Chapter Text
A full moon sat amongst a sea of stars, casting beams of silver across the dusty plains of the Badlands. A small group of Aldecaldos huddled around a campfire, five clicks east from the highway where, come sunrise, they would be intercepting a Militech convoy carrying one hell of a payload. But that was tomorrow’s concern, and those not wise or weary enough to get a good night’s sleep, found themselves drinking and laughing around the fire. The soft strums of a guitar serenaded those bold few as they watched the embers dancing into the night sky. Be it a chance to unwind after a long day of driving, or just the desire for companionship, each member had their reason for fighting the sandman. Most were too drunk to think about tomorrow, or too tired to care, but all were too foolish to realise the danger they welcomed as they edged closer to midnight.
As the last guitar chord was picked up and whisked away by the wind, a burly man with thinning black hair and a salt and pepper moustache flicked the cap off a fresh bottle of beer and tilted his Stetson as he addressed the group.
“Now gather round you degenerates. I’ve got a tale to tell.”
“Not another one of your ghost stories, Shaw.” Moaned a scrawny, red-bearded nomad in faded green overalls.
“Oh, quit your cryin’ Tango.” Replied Shaw as he returned to his seat by the fire. “You’re just antsy because my last story made you shit your pants.”
“I told you I ate some bad stew that night. Had nothin’ to do with your lame story.” Argued Tango, crossing his arms defiantly.
Shaw dismissed him with a wave of his hand, taking a swig of his beer before continuing. “This one is called The Shadow Walker.”
The rest of the group had stopped their various conversations, and were now all staring at Shaw, listening intently. The cowboy’s stories had become a tradition on the night before a raid. They believed by facing fear now, they would go into the next day unafraid of the reaper looming over them.
Shaw cleared his throat. “Out here in the Badlands, there roams a creature known as the Shadow Walker. Many have debated over the creature’s origins. Some say it was once a Naitive American, who was captured by the European settlers, and upon refusing to guide them through the harsh terrain of the Badlands, was beaten and thrown in a cave and left to rot. But instead, he welcomed the darkness. He merged with it, learnt from it and became something else.”
“Pffft.” Sniped Tango, swaying back and forth drunkenly on his seat.
Shaw shot the man a stern look. “Others say it’s the vengeful spirit of a primal man from a forgotten civilisation, angry at those who step foot on the land he believes to be his own.”
The steady crackling of the fire was the only thing that broke the silence that had fallen over the group.
Shaw stared into the flames, the flickering light casting long shadows on his weathered features. “Others say it’s not of this world. An ancient being from beyond the mortal realm, who preys on those who wander too far from the light. But there’s one thing they all agree on. Whatever this creature is, it has an appetite for human flesh.”
The cowboy’s gaze drifted around the group, noting the varying expressions of intrigue and unease. He took another contemplative sip of his beer.
“During the day, it lies in wait, confined to the darkness of its cave. It never sleeps, always watching, always listening as we go about our lives blissfully unaware. But as the sun falls beneath the horizon, and the Badlands are blanketed in night, it goes on the hunt.”
Shaw finished his beer, pausing to grab another from the cooler at his side. “You’ve felt it before; that prickling on the back of your neck, that churning in your stomach whenever you step into the darkness. That’s the Shadow Walker watching you.”
The wind picked up, fanning the flames of the fire as it snaked its way around the group, causing several nomads to visibly shiver. Shaw smirked. “It’s watching us right now. You can hear it whispering in the wind, like the distant howl of a hungry wolf. And for some unlucky souls, that’s the last thing they ever hear.”
Shaw leaned in closer to the fire, speaking in a low voice. The group moved in closer too, straining to hear him.
“And if you listen to those howling winds closely enough, you can make out what it’s saying.”
He spoke quieter still, his voice barely audible over the moaning wind. “Feed me, feed me, feed me… SNAP!”
Shaw clapped his hands together, causing the group to jump out of their seats, many screaming involuntarily. The cowboy chuckled. “So remember, when darkness falls, never stray too far from the light.”
The group was silent for a moment before erupting into a chorus of cheers and claps. Some spoke excitedly amongst themselves; others muttered their appreciation to Shaw. He replied with another tilt of his hat before rising to his feet. “And with that, I bid you goodnight.”
“What a crock of shit.” Tango scoffed. “Alright, imma take a piss.”
The drunken nomad stumbled away from the fire, beer bottle dangling between his fingertips. “Pffft… Shadow Walker… that’s fuckin' dumb" He muttered to himself.
He stopped by a desert shrub, unzipping his fly to relieve himself as he whistled jovially.
The wind wrapped around him, the back of his neck prickled, his stomach churned.
“Feed me!”
The wind snatched the scream from his lungs as his beer bottle smashed against the ground – and he was gone.