CHAPTER EIGHT:  HIS RULES

     An old man slowly approached the cloaked figure that had been standing motionless before a home for too long.  The cloak was ragged, and the man's posture was horrid.  A spiked blonde head shook slightly side to side as he turned from the door.

     "What's the matter, son?" the old man asked cautiously.  "Don't want any trouble…Oh, Vash!"  The old man ran to greet him, shaking his hand happily.  "The garden's bearin' potatoes and peas now – it's amazing!  Those kids you taught are workin' wonders on it, but I'm sure the soil and seeds wouldn't be there had it not been for you…"  He stopped, realizing the distracted expression on Vash's face.

     Vash forced a smile.  "Do you know where…"

     "Ms. Thompson and Ms. Strife?" he interrupted.  "They left ages ago!  You didn't hear?  Say, where have you been, sonny?"

     "Left!?  Where to?" Vash asked, maintaining his sunny facade.

     The old man scratched his head.  "That I don't recall.  But what about you?  Where did you and that pretty young thing run off to?  Made Ms. Strife awfully flustered you know," he snickered, poking Vash playfully in the ribs.  "Funny thing is, day after you left this crazy band o' hoodlums ran into town lookin' for her.  Is that why you went so quick?  You listenin'!?"

      "Sorry, sir, but I need to find out where Meryl and Millie went," Vash apologized.  "It's kinda important."

     The old man's curiosity was a bit hurt, but he motioned for Vash to follow him down the road.  "Ole' Betsy's got the forwardin' address down at the P.O."

     Knives instructed Vanessa to hold his hand as they journeyed.  She objected, but he maintained that if she resisted, he would simply tie her hands.  And realizing the pain that would cause in her still-sore arm, she kept her complaints to herself and let him grip her free hand with his.

     Trudging at his right, her mind grew weary faster than did her legs.  So many questions went unanswered in this silence; too many conflicting emotions to sort out.  She wanted to fulfill her duty and prevent Knives from wreaking havoc, but this was not the type of 'servile' she had planned to be.  Little stood between Knives and whatever he had in mind for her and the humans now.

     She froze in horror as she spotted the town on the horizon.

     "Come on," Knives growled.  When she remained still, unyielding, he heaved her forward.

     Vanessa struggled to stand and dragged her feet miserably as she followed him.  His fingers gripped her hand so tight now that her eyes began to water.  "Please, no," she begged.

     The expression on Knives' face was determination and fury.  Never did his gaze leave that town before them as he stormed closer to the homes.

     "Don't, Knives," she insisted desperately.  "You'll be sorry, you know!  If you want me to cooperate with you, you can't just…"

     "Can't what?" he snapped.  "These are no longer your decisions.  I gave you your chance.  I tolerated too much.  Relax and enjoy the display," he sneered with a queer smile.  His strides lengthened as he went, nearly airborne over the sands in a sprint unhindered by the woman he towed along.

     Individual buildings were now visible at the distance.  Vanessa didn't recognize the town, but realized that it was quite small.  "Run!  Run!  Hurry!  You're going to die!" she screamed frantically, with such an intensity that her words cracked in her throat.  Over and over she screamed it.

     A few curious faces appeared from doorways.

     Her screams rose to a fever pitch, losing meaning as her fear grew.

     Knives stopped at the very edge of the village, and in an instant, all residents of the town fell into piles of meat, perfectly sliced and perfectly deceased.

     Letting her hand loose finally, he allowed Vanessa to run into this tiny village and see the carnage for herself.  He felt mild disappointment in her as he saw her fall to the ground and mourn the humans.  As if they were anything more than garbage…

     She pounded the sand and sobbed aloud.  Vanessa wept for the fallen.  She hadn't the strength to crawl to Knives and slap him, or wring his neck, as she wished she could. 

     Knives panted from the effort, and he fell to his knees.  "I feel SO much better now," he sighed happily.

     The last person Meryl expected to see in her living room that night was Vash.  Yet there he was, smiling up at her from a pile of donuts when she got home from a long day of work.

     Moments ago, she was closing the last deal of the day, a hefty life insurance plan sold to a family of six.  Her old employer was rather bitter at she and Millie for abandoning their jobs, and only allowed them back in lesser positions.  Plenty of families in December needed life insurance, and so the two experienced ladies were assigned to sell door to door in the bad part of town.  "After all," her boss had commented, "You and Millie ought to be the best suited to working in dangerous environments!"

     But at present she was shaking Vash by the neck of his vest, scolding him about too many things to count.  Finally, she collapsed in the sofa across from him, crying. 

     "I was so worried," she choked out.

     "Don't cry," Millie comforted, patting her back gently.  "Mr. Vash's awful tired from the sand steamer, and he's got important stuff to tell us!"

     "I want every detail," Meryl demanded, suddenly serious.

     Vash waved his hands nervously.  "It would take too long," he replied, uneasy.  "I'll have to condense it.  Basically, we went off to her cave in the middle of nowhere to talk Knives out of his plans.  When that didn't work, she used that book and Knives' weakness to her and she managed to make him change some.  He apologized to me for stuff!  But she ended up making promises to him, such that he wouldn't hurt anyone if she'd…um…well, you know…but not until after the rescue ships come and go.  So we went to March and things were going alright, and…uh…Long story short," he continued, suddenly blushing, "I woke up yesterday to find her book burnt to a crisp.  She and Knives just plain disappeared.  No warning."

     "What're you gonna do, Mr. Vash?" Millie asked, amazed by the tale.

     He shrugged, attempting to act calm and composed.  "I'll think of something.  I think."  He shoved another donut into his mouth, watching Meryl sway in her seat as she digested the story.

     Ten minutes and five donuts later, Meryl had snapped out of her stupor and was addressing Vash with the same, hardhearted brand of reason she had used in the past, when things got tough.

     "I'm serious, Vash," Meryl pronounced sternly.  "You don't know that she hasn't begun to agree with his plans!  For all we know, she could be plotting the extinction of the human race along with him!  There weren't signs of a struggle when they left, right?"

     Vash shook his head.  "No.  But I just don't think she would go along with it.  In fact, I'm QUITE sure she wouldn't.  I think she's just trying to be obedient to him to keep him from killing everyone.  She really believes that she can bargain for everyone's safety, and thus far it seemed like she was right…"

     Meryl sighed.  "Gotta choose, Vash.  Either you trust her or you don't.  Because if you're right, and she's got everything set, you'll only be causing trouble if you follow them.  And if you're wrong, and you do nothing, we're all doomed.  I'm sorry to say it, but I'm beginning to wish he'd died back then," she added, frustrated.

     His heart sunk, for he knew that part of him agreed.  Yet he shook his head, 'no.'

     "Mr. Vash, what ARE you going to do?" Millie asked innocently, taking in every word they'd said.

     "It's a secret," he replied, winking.  "But the main reason I'm here is because there's something you have to know."

     Millie raised her eyebrows, but Meryl remained stoic, feeling that he could say nothing more that would surprise her.

     "Remember the rescue ships?" he asked them.

     Millie nodded happily, and Meryl stared angrily.

     Vash flinched, but continued.  "Remember how we said we'd all board them together?  Well…"

     Meryl's hot glare caused Vash to restate his proposal.

     "When the rescue ships come, get on them," Vash insisted solemnly.  "No matter what, make sure everyone boards.  And don't look for me; I don't know where I'll be when they get here.  Okay?"

     "But Mr. Vash, why?" Millie asked sadly.

     He shrugged.  "It's a big planet.  There's no guarantee I can track you down when the time comes.  And from now until their arrival, I need to be far away from you two, so you'll still be alive when they get here.  Trouble always follows me; you remember."  He grinned for a moment.  "I sure don't want anybody to get hurt, not so close to the exodus," he noted cheerily, although in his mind he was thinking about the horrible feeling he'd gotten when the sand steamer neared December.  He knew Knives had used his angel arm, but couldn't know where, why, or what resulted.

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