutely adorable," I whisper, marveling at the calm expression on her face.

As I continue my task of tidying up, my mind wanders back to my friends. I can't shake the feeling of longing to see them again, to catch up on all that has happened since we last met. I miss their company, their laughter, and their warmth.

The air is crisp and cool, and the silence is only broken by the occasional rustling of leaves or chirping of crickets. Despite the tranquility of the moment, I can't help but feel a twinge of loneliness.

But as I glance back at Hossea, all of my worries and concerns fade away. I am grateful for his companionship and the peace he brings me.

"Now, thinking about the others, I wonder what the children doing right now" I whispered to myself, as I stepped out of our tent, I was momentarily stunned by the sight before me. In the clearing, I could see the siblings running around in circles, again and again. their laughter and shouts filling the air.

I watched as sweat glistened on their skin, and I could hear the sound of their deep breathing as they ran past our tent. "Hey, Anna, wait for me!" shouted the older sibling as he tried to catch up to his sister.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I approached the edge of the clearing to observe the children more closely. From what I could see, they seemed to be running in endless circles, their youthful energy boundless.

"I've already completed three laps... you lose, brother!" Anna shouted triumphantly, her excitement palpable.

"You cheated... you started running before me!" Sam retorted breathlessly. "besides, my wound still not healed," mutter him, between his breath

"Why are you so excited about Mister John's exercise, anyway?" Sam asked his sister, panting heavily between words, his hand on his shoulder.

As I listened to the siblings bicker playfully, I recalled John's words about an exercise that could make you look younger than you really were. "Hey, kids!" I called out, unable to contain my excitement any longer. "Are you doing the exercise John told us about?"

"Wow, you know about it too, Grandma?" Anna quipped, her eyes wide with surprise. Ignoring her comment, I replied, "Yes, he mentioned it to me as well. But he didn't get a chance to explain it fully before he left for Saint Denis."

As I looked at Sam, I sensed that he was somewhat defensive in my presence. However, I brushed aside the feeling, telling myself that perhaps we simply didn't know each other very well yet.

"Hey, Grandma! I'll show you how to do the exercise that Mister Never Smile taught us!" Anna's excited voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to face her with a smile.

"Sure thing, Anna! I'd love to learn," I replied, feeling a spark of enthusiasm at the prospect of trying something new. As she began to demonstrate the exercise, I watched with rapt attention, marveling at the siblings' energy and enthusiasm. It was moments like these that made our journey all the more memorable.

***

[ John POV ]

As I made my way through the deserted road of this town, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. I could feel eyes on me, following my every move. But when I turned around, there was no one there.

The old wooden buildings creaked and groaned with each gust of wind, making it sound like they were alive and breathing.

Suddenly, I heard a faint whisper that seemed to be coming from inside one of the buildings. My curiosity got the best of me, as I made my way toward the sound.

As I approached the building, I heard the whisper again, this time louder than before. My heart was pounding in my chest, as I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The interior of the building was just as decrepit as the outside, with cobwebs covering the corners and dust caking the floorboards. But what caught my eye was the old book lying on a table in the center of the room.

It was an old journal, and as I opened it, I could see that it was filled with writing that was faded and difficult to read.

As I flipped through the pages, I realized that the journal belonged to a woman who had visited Pleasance many years ago. She had been traveling and taking a rest in the town, and her writing spoke of how saddened she is for the innocent soul that was lost at that time.

I felt a sense of sorrow from this woman writing, whom I had never met. But as I reach the end of the page, to where her name should be etched to.

A long and loud hiss echoes from behind me. My whole very being chilled down from the sound, my predatory sense scream danger at me to the highest degree. turning my body, I'm speechless at the sight;

A long white snake was right in front of me, his body as big as the house where I standing in. his gaze look down on me from above, and a moment later a voice echoed throughout the surroundings;

"You, who marked by God. what are you doing here."

***

[ Landon Rickets POV ]

The warmth of the morning sun grazed my skin, gradually rousing me from my restless slumber. I couldn't really call it sleep, as I had barely closed my eyes all night, thanks to our less-than-ideal camping spot.

As I looked to my side, I saw John still sleeping soundly. I couldn't help but ponder his identity, and with each passing moment, my curiosity only intensified.

The way he seemed unfazed by our surroundings, and the way he observed our surroundings with such keen interest, even when I mentioned the Night Folk the previous night, he only gave me an amused look.

'It was as though his mind was a fortress, constantly working on something, never resting.'I thought. I couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay behind his enigmatic facade

A few moments later, I noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his breath becoming ragged, and his eyes squinting as if he were facing something he couldn't escape from.

As each second passed, his breathing grew more and more erratic. Fearful that he may have fallen ill or encountered some danger, I hurried over to him and gently shook him.

When he didn't wake up, I shook him harder, only to see his condition worsen before my eyes.

"John! Wake up!" I shouted, trying to rouse him from his slumber. "John!" I repeated, shaking him with increasing force.

Seeing him still didn't wake up, I clench my fist, preparing to punch him in the face. Coiling back my fist, I aim at his cheek, the second I prepare to let my fist do the talking, his eyes wide open, earning a sigh of relive escaping from me.

"W-what?" he said between his ragged breathing, "Where is it" he added looking around continuously with a gaze that I never see him on it before.

As his eyes darted around frantically, I could see the tension etched on his face. "Where is what, John?" I asked, trying to calm him down.

He didn't answer but continued to look around, his breathing now erratic and heavy. I placed my hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him, "John, what's wrong? You're scaring me," I said, my voice laced with concern.

He finally turned to me, his eyes locking onto mine, "The snake," he whispered, "The White snake," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

As I listened to his words, a chill ran down my spine. The way he spoke made it sound like the snake he was referring to was something otherworldly, something beyond the realm of the natural world.

"The White snake?" I repeated, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "What are you talking about?"

John's eyes remained fixed on mine, his breathing still ragged. "It's here," he said, his voice barely audible. "I can feel it. It's watching us."

I looked around, but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Everything looked the same as it did before. "John, there's nothing here," I said, trying to reassure him. "You're just feeling anxious."

But John's expression didn't change. He remained tense and on edge. "No," he said, shaking his head. "It's here. I can feel it."

I didn't know what to do. Seeing him like this was unnerving, my heart was pounding with fear as I watched John, unsure of how to help him. I felt a sense of helplessness wash over me, as if I was powerless to do anything to ease his distress. I stood there, feeling lost and unsure, waiting for him to snap out of it.

It seemed like an eternity before his breathing finally began to slow down, and the frantic look in his eyes began to fade. He blinked a few times, looking around as if he was just waking up from a dream.

"John, are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft and hesitant.

He looked at me for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, his voice still ragged. "I'm okay."

I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in my body begin to ease. It was a terrifying experience, seeing someone that usually unfazed by anything he faced in such a state of distress. But now that it was over, I felt grateful that he was alright.

"Here drink something," I said, offering my whiskey while putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. seeing his face when he drinks it, I chuckled "bear with it, whiskey usually calms me down."

He nodded, still looking a little dazed. The alight warm air soothing against my skin as I kept a close eye on John, making sure he was alright. The silence filled the air, each lost in our own thoughts.

After a moment of silence, He stood up, albeit slowly "It's already morning, let's head to Saint Denis," he said, his face back to the calmness he usually showed.

"Alright," I answer him,

As we packed up our belongings, my mind raced with questions. What had he seen, or felt, that had caused him to react in such a way? What could have caused John's sudden panic? Had he seen something that triggered his reaction, or was it a physical ailment?

The unease that I had felt earlier still lingered in the air, but John's calm demeanor put me somewhat at ease. Perhaps it was just a passing phase, I thought, as we made our way toward our horses.

As we ride, I stole a glance at John, trying to gauge his mood. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes staring off into the distance, his face set in a serious expression. I wondered if he was thinking about the same thing as I was.

I knew I would have to ask him later, but for now, all I could do was hope. Hope that whatever had caused his distress was just a passing phase