Chapter 4: Catching Up

A deep feeling of shock washed over Melchiah's body like a tidal wave. He turned his head away from Wolfe and stared at the wall in thought. 'Two weeks?! That SeeD did alot more damage than I thought. How could I have survived such a blow? And did they take Winhill back? If they did, then...'

"...I'm in deep shit," he finished his sentence out loud. Wolfe, who had been looking out the corridor window at the people passing by, immediately swung her head around and glared at the back of Melchiah's bandaged head.

"I know that you might be angry, Mel. I understand that," she said sternly, "but there is no reason to say that. Especially in front of me. You know how I feel about swearing."

Melchiah turned his head back to Wolfe and looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, I was just thinking..."

Suddenly, the door opened and the same familiar voice from Winhill bellowed, "Ya know Mel, that's yer problem. Yer always thinkin' too much."

Melchiah looked over at the door to see the figure of a huge, muscular man.

His head was round and muscular with big brown eyes that had unusually large pupils. If his body was any bigger he would have to turn completely sideways to fit through the door. This didn't mean that he was fat by any stretch of the imagination, for one could plainly see that his great build was sheer muscle. He was a little bit taller than Melchiah, and had matted brown hair to top it all off. He was wearing big, faded blue jeans and a belt with a huge golden buckle that had an engraving of a rifle on it. The long button up shirt that he wore had leather pads on the shoulders. He strode in and threw his cream-colored cowboy hat on the chair by Melchiah's bed.

"Do you know what your problem is Sam?" he snapped irritably at the huge figure.

"You NEVER think!"

Sam threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Now, now, Mel," he shook a large finger sarcastically at him. "Is that any way to talk to the man who saved yer life?" Sam's loud voice made Melchiah's head hurt. Wolfe stood up and put her finger to her lips. "Sam, do you think you could quiet down? Mel's had a rough trip."

Sam nodded and looked at Melchiah worriedly. "We thought that we had lost ya fer a minute there, ol' buddy. That SeeD banged ya up good."

"Yeah, it's good that Sam and I went down to Winhill against Thorton's orders," Wolfe cut in.

Melchiah looked at the ceiling. 'So it was Sam,' he concluded.

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat, silver box. He opened it and picked out a piece of chewing tobacco. "Yep, if we hadn't made it there right when that SeeD hit ya on yer head, you woulda been one dead dog," he said as he popped the tobacco into his mouth.

A spark of excitement ignited in the pit of Melchiah's stomach. "Did you get him?" he asked.

"Amazingly, no," Wolfe answered. She walked over to the table and picked up the empty pitcher. "The SeeD was incredibly fast. So fast that he managed to dodge every one of Sam's shots, which were perfect." She smiled at the gigantic man, who returned it thankfully.

"Yeah, I think I had somethin' in my eye," he joked. Melchiah laughed.

"Yeah right!" he cried. But there had to be a good reason for Bane Samuel Craft to miss any shot.

Sam had grown up on a ranch on the flowing plains near Dollet. He began shooting at the age of 7. His father had given him his old banged up rifle to ward off Geezards, Funguars, and other small monsters away from the cattle. Before long, little Sam was taking out the little pests in one shot. His father realized his natural talent for shooting, and thought that the old rickety rifle that he had given him was not worthy for such a accurate shot, so he bought him a G-481 Stinger, a top of the line rifle with a 10 round clip, a 2 mile range scope, and a twelve millimeter barrel. Not long after this hefty purchase, Sam was picking off Anacondaurs and Wendigoes with a single bullet. This allowed his father to venture out to new areas of the plains to let the cows graze, and he made tremendous profit off of Sam's perfect shooting, who was 18 by then. At the age of 20, Sam was tired of his old country life and sneaked out of the house one night to find his seek out his fortune. This eventually led him to Deling City, where he joined the Galbadian Army. He stayed with the Army for 5 years, where he used a standard issue sword. He was never given the chance to show off his shooting capabilities until he was ordered to give cover fire for a small group of reinforcements with a small handgun during a skirmish with Eshtar. With the small weapon, Sam managed to kill 23 Estharian soldiers in 2 minutes. News of this incredible feat quickly reached General Caraway who didn't hesitate to move the sharp-shooting giant to Genesis immediately. He met Wolfe and Melchiah there and the three soldiers had been friends since then.

Wolfe picked up the empty pitcher and started for the door. "I'll get you some more water, Mel. Be back in a sec, ok?"

Melchiah nodded, and then looked at Sam, who had grabbed the trash can beside the door and spit in it. When Wolfe walked out he immediately shut the door. "Heeeyy. Looks like you and Wolfe are finally startin' to click."

"Shut up Sam," Melchiah snapped. "What makes you think that anyway?" Sam shrugged and spit in the trash can again.

"I dunno, somethin's there that wasn't before."

"Oh really?" Mel argued. "Can you conceive the thought of a friend just being concerned for me?"

"Sure," said Sam, who finally spit the rest of the chew into the trash. "But I don't think that it's that."

"Listen Sam, I don't feel up to listening to you play love doctor for both of us, alright?"

"Okay, okay. Sheesh. What crawled up yer butt anyway?"

"I don't know, I think it has something to do with me either getting knocked out with the butt of a gunblade or waking up two weeks later on the other side of the continent," he said sarcastically.

Sam frowned. "Whatever."

"Do you mind if you leave? I'd like to be alone."

"Sure thing, little buddy."

He walked to the door and opened it. He began to walk out when Wolfe shot into the

room like a bullet. Sam jumped back two feet and buckled over, breathing heavily.

"Jesus, Wolfe. Don't scare me like that!"

Wolfe ignored Sam's words and quickly rushed to Melchiah's bedside. "I've got something that you might want to know about, Mel," she said excitedly. Melchiah saw the worried look in her eyes and sat up. "What's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and began to speak. "Well, I was at the water fountain filling up your pitcher when General Caraway comes up to me."

A deep sinking feeling stirred within Melchiah's stomach. "General Caraway?" She nodded.

"Uh-huh. So he asks me how you are doing and I say that you're fine. It seems that he's just concerned until he tells me to tell you to come up and see him in the 3rd floor conference room tomorrow morning."

"So?"

"But then an old man with flabby jowls and a turkey neck comes up behind him and says. 'That's when we'll be rid of him.' "

The sinking feeling stopped and jumped into Melchiah's throat like a lit firecracker.

'Thorton.' "Oh great. The old bastard is finally going to do it."

A look of confusion swept over Wolfe's face. "What? Do you know him?"

"It's better that you not know," he answered as he patted her on the shoulder.

The pain in his head began to swell like an impending explosion. He put his hands on the bandages and closed his eyes. Wolfe put her hands on Melchiah's. They felt warm and soft. "Mel, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be alright," he grunted. "I just need some rest."

She nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty late." She grabbed Sam by the arm, who was picking another chew from his silver box, and walked to the door. "Good night, Mel," she said soothingly. The door closed quietly. Melchiah clicked off he light and turned on his side.

'What would I do if I got kicked out?' he thought. 'Where would I go?'