Little Girls & Death in the West

     Hammering sounds on the door woke Ezekiel Walker from his nightmares.
     His eyes opened with perfect clarity, and it took him only a moment before he pushed himself up in bed, turning to plant his feet on the floor.
     "A minute," Ezekiel called in a scratching voice. The hammering ceased. Ezekiel ran a hand through his unruly, dirty blond hair and hoped it would be enough. Passing a quick glance at the clock, he frowned. Someone at the door at this hour? It could only be bad. He quickly dressed in his normal clothing; a plain shirt covered by a black duster, dark blue jeans, working boots, and as always the falchion in its sheath against his back. Once he was done, he opened the door.
     Framed in the doorway was Wyatt Walker, sheriff of the small town of Barrow, and Ezekiel's adoptive brother. At this hour, the sheriff's presence meant Ezekiel's assumptions were correct.
     Wyatt dipped his black Stetson at Ezekiel and beckoned him outside.
     "What's wrong?" Ezekiel asked as he stepped out, closing the door behind him. Wyatt was scuffing the ground with his boots, clearly agitated. As Wyatt was the calmest man Ezekiel knew, there was a certain sense of dismay that came over him.
     "No clue. Most I know is that the klaxons went off, and I got a distress call," Wyatt said in his soothing drawl. However, there was a hint of unease in his tone. Not quite fear, but certainly not the norm. "I need you to go with me to Torrent."
     Torrent was the major port of Earth, one of the few holdout towns on the now dusty rock. In Torrent, one could ignore the searing burn of the sun. Children shrieked and played, women and men sold and traded their various goods to alien visitors. Torrent was full of color and life and brightness, and not the wind, the dust, nor the tumbleweeds could block the beauty bursting from that town. In fact, Torrent was the major supply town for the other scattered communities still trying to make a life on Earth. Of course, most in the 'verse claimed Earth had been overcome by the American Wild West, but Ezekiel knew better. He lived it.
     "Alright. Tell me more about this distress call?" The two men began to walk in the western direction, knowing Torrent was a few hours distance by foot. 
     "Ain't much to tell. Surprised the heck outta me, but... Static. Real faint in the background, you could hear screaming..." Wyatt shook his head sadly. "Nothing really happens out here, you know? To have a major distress call..."
     There was a silence as the men walked, each lost in their own thoughts.
     Ezekiel's mind wandered to his adolescence. When he first arrived on Earth, he was still prepubescent, not quite a child, but not quite a teenager. Torrent had been the town he'd landed in. At the time, the hustle and bustle, the brightness and loud noises, it had all been too much for him to take. He'd run away, out past it all. It was during this wandering that Norma and Will Walker found him. They already had their own son, but for some reason - call it guilt, or faith, or plain kindness - the couple couldn't find it in themselves to ignore the boy. He became a part of the family, and Wyatt took him as a brother. He hadn't been back to Torrent since.
     They walked.
     On a jagged cliff of hard packed dirt and sand, the two men stood side by side and took in the sight before them. The stench of death and decay infiltrated their noses, the winds bringing the awful smell from the town. Not a soul could be seen, though with that kind of scent, how could you expect there to be? Still, signs of a once-bustling civilization were there. Wares for sale or trade sitting out in the open, children's toys littered about the street.
     The real problem was that neither man knew what they were up against. Sure, a distress call had come from Torrent, but it had been static and screams. Now, this lively town was devoid of people and living things... It was disturbing.
     "Whaddya think, Zeke?" Wyatt asked quietly.
     "Trouble."
    "No shit," Wyatt grinned sardonically. "But do you have any ideas on what coulda caused it? You've seen the 'verse beyond this rock. Tell me. Anything out there you know of that could do this?"
     Ezekiel snorted. "Plenty of things, but they leave traces. Bodies and blood, spoor to follow and track. To disappear without a trace? No. I have no idea."
     "Well, not quite without a trace," Wyatt murmured. He began to pick his way down the cliff overlook, heading toward the town. Ezekiel followed. Wyatt pulled his kerchief from his back pocket and held it in front of his nose and mouth, "Certainly left a damned-awful smell." He began to work his way into town, and Ezekiel could see he was trying to follow the smell by how bad it was. Where it was worse, he would follow.
     There was a reason the two worked well together. Wyatt was no country bumpkin - he purposefully gave off the impression and milked it for all he was worth, but the man was brilliant. Ezekiel, on the other hand, was smart, but he'd been raised to fight. To be an army of one. His sills lay in keeping the two of them alive, rather than finding the trouble.
     And oh did Wyatt find trouble like some people took in oxygen.
     Wyatt paused, stock still, and Ezekiel did the same. There, through the pigeon-shit streaked window, was a figure... It appeared to be a child, but it was impossible to tell for sure. One thing was certain - it was the only living thing besides them for miles, and it was standing in the lobby of Torrent's hotel. With a blur, the figure disappeared.
     Wyatt quickly backtracked, pulling out his blaster from his holster as he went. Ezekiel took up watch on Wyatt's back, eyes darting around as he attempted to pinpoint where the blurred creature had gone. He wouldn't pull his sword unless he absolutely had to.
     "Now who might you two be?" A little girl's voice sounded from above. The two men cast their gazes upward, and there she was, looking down at them through an open window, her arms resting on the sill. For all intents and purposes, she seemed like such a sweet little girl, but... Something was wrong. What was wrong was difficult to pinpoint, but it was there. Signs of sins and secrets, all pointing to her sweet face being a sinister mask.
     "You first," Wyatt said, pointing his blaster up and towards her. Ezekiel cringed. While he logically understood that this little girl was no innocent thing, a part of him still reviled the idea of a gun aimed at a child. There was a strong urge to rip the gun from Wyatt's hand, but he knew if he did that, they were both dead.
     "You wouldn't shoot a little girl, would you?" She asked, her face a perfect imitation of surprise. At least, until she dissolve into giggles. "Just kidding! I know they sent you a distress call. It's interesting that there's two of you though. Which one of you is called Ezekiel?"
     "Again, who's askin'?" Wyatt snapped, tightening the grip on his blaster.
     "Not you then, huh?" She smiled. Then she was gone with a blur of motion, and Wyatt dropped his gun to eye level, eyes on the hotel door.
     It shocked both men when the glass of the closest window exploded outward, and a snarling girl was already flying through. Except she wasn't truly a girl anymore. Her nails were sharp, hooked claws, and every tooth was needle sharp, her eyes a deep glowing red. She bowled Wyatt over, and spring boarded from his prone form to launch herself at Ezekiel.
     He recognized those red eyes. There was no doubt. She had to be one of the Thanatos' creations. Nothing in the 'verse could transform the way she just did, not a single damn thing. She had to be an experiment, just like him.
     Ezekiel spun to the side at the last moment, the girl missing him by a hair's breadth. As he whirled, he pulled his falchion, the blade slicing thinly along the girl's left calf.
     She landed with a tumble, all to turn and howl at him in outrage. Ezekiel didn't bother to give her time, instead already moving forward, moving to strike once more. This time, she dodged out of the way, launching herself once more at him. It seemed the Thanatos had created their own little killing machine, but she sure as hell had no idea how to adapt. She only had one method of attack. Ezekiel stopped moving, and instead waited, angling his sword just so...
    A hush of breath escaped her as her body slid down on his blade. For a moment, she struggled, then stopped. She had impaled herself on his sword, so single-minded in her attack that she hadn't noticed his obvious play. Behind him, he heard Wyatt groan and lift himself up. The girl's eyes stayed locked on Ezekiel's, and blood drooled from her slightly open mouth. She was still alive but no longer fighting.
     "Put her out of her misery," Ezekiel said quietly, eyes briefly darting a glance at Wyatt.
     There was no response except the soft whumph of a blaster going off, and then the girl sagged entirely, a hole straight through both sides of her head.
     Ezekiel hefted his sword and her body, turning the tip to the ground. Her limp, lifeless corpse slid down and onto the dirt. Gingerly, he pulled his sword back out, and sheathed it once more.
     "The fuck was that?" Wyatt mumbled.
     "Dunno. Only one of its kind though."
     "Lord..." Wyatt shook his head. "We need to get back to Barrow. I gotta report this, get Torrent fixed back up."
    "What about the people?"
     "Can't you tell with the smell, Zeke? The girl was covered in the aroma of death. My guess is, she probably stashed 'em all in the basement. Let the reparation crews handle it. We can't do anymore here."
     "We could bury them."
     "Zeke..." Wyatt sighed. "Unless it starts raining in the next 30 minutes, it ain't gonna happen." Wyatt turned and tugged open the door of the hotel, his kerchief going to his mouth. "I'll do you one better," he mumbled through the fabric. Even with his nose blocked, the smell of copper, blood, shit, and piss still filtered through. It smelled like hell. Wyatt entered, Ezekiel close behind him. Wyatt kicked the basement door open with one booted foot, then rummaged in his pockets for a box of matches, Ezekiel watching closely. Wyatt lit it, then dropped it on the first step of the basement. The flames licked up the hot, dry woods, and quickly traveled down the rest of the steps. Briefly, the light of the embers illuminated the horrified, crammed faces of the residents of Torrent, all of whom had seen their death coming. Then it all went up in flame.
     Wyatt closed the door, turned, and shouldered past Ezekiel outside. It worried Ezekiel to see Wyatt looking so hard and cold. In a way, it did make sense. Wyatt was the strongest person he'd ever met, though Wyatt would certainly say the same thing about Ezekiel. Either way, the two men were ready to walk back to Barrow. Either way...
     ...it was the only thing they could do.