Disclaimer: Annoying little buggers, these are . . . If it says Disclaimer, then that means I don't claim Trigun . . . right?
Supposed italics are gonna have around them and will be underlined
Chapter 4. Typhoon
The morning sun streaming through the room made her remember where she was as soon as she woke up: Somewhere other than December. Not that she was complaining or anything.
December hadn't had that little sunbeam of pleasure in a very long time, or at least it seemed that way. Then again, December wasn't really December, was it? Not like it used to be, anyway. The streets were always busy and full of life, much like the new streets of Augusta. Odd how the city had become populated by thousands so quickly. Another thing that had once been similar to December, that was. Only now . . .
Meryl had shared the guest room with Kate, Vash offering to take the couch for himself. Kate and Vash were already awake, being the early-birds that they were, and Milly had most likely gone off to one of her jobs. Meryl stood from the bed and dressed, then walked downstairs where Vash was reading this morning's newspaper. Kate was somewhere behind the counter.
Meryl looked at Vash, his eyes roaming back and forth over the paper before he turned the page.
"Ice cream! Want some, Meryl?" Kate came up, loud, as usual, holding a large silver pot by the handles.
"Ice cream this early in the morning?"
"Well . . . it's milk . . ."
"But it's sugar, too." For a nineteen-year-old, Kate sure had a knack for acting like a child.
"I was only offering." Kate began dipping some of the frozen delight into a bowl, then put the pot back in the freezer. She grabbed a spoon, stuck it in the ice cream, and turned to the register to put a few dollar bills in. "Want some, Vash?"
Vash didn't reply. "Vash?" Kate looked over at the man in the corner.
"Huh? Oh, no thanks, Kate. I got some donuts this morning." Meryl looked at the table he was sitting at. The box of donuts that had been covered a moment ago was now open, but only had one donut missing. For Vash to have only eaten one donut since earlier in the morning meant something was wrong.
"Are you sick?" Meryl asked. Vash didn't reply. He had stopped moving, his eyes staring at one spot in the paper. "What is it?" She walked to stand behind Vash. In the mid-section of the paper was a picture, obviously taken at night, but it seemed so familiar. "Vash?"
"It's December," he muttered. "It was December."
"W-what do you mean?"
"It was attacked last night. That there is a picture of what used to be the sheriff's place. Couldn't recognize it, could you? That's because it was reduced to practically nothing."
"No . . ."
"Yes." Vash stood. "Here. You can read it. I'm going out." Vash walked from the shop, leaving the donuts behind. Meryl clutched the sides of the newspaper tightly in both hands.
"K-Kate . . ."
"Hm? Yeah, Meryl?"
"He knows we've left."
Milly hummed as she emptied the wash pan out, turning the sand into mud. She walked to the well to fill it up again, stopping as a gunshot was fired and a scream erupted. She dropped the pan and ran back into the building. As she entered she saw a group of men with guns holding up everything. The children had been backed into the corners with the Helpers. Milly watched as one of the men, apparently the leader, grabbed a girl from the group of children and held the gun to her head.
"Tell me where she is or the kid gets her head blown off!" the man demanded. Milly ran forward and took the girl from his grasp.
"Stop it!" she yelled. "You have no right to threaten these children, you bully!" The man only smirked at Milly.
"Just who I needed to see." He grabbed Milly's hair and pulled. Milly let go of the little girl and tried to pry the man's hand off her, but to no avail. He pulled her out into the main area where he threw her to the ground and kneeled beside her, this time placing the gun to her temple. "You're Milly Thompson?"
"Yes, I am, now let me go!"
"I hear you know a little bit about Vash the Stampede. You wanna tell me where I can find him?"
"Vash! Vash!"
Vash turned sharply as his name was called. Kate was running as hard and fast as she could to get to him, a distressed look plastered clearly on her face. She dove into his arms and he caught her. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Mr. Vash, they got Milly and Meryl!"
"What?"
"Two men, they came in the shop with Milly and a little girl and threatened to shoot if they didn't tell where you were! Meryl said you weren't there so they took her too and now they're coming after you, Vash!"
"Calm down, Kate. How many were there?"
"Twenty, at the least. What are you going to do, Vash?"
"Damn it . . . There's twenty. That's too many to fight in the town . . . Kate, find them and say that I've just run to the outskirts of town. Hurry!"
Vash and Kate departed, going in separate directions. Vash began to head toward the small mountains, hoping to god that those bandits believed Kate's story.
Kate was panting heavily and had a pounding stitch in her side by the time she got back to the shop. The men stood outside but a few were indoors, sitting on the counter or at the little table, or just standing in a corner fidgeting with his gun.
Kate bounded inside, completely out of breath. Still, she managed to get her information out. "He's- pant- he gone - pant- ran outta town like- pant- like a scared d-dog," she said, leaning with her palms on her knees. "H-he went to the- pant- to the mountains."
The larger man at the table stood and smirked. "Ran like the coward he is. And I thought Joseph said he was a real gunslinger." The man ordered his men out and they carried Milly and Meryl with them.
"Sir? Excuse me, sir," Meryl said from behind the obvious leader. "Did you just say Joseph?"
"Yeah. What's it to you?" Meryl didn't reply. She looked down at the ground without saying a word. Joseph . . . Joseph had ordered this man and his group here for Vash . . . because of her, Meryl . . . then dragged Milly into it in the process.
"Mister, I'd really appreciate it if you told me what we have to do with this?" Milly said sternly from beside her. The man only grunted then stopped as several shouts from ahead of him sounded and gunshots were heard.
"There he is! That's him! Let's get out of here!"
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" the bully said, grabbing a running man by the collar and pulled him off the ground.
"That's him sir! Vash the Stampede! He's comin' for us! Let me go!"
Coward, Meryl thought as the leader dropped the man into the dust. He scrambled away, trailing sand behind him. The few remaining gunmen were aiming at a figure in the face of the rock structure.
"Oh, look, Meryl! It's Mister Vash!"
"Heh, heh," said Meryl sarcastically. "Yeah, that's him all right-"
"MERYL, GET DOWN!"
"Meryl . . . Something's coming."
"Don't be silly, Kate."
"But . . . Meryl, the ground is shaking. Can't you feel it?" Meryl paused and looked down.
"Yeah. but I can bet you it's probably just a sandsteamer." Kate fell silent and looked down at the fabric stacked neatly in the brown paper back held securely in her arms. The blue-hued fabric would be used to make new curtains to go over the east window in Meryl's bedroom and the white would be the much-needed under sheet of her bed. The yellow would be for Kate. They had also bought the things needed to make a cake for Milly's brother.
A typhoon was reported to have been sighted some hundred iles north of December, meaning it would soon be arriving, but Meryl and Kate figured that since they were going to be cooped up in the house all day and night, they might as well have a good craft to work on, so they went to quickly pick up some fabric and do what they had been planning for weeks: make new curtains and bed sheets and celebrate a party with Milly.
"You think the typhoon is about here yet?" Meryl asked, looking out at the northern side of the city. She sounded kind of worried as she peered over the rooftops to look out at the desert. It was especially hot today, and unfortunately the sand blowing around forced the occupants of December to wear cloaks when they went outside . . . if they went outside. There wasn't a soul on the street this afternoon.
"I dunno, maybe . . . Uh, Meryl, d'you s'pose we should get back to the house? If that typhoon is nearly here we wouldn't wanna be out here and unprepared when it hits."
"Yeah, you're right-" Meryl stopped dead in her tracks and looked in the direction of the Plant. The tip of the bulb could just barely be seen over the tops of the buildings, but even then Meryl knew something was wrong . . . The wind began to blow hard and the sand and dust began to rise.
"The hell is that-?" Kate began before a very high-pitched noise erupted from the direction of the Plant. Kate looked that way as well just in time to see a figure bound over the silver support of the Plant and go over the other side. Meryl pushed the teen down and pulled her cloak hood over her head; the bags of groceries and materials were tumbling, forgotten, down the street, carried by the fierce winds.
Meryl kept her arm on Kate to keep her on the ground, but after a few minutes she led Kate to the closed saloon and told her to hold on to the support pole. Kate did just that, wrapping her arms tightly around the pole, her hood over her eyes. Meryl turned and began heading back into the street, her cloak pulled tightly around her ears. The sand stung her skin and the dark blue cloak whipped around her ankles.
Now she was approaching the Plant to identify the problem. She couldn't even look at the Plant, the light so bright she felt like her irises would fry. When she finally did look at it, she noticed the ground was shaking, and a humming sound was heard over the wind. Meryl stared up at it, the captivating, alabaster glow not letting her eyes fall astray.
But then she became worried. She now realized it might not be too safe around the Plant. Who knows what was happening to it. It was obviously malfunctioning, she might end up in the way of the repairmen. Or maybe . . . the problem was deadly? Meryl turned away as the high noise got even higher and louder. It was like a tea kettle, and the squeaking was only getting much worse.
It was too much for her eyes and ears, so Meryl turned and began to run against the wind to get away from the Plant, but then an even louder noise erupted and a heat nearly scorching her cloak came at her like wildfire, and she knew . . . the Plant had died.
Author's Notes: Wasn't gonna end it here, but oh well. I love cliffhangers, though this isn't really one, is it? Well, technically, if you go above the 'dream' thing up there ^_^
NEED HELP! Okay, I want the story to be layed out a certain way at FF.net so I've been uploading the text from 602 documents with htm (html). I want to upload in italics because I lot of the stuff I write requires italics. Does anyone around here who uploads in htm format know how to upload the italics, cuz it ain't workin'?!