A Heavy Price

Chapter - 07

Koen turned to Nathan and Jonah. "This here is young Jacob. While you two were making a mess of getting us that carriage, Jacob saved my life. So I intend to pay him back, and what better way than to give him a taste of our life. You boys better be on your best behaviour with him."

Nathan and Jonah exchanged glances and then nodded at Koen. "We'll behave, boss," Nathan grumbled, though his expression suggested otherwise.

Jacob took in the area. The clearing appeared to be a makeshift camp, clearly used before. There were several tents already set up. A fire pit lay at the center, surrounded by stones, and nearby were some logs arranged as makeshift seats. The remnants of previous fires indicated that the men had camped here more than once.

Nathan and Jonah wasted no time in putting Jacob to work, taking advantage of the extra labor. "Hey, kid, fetch some water from the stream over there," Nathan ordered, pointing to a narrow path leading deeper into the woods. "And don't dawdle, we're thirsty."

Jonah chuckled, adding, "Yeah, and make sure you don't get lost. We wouldn't want to have to come looking for you." His tone was mocking, and he shot a smirk at Nathan.

Jacob did as he was told, retrieving a couple of buckets from the camp and heading to the stream. The water was cold and clear, a welcome contrast to the sweat and grime of the day. Jacob took some time to clean himself up a little. As he carried the filled buckets back to the camp, he could hear the two men making comments.

"Hope you can handle more than just fetching water, kid," Nathan said, his voice carrying a hint of a challenge.

"Yeah, we ain't running an orphanage out here," Jonah added with a laugh. "You gotta pull your weight."

Despite their jabs, Jacob kept his head down and focused on the tasks at hand. He helped set up the fire, gathered more firewood, and even assisted in preparing dinner. The work was hard, but it kept his mind occupied, giving him little time to dwell on the recent upheaval in his life.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the men settled around the fire, passing around tin plates filled with beans and cured meat. After eating dinner, the three retreated to their tents, leaving Jacob alone by the fire. The flames danced and crackled, casting flickering shadows that seemed to taunt him with memories of the day's events. He stared into the fire for hours, the warmth doing little to thaw the cold knot of anxiety in his stomach. Time lost its meaning as he sat there, lost in his thoughts.

It was only when Koen took a seat beside him on the log that Jacob snapped out of his daze. Koen's presence was both grounding and disquieting, a reminder of the tumultuous new world Jacob had stepped into.

"What you did today, it wouldn't have been easy," Koen began. "You killed a man, and I can't lie and tell you I'm sorry about it. Instead, I'm thankful, because if you didn't do that, I would have been the one lying in a casket right now." Koen's tone was measured, a blend of gratitude and grim acceptance.

He paused, watching Jacob's expression carefully. Koen remembered his first kill, the way it had haunted him for days, the ghostly faces that visited his dreams. The first kill is always the hardest, he thought. But with each subsequent death, the weight lessens, the significance of a life diminishes until it's just another pebble in the vast river of time.

"It's not that," Jacob started, his voice raw. He struggled to articulate the storm of emotions raging within him. "I know I should be disgusted with myself right now. I should be vomiting my guts on the floor, crying for what crime I did." He turned to Koen, his blue eyes searching the older man's hazel ones for understanding.

Koen remained silent, giving Jacob the space he needed to find his words.

"Do you want to know the feeling that went through me as I shot that bullet?" Jacob asked, his voice trembling slightly. He looked back at the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. "It was excitement. It was thrill. It was... liberation."

Koen studied Jacob quietly, letting the younger man's words hang in the air between them. For a moment, Koen didn't know what to say. He'd seen hardened men struggle with their first kill—grief, guilt, and anger were expected. But excitement? Liberation? Those words caught him off guard.

"Some men... some men find a freedom in violence they never knew they were looking for. It's dangerous, but it's real. Killing someone, taking control like that, it can make you feel powerful. But it can also trap you. That feeling, it can become something you chase," Koen finally said.

Koen shifted, pulling a flask from his coat and taking a long drink before offering it to Jacob. "You might feel like that now, but don't let it define you," he said, his gaze intense. "You're still in control of what kind of man you become."

Jacob hesitated but took the flask, the burn of the liquor settling in his throat like a welcome distraction. The warmth eased some of the tension in his chest, but his mind remained restless. He handed the flask back, unsure of what else to say.

Koen watched him closely. "Look, Jacob, I brought you into this because you saved my life, and that means something to me. I owe you. But don't think for a second that this life is all glory and excitement. It's blood and grit. Some days, it's just about surviving." He paused, letting his words sink in. "You'll have to decide if you're cut out for that."

"I don't know what kind of man I'm supposed to be," Jacob admitted.

"None of us do, kid. We just make it up as we go along."

Jacob felt a strange sense of clarity in that moment. The act of taking a life, while shocking and jarring, had unearthed a part of him he hadn't known existed. It was a part that reveled in the chaos, that found a twisted sense of freedom in the lawlessness. The realization was both terrifying and exhilarating.