Headless (8 page)

     He, Dougie and Amir spread out gathering firewood. After a period, they've got a nice warm fire blazing. Amir finishes moving a couple stumps close to the fire, for people to sit on. Kat takes one of them, and he sits next to her.

     “This was not the way I wanted to party,” Jackie grumbles.

     “Are you kidding me? This is perfect,” Harold speaks up, holding his hands to the fire. They all look at him, confused. He notices, and takes the joint from Jackie, taking another hit, before grinning. “You guys don't know what this place is?”

     “Sleepy Hollow?” Sam asks, sarcastically.

     “Yeah, it's the original town. But do you know what happened here?” Another moment of everyone shrugging and looking at each other confused, before Harold shakes his head, frustrated. “People have no sense of adventure these days. Alright, so back during the Revolutionary War the British would hire mercenaries out of other Countries. They had a really specific way of doing things, and sometimes a job needed to be done that wasn't exactly gentlemanly for a British soldier to do. So their way around this was getting someone else to do the deed. But there was one in particular that even the British feared...”

CHAPTER XIV

     October 31st, 1783.

     Private Jimmy Taft runs as fast as his feet will carry him in the uncomfortable shoes he wears. He gasps for breath, as he pushes through the woods, along the small path. The heavy adornments on his uniform, and the metal of his gun rattles with each step that pounds into the dirt, as he grunts and groans each time a branch whips him in the face.

     “He's coming! He's coming! The Hessian rides!” Jimmy screams out, pointing behind him as he hauls ass.

     A dirty hand grabs him by the collar and yanks him to the side, slamming him to the ground. His commander puts a hand over Jimmy's mouth and holds a finger to his lips as the young man looks up to see who attacked him. Jimmy coughs out behind the commander's hand, having the wind knocked out of him.

     “You're too damn loud, boy,” the commander whispered, pulling his hand away from Jimmy's mouth. “Now what news?”

     “The – Hessian – is coming,” Jimmy gasped, still trying to catch his breath. “

     “The Devil? You saw the The Devil?” The commander asks. Jimmy nods frantically. “And he's coming this way?” Another nod. The commander looks around in fear for a moment, trying to sort out a plan. He lets out a rhythmic whistle, and the bushes move a couple hundred feet down the path. Another young soldier, Thomas, runs to his commander, sliding to a stop.

     “Yes, sir?”

     “I want you to run now, let all the men know along this path that The Devil is coming this way. This is our chance to remove the last real threat from the British in the area. I want them to line the path. He's not to make it to the next road. Understood?”

     “Yes, sir!” And Thomas is off running.

     “How far back was he?” The commander inquires, turning back to Jimmy.

     Jimmy shook his head, still trying to calm down from the adrenaline rush. “I'm not sure, sir. A half mile, maybe? A few minutes? Not sure. He wasn't in a hurry.”

     “Good. We're going to finally kill that sonofabitch. He's killed thirty of our men since the Treaty of Paris. He enjoys it. Killin'. Take a man's head clean off you know?”

     Jimmy nods. He'd heard the stories. Everyone had heard the stories of The Devil. All in black, atop his massive horse. A sword in one hand, an axe in the other. Rumor had it he once took off four men’s' heads with a single swipe of his axe. Jimmy had to admit, he liked his head where it was at. But the worst of it was, nobody seemed to ever be able to hurt the Hessian. Gun fire, stabbing, none of it made a difference.

     Now here they were, after the war had ended, after so many had died, and they're still cleaning up the mess. Jimmy wasn't surprised. He had a gun put in his hand at fourteen, and was fighting ever since. Three years? Four? How old was he now? Time was a different thing on the battle field. No crops to note the time; no social events; no Sunday Church. Today was 'Today', and that was about all most kept track of. He shook his head back to the matter at hand.

     Everyone knew who the Hessian was by name. Klaus Von Strucker. Rumor had it he was actually a rich man back home. He didn't have to go to war; nor did he have to fight. But he enjoyed it. The old timers said he made a deal with the devil for immortality, if he killed enough people. That's why he butchered without abandon. Soldiers, women, children, elders – it made no difference to him. So they simply started referring to him as The Devil.

     The forest went silent. This eerie calm brought Jimmy back to reality, and he found his commander laying on his side, facing the direction that Jimmy had run from. The commander's gun was pointed down the path, towards the small bridge crossing the river.

     “What happens if he gets to the town?” Jimmy whispers over his commander's shoulder.

     “That's not going to happen.”

     “Yeah, but what if it --”

     “We can't let that happen, you understand? This monster has to go. He has to be dealt with, now.”

     Their arguing is interrupted by the sound of heavy hooves on wood. The loud clopping sound, came in time with soft metal clinging from both the horse's reigns, and the rider's adornments.

     Jimmy laid back against the ground, closing his eye's tightly. They were hidden on a bit of a downward slope from the path, and the horse hooves grew louder, and louder. His commander stared at him, making sure the boy wasn't going to give away their position, and when the sound of the hooves finally stopped, he looked up over the ledge. Surely enough, there stood a massive black stallion, grazing on a tuft of grass just off the edge of the pathway. However, there was no rider atop it.

     “What the hell?” The commander asked in confusion. He scanned around them, not seeing anyone, before finally standing up. “Stay here.”

     Jimmy nodded. The commander no more than turned around, and a sword plunged through his neck, causing him to drop his gun there on the path. The surprisingly handsome German mercenary grinned back at him deviously. Pearly white teeth set against soft red lips. He had pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes that were a bit sunken, giving him a foreboding brow line. The only imperfection in an otherwise modelesque appearance.

     The Hessian watched as blood poured from the commander's neck wound, and the grizzled man reached up, gripping at the blade. The Hessian turned the blade in his throat, opening the hole wide, and ripped it from his flesh, sending the old man stumbling back. He looked down at Jimmy, who laid there clinching his eyes tight. Jimmy could hear the metal chain rattle as the Hessian stepped towards him, knowing that when the chain stopped, his time on earth probably would as well.

     After a moment of no sound, Jimmy opened his eyes, finding the Hessian still staring down at him. The massive mercenary tilts his head to the side, examining the young man. Jimmy's mouth hangs agape, as he shakes his head 'no', the Hessian raising his axe over his shoulder. A gunshot rings out, and the bullet ricochets off the mercenary's shoulder, as he turns to his attacker. A middle-aged infantryman about thirty feet down the path.

     The Hessian closes the gap in several long strides, as the soldier attempts to reload his gun, and he removes the top of the man's skull with his axe, sending it flying in to the woods. The man's brains slip out of his cranial cavity, as his body hits the ground, and Jimmy covers his mouth, gagging.

     “He's here!” Someone yells further down.

     Gunshots fill the air, along with smoke, as multiple soldiers step out of the trees, firing on the Hessian. He raises his axe, using the blade to shield his face. The bullets ricochet off him, leaving him undamaged. As the echo of the gunshots fade away, he lowers his axe, looking at the men as they start reloading their guns.

     The massive man moves with such speed, it's hard to believe he's ever been human. With each swing of his axe, or sword, a head goes flying. The American soldiers are being cut down left and right, with not so much as another shot fired. Jimmy watches this from his original place. The final soldier in the row raises his gun to block the Hessian's attack, but the force of the axe shatters the butt of the gun, and sticks the blade in his skull, splitting all the way down to his chin.

     Klaus pulls the axe from the soldier's head, and spins around, examining his work. A gunshot goes off behind him, and he turns looking to see where the shot came from. He finds Jimmy standing there with his gun raised, hands trembling. The Hessian follows the smoking gun to find his horse lying on the ground, dead. A bullet wound in its skull.

     The first bit of any emotion crosses the German's face as his eye twitches. He growls as blood drips from his face, and he runs towards the young soldier. So the Devil did have a heart? Jimmy had always wondered from the stories he heard. It just took making him angry to find out what he had affection for. He watched as the Hessian drew his axe back, said a short prayer to his maker, and the last thing he heard was the roar the massive man let out, as he swung the axe, cutting through the boy with one swing at the waist.

     Jimmy's upper body hit the ground first, landing on his back, as his muscles convulsed from the shock. His legs buckled at the knees a moment later, and blood began to pool into the dirt. The Hessian turned his attention immediately to the horse, kneeling down to the animal's dead body, as he rested a hand on the horse’s mane. Hessian reached to his neck, pulling out a rosary, and whispering a prayer in German, before crossing himself.

     He looked up, finding a young girl staring at him on the path from the direction he was originally riding in. She clutched a pale of water close to her chest. The monstrous man rises to his feet, and heads in her direction slowly. She stands there, eyes full of fear, watching him as he approaches.

     Each of his heavy steps leaves an imprint in the dirt, as he stares down the small blonde girl. She trembles, causing drops of the water to slosh out of the bucket. He growls, towering over her, as he comes to a stop in front of her. He raises his arm holding the axe, and wipes the blood from his sword off on his sleeve. He then sheaths the blade.

     The mercenary does the same for the axe blade on his other arm, before lowering the axe, never taking his eyes off the girl. After this he turns his attention fully to her, clicking his teeth together, thinking. With a quick snap, he snatches the bucket away from her. He checks the bucket, seeing water in it, and grunts motioning for the girl to run off.

     As she does so, he tilts the bucket back, taking heavy gulps as the water rushes down over his face, and garments. He raises the bucket over his head, and lets the remaining water wash over his hair and face, rinsing some of the blood away. It almost looks as if he's crying blood.

     He never heard the arrow, until the whistle reached him, and stuck into his leg. He groans, dropping the bucket and reaches down breaking the arrow off in his leg immediately. He looks up as another one plunges in his arm, then another, and another. Each of them attached to a thick rope. He turns, looking for his attackers, and tangles himself up further. The militiamen begin stepping out of the trees, circling him, but keeping enough distance to hold the ropes taught.

     The Hessian's strength is phenomenal as it takes nearly a dozen men and their weapons to hold him in place. Klaus roars out in anger, extending his arms for the sky as his face burns red and his eyes turn bloodshot. He looks back down, just as an old man approaches with the little girl clung tightly to his back leg. The old man raises another cross bow and fires, the arrow sticking through the Hessian's eye. The monstrous man screams out in pain, before looking back at the old man, growling, as blood pours down his face from his eye socket.

     Everything fades to black as a young militia member, almost the Hessian's size, hammers him in the back of the head with a large piece of lumber. The Hessian hangs there from the ropes, and the old man that had just walked up raises his arm, and twirls it in the air.

     “Alright, tie him up and get him back to the town square!”

     The Hessian awoke with something choking him tightly. He stretched his jaw, then his neck, finding something scratching at it. Klaus looks up, finding a rope tied around his neck, and looks down to find a platform with a drop door underneath him.  He pulls his arms behind his back, finding that his wrists had been tied, as well as his ankles.

     The town square is full of people, watching him as he stands there. The arrow had been broken off in his eye, and blood had started to pool underneath him from the arrow wounds. The old man that had fired the arrow into his eye steps onto the platform, wearing clerical clothing, as he clutches a bible to his chest.

     “You think you do God's work?” the Hessian hissed at the old man, as he crossed the Hessian, and kissed the Bible in his hands before opening it. Klaus turns his eyes out to the crowd, and the insane look on his face, makes them all step back. “I am the wrathful hand of God. You know nothing of God! Your impediment of my duties will bring hell to all of you, I swear it! To everyone on this land, for all time! If you kill me now, I will ride again! Your land, your homes, your descendents will be mine!”

     The old man pauses at this inferred blasphemy, and closes the Bible, skipping any prayers the Hessian may have otherwise received. The old man drags his hand across his throat, and one of the militiamen standing below pulls the lever, dropping the Hessian through the door.

     Klaus gags as he drops several feet. The rope pulls tight around his thick neck, as he sways, staring up at the hole above him. The old man steps to the edge of the hole looking down at him. The Hessian grits his teeth, growling up at the man, as he feels the rope cut into his neck. Blood runs down his chest and back, as it digs deeper and deeper. Mothers cover their children’s eyes as the rope digs into his carotid artery.

     This still doesn't stop the Hessian who twists at the neck attempting to escape. And right up until his body weight is too much for the flesh to hold, and his body falls off part way down his spine and lands on the ground with a heavy thud. His head hangs there by the rope, partial spine hanging from it, and his face twitches.

     A grave stone had been set next to a large hole, and several young strong men lift the Hessian's body up and drop it into the hole. The old man steps up behind them, throwing in the Hessian's cloth-wrapped head. The little girl brings him the axe, and the old man throws it in the hole, as well.