Dark Sanity
Chapter Six

The Gunslinger

Flint woke up the following day feeling rejuvenated. He walked over to the window and looked out: dawn had arrived. After taking a good long look at the ranch he’d once called home, he turned away, opened his wardrobe, and took out his favorite attire: a beige scully shirt with a suede vest, fringed gloves, shotgun-style chaps made of smooth leather—which overlapped his brownish-blue denim jeans—and oiled chestnut-colored boots. After dressing up, Flint attached his holster.

This was the first time in nearly a year that Flint felt so alive. He confidently stared at himself in the mirror. A new glare of life stirred in his old blue eyes. He’d finally begun to see past this illusory life as a family man that the townsfolk had claimed to be real when in fact it was nothing more than a life of imprisonment. And he knew that if he wanted this to end, he would have to leave Desonas forever. A broad grin formed on his chapped lips as he put his brown-brimmed hat on, tipping it at himself.

He was able to walk with pride, his spurs chinking. Not a moment later, he glanced into Sarah’s bedroom, hoping she was still asleep. She was, however, wide awake, sitting with Tom by the window.

“Dad?” called out Tom, surprised to see his father.

“Morning,” said Flint, reserved. The trio hugged one another as though nothing bad had happened over the past few months. “What’re you two doing up so early?”

“We were just talking about her wedding,” said Tom. “Isn’t it great?”

“I couldn’t be happier,” said Flint, glimpsing at Donna through the window. He looked at his daughter and loosely added, “Jake is a good man. He deserves you.”

Sarah felt that her father was acting a bit odd—there was a rather cold aura about him this morning, as though he had something to hide. Her father always called Tom “son” but didn’t this time, and she felt he’d given her fake compliments about the wedding, trying to say anything just to make her smile so he could go on with whatever he had planned.

“Is something wrong?” she asked suspiciously.

Flint stared blankly at Sarah and then walked over to the windowsill, staring at the ranch again. He kept quiet for a while. His silence made his children feel uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t comfortable either. Then he thought to himself, it’s now or never.

“I need to leave,” he said.

“What do you mean, leave?” asked Sarah. “Leave for a few hours, one day, a few weeks, or what?”

Finally facing his children, he said, “I know you read my journal.”

“No,” said Tom, quickly shaking his head.

“Yes, I did,” said Sarah snappishly. “Marshal Salomon has it now. And he told me that if you go on about it, to tell him.”

“Did he now?” said Flint. He smirked at Sarah when she nodded and added, “Well, you can tell him anything you want. Regardless of how you feel, I’m leaving to replace Hamarah, and there’s nothing you or anyone can do about it.”

“If you leave, I’ll never forgive you,” she said.

Hearing her unsympathetic words, Flint swallowed heavily. There was something about Sarah that made him admire her above all women; she had remarkable principles, he conceded. Still, his love for her wouldn’t hold him back from his calling.

“Then don’t forgive me,” he said, beginning to walk away.

Sarah burst into tears. “But what about my wedding?” She suddenly lost all the strength she had and stuttered, “Y-you said th-that you wo-would walk m-me down th-the aisle. You sa-said you wo-wouldn’t miss it ev-even if the wo-world was co-coming to a-an end.”

Flint stopped in the middle of the hallway and replied, “The world ended millennia ago. I am leaving, and that is final.”

“You selfish bastard!” she shouted, weeping. Sarah had finally cursed at her father. She was so loud that Tom flinched. “You’re an ungrateful, self-centered, indifferent, and unfaithful bastard!”

“I know,” said Flint, glancing at his sniveling daughter. “The two of you are adults now. You’ve taken good care of the house and farm while I was a mess these past few months. You have both shown me that this is your place in the world. You belong here. But I don’t. The wilds call out to me every day. No matter how hard I try to run, it eats me up. Hamarah is waiting for me. I need to replace her.”

“You’re senile!” she yelled out. “She’s not even real! You betrayed mom for a perverted fantasy in your twisted head!” She pushed her father out of the way as she pulled her brother by the wrist. “Come on, Tommy. We’re going to tell Marshal Salomon.”

Flint stood still for a moment. He listened to Sarah stomp her way down the stairs with her brother until they were gone—the door slamming shut made it obvious to him that he was alone. He felt terrible about Sarah and genuinely wanted to be at her wedding, but he absolutely refused to face the townspeople after everything that had happened. And he certainly didn’t want to tell them he was leaving to replace a woman who only seemed to exist in his dreams.

He spent the next hour packing for the long journey. First he gathered some clothes in his wardrobe and put it in a knapsack. Then he prepared vegemite sandwiches in another bag with two large wineskins full of water. The last thing he needed was protection—bullets, and lots of them. He went to his old, creaky attic and pulled out some ammunition. Unfortunately he didn’t have much. If only he could visit Joey and get some supplies from him; but no, he thought to himself, he dared not face him. Despite how he felt, he needed to overcome his shame and ask his comrade for help.

Flint was finally set and left the attic. When he walked through the hallway of the second floor, he heard the front door open. He stopped, wondering if his children had returned. He’d left his knapsacks in the kitchen, so he’d have to show his face to whoever had entered his house in order to get them. Flint went down the stairs and stepped into his kitchen, surprisingly replaceing the marshal’s wife, Marielle, sitting at the table. And even more surprising to him was that she had his journal.

It looked as though she’d been sitting there for years, soaking up the world’s misery. The duo awkwardly stared at each other, silence descending over the room. Marielle, however, broke the silence by throwing the journal at Flint’s face.

“Thanks,” he said, catching it. “I was looking for this.”

“How dare you!” exclaimed Marielle, rising from her chair. She rushed over to him while screaming, “You’ve betrayed your wife and children!”

“Mmhmm,” he muttered, secretly grabbing a knife from the kitchen counter. Marielle reached out to slap him. That instant, he grabbed her hand, twisted it, and put her in a chokehold while placing the tip of his knife by her throat. She shrieked in disbelief. “How long have I been here?” he demanded.

“What are you talking abo—” She choked, Flint tightening his grip on her throat. “Si-sixteen years.”

“Are the children mine?” he asked.

Marielle hesitated but eventually replied, “No.”

“They don’t even know, do they?”

Marielle shook her head.

“Where are they?”

She didn’t answer him. Flint squeezed her neck further. Choking violently, her face was beginning to turn red.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

“Ron...they’re with Ronald,” she coughed.

“Thanks.”

Flint swerved Marielle around, slamming her face into the kitchen table. He bashed her against the table so hard that it split in half. She was unconscious before she could even drop to the floor. Tossing the knife away, he left his house. He stood on the porch and gazed skyward; the black-spotted sun beamed hard on him. Flint noticed that Donna was still in the corral and walked over to her.

“Sorry, girl,” he said, patting her. “I guess they forgot or just didn’t get a chance to put you back in the barn. It works out though, since you and I are going on a long journey. But first we’re going to wake up Joey because I need some help. Then we’ll be off.”

Upon mounting his mare, he tugged the reins. Donna galloped toward the town square. Traveling at dawn had always been normal to him, yet there was something abnormal about it this time. At first, he thought it was the unsettling feeling about his past that had caused him to think this way. When he reached the town square, however, his theory changed. Not one person was there, and the buildings’ doors were open.

Flint felt that there was definitely something wrong about Desonas. He hitched Donna at a post near The Wild Owl and walked through the batwing doors—no one was there either, not even Walter Hamel.

“Where the hell is everyone?” he asked himself. He left Walter’s saloon and stepped into the gun shop. “Hey, pal, you left your door open.” No one answered. “Joey?” He went upstairs to check the bedroom, yet his best friend wasn’t there. After checking each room, he descended the stairs, searching the cellar. Not replaceing his comrade caused him to sigh with frustration. “I don’t like this one bit.”

There were still a few more places for Flint to check. Before leaving, he stocked up on ammunition. He slung a bandolier of rifle shells over his vest. And since he had no bullets in his waist belt, he filled it with magnum bullets. Afterwards, he grabbed a Winchester rifle. Lastly, he left a pouch of coins on the counter. He felt, even though they didn’t have an official economy, it was the right thing to do.

“Farewell, my friend,” he said, exiting Joey’s shop.

He walked across the road and stepped into Doctor Tutherfield clinic. She wasn’t inside. Even Ronald Salomon’s office was empty. Desonas had apparently been abandoned. Flint stood in the town square with a look of distress. Although he didn’t know what was happening, he had to leave. The only person whom he could rely on at this point was Yeramba, so he swung up his mare and traveled in the direction of Uluru, where the aboriginal and his tribe resided.

As he rode south, the sky became cloudier. Seeing this didn’t ease his nerves, especially since he was already disturbed by the abnormal nightmare he’d just awakened to. The sporadic sounds of wildlife were his only consolation.

He reached the Wakaya’s territory after a few hours of traveling and spotted their totems right away. It would have been helpful to hear Yeramba’s bullroarer again, but Flint eventually saw the aboriginals resting on the ground. Relieved, he dismounted Donna and hitched her to a nearby tree. Flint was anxious to speak with Yeramba. When he approached the aboriginals, however, he realized they weren’t resting; they were dead. All of them had bullet wounds. Flint saw Jatma, who appeared to be the only one breathing, and rushed over to him.

“Anangu,” rasped Jatma, “they…they took—”

“It’s all right, don’t speak,” said Flint.

He kneeled down, trying to help Jatma who groaned in agony. Jatma began to convulse, and then he died. It started to rain after he stopped breathing. Flint shut Jatma’s eyes and stayed with him for a while, as though waiting for a spirit to appear and guide the aboriginal into the dreamtime. Instead, the only thing that appeared was a spear. It plunged into the mud-spattered soil no more than two inches away from Flint. He swiftly rose to his feet while spinning out his Peacemaker as three aboriginals approached, screaming at him in their native tongue.

“I didn’t do it!” exclaimed Flint. He placed his palm over his sodden vest, shaking his head. “No! Not me! I’m not your enemy! I am a friend!”

The remaining aboriginals continued screaming at Flint. The others who belonged to the tribe lay dead. Even the women and children were dead. Flint was drenched as he gazed at the massacre before him. Meanwhile, two of the three aboriginals kept their weapons lifted high, on the verge of attacking. The one who’d already thrown his spear, on the contrary, walked over to Flint with a look of despair.

“Anangu?” called out the aboriginal.

“Yes,” said Flint, putting his revolver away.

“Demons come,” continued the aboriginal. “They take Yeramba. Anangu must save Yeramba.”

“Where did they take him?” asked Flint. “Where did they take Yeramba?”

The aboriginal pointed at Kata Tjuta. Flint mounted his horse by the time the aboriginal lowered his hand.

“I will replace him,” he said. “I promise.”

Flint took off on Donna and headed straight toward Kata Tjuta. The wind picked up, and it rained heavier with occasional flickers of lightning. Hardly any animals were in sight as Flint tugged the reins of his mare, riding faster through the land. The desert oaks swayed due to the harsh wind as he rode past them. Clouds covered the dark sky. There wasn’t a single pocket of light. It was as if the planet was crying because of the loss of its aboriginal children, filling the land with its thundering rage.

Drawing closer to Kata Tjuta, he heard Yeramba’s bullroarer. Flint gave out a sigh of relief, following the wind melody. The rain, meanwhile, worsened. The last thing Flint needed was another storm. He finally reached Kata Tjuta, trying to ignore the weather, and pursued the bullroarer’s sound that caused the wind to resonate. Yet it was difficult for him to replace its source amid the thirty-six bornhardts, not to mention the ruthless storm.

When he arrived at the center of Kata Tjuta, he spotted Yeramba standing on one of the smaller rock formations. It was a relief to see him, thought Flint; however, he’d been tied by a lasso, and he wasn’t alone. Beside him were the residents of Desonas. Marshal Salomon, who’d been using the bullroarer, stood among the miners and townsfolk.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Cross,” said Salomon.

Flint glared at Salomon and then observed his entourage carefully. Deputy Ted Thornton, Jake Salomon, Joey Stalls, Walter Hamel, Doctor Penny Tutherfield, Daren Linko, Kevin Smith, Martin Aleman, Brock and Bas Panzo, and several other miners whom Flint wasn’t familiar with stood there, along with the Steward and Froehlich families. Most alarming to him, however, was Tom and Sarah being with them; though, they weren’t armed with guns like the others.

“Dad, stop this madness!” rebuked Sarah. “The world is dead; there’s nothing out there. You can’t just abandon us.”

“She’s right, dad,” said Tom. “Mom killed herself because of your obsessions.”

“Amanda wasn’t your mother,” said Flint.

Sarah looked baffled. Similar to her, Tom wore a contorted expression on his face. Neither of them knew what to say after hearing their father say something so absurd. Even though they loved him, his words made no sense.

“This entire life of ours has been a lie,” continued Flint. “They put us here to mock our desire for freedom. It’s possible they even murdered your real parents.”

“Are you insane?” yelled Sarah, fed up with her father. “Listen to yourself!” She took a deep breath and said, “I used to have so much respect for you. I had as much love and respect as Tom had for you. But now I understand how mom felt. This is simply your excuse to leave and fantasize about that woman in your deranged journal!”

“Tommy,” called out Flint. “You believe me, right?”

“Dad, why can’t things return to normal?” asked Tom. “You know, like the way it was when you took me hunting last year with Joey.”

“Because I can’t turn my back on the people who depend on me,” said Flint assertively. “My comrades sacrificed everything for me. Once I began to remember the war, I realized that there can be no turning back.”

“War?” said Sarah. “This is crazy.”

“What happened to you, Flint?” asked Jake. “The last time I saw you, you were a damn hero. There’s no need to make up all of these lies.”

“So you don’t believe me either, huh?” grimaced Flint. He gazed at Salomon with a look of contempt. “It seems everyone has already been brainwashed into this sick game of yours.” He paused for a brief moment while glaring at the others. “Even though I risked my life and saved all your lives in that mine, you still think I’m crazy?”

The titan-steel brothers were the only ones who were skeptical about the situation. They didn’t even know what was happening; they cast their eyes down, slightly lowering their guns. Flint stopped glaring at the townsfolk, focusing his attention on Salomon.

“I just want to know one thing,” said Flint. “Why did you do it, Marshal?”

“Why?” said Salomon, frowning. “I thought you remembered everything.”

Flint shook his head.

“Only pieces of the puzzle, huh?” said Solomon. “One reason, Cross: the tribunal. In this day and age, it’s either you agree to die or agree to live with the tribunal.”

“And you chose the latter?” guessed Flint.

Marshal Salomon nodded smugly.

“You too, Joey?” asked Flint.

“Isn’t it obvious?” answered Joey, his accent gone. “Come on, Flint, wasn’t it you who once told me that worth’s the name of the game?”

“Well played…”

“Now, now, don’t you get all depressed on us, Cross,” said Salomon. “We never wanted things to come to this. Our job was simple: to look after you and make sure your rebellious traits were suppressed, that’s all. If you just let Penny examine you—” He stretched his hand over to Doctor Tutherfield who pulled out a needle—“then everything will return to normal. No one else needs to get hurt. It’s a win-win situation.”

Flint raised his magnum at Salomon. The townsfolk readied their guns, aiming at Flint. Normally that wouldn’t have affected Flint; however, Salomon seized his daughter and put the muzzle of a gun to her head. “I know she isn’t your daughter, but you still care about her. So don’t do anything stupid.”

“Dad,” sputtered Jake. “You promised not to hurt her.”

“I’m not your father, Jake, so shut up,” said Salomon.

Jake backed away in dismay.

In the meantime, Tom attempted to free his sister. Joey, however, grabbed Tom and held him tight. Salomon kept his gaze on Flint despite the commotion.

“Look around you, Cross,” said Salomon. “It’s one to twenty-five.”

Flint glimpsed around at the townsfolk again but maintained his position and target. He noticed that the only distraught and confused ones there were Jake and the Panzo brothers. The other gunners were ready to shoot him. They wore the most vicious expressions he’d ever seen; it seemed unreal to him.

“I may be impossibly outnumbered,” began Flint, “but one thing’s certain: before your goons take me down, I’ll have the pleasure of blowing you sky high—so high you’ll even see Altjira.”

Salomon swallowed. He knew Flint wasn’t bluffing. “I’m curious, how did you get your memories back?” he asked.

“You mean to tell me that the great, almighty leader of Desonas can’t figure it out?” said Flint in a humorous tone. “Simple enough: Browder warned me about the ‘greens’ before Joey here killed him. I stopped eating them several months ago.”

Salomon turned to Doctor Tutherfield. “Is that possible, Penny?”

“He’s lying,” replied Tutherfield flatly. “The plants that grow bush tucker near his home were sprayed with the strongest drug we have. No one can recover from its narcotic suppression by not eating them anymore, even if several years passed. Something else caused this, and I think he’s hiding it.”

“Unlike you, I don’t lie,” said Flint. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“I’m losing my patience with you, Cross,” said Salomon. He pressed his revolver harder against Sarah’s temple. “No one has to get hurt. Put your gun down, or I’ll be forced to splatter her brains all over this rock.”

Silence descended over Kata Tjuta.

“All right,” Flint finally said. “You win.”

He lowered his magnum. The heavy wind pounded against him, causing his clothes to sway while the heavy rain drenched him. It was over—that had been the message; yet Salomon saw the hideous glare in Flint’s eyes; those sadistic blue eyes that had made him a prisoner for far too long. Marshal Salomon had never been more terrified in that second during which Flint had lowered his weapon.

A wicked smirk grew on Flint’s lips. Nearly as fast as the speed of light, he lifted his magnum back in the air and blasted Salomon.

There really was no way to accurately describe what had happened to Marshal Salomon’s face; it simply exploded. Sarah almost became deaf as blood and brains splattered all over her. She fainted and tilted to the side, falling. Jake caught her, pulling her away to safety. As for the others, they fiddled with their weapons—distraught—and targeted Flint who took cover between two of Kata Tjuta’s bornhardts. Tom attempted to break free, but Joey pushed him away and shot him twice. Afterwards, he ran away.

Brock and Bas glanced at each other after they saw what had happened to Tom and knew they had to intervene. The titan-steel brothers aimed their shotguns at the Steward and Froehlich couples and shot them.

In the meantime, Flint ran between the bornhardts as he unloaded an entire chamber of revolver bullets into Kevin Smith’s chest. He then turned around, spotting Martin Aleman who stood on top of a bornhardt, aiming his rifle at him. Not a second later, Flint leveled his magnum at Martin and blasted him off the rock.

Flint reloaded his revolver when Daren Linko abruptly appeared behind him, attempting to stab him with a knife.

“I’ll have my coins back!” he exclaimed.

“In a few seconds you won’t need it,” retorted Flint.

He grabbed Daren’s hand and twisted it, shoving the serrated knife into Daren’s mouth while blowing a hole through his stomach with a magnum bullet. His intestines splurged out of him while he fell to the ground. After reloading his guns, he climbed a bornhardt. Upon reaching the top, he spotted Walter below on a smaller bornhardt. Grabbing his lasso, Flint tossed it down until it fell over Walter’s neck and then yanked it back up, snapping his neck. Flint released the lasso and jumped down.

When landing, he noticed seven gunmen scattered on different bornhardts. They noticed him and opened fire. Flint instantly shot six of them with one hundred percent precision, cocking his Peacemaker. Deputy Thornton, the seventh gunman, was still standing. Flint’s revolver was out of ammo, and his magnum was holstered. Thornton smirked, ready to shoot. That instant, somebody blasted him off the mountainous bornhardt with a shotgun shell. Anxiously looking down, Flint saw Bas Panzo. He never had a brighter smile, giving Bas a thumbs up. It was a relief for him to know that the titan-steel brothers were on his side.

All the opposing townsfolk had been wiped out, with the exception of Joey who’d fled when the gunfire started. Doctor Tutherfield was also alive and attempted to leave. Spotting her mount a horse, Flint swiftly pulled out his magnum, spun it, and shot her in the back without even trying to aim. The magnum’s force caused her to be jolted off her horse, only to fall dead to the ground.

“It’s over,” said Bas grimly.

Flint heard him and climbed down. Upon reaching the surface of Kata Tjuta, he shook the Panzo brothers’ hands.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me,” said Flint.

He abruptly heard his daughter shriek. Flint and the titan-steel brothers rushed over to her. She was crying hysterically next to Tom who lay dead in a pool of his own blood.

“My son!” exclaimed Flint, running over to him.

“Joey did this,” said Bas, shaking his head.

“Tommy!” cried out Flint, holding his would-be son.

Jake kept silent and held Sarah who sobbed over his shoulder. All he could do was stand there, utterly perplexed by what had happened. The man he thought to be his father had betrayed him, and yet there was also despair within him after seeing his supposed father killed. The titan-steel brothers looked just as confused about the situation; they nevertheless freed Yeramba. Flint couldn’t do anything except weep as he held his son’s lifeless body.

The rainstorm persisted. Thunder burst with lightning. Wind scrabbled. Earth was giving its last breath of life. Though, nothing seemed to matter to Flint outside the fact that his son was dead. He knew that Tom wasn’t his biological son, but deep down inside his indifferent heart, he still cared about him. Despite living in this hellhole of a world for sixteen agonizing years, he’d gained a deep love for Tom. Seeing him dead was unreal—it was a living nightmare.

The titan-steel brothers trudged over to their stagecoach, took out their mining shovels, and started to dig. Jake, meanwhile, stayed by Sarah’s side. Yeramba, however, approached the Panzo brothers and held out his hands.

“No dig here,” he said. “This sacred ground.”

“Everywhere is sacred, shaman,” retorted Bas. “If you got a problem with life being just as sacred as this place, then you got a problem with me.”

“And me,” said Brock coarsely.

Yeramba hesitated at first but bowed and withdrew. He sat by the surface of a bornhardt, humming an indigenous chant. One hour passed while Brock and Bas dug a grave. When they finished, Flint carried his son and gently laid him down in the damp soil. Somehow, even though Tom was dead, he looked at peace. Flint placed his hands on him and cried again.

Sarah surprisingly had stopped sobbing, but her eyes were still bloodshot. She stood still with the others until Flint rose out from the grave. Each of them then grabbed a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over Tom. Yeramba was the only one who refrained from doing that. His path was different; however, he neither intervened nor imposed his tradition. Shortly after, Brock and Bas buried Tom as best they could. Subsequently, they carried a large rock and placed it in front of the grave like a tombstone.

“Thank you...both of you,” said Flint.

Giving a faint nod, Bas approached him. “Here,” he said, handing Flint back the hunting knife he’d borrowed when they were inside the mine several months ago.

“Thanks again, Bas.”

Using the knife, he etched an inscription into the rock that lay next to the grave:

Here rests Tom Cross

You will always be remembered, my son.

Silence descended upon them, disrupted only by the heavy rain. It was getting late, and the storm showed no signs of ending. Flint and Sarah hugged each other after that long, silent minute. They had no words for this tragedy.

Sarah didn’t know how to handle her loss; she wondered, was there a way to get through this nightmare? She desperately wanted to feel numb. For the first time in her life she wished, like her father in the past, that this was just a horrendous dream. She knew, however, that this was as real as when her mother had committed suicide.

As for Flint, he’d hoped there was something he could say to make Sarah feel better. But the truth was that no words would ever be enough for this. All he could do was hold her.

“Flint,” called out Bas. “What happened? Marshal Salomon told us Browder had been killing the aboriginals and that you sided with him. He claimed you were planning to attack Desonas with Browder. I know this may not be a good place to speak, but I think it’s time you told us why everyone went ballistic and tried killing you.”

“Browder’s been dead for months,” said Flint. “Joey killed him. Listen, it’s a very long story. I don’t even know everything yet; though, before I say anymore, I think it would be best if we replace some cover until the storm passes.”

Brock pointed at the large stagecoach that he and his brother owned. The survivors saw it and quickly took refuge inside.

“Okay,” began Flint, “all I can really tell you right now is that there seems to be a higher power involved. I think there’s some kind of government that did this to us…something called the tribunal.”

“What’s that?” asked Bas.

“I think the tribunal is the seat of power that chose to put me here,” said Flint. He sighed and added, “Don’t think I’m crazy, but before Browder was killed, he called me Commandant and told me not to eat the bush tucker. There was obviously something put in the ones growing around my farm that blocked my memories. For some reason I still had visions. After listening to Browder, my dreams became more vivid.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jake.

“Anangu speak of dreamtime,” said Yeramba.

“Yes,” said Flint in a somewhat pensive tone. He thought of Hamarah for a moment and then explained, “I had blurry visions about a war within the dreamtime. And somehow, I have a feeling that Browder was with me. I believe this war was real, and it’s possible that I may have even been the leader. If this is true, then our lives have been a lie this whole time. We were put here as a mockery by the tribunal, and they clearly put a great deal of effort into this charade to frighten others.”

“To frighten others?” said Brock. “You mean we were put here to be made an example of in case others defy them?”

“Right,” said Flint.

“But that’s crazy,” said Jake. “What about Sarah and me? We just turned twenty. That’s impossible. How could we have been a part of all this?”

“You couldn’t have been,” said Flint. “But it’s possible that your real parents were a part of it.” Jake was taken aback by Flint’s response. “Jake, I’m sorry you had to replace out this way. I myself can hardly believe what’s happening. Every second I keep wondering if I’ll wake up and be in Desonas again with…with Tommy.”

“Dad, what about mom?” asked Sarah.

“I told you, she wasn’t your mother. I know it’s hard to believe, but you need to trust me. Most importantly, I need you to stay in Desonas.”

“What?” she said, startled. “After all that’s happened?”

“This isn’t about you,” said Flint sternly. “It’s about me. My entire life here was staged by the tribunal to make me suffer for something I did. And even though I still can’t remember everything, all of you would be in danger following me. It’s best if you continue your life in Desonas.”

With the exception of Sarah, the others were so shocked that they didn’t quite grasp what Flint had told them. Despite the fact that Sarah was as flustered as the others, she knew her father was ready to leave.

“Will you ever come back?” she asked, trying not to cry.

“When I replace out what this all about, yes,” he said, looking at her with sadness.

They hugged each other tightly. Sarah cried again. She felt so lonely. First she’d lost her mother, then her brother, and now her father was leaving. The only person she had left to keep her company was Jake. And with so many of the townspeople dead, she felt the town would fall apart.

“Be strong,” said Flint, rubbing her back. “Always remember that I love you. You will always be my daughter.” He then fixed his eyes on Jake. “The two of you can have a beautiful life in Desonas.”

“We’ll look after them,” said Bas.

“Honestly, you’ll all have to be careful,” said Flint. “I don’t know what the tribunal will do at this point, but I have a feeling they’ll ignore Desonas because I’m the one they want. And that’s why it’s best for me to leave. Still, I want you to watch your backs.”

“You can count on us, Flint,” said Brock.

Flint gave them a faint smile, trying to look appreciative even though he was deeply depressed about the death of his son.

“By the way, Marielle is unconscious in my house,” he said.

“We’ll take care of her,” said Bas.

“Does tribunal hunt me?” asked Yeramba.

“No,” said Flint. “Just stay away from Desonas and tell no one about me.”

Yeramba agreed and said, “Now you go new journey with land of spirits—the creator beings guide Anangu.”

Yes, thought Flint, it was finally time for him to leave and replace the truth that had been taken and kept from him. He stepped outside when the rainstorm lessened. Sarah hugged him again, and Jake, Brock, and Bas each shook his hand. Yeramba simply bowed. Flint bowed in return and then mounted Donna. He knew Sarah didn’t want this; he knew he was leaving at the worst possible time, but his heart was set on replaceing Hamarah. If he could replace her, he felt that he’d be one step closer to replaceing out more about his past, as well as where the tribunal dwelled. Flint glanced at his daughter one last time, bidding farewell to the life he had lived for sixteen years. He then tugged Donna’s reins and rode north.

The others didn’t want to leave until Flint was out of sight. Jake continued to hold Sarah who cried, no longer watching. Meanwhile, the titan-steel brothers grimly gazed at the northern wilds where Flint soon vanished from their sight.

In the meantime, Flint pondered about everything that had happened over the past few months as he journeyed north, beginning with his visions of Hamarah. Within days, Flint’s life had turned upside down. His son had been brutally murdered, and his best friend had betrayed him. Almost all the townspeople from Desonas had betrayed him. Most of all, it seemed that his life had been nothing more than an illusion.

Nonetheless, today was a victory, he conceded. Flint had finally experienced the genuine freedom he had longed for. He had finally uncovered a part of his lost soul. His memories were gradually returning to him, and that was more than what he could ask for. He still didn’t know for sure whether Hamarah was real, even though his instincts told him that she was. But this much he knew: the tribunal existed, and there was a terrible war somewhere out there that he needed to either rejoin or reignite. There were still many questions to be answered; however, Flint was confident he would eventually discover them. A new journey was beginning for the gunslinger. Though, this time, it wasn’t going to be within the dreamtime.