Fiction War: On the Wings of Revenge

Note: I entered another contest. In this one, I had three days to write a fiction story (1,000 words max) that incorporated the prompt "Take Flight" in any way that I wanted. I chose to create a character who is on the brink of a tour of revenge, and finds his direction by stumbling upon a deck of cards. Longtime readers might recognize a couple character names.
 
By morning, Canton would be no more. Burned to tinder by the hand of the lunatic Bannon, who craved the flames, and with the law extinct, satiated his need by traversing the dying world and setting it ablaze. Only the plague trumped Bannon’s capacity for destruction, but Snake feared neither the disease nor the man.

 “You stole these cards from Bannon?” Snake shuffled through Red’s deck, sitting with his legs crossed on Rosie’s porch and watching smoke billow up from the west side of Canton. The figures on the cards were painted by a mystic woman back in the once-upon-time world, which is how Snake thought of life before the plague. A green serpent with golden fangs and a crown appeared on the back of each card, the design a joke by Red at Snake’s expense. With Red dead, Snake avoided thinking about the punch line.

 Rosie was slumped against the porch railing, her frazzled hair fighting to escape her braids. Her dress was once pink with black lace, but now was so faded and dirty that the colors were drained from the garment. She drank from a green bottle filled with her own concoction called Plague Juice. Once she finished, she smiled, revealing her toothless, rotted mouth. The plague touched everyone.

“Who cares?” She giggled. “We’re all burning one way or the other.”

“I care.” He slipped the deck into his breast pocket. The cards were like a needle in a compass, an arrow pointing him toward his revenge. Direction had been sorely lacking in Snake’s flight to catch Red’s murderers.

Snake placed his hand on his revolver, and Rosie trembled. She felt his finger caress the trigger, as if he were touching her in the overused spot between her legs and she was experiencing the exhilaration and fear of a virgin before her deflowering.

 “Yeah, he stopped for a romp before starting the fires.” She ogled the gun, wanting to please. The silver-plated six-shooter could enchant others. Snake knew this to be true.

 He left her then, his spurs clinking off the floorboards before reaching the dusty street. He turned at the bottom.

 “Leave here before the fire comes.”

“What for?” She wobbled to her feet, her enchantment broken, and stumbled toward the door.

***

He stalked through the streets of Canton, and the eyes of the plague-ridden leered from behind shuddered windows. They embraced the coming flames as a mercy, and he cared not to deny them that. His business was revenge.

The curiosity for them wasn’t this lanky stranger in a showy white leather jacket with black snakes slithering up both sleeves and a gun on his hip. The curiosity was that this man seemed determined. He had a purpose. A goal. In this world, the only goal was dying. Snake’s resistance to the inevitable injected cold fear into their guts.

 The forsaken shrank deeper into the shadows; only shame joined them.

 ***
A picket fence with a gate separated the church property from the street. Someone had left the gate open, and Snake had a hunch he knew who. He loaded one chamber of his revolver. Bullets were hard to find, and only these would fire from this gun. He had eighteen bullets left.

The pews were empty and an aisle lead to a flaming alter and a burning cross. Bannon knelt before both. A shock of white hair split the lunatic’s dark mane. He wore all black, grayed slightly by the falling ash, and he sneered when he heard Snake’s steps.

“Have you come to worship my flames?” The voice belonged to an insane man, who was enamored by his scorching creation.

“I’ve come for answers only. The fire is no concern of mine.”

“Ha, but the flames are the answer, my child. I am cleansing this place for the second coming. I must burn it all down.”

Snake hadn’t the time for this. Stepping quick and true, he took the aisle in four strides and lifted the man up by his greasy hair. Bannon was too crazy to register surprise. A pleased smile reflected in his pupils, as Snake pulled the deck of cards from his breast pocket, shoving them before the lunatic’s eyes.

 “Where did you get these?”

 Bannon actually cackled. A curdling laugh that harmonized with the crackling flames.

 “You’re the Serpent. I didn’t recognize you off your belly.” He laughed again, but it was cut short by Snake’s fist striking his jaw. Bannon collapsed to the floor.

“Where?”

 “Just a memento, Serpent. The answers you want are across the desert in Greendale and beyond. Mendez, in Greendale, knows more, but you seek Diablo.” Bannon raised both his arms as the church timbers crashed behind him. “I am cleansing this world, and Diablo will return it to glory!”

 The lunatic continued to ramble, and Snake had what he needed. His next destination: Greendale. He made to leave, reaching the doors before the lunatic shouted.

 “Serpent! When they finished with your friend, I burned him. I burn everything.” Bannon laughed. “Turns out he wasn’t dead yet. Screamed the whole time. It was magnificent.”

The last syllable floated in the super-heated air and was punctuated with a blast. Smoke puffed from the revolver’s barrel, the bullet zipped through the space between Snake and Bannon, and a gaping hole appeared in the lunatic’s forehead. Bannon laughed, of course he did, before stumbling backward onto the pyre that once was the alter. Snake holstered the revolver and left the church.

A horse ambled in the street, a fine beast even with the plague eating at its flesh near the hooves. It even wore a saddle. Snake supposed it belonged to the lunatic, and he gave thanks that pleasant surprises still existed.

 Snake rode toward the sunset, across the desert, pushing hard in hopes that the revenge burning in his heart could inspire the horse to grow wings.

By morning, Canton was no more than smoking tinder serving as a charred gravestone.