Silver Rush
Prologue
The rope broke and he quickly rolled to a painful stop. The horse galloped away, dirt and rocks flying beneath its hooves. He watched it disappear for a long time. It hurt to move, even breathe, and choking on the dust kicked up by the wind didn't ease his suffering. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, gritting his teeth at the scrubs scratching his raw and bleeding skin and letting out a small cry because hell, who'd hear him out here? The land was flat in all directions; with the exception of the mountains on his right, he could see the nothing in all directions.
A hawk cried overhead, and he suddenly thought of a flock of vultures picking at what was half a corpse of a cow. It had been only a few days ago, or it might have been another lifetime. Whenever he saw it, he remembered the vultures, their beaks ripping apart the rotting flesh. Shakily, he tested his legs. They burned and protested, but they weren't broken, which was a miracle. He could limp. Since there was no other landmark to go to and he couldn't go back the way he came, he began heading towards the mountains.
He'd been promised a life of adventure, and it'd been given to him. A life of adventure, short, abrupt, flashing by so fast he wasn't sure how or if it even happened. But he was sure that it had all the elements of an exciting tale: good guys and outlaws, a brash act of heroism, a girl. Except unlike the dime novels, this time the outlaws were the ones riding off into the sunset, their saddlebags weighted with stolen cash and valuables. As for the girl, he hadn't seen her in hours, but when he had heard the echoing bang of gunfire, he didn't try to lie to himself about what it meant. If he had the energy or moisture to spare, he would have cried for it all. He'd been lied to, betrayed, cheated, and he couldn't blame anyone but himself because he was a fool to romanticize this kind of life. But how could he have known? Until today, he'd never known what evil was. At least he learned that critical lesson, not that it did much for him now.
Strangely, the more pain that wracked through his body, the less he felt. He stumbled in short bursts, a couple of feet at a time, trying to keep himself from falling, grunting, cussing when he did, and each time it became that much harder to get up again. The sun was white. The land shimmered in haze. His vision was blurring. His breath came out in ragged gasps from his dry throat. Maybe next time he wouldn't get up. He was so tired he could probably just close his eyes. No, he couldn't. He had to keep going. He couldn't keep going. If only it wasn't so hot. If only there were some clouds or shade. If he hadn't been dragged by that horse for so long.
Soon his mind was too dull to think of "If only's" and "What ifs". The mountains weren't any closer. He began to accept the fact that he wasn't going to make it. It was a terrifying, repulsive thought, but a simple one he could comprehend. He would die, he would die alone, and he would die soon. Why did he have to die alone? Not that he wanted someone to die with him, but he thought his death wouldn't be as bleak or pointless if there was someone left to miss him. Someone to hold his hand would be nice, to squeeze it once just to remind him of his connection to the world. Just one person, one person who felt for him…
He felt very little. Except short jerks, when he managed another step forward. The sun burning his face and neck. The dust clogging his lungs. The ground. He stumbled. He wasn't getting up this time.
Overhead, a hawk cried.
A/N: Remember R^3: Read, Review, Respectfully criticize. I know it's sort of dark now, but it lightens up a bit. For what I have planned, the story comes out… grey-ish? Not gritty dark and edgy but not a comedy either.
A big THANK YOU to hakuku on deviantART for letting me use her fanart for the cover.