Eyes Stared Back
Jeremiah took a swig of his glass—stashed bourbon he kept hidden—as he scribbled away at his papers, consumed in his work.
Typically, on a weekday evening in the winter, he would be spending this time patrolling Ikanomi City's streets on horseback, but they had promoted him to Captain Sheriff only recently. It was a sharp change of pace, a change of environment; he would still be handling crooks and outlaws, but only in the reports now.
The pencil snapped from the pressure. The broken piece rolled against the wooden desk before lightly clunking on the floor. Jeremiah let out a groan, looking up at the ceiling.
Leaving his quaint office room, which was way more comfortable than his desk in the open area—one of the few perks he liked about being in charge of the precinct—the tall, brunet walked to the nearby sharpening machines. He passed by his subordinates, some of whom greeted their Captain, the respect still new, like trying a new dish.
It felt good. But after years of working as a sheriff, he knew how things worked around these parts: you were either useful or they'd kick you out. He shouldn't let the title get to him, and just be happy with the pay increase. It will all be worth it, all for her.
"Uhm, Captain?" A subordinate asked nervously, approaching the back area.
"What is it?" Jeremiah asked, while focused on sharpening his pencil.
"There's some…" he gulped. "Commotion going at the front."
The Captain sighed as he spun the hand crank on the wooden sharpening machine, faster and faster before he let go at the last moment. The box-like object made repetitive thuds as the hand crank spun on itself, and Jeremiah pulled out his pencil, freshly sharpened.
"Let me see…" Casually stated Jeremiah as he walked ahead of his worker.
The loud clamour of people arguing rang through the large building. Jeremiah approached the foyer of the county office to investigate what was going on, putting on his coat as he did.
Some of his men closest to the entrance were standing from their desks, all agitated and holding onto their holsters. They collectively stared down at a man who stood next to the entrance. The door behind him was open, letting in the cold breeze of the wintery dusk light. The warm glow of the county office's ceiling is the only thing to illuminate the outside.
"What in the hell is going on!" Jeremiah asked loudly as he paced to the front to get a better look at the unknown intruder.
The hat on the man's head shrouded his face, and he wore dark clothing—a long coat, gloves, and a scarf—so it was difficult to tell who he was. And he was carrying something over his shoulder, a long cotton bag with something so heavy inside it sagged over his shoulder on both ends.
"You better drop that bag and whatever's inside it before someone else gets dropped," The Captain threatened, motioning his palm close to his holster, parting his jacket out of the way to show it.
The unknown man raised his free hand into the air, making himself vulnerable. He ambled towards the centre front desk, a long marble piece of furniture that was the biggest in the room. The receptionist behind the desk, another officer, sat back in his chair, shrinking as the man came closer.
But all the unknown man did was drop the bag on the desk, as requested. Stepping back, he glanced at Jeremiah and parted his hat to reveal his face: amber eyes, chestnut hair, and a face utterly void of expression. And part of what seemed to be a silver metal instrument in his belt shined in the light.
"Oh…it's just you," Jeremiah expressed, sighing. "Everyone, get back to work! It's just a B.H."
It was as if the pressure in the building was suddenly lifted as the officers let go of their holsters and went about their business. The receptionist was still wary, staring at the cotton bag with a morbid curiosity.
"How have you been, Jeremiah?" Killjoy asked, quite loudly since the Captain was still near the back.
"...Not too much. The usual since you last came in, Joy, which was not too long ago," Jeremiah replied casually, his tone free and relaxed as he walked next to Killjoy in front of the desk.
"And your kid?"
"Kiera? Still studying up in Minneapolis," Jeremiah smirked, "Still hard to think about, since all I cared for was keeping her fed and happy since her mother passed. But she's her own woman now, she can take of herself."
The Captain then leaned against the desk, rubbing his forehead. "How many more bodies will you keep bringing me, Joy?" He asked.
"More bodies?" Killjoy said, confused.
"Until hell freezes over and the Indians let us live in their land, you always bring in more ruffians. Does not help with the desk work," Jeremiah shook his head.
"Isn't that your job?"
"Well, it is," Jeremiah ceded with a smile, "But sometimes if you were to be slower, I think I just might not mind it."
"But it's also my job," Killjoy nodded.
"And you're too damn good at it," The Sheriff then craned his neck to look at the massive bag on the desk. "Let's see what we got…"
Jeremiah leaned forward and grabbed the end of the bag, the top where it was tied and unravelled it. He then pulled it back to reveal what was inside.
Eyes. Cold eyes. Cold eyes that he thought were staring at him, but were rather staring through him, towards nothing. It was dead.
"Well, at least we know whether he's dead or alive…" Jeremiah dryly joked. "Rather he was alive, but it is what it is. At least he's not a problem anymore."
"Will it affect my pay?" Killjoy asked.
He nodded. "You'll be docked since the fugitive is dead, but it'll still be a large sum; not that it's anything substantial to what you already have."
"I'm not that rich," the bounty hunter replied as he turned to walk out.
Jeremiah looked at Killjoy. "You could still retire after this, and the money from this job alone will be enough to support your wife and kid for a couple of years, at least."
Killjoy stopped in his tracks just as he opened the door and was about to leave, as he did every time. But not now.
"I might," He stated.
"What?" Jeremiah asked, taken aback. "Why, after so long, Joy?"
The bounty hunter kept quiet for a bit as if trying to think of what to say. "Just don't feel like it anymore…my time ran its course."
The Captain nodded, not knowing what else to say. "Good luck then, partner. It's been good working with 'ya."
Killjoy slightly turned his head to glance at Jeremiah, giving him his tip of the hat. He then opened the door and went back out into the evening town.
"Welcome to Ikanomi City Hall," Jane greeted the next visitor with the same monotony she had with all the rest. Not even bothering to look at them, she read through her papers, one page after the next; the footsteps were simply enough.
"This reception is for the Civilian Service Wing of the Military Division of Missouri. Any jobs you want to take or any enquiries you may have, you may bring it with me…"
A shadow loomed over her. Which was odd, because as long as she could remember, at least today, the vast building was lit inch-to-inch with hanging gaslights lining the glass ceiling. The only darkness here would be under a chair or beneath her feet…not cast from above.
Jane looked up and saw a man, much taller, dressed heavily in practical, dark clothes. He was right up against the desk, even nudging the dozens of picture frames sprawled on the desk, the pictures depicting various young men in black and grey. His frame was all the lady could see if she only saw straight ahead of herself.
"My goodness, Killjoy!" Jane exclaimed, pulling back in her seat. "Three steps back. At least announce yourself," scolded the lady.
"Oh, sorry," Killjoy apologised with a less-than-convincing tone, "I'm just here to get my cheque, Jane."
"The Bonucci job? You really got him?" The receptionist asked, her brown eyes opened.
"As far as I know, those Italians ought to stay in Yankee territory for now."
"Well, that's good…extortion and drugs are running rampant in those parts; imagine if they got their hands on Opium from the West coast…but is he dead or alive?"
"...Cold," Killjoy replied simply, with no grin in his mouth or a glint in his eyes to compliment the would-be joke.
Jane looked elsewhere for a second, scratching her long, black hair, letting out a soft, but strained chuckle.
"...Right—anyway, I'll just have you fill out some forms and I'll get your cheque." She gave a smile, feigned or not, she wasn't sure.
As Killjoy grabbed a pencil and leaned down to fill out his papers, the lady could not help but wonder about his behaviour. Jane could barely recall when the bounty hunter started taking jobs from the army—it was years ago—but she did remember him at least being more…hungry.
It was an odd word to use, but it perfectly described the young Killjoy.
The first time he arrived, he looked to be a young man, no older than twenty but had malnourished bones and a set of eyes that looked at nowhere, screaming that it had seen the worst. Killjoy had come from out further south in the new settlements in Texas and had fought in the Comanche campaign when trying to settle the land from Indians.
Jane knew that look on his face back then, a face that all men know too well: it was a face that wanted to escape the battlefield.
She started him out with simple jobs, like collecting stolen cattle or bringing drunk escapees back to the county jail. But the jobs never ran out, and he grew with it, and the lady knew he started to like this work. The more missions he took, the more men he killed, and the more money he got.
His dark brown hair turned brighter and his bleak eyes began to reveal their true, burning amber. But now, Jane couldn't see a lick of that fire anywhere.
"D'ya mind if a' ask something, Killjoy?" Jane asked out of the blue, her normally muted southern accent coming through.
Killjoy looked up. "What is it?" He replied, still simple and efficient as always.
"Are y'okay?"
"I'm fine," replied the bounty hunter, immediately getting back into filling out his report.
"Are you sure?" She persisted.
"What else is there to say, Jane?"
"Y'know, what a' mean. A' don't know if it's just me, but it seems like each time y'walk into this building to collect yer' reward, the more distant y'are. Or am a' just that much of a nuisance to see every day?"
Killjoy looked elsewhere for a moment.. "...It's just been a tough week," He answered dismissively, continuing to scribble his pencil.
"Tough? For you?" With a raised brow, Jane tilted her head to the side, "I would believe it if you said this ten years…no…fifteen years ago. But since then, you rarely come back with even a scratch."
"More than meets the eye, I guess," Killjoy seemingly let in. "Doing this for almost two decades can do a number on a man."
The lady smiled. It slightly satisfied her now that Killjoy was being more truthful. "Maybe that's what getting richer happens to you, as well as the word of your name and the enemies you make. But I'm sure you can manage that."
Jane then turned her chair to the side and leaned over, grabbing something from her side of the desk. She rose and placed some pamphlets on the counter. "Anyway, I was already thinking of a few jobs that might interest you—"
"I'm going to quit."
"—There's this one in South Dakota, I think it has a pretty good reward for such little needed to be done, and I know you're all about…"
Jane slowly stopped talking, as if she missed something. Was it maybe that she forgot another set of papers to look over for Killjoy? Perhaps she dropped something and was simply too enthused to notice?
Or, maybe, it was the bounty hunter in front of her whom she worked with for years, never failing to show up, even once, saying he was about to retire.
"You're what!" Jane shouted, then immediately covering her mouth as she realised she had just screamed in the middle of a busy city hall. Some people stopped and turned to look at the little commotion, but others lost interest and walked away.
Jane let go of her mouth. "You're…quitting?"
Killjoy nodded.
"...Why now?"
"You know better than anyone else, Jane," Killjoy said with a sigh, "Young men who work this life either retire when they're thirty, or they die. And I'm not young anymore."
"I know; who do you think those men are in the frames?" Jane nodded to the pictures on her desk, her initial shock fading. "But…y'know…you're different. You're the only one out of the thousands of people who walked out of those doors, with a job that I didn't worry about coming back. I mean, it's no office job, but I always thought you didn't mind it because the pay was always good. Why else would you have done this far longer than anyone else?"
"I don't need to anymore," Killjoy said, "I don't…have the spark for it.."
"And also your family, right?" Jane added quickly as if expecting him to agree.
Killjoy's eyes popped wider. "—Yes."
She sighed. "There's a difference between wanting to go back to your family and needing to; you hardly visit them, Killjoy."
"I won't have anything else to do, anyway."
"So your wife and daughter are just things you push back until you can't?"
"You know, I never intended for a family—"
"Oh, so everything you had with Adeline is a mistake now, huh?"
The man grimaced lowly, slightly glancing elsewhere in the large building.
"I'm not being serious," she let up, "At least partly. But I do have this from her," Jane said as she then dug a parcel from her desk. "You'd ask me to receive them for you while you were out and about, so I kept my word."
"Thank you," Killjoy replied as he took it and stuffed it into his pockets. "I'll guess I'll be out of your hair now, for good. I also want to thank you for—"
"Save that thought, Killjoy, because I got one last job."
"I told you, I'm quitting."
"This isn't no ordinary job, hun."
Killjoy squinted. "Not ordinary?"
"Take a look," Jane said as she pushed one of the pamphlets on the desk she took out earlier.
Killjoy let in and grabbed the pamphlet gently, reading its surface. Taking most of the space at the top was a drawn portion of the mapped state of South Dakota, in the bottom left corner being scribbled forests and mountains. To its side, it was labelled as 'Black Hills'. And at the bottom, the job was titled 'Search and Rescue'.
"A scouting job?" Killjoy asked, unconvinced.
"Well, yeah, but it's not just that. Look at the rewards," Jane nodded.
The bounty hunter lowered his gaze and even further bottom under the rewards section, in bold, black, inked letters: 'DEED TO HOMESTAKE MINING COMPANY'. It stood out like a sore thumb; clearly, they wanted to entice more than just a few people.
"The Homestake Mining Company?"
"One of, or was the largest gold mining estates in the Midwest, particularly in that area, where the job is," Jane promptly answered with the astute tone she had earlier, "The deed will hand over the ownership of the company to you, along with all of their operations, equipment, and over 800 hectares of land around the mountains."
"Why is the reward so large?" the bounty hunter asked, still not getting it.
"On the back."
He turned it over, and there was a whole page of more scribbled-down lines, the letters italicised and perfectly precise in their strokes. It was a printed paper, no doubt about it, which was out of the ordinary, as most jobs were usually written on hand and posted on the day.
"On the border between Chwewamink and South Dakota, there was a recent scuffle between policemen and a Lakota tribe in a town around there," Jane explained. "The Chief died, alongside a few other policemen, and now there are reports that the Indians are moving north from the Cheyenne River to the Grand."
"Isn't that where the Sioux reservation is?" Killjoy asked, as his eyes slowly began to lay agape.
"Yes," The lady nodded as she confirmed his suspicion, "The whole reason why the recent problems began was this 'Messiah craze'; people all over the West were complaining about rumours among the Indians that Jesus reincarnated as one of them, and there were many sightings of the Indians doing these weird dances…"
"The ghost dance," The bounty hunter interjected, seemingly understanding the situation now.
"Yes, the Chief who died in the altercation was one of the other leaders, a guy named Sitting Bull, or something. Now the Indians moving towards the Sioux Reservation are supposed to be in the several hundred."
"What does that have to do with the mission?" Killjoy pried, smacking the pamphlet against the counter, "It's in an isolated mountain range surrounded by forests."
"Mhm, but the Black Hills is also right by the path of where the Lakota would be moving," Jane said. "There's been dozens of reported missing people over there within the past week."
She then grabbed a separate book to her side and opened it, revealing dozens of stuck pictures on the pages with handwritten notes.
"Some peculiar facts are that as many of those missing persons were settlers and miners around the gold mines, a lot of them were also Indians and people of other races," explained the woman as she pointed to the pictures of different people in her book, "So if the circumstances are…deliberate…then they don't seem to discriminate."
"You seem to be invested in this case," Killjoy asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the desk.
"Because it's odd," Jane breathly replied, "The army said they suspect it to be the work of the Lakota because of the altercation a few weeks ago, but then why would there be so many missing Indians as well?"
"Tribes still fight each other. That should explain it. It wasn't just the army fighting the Sioux Indians some of those years ago, for one."
"But then they should've made themselves known by now. But no one still has a clue as to who or what is behind the missing cases, hence why the job is out there to investigate it. Y'know what I think?"
"What?"
Jane then leaned in across the counter, letting out a grin she couldn't keep behind her excited curiosity. "I think it's supernatural."
"Don't tell me you believe in those things," Killjoy said, shaking his head.
"Think about it! It's believed that those forests are haunted by the Indians, and now some of the settlers are beginning to believe it too. Cryptids could be the culprit."
"Or other Indians, or a sudden influx of predators like Bears or Wolves…you also still haven't answered my question," Killjoy nodded his head to the side, "If the job is just to scout, why are they willing to give out a mining company in the area for it? Shouldn't it have been completed by other hunters anyway, if the reward was so good?"
"Because they died," she bluntly said.
The bounty hunter perked his eyebrows.
"You may have realised by now," Jane sighed, "But this job wasn't originally posted here; we're down south, obviously. It was initially distributed in the Dakota territories, but the more people took it, the fewer people came back."
Jane gave Killjoy a long stare. "While you were out taking down Bonucci, already half a hundred went to the Black Hills, but…they joined the long list of missing persons; haven't heard back from them since."
She gripped the pamphlet, staring down at the boldened letters of the Homestake Mining Company. "The business went into bankruptcy because of not only much of their staff in those mountains going missing but also because their mining rigs and tunnels collapsed for unknown reasons. Of course, if you do the job, the army will help finance the operations to get the mines running again, but that is if you can do the job."
Killjoy remained silent, more deep in thought than anything else. It wasn't that the job seemed challenging or scary to him, any of the sort really, but because he wanted to be out as soon as possible. But now Jane was pinning this big of a mission on him, and why wouldn't she?
The situation was still a big problem that not even other hunters could handle, not that he cared much, but the potential reward also seemed enticing.
He closed his eyes, thinking as the dilemma tugged him from both ends like tearing fabric.
"Killjoy, I know you want to quit," Jane said," But I've been holding back this job waiting for you because I don't want to send anyone else to their doom. Again, you are the only one I can count on to complete their missions and come back in one piece."
She let out a slow breath of her own. "And the reward is perfect. If you complete the job, you'll have an entire mining company to yourself that you won't need to manage. You'll be able to sustain yourself and your family the rest of your life and then some, without worrying about going back to this line of work."
Killjoy murmured.
"Are you in or not?"
"...Fine."