Vin squirmed a little in his corner. His back hurt somethin' awful and he thought he could feel warm blood running down from the bullet wound. Musta torn it open, wouldn't surprise him. All along Nathan was sayin' how it wasn't healing right. Didn't matter a whole lot now, did it, whether it healed or not. He was nearly done for.
He could barely see past the blurry shadows that surrounded him, but the air was filled with the sweet smell of decaying wood, the musty earthen floor, and the sharp clean air of the snow storm blowing through broken windows. The chill began to settle on him, and he lifted his still bound hands to try and pull his coat closer. The noose still hung loosely around his neck.
Someone would find him.
Chris would come.
M7*M7*M7*
Chris cautiously entered the ancient structure. No telling what had happened, or who was in here, and he wasn't about to be taken by surprise in his impatience to find Tanner. The wind and snow seemed to lessen as he took hesitant steps into the darkness. For the ferocity of the storm, precious little snow had blown inside. The diffused daylight cast odd patterns of shadow in the middle of the dirt floor, leaving the corners in total darkness. The place must've been abandoned for generations. Judging from the smell and the debris, whatever it was originally, it was now merely a place where animals ate, reproduced, relieved themselves, and died.
Please, let Tanner be here.
He took another couple of steps into the dull quiet, trying to see into those black corners. One corner had a pile of bones, looked to be raccoon. Another corner revealed the reddish quilting of a spring mattress that'd rusted itself into a memory in the dirt. The next corner - a pile of rags and sodden hair that could only be his friend.
"Vin!" Chris hurried to him, but stopped short at his appearance. It'd only been a matter of hours since he'd seen Vin last, what in God's name had he been through? The bruises and gashes, the - dear God - rope around his neck, hat and boots gone, clothes torn apart. And the frightened, unknowing eyes that turned up to his. "Vin?" he tried again, quietly. "You're safe Pard. I'll get us some help. What'd y'take off like that for? Told you it wasn't safe for you to be out by yourself, not with that gang wanting t'kill you..."
As he spoke, hoping for some spark of recognition, Chris took out his pocket knife and carefully cut the ropes that tied Vin's hands together. Then he started sawing on the rope noose, using the fingers of his other hand to protect Vin's neck.
"We'll get you back home, Nathan'll look to you." The raw red and purple rope burn scared him. If Vin's throat swelled up, he'd be dead in minutes. "You with me Vin? Listening to me? I want t'lay you down, but I don't want to move you if your neck is hurt. Can you move your arms and legs?" Chris pulled his poncho off, and laid it wrong side up on the dirt floor so he could lay Vin down on it. "Vin?"
M7*M7*M7*
What was that voice? Sounded like Larabee, but didn't. Vin listened again. Yep, that's Larabee. I'm the one got killed and he's blamin' me... He lifted his eyelids as far as he could get them, wanting to see Larabee. Needing to see him to finally feel safe.
But that wasn't Chris.
Looked like him, mostly enough. But something wasn't right. What was he wearing? Was that a rubber poncho? Vin'd seen one once, back during the war. Where the hell'd Larabee get that? 'Course, the snow was heavy and wet and had soaked through his own clothes in minutes. That poncho was probably the best thing.
Was that Larabee? How could it not be?
"C...h...r...i...s...?" Lord, it hurt to breathe, much less talk. "T...h...a...t y...o...u...?"
M7*M7*M7*
Chris almost didn't hear the words. At first, they just sounded like painful breath being exhaled. He was glad to hear them though. It meant Vin was recognizing him. "It's me Vin. We're gonna get you down off this mountain safe and sound. Soon's you're home and all better, I'm gonna beat the crap outta you for scarin' me like this. OK?"
"H...o...m...e...?"
"Yeah Vin, home. I'll get us some help. You're moving your legs, so I'm gonna lay y'down, get y'covered up and warm. Help'll be here in no time. You're gonna be fine, y'hear me? You're gonna be fine." He started to maneuver the injured man to lay him down. As Chris eased him forward, leaning Vin against himself to get a better hold of him, he saw the blood running down his back, soaking his jacket and staining the wall he'd been leaning against. He pulled the coat and shirt up to have a better look. There was no mistaking what it was.
"Shit Vin. Y'been shot in the back. How the hell did that happen?" Leaving Vin to rest against him, Larabee pulled the walkie talkie off the back of his belt and radioed his teammates for help. "I've got him Buck. About two miles west of the rock dam at Murder Creek. In an old shack y'can't hardly see in the snow. Those bastards did a real number on him. He's hurt real bad, been shot in the back, they tried to hang him. Bring Nathan and all the gear you can find. Snow's calmin' down now, don't aimed to trapped if she changes her mind."
M7*M7*M7*
Now who was Larabee yellin' at? Were they deaf or just far away? Neither probably, just pissin' Chris off.
"They'll be here soon Vin. Fifteen minutes. They'll be here soon."
They're fifteen minutes away? Not even your voice carries that far Larabee... then the darkness took him again.
