The Death of Sawyer McCoy
“Sawyer! Sawyer— wake up!” Judith shouted, anxiously trying to stir her sleeping husband, “the horses, Sawyer!”
Grumbling— his dusty eyelashes blinking away the deepest sleep he’d nearly never gotten, Sawyer looked upon his frantic wife. Her tawny hair was frazzled, strands pulled free of her normally slicked back bun— she was in her nightdress, the ruffles swaying as she shook him to consciousness. She was sweating, her face red.
“W-what is it, honey?” Sawyer growled— normally she’d be the last to arise. He’d often kiss her head as he’d left the homestead each morning before the sun had chance to break the far mountain range. She’d remain fast asleep, a dribble of saliva leaking from the corner of her pouty mouth.
Judith continued to shake him— her frantic alarm caused Sawyer to finally sit up, taking stock of the terror in her blue eyes.
“The horses, Sawyer! The barn— it’s on fire!!” She yelled into the room— her eyes spilling to the floor as the tears soaked her cheeks.
Jumping out of bed– Sawyer pulled on his trousers from the day before. Scurrying to the door, pushing past Judith as he slung the straps of his suspenders onto his shoulders– he ran down the hall. The small window facing the barn was bright orange— a flickering hell spawn of flame, as Sawyer swore under his breath.
“Sonuva bitch— what the fuck happened!” He uttered— not necessarily at anyone in particular.
“The horses, Sawyer!!”
“I know woman,” he snapped— bustling to rip the front door open and take off towards the water spicket, his eyes assessing the growing flame centered in the horse barn opposite the farmhouse.
Turning to see if Judith had followed him, ready to bark orders at her— he instead caught sight of her in a chokehold— being held by a man in a dark duster, a wide-brimmed hat drowning out his facial features. A gun was pointed at his terrified wife’s head.
Fighting the man, his normally tame, submissive— sweet and subtle Judith, was giving him the devil— her eyes pinned to Sawyers as she tried desperately to free herself. A second longer to glance at her before testosterone took over and his fight response kicked in, Sawyer realized she wasn’t scared— she was furious, she was clawing at him, kicking him, nearly an animal.
“For your debt,” spoke the gentleman over the roaring fire behind Sawyer, before the gun was cocked, and the trigger pulled— the sound forcing him to his knees as his wife’s limp body fell to the sandy ground— the blood mixing with it in the air as it clumped and fell around her—
A wicked, twisted growl-scream left Sawyer’s throat as he lurched towards Judith’s fresh corpse— her head lolled to the side and wide dead blue eyes stared back at him.
He crawled to her— hands and knees, shuffling forwards as the world around them faded to nothing. The dust from the disturbance made its way to his lungs as he heaved panicking breaths– choking on the air and his own disbelief.
“Light’m up, boys,” spoke the murderer. A bucket of cold liquid was dumped over them as Sawyer pulled Judith into his arms before the sound of a match echoed in his ears as it was tossed amongst the mourning husband and newly deceased wife. Their tangled bodies were lit ablaze— a twin flame to the quickly crumbling foundation of the barn, the distraction the group of headhunters had used to lure the pair outside.
Sawyer couldn’t quite make out each word spoken, but the stranger had continued shouting over the blaze of the barn.
Now a husk of a man— he faded out of consciousness, the trauma to his body too much for his mind to endure as buckets of water were thrown onto his burning body–
