Clint Magnus barreled through the forest like a stampede of
buffalos. His metal boots pounded into the ground with resounding thuds. His
exhaling released clouds of steam into the chilly morning air. His ribs and
legs felt like they were on fire. His tongue was drier than desert air. But if
he stopped now, that twenty grand bounty was as good as gone.
The bounty hunter could smell the fear emanating from Fatima
Rose. It was a sweeter scent than any perfume and gave Clint a massive boost of
energy. He was so close that any minute during this chase he could grab a hold
of that wet raven hair and have her to himself. The sweat pouring off of the
witch’s body as she ran smelled like sweet autumn rain. Clint continued to dash
after the witchcraft practitioner until he was fingertips away from clutching
that heavenly neck of hers.
Clint was so distracted by this maiden’s terrified charm
that he didn’t realize until falling face first that she had led him to the
river. The bounty hunter’s heavy breathing caused him to suck water through his
nostrils before pulling his head out and coughing up a storm. He shivered from
the sudden cold splash like he was trapped in a meat locker.
While on his knees catching his breath and coughing out the
water from his lungs, he saw Fatima lying on
the other side of the river breathing heavily and holding her ribs. She looked
so beautiful to him in her vulnerable state. Her wet green dress clung to her
body like a chilling, frostbitten embrace. She was so exhausted that Clint could
just scoop her up and take her to the authorities anytime he wanted.
When the middle-aged cowboy stood up and brushed his damp
gray hair back, however, he saw two fountains of water bursting up from the
river on either side of him. Another one formed behind him and another in
front. Clint Magnus danced around in fear and shivered for a different reason
than being soaked.
The bounty hunter could see Fatima’s
hands raised from her sides while she was still laying down. They were clouded
with a blue and purple mist of energy while her eyes glowed a brilliant and
hauntingly beautiful neon green. The hydromancer levitated to her feet and
gazed at her assailant with scorn and power.
“You…you really are a witch!” said a shaky Clint Magnus
while pointing his wrinkled finger at her.
“Witch?” asked Fatima. “And
what exactly is a witch? Is it supposed to be one of your disgusting slurs? Is
it a label you put on anybody you disagree with? Or do you just reserve it for
someone you want to exploit for money? I know this is a post-apocalyptic
nightmare for all of us, but you, sir, are out of excuses!”
The four fountain bursts of water grew taller as Fatima’s energy-covered hands rose over her head. “Oh,
shit!” said Clint to himself before the rising water came crashing down over
his head, pinning him to the river bed and drowning him as well. He struggled
and flailed in the raging waters to where his face was turning purple.
The water torture was mercifully over when Fatima
swept her hands to the side and cast the freezing liquid away from Clint, who
was hacking and wheezing while pathetically on his knees. “Get up, you fool!”
ordered Fatima. “You’re supposed to be a
goddamn bounty hunter, not a fucking amateur.”
Huffing and puffing, Clint Magnus slowly made it to his feet
while his teeth clicked together from the hard convulsing. As soon as he got
his bearings, he pulled out his Desert Eagle pistol and said, “I’ve had just
about enough of your bullshit, lady!” When he pulled the trigger, only sand and
rocks came out of the barrel.
“Well, look at that! Your pistol’s shooting blanks. Your
wife must be so disappointed in you right now. So disappointed that she’ll run
off with another man while you’re busy chasing little old me,” taunted Fatima while she giggled.
“That’s grounds for getting your neck snapped, little girl,”
growled Clint. “What the fuck do you know about my family? I have to support
them every damn day in this screwed up world! Chasing you was all about the
money. It was never personal. But if you’d rather mock my family instead of
supporting them, that’s fine, I’ll beat your ass anyways!”
“And I’m sure you’ll make an excellent role model for your
children one day,” said Fatima sarcastically.
“While turning me in will ensure that your family gets paid, you’re also
teaching them how to label others. That’s how we got into this post-apocalyptic
mess in the first place: by judging each other and slapping labels on our
neighbors. And what do your politicians do when they can’t play nicely? They
don’t work things out. They drop bombs on each other. Is that what your
children are going to grow up to be: bomb-dropping politicians?”
“My children have a better future than that!” shouted Clint.
“Your children have no future at all!” retorted Fatima. As the uncomfortable silence took over, Clint
hung his head in sorrow while the hydromancer maintained her authoritative gaze
upon him. “Then again, nobody has a future around here. They call it Armageddon
for a reason: because it’s all over. As long as we continue to cast hatred on
each other, we will never, and I mean NEVER, rebuild to what we once were.”
Clint kept his chin tucked to his chest as he contemplated
this harsh talking point. There were even hints of tears in his eyes, which
caused Fatima’s deadly stare to soften. The
bounty hunter picked his head up and said, “So that’s your solution? We just
throw down our weapons and love each other? That hippie-dippie shit sounds good
on paper, but how many assholes out there actually want to do that? You can’t
make them be nice people!”
“What about you, cowboy?” asked Fatima
with her finger pointed at him. “Can you be convinced to carry a message of
love across the world? Can one act of kindness spread into several others? Or
do you just want to shoot people for the rest of your life and collect your
blood money?”
Another beat of uncomfortable silence washed over the scene.
Clint had a decision to make. Would he continue to perpetuate the hateful sins
of the apocalypse or will he show them that they are all capable of change? He
shook his head and said, “You are so full of shit, lady. You are so full of
disgusting shit!”
Clint quickly pulled a knife from his belt and chucked it
into Fatima’s shoulder, causing her to drop to
her knees and scream demonically in pain. The bounty hunter had a ghoulish grin
on his face as he slowly approached the wounded witch. He even cracked his
knuckles, wrists, and neck for dramatic effect.
He held his hands out in an attempt to grab Fatima by the throat and choke her, but the hydromancer
still had one good arm and used it to work her magic. The river turned into a
violent whirlpool that sucked Clint Magnus into the center. He flailed his arms
and kicked his legs like a small child, but it was hardly any resistance
against the much stronger waters. The river rose and Clint’s head sunk beneath
the freezing liquid. He swam and stroked as hard as he could, but soon enough,
his eyes would close and body would go limp. His last few bubbles of breath
reached the surface and popped just as quickly as his life faded out.
Clint bathed in darkness with nothing but his final
thoughts. He saw his wife’s beautiful face and gorgeous brown locks while she
donned her favorite while dress. He saw his two toddler sons clinging to their
mother’s legs and bouncing up and down while waiting for daddy to come home.
Daddy would be coming home soon, Clint kept telling himself. But those twenty
thousand credits were out of reach the minute he drowned in Fatima’s
watery magic.
And then the cowboy coughed up another puddle of icy water
while shivering some more. He slowly opened his eyes and found that he was
lying alongside the river while holding a shining blue pendant with a note
attached to it. Clint took a few more deep breaths before rolling over onto his
knees and letting his eyes adjust to the fading light of the day.
The note read, “Water is something we all need in this dying
world. Your family can’t drink money, but they can drink clean and healthy
water thanks to this pendant I’ve left with you. The pendant is charged with
hydromantic powers. Use it on any source of water and it will multiply and
purify it for drinking. Neither you nor your family will ever go thirsty again.
One act of kindness can soften the heart of even the coldest people. I hope it
softened yours as well. Don’t give up on humanity just yet. Yours forever,
Fatima Rose. P.S.: Don’t worry about my shoulder wound. I’ve suffered worse
wounds from worse people.”
Clint stared at the pendant in his wrinkly hand and began to
shed tears over the marble orb. “Thank you, Fatima,” he sobbed silently. “Thank
you for everything!” He spent the last few moments of the day crying to
himself, something his “manly” stereotype wouldn’t allow him to do for the
longest time. Getting it all out felt as good as a nice chug of clean drinking
water.
