God Touched

From the direction of the locomotive, the stench of smoldering flesh and fried intestines filled the air, which wasn’t that pleasant on a good day, and Danner started to come down.

With the rush of storm suddenly over, Endville’s residents poured across the town by the dozens, skittering around and past him toward the train like sand fleas. They pulled one or two passengers free, but from all the crying and goings-on, he fully expected the need to organize a burial detail. Trying to figure out who would take charge of it, Parker or the mayor, Danner tried to gather his wits and glanced around. Already folks looked at him different, full of expectation and trust.

Crazy Letty knelt in front of the statue again, glancing from it to him, praying and smiling. Several folks tossed meager bits of gold at his feet and then raced away. And then Big Al, a huge bastard with a chip on his shoulder a mountain wide for anyone not born in this hellhole, nodded and tipped his hat in respect.

Shee-it. Time to go.

Danner took a step back and froze as a tall female exited the train, looking as if she’d just stepped out of an airship, untouched, unfazed. Those around her gave her a wide berth and glanced back at the statue in the middle of town. Was she godsent or just the luckiest passenger on the locomotive?

The woman wore jet-black pants tucked into black preacher boots, a leather town coat and a slouch hat that looked a size too large for her but which effectively shielded her eyes. She started walking in his direction.

Dopey from the energy he’d already consumed and trying hard to regain sobriety, Danner teetered on his feet and sought to catch his breath.

She stopped a few meters from him and stared, her gaze lingering on the small, jagged scar in the shape of a bolt that bisected his left eyebrow. “Might you be Mr. Danner?” she asked, her voice low, husky, as if the lightning had aroused her too.

“Maybe.”

“Then you’re the man I’m looking for.”