Part 2
Chris stirred his drink absently, staring into the amber liquid as if he could find the answers he sought in its swirling depths. His men had been missing for nearly thirty-six hours and there was no sign of them anywhere. The word on the street was that their cover had been blown and that Brunelli had retired' them. Permanently. But he wasn't ready to believe that yet.
Looking around the table at his men, he recognized the same turbulent emotions that were probably visible on his own face. They were angry, worried, afraid, confused, and frustrated, with each emotion warring for dominance. They had uncovered very little new information, something that grated on all of them. Street sources knew nothing and their files were barren. The only facts they had gleaned were that Brunelli and his men had left the building via tunnels in the basement, which connected the eight buildings in the office park, and that the blood they had found matched Vin's type. Chris knew that his men were blaming themselves for their lack of vigilance, but it was not something they could have foreseen, since the meeting location had not been specified until thirty minutes before it was scheduled to take place.
JD's forlorn sigh seemed to echo their mood perfectly. Chris had forced his men to come to the Saloon to eat. They had been working non-stop since Ezra and Vin's disappearance, and hadn't bothered with such trifles as food and sleep – not when two of their own were missing. He doubted he could get them to sleep for more than a few hours, but Chris insisted anyway. They would do no good if they overlooked something due to fatigue.
Guys, we ought to go catch some sleep now, Nathan suggested. I don't know about you, but I'll be able to get more done after some rest.
Chris, why don't you stay at my place, Josiah offered.
Chris shook his head. I'm gonna crash on the sofa in my office. He lifted a hand to stifle the protests that erupted. Don't worry. I'm going to sleep, I promise.
The rest of the men grumbled, but agreed. Slowly the men of Team Seven stood and headed for their cars, ignorant of the worried eyes of other ATF agents following their progress.
Vin's stomach rumbled loudly in the stillness of their dark prison, and Ezra chuckled aloud. I completely agree, Mr. Tanner.
Vin sighed. Ez, there ain't nobody within earshot, so y'think you could call me Vin?
Ezra hesitated for a moment, then replied, Certainly, Vin.
Ain't no need for formality in a shithole like this.
Ezra laughed. No, I suppose there isn't.
Vin's stomach rumbled again and he growled, Shut up down there. Y'ain't gettin' fed anytime soon.
It is too bad Brunelli took your jacket, Ezra remarked. I'm sure you had an ample supply of high-calorie sustenance in your pockets.
Vin responded with a slap on his shoulder. 'Least we found some water.
Ezra shuddered, remembering the muddy trickles they had encountered during their search for an exit. Don't remind me.
Wonder how long we've been down here?
It's hard to say, Ezra said. Those miscreants removed my watch as well as my coat, not that it would do any good in the dark.
Feels like years.
That it does.
They were quiet for a few minutes, resting their weary feet as they sat side by side against the cold stone. Ezra eventually broke the silence. Shall we continue our journey, Mr... Vin?
Vin said unenthusiastically. Reckon I got nothin' better to do.
The office was silent and the mood of its occupants somber. Their teammates had been missing for almost three days, and though they didn't want to admit it to anyone, they were quickly despairing of ever finding them. Others had tried to console them, but they had held fast to the faint tendrils of hope and kept working to find their brothers. At least, they had until today.
That morning, A.D. Travis had quietly informed them that they had a new case and could no longer allow the search to monopolize their time. They had protested vehemently to no avail. Travis sympathized with them, but they still had a job to do. The search was now in the hands of the police, though the remaining men of Team Seven still intended to spend every spare minute on the search.
A sudden crash came from Chris's office. The other four men looked at one another before hurrying to investigate. Buck reached the door first and anxiously threw it open to reveal his old friend sitting with his head in his hands. A lamp lay smashed against the wall and the floor was strewn with paper.
Buck asked tentatively.
Chris didn't look up.
You okay?
No, Buck. He looked up, glaring at the men crowded in his doorway. I'm not okay.
Buck opened his mouth to say something, but Chris cut him off.
How can I be okay, knowing that Vin and Ez are probably dead in a landfill or at the bottom of a river somewhere? Chris said plaintively, looking at them with angry, bloodshot eyes.
Don't say that! JD shouted. They're not dead! He looked pleadingly at the other men. They're not. He turned away and ran down the hall.
Chris said, dragging his hand across his face, absently noting that he badly needed a shave.
I'll talk to him, Buck said quietly, turning to follow his distraught friend.
Take him home, Chris said. That goes for the rest of you, too. We're all too beat to think straight.
There were no protests this time, and the dejected group walked away quietly. Chris felt frustration welling again, but forced it back violently. He had not given up, despite the lack of success at locating their missing teammates, and he would keep looking until he saw concrete proof of their deaths. His men felt the same way and he knew they would continue investigating in their free time. Team Seven had beaten the odds before. Chris only hoped they could do it again.
Don't think I can move anymore, Ez, Vin said quietly. 'M tired.
So am I, Ezra replied. I believe it is time to rest.
The two men slumped wearily to the ground, huddling together for warmth, despite their usual aversion to close contact. The cold and lack of food was wearing them down, sapping the energy they needed to continue their search for an exit. They had hit many dead ends, following a tunnel only to find it had been blocked by a cave-in. Ezra would not have been surprised to find that Brunelli had sealed them inside by destroying the entrance after he had left. It was just the sort of perversity he would expect from the ruthless man. Shifting uncomfortably on the hard ground, Ezra was on the verge of sleep when Vin spoke.
We ain't gettin' out of here, are we?
Ezra contemplated that silently for a moment before admitting, It does not seem likely, no.
Ain't fair, Vin said. We didn't even get a last meal.
Ezra chuckled softly. That would have been welcome, I must say.
A nice thick steak, covered in mushrooms and onions, with baked potatoes and sour cream, Vin said dreamily. And chocolate cake with ice cream for dessert. That's what I would have.
With asparagus and a nice Merlot to accompany it, Ezra added. And some fresh baked bread slathered in butter.
You can keep the Vin said. Peach pie would be good for dessert, too.
Chocolate mousse, Ezra countered.
Jelly doughnuts.
Baked Alaska.
Hot chocolate with whipped cream.
And coffee, Ezra sighed. Strong, hot coffee. With brandy.
Damn, that sounds good, Vin said longingly.
If we get out of here, Vin, we will go out to dinner and partake of all of those sumptuous delights, Ezra promised.
It's a deal.
You neglected to mention pecan pie, a new voice said. What dinner would be complete without that particular delicacy?
Ezra gasped and looked around wildly for the source of the voice. Who's there?
Vin grasped the southerner's arm in concern. It's me. Vin.
I know, Ezra said, patting Vin's hand. I was asking him.
Ez, there ain't no one else here.
Didn't you hear the voice? Ezra asked, confused.
Only voices I hear are yours n mine.
He is unable to hear me, the voice continued. Or see me.
There was a bright flash and then a hazy form materialized in front of Ezra. His jaw dropped and he reached up to shade his eyes against the sudden flood of light. Astonished, Ezra took in the sight of the man dressed in a red jacket, brocade vest, and black hat, with a revolver slung low on his hip. The man's face, though, was an even greater shock. It was like looking at the picture of himself dressed in Old West garb that sat on his nightstand. JD had coerced the Team into posing for the photo at a fair they had attended during the summer, and Ezra had chosen a red gambler's jacket like the one being worn by the specter before him. He stared at the man incredulously, momentarily speechless.
Vin tugged at Ezra's sleeve, starting to worry about the man's sudden strange behavior. Ez? What's wrong?
You don't see him? He turned, surprised that he could now see Vin in the light being cast by the apparition.
He cannot see me yet, but he will once my companion arrives, the gambler said, flashing him a smile.
Your companion? Ezra repeated.
What're you talking about, Ez? Vin asked, starting to fear for his friend's sanity.
The undercover agent closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. I am hallucinating. That is the only explanation.
The gambler laughed. No, I am not a hallucination.
Vin grabbed Ezra's face gently in his hands. Tell me what's goin' on.
Ezra sighed. There is a... man standing in front of us. He resembles... me, dressed as I was in that photograph we took at the fair. He is speaking to me.
Vin began, attempting to conceal the despair in his voice. He ain't real. You're just imaginin' it.
No, he ain't, came another voice.
Ezra watched in awe as a second form shimmered into existence beside the gambler. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that the new entity looked like Vin dressed in buckskins. A startled gasp from beside him told him that Vin had just become aware of the entities.
Oh shit! Vin exclaimed.
Do you see them? Ezra asked.
Vin replied. I see em. Not sure I believe it, though.
Mr. Tanner, your timing is impeccable, as always, the gambler said, greeting his translucent associate.
I didn't want you t'have all the fun by yourself, Ez, the buckskin-clad form replied with a grin.
Er, might I ask to what type of fun' you are referring? Ezra asked dubiously.
Hell, he talks just like you, Ez, Buckskin Vin said, elbowing the gambler.
We are here to assist you in effecting your emancipation from these dismal tunnels... I think, Gambler Ezra replied, looking around doubtfully.
Who are you? Vin asked.
We are merely visitors, the gambler replied, from another plane of existence. A different time and place, if you will.
The ghostly tracker sent him a dubious look. You sure bout that, pard?
The red-coated apparition shrugged, grinning sheepishly. Well, it's the best explanation I can find for this... peculiar circumstance in which we find ourselves.
How did you come to arrive in this... charming locale? Ezra inquired, still attempting to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.
Don't know, Buckskin Vin said with a shrug. But we're here, so we might as well help.
I'm wiggin' out, Vin said with a sigh. This is too weird.
We seem to be sharing this hallucination, so we are wigging out' together, Ezra said tiredly.
You two gonna sit there, or are you gonna follow us out a this hole? the dusty tracker said, his glowing image flickering with impatience.
Yes, we have some distance to cover yet, so let us be on our way, Gambler Ezra agreed.
What d'ya think, Ez? Vin asked doubtfully.
Ezra studied the apparitions critically. We have nothing lose, at this point. And they do seem to be providing some illumination in these miserable surroundings. I can even see you a bit now.
I'm game if you are, Vin said.
Then, by all means, let us be on our way. The gambler adjusted his hat, brushed off the sleeve of his red jacket, and started off down the tunnel.
Ezra and Vin shared a look, then stood and began following their ethereal counterparts down the tunnel.
They were galloping across an open field. Seven men on horses, their guns drawn and ready. The leader of the group was all in black, his duster flapping in the breeze. The faceless man was followed by a motley assortment of men, ranging from a man in a fringed jacket and buckskins to a man in a tweed suit and bowler hat. He couldn't make out their faces, but they seemed strangely familiar. Two of their number, a brightly-attired man and the buckskinned man, separated from the group, heading toward the mountains, while the rest of the men continued on the same path. There was an odd, painful feeling in his chest, and then everything faded to blackness.
Chris woke with a start and sat up abruptly, running his hand through his sweaty hair. For a moment, he didn't recognize his surroundings, then he remembered he was in Josiah's spare bedroom. He glanced at the clock and winced. It was only four AM, but he was too shaken by the dream to go back to sleep. It still echoed clearly in his mind and Chris frowned as he reviewed the images. It had been an oddly vivid dream, rife with symbolism, and he couldn't help but wonder if his subconscious was trying to tell him something.
The welcome scent of coffee floated through the door and Chris smiled as he tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed. It seemed that Josiah was having as much trouble sleeping as he was. Stretching the kinks out of his back, Chris reached for his duffel bag and changed into the clothes he had brought before stepping out to join the older man.
Mornin', Josiah, he said in a scratchy, just-woke-up voice.
Good morning, Chris, Josiah said, pouring a second cup of coffee. I see you can't sleep anymore, either.
Chris agreed, eagerly accepting the coffee.
I had a bit of a restless night myself, Josiah said sympathetically.
The two men sat quietly, enjoying their coffee, until Chris looked over at the older man inquisitively. You know much about dreams, Josiah?
Josiah stiffened slightly, then looked at his guest quizzically. Some. Why do you ask?
I had a strange dream last night, Chris reluctantly admitted. It's bothering me for some reason.
What was it about?
There were seven men riding horses, Chris began. They looked like they came straight out of the Old West. They had guns and cowboy hats, anyway. He shrugged and looked away, feeling slightly foolish about saying it out loud. Two of the men riding pulled away from the rest and...
And headed for the mountains, Josiah said in a awed voice.
Chris's head snapped up and he stared at the older man, who was looking back at him with a wide-eyed, wondering expression. How the hell...?
I believe I had the same dream, brother, Josiah said, smiling faintly. The two men who rode away... one was wearing a red jacket, and the other was wearing...
Buckskins and fringed jacket, Chris finished. At Josiah's nod, he sighed aloud. What does this mean, Josiah? Do people often have the same dreams?
It's rare, but it's been known to happen, Josiah said with a shrug.
You think it means anything?
I don't know. It could just be a reflection of our anxiety about our missing brothers.
Chris nodded. That sounded plausible enough. The other alternatives were too strange to consider, anyway. You want to head into the office?
Might as well, Josiah said. We can put in a little time on our search before we have to do our official work.
Let's go, Chris said, draining the last of his coffee. We can grab some doughnuts on the way.
I can't believe I'm doin' this, Vin said in a tired voice.
I understand perfectly, Ezra commiserated. Placing our trust in a pair of... ghosts, is not something I would have considered as a means to finding an exit.
We ain't ghosts, are we, Ez? the buckskin-clad Vin asked his companion, a hint of nervousness in his voice. That'd mean we was dead.
I don't believe so, Gambler Ezra replied thoughtfully. I think we are just non-corporeal reflections of our real selves.
Vin said, looking to Ezra for an explanation.
the undercover agent offered, grinning widely.
The gambler rolled his eyes. Come along, it's not much further now.
Vin and Ezra, weak and unsteady from cold and hunger, leaned heavily on each other as they made their way along the tunnel. A half-hour later, Vin abruptly stopped, swiveling his head around in wonder.
Ezra asked. Are you all right?
I think I can see somethin', he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
Ezra looked around, squinting slightly, then lifting his eyebrows in surprise. I do believe you are correct. It appears to be getting brighter.
The entrance is near, the red-jacketed gambler assured them.
We're gonna make it, Ez, Vin said happily.
Yes, it appears we are. Ezra tightened his grip on his friend and they continued on, anticipation quickening their steps. They couldn't wait to be free of their intended tomb.