Hell is all that's left...5 liters...
“See now, that’s classy, old man. We wish an audience I like the sound of that.” Lucan pivoted and sneered at the villagers who had joined Romus. “So, you’ve come here with the old man eh? You want an audience too. You want to tell me what, that I’m a bad man? That the little whelp out in the yard deserves my sympathy?”
"Lucan stuck one of his meaty paws in Romus’ face, nearly striking him. “Look at that, doctorman, you see there, the little whelp bit me. I suppose you want to give him a medal and a meal eh?”
"Romus leaned in to examine the small wound, “I have ointments, poultices to draw out the infection…”
"Lucan pulled his hand away. “No thanks, doctorman. Examples are all the medicine I need, and it’s all these peasants deserve.”
"The big man turned away from the gathered villagers and nearly lost his footing in the snow. He regained his composure and kicked at the ground as if the snow were some sort of living enemy he could defeat. He screamed at the ground and the flakes falling from the sky, “This fraking snow! When does it ever stop!” He waited for a moment then, as if for an answer, and when none came, he continued to walk over to the whimpering boy still tied to the pole."
“I’m not the monster here. The monster is out there!” Lucan pointed out at the burnt fields and houses, near enough to where Garrett was hiding that he ducked further into the shadows cast by the layers of dark, snow laden clouds. “He’s killed half my boys, he burnt your food, your homes!” The big man changed his demeanor then, if for only a moment, he turned back to the assembled villagers, “Granted, some of my boys have misbehaved, but I deal with my own, and just as swiftly, but they’re boys, and boys will be boys. They aren’t monsters. Your swamp ghost, he’s the real monster!”
"Lucan swaggered over to Romus then and nearly slipped again in the snow, cursing it until he regained his footing. He planted a finger in the old, doctorman’s sternum, nearly off balancing him. “Tell me, what good has your swamp ghost done you? Huh? Your ghost is the monster, not me. He’s out there watching and he’s done nothing, not for you, not for that whelp out there, nothing. There’s only a handful of us left, what’s he waiting for? He could have saved that whelp, he killed two of my boys and then he left that frigid bitch and her whelp for me to take care of. I tried, folks, I gave them food, and drink, I gave them a place by the fire but that bitch didn’t want to do the math…”
"Lucan stopped then, he looked out on the little courtyard of the village, the pole stuck in the ground, the boy tied to it, the corpse nearby half covered in fresh snow. Lucan advanced on the boy and Romus and the villagers started to follow him. A few of the strangers came running from the drinking hall to keep them away from the big man. He got close to the boy, stretched out in the snow still reaching for his mother’s corpse."
"Lucan got within a few feet of the boy and looked around at the burnt fields and buildings, he took a deep breath, blowing a steaming cloud of air from his lungs as he announced to no one in particular, “I am the king of shit!” He looked down on the boy then and spoke, softer but still loud enough to be heard from across the field. “You want her, huh? One last hug maybe, no, you want to shake her awake. Get her to wake back up so you can have a mommy again? That’s what I did anyway.”
"Lucan bent down, speaking even softer. Garrett could barely hear him above the sound of the breeze blowing snow from the north. “I was in a hut, no better than these and she was lying next to the table where we ate dinner every night. Her brains were leaking out of the side of her head from where they caved it in and all I wanted was for her to wake up and be alive again.”
"The boy lifted his head, a fresh squall of noise erupted from his dry throat, it was something between a cry for help and a protest. He raised one small hand and grabbed feebly at the cuff of Lucan’s pants. Lucan smiled at the sound, it was a genuine smile, a pleasant response to horror. That moment unlocked something inside Garrett, it felt as though a number of small mental cogs that had been stuck, teeth grinding, all of a sudden sank into alignment. It was a trap, easily noticed and just as easily avoided but that didn’t matter anymore. There was a certain electricity in the air, it urged Garrett to move when he knew he shouldn’t. It wasn’t about the plight of the boy. It wasn’t about the villagers and their dull slide into subjugation. Garrett recognized something in the sly smile that Lucan gave the boy then. It was familial as well as familiar."
"Romus ran forward, past the strangers that had come out to keep the villagers away from their half mad leader. He saw what was coming next, but he was too late to help, everyone is always too late to help."
"Lucan pulled his leg away from the boy and lifted his boot clad foot high over the boy’s head. He drove it down and the boy’s head made a sound like a coconut being driven down against a sharp rock. Garrett jerked away from the shadows but kept himself below the burnt wall of the building. He felt a hitching in his chest, his breath stopped coming at his command and seemed to hold for a moment."
"Romus reached Lucan and he pushed at the large man, barely moving him even with how staggering drunk he was. The old doctorman screamed, “You’re an animal!”
"Lucan spun and pushed the old man down onto the fresh snow only inches away from the dead child. He pulled his cleaver but the two strangers ran and caught him before he could deliver a killing blow to the doctorman. One of them yelled, “He’s the only doctor we got, boss. Leave him be!”
Lucan stopped his swing and stepped back but he was nearly as quick to drive his fist into the eye of the stranger who spoke up for Romus. Lucan waited for the man to fall, then stand up and apologize for interrupting him before he took the time to sheath his knife before he shouted in the direction of the drinking hall. “Boys! The doctorman’s house doesn’t suit his needs anymore. Take him back there and let him gather his things then move him to the old goal. Put that overgrown hut to the torch along with anyone who wants to stay inside. A pound of silver to whoever finds that peach daughter of his too, it’s well past time she did the simple math.”
"Lucan took one last look around at the burnt fields and buildings and then at the drinking hall and the small group of villagers now shrinking away back to the collection of intact huts. “I told you, didn’t I? Hell is the only thing left for you here!”