CHAPTER EIGHT:  HIS RULES  (cont1)

     The scent of blood and broken flesh hung heavy in Vanessa's lungs.  Her body shook with horror as she took in the magnitude of Knives' actions.  There were probably around eighty men, women, and children dead, though in order to know exactly, one would have to carefully hunt through the gore and count heads.  She struggled to calm herself, driven by the knowledge that it would do no good to be in shock.

     Knives reappeared from a shop with a bag of food and supplies.  Behind him lay a trail of bloody footprints.  Choosing a spot on the road several feet from Vanessa, he eyed her as he packed the goods into his backpack.  "Fill the canteens.  We're leaving."

     Vanessa pulled herself onto her knees, squinting through bloodshot eyes.  "How could you?" she screamed.  "They did NOTHING to you!"

      "They did plenty.  Not to me, but to our kind," he corrected, gesturing over his shoulder at the lone plant that charged the village.  "Hurry, now.  Don't want to be here when help arrives, or you'll have to witness another nasty little scene..."

     She picked up a rock and pitched it at his head.  The throw was weakened with exhaustion and the fact that she was not left-handed.  The rock sailed well past him.  "WHY?  Why THEM?  Why NOW?" she asked incredulously.

     Pulling the backpack into place, he sighed with an escalating impatience.  "I had to release a little tension," he replied calmly.  "If I hadn't, I'm sure I'd have wrung your delicate little neck by now.  You have no idea…" he began, stopping himself.  "Get the damned water, Vanessa."

     Her heart sank to a new low.  "Wh...What?  What did I do?" she asked innocently, hoping that he was ignorant of her charade and the secret words she had made against him.

     He rushed towards her and yanked her to her feet.  "You KNOW what you did.  VASH knows what you did.  I should hate you for it, but I've chosen to forgive you.  Don't take it for granted, or else I may CHANGE my MIND," he snarled, inches from her tear-soaked face.  Still holding her firm by the upper arm not yet broken, he grabbed the back of her neck with his free hand and pulled her towards him.  He drew her into a cold kiss, salty with her tears and his sweat.  Forcing his tongue past her teeth, he stopped only once he knew she was too frightened - or too clever - to bite down.  In a harsh gesture, he shoved her away and pushed her towards a water cooler.

     With trembling hands she filled the canteens and fought back screams of hate.

     Onward they trekked, perhaps to no definitive destination.  The desert did not bow to these two 'superior' beings, beating harsh sun upon their cloaked bodies and whipping sand against them in every possible direction.  One figure appeared to dwarf the other, since the former hiked upright and wore boots, and the latter stooped as though fatigued, on bare feet.  In reality, the latter was a mere inch shorter.  Such inequalities - whether of height, intelligence, willpower, tenacity, or any other attribute – seemed far greater than they truly were.

      "Did you hear!?" a shrill voice called out.

     From all directions, heads popped up from desks.

     A young man stopped within the main room of the Agency, between rows of desks.  Hands on his knees, he panted to regain his breath.

      "What is it?" they asked him.

     He lifted his head.  "He's been spotted!  In March!  Two days ago.  Can you BELIEVE it?"

     Meryl slammed her hands upon her boss's desk.  "You can't be serious!" she told him, exasperated.

      "Oh, but I am," he replied.  "And don't use that tone with me!  Vash the Stampede may've been out of our hands as far as insurance claims go, but the people are demanding that we reopen the case!  Mankind's first official human disaster area is on the loose again, and though I hope he doesn't go on another madman rampage, if he does…Well, let's just say I'll have more letters to sort through than I could read in a lifetime.  Law officials have been breathing down my neck all morning, claiming that our prior investigation lacked evidence.  They think we're snaking out of our obligations to insurance holders!  This is worse than bad for business, Ms. Strife."

     Glancing down, she noticed that her hand was covering a photograph of the man in question, a candid shot of Vash in his familiar red coat in March.  "You've got to assign Millie and myself to the case," she insisted.  "We'll follow him like before…"

     She was interrupted by the bawdy laughter her boss was emitting.  "Like before?  We paid how much?  Remember?  Claims didn't fall when you two were on the job, they rose!  I want to save this company, not render it bankrupt!  Ha ha…assign you two…ha!"

     Meryl's face was red.  "We're the only people to live around him for more than a day!  No one else has been able to track him.  No one."

     The boss wiped a tear from his eye.  "Really.  Well, that Millie of yours – her sales for the past months have been atrocious, and yours are not spectacular compared to our other staffers.  They say you're curt with customers.  So I see no harm in giving you the assignment.  But it won't be like before.  You'll receive money for travel and food alone.  No damage payments if you get hurt.  We can't afford it.  And your salaries will remain at the current amount.  There are already ten more reliable staffers assigned the position, but you'll be traveling alone, just the two of you.  And don't get in the way of the Special Research Squad – they'll have a hard time as it is, trying to prove that The Stampede caused that hole in the moon…"

     She was horrified.  "The same wage?  No damage payments?  Not the only ones?" she roared.

     He narrowed his eyes angrily.  "Take it or leave it.  Now get out of my office."

     Meryl swallowed her pride and nodded.  "We'll leave this afternoon," she replied, before flying out of the room and hailing the first taxi she saw.

      "No way!" Vash yelled, waving his hands defensively before an excited Meryl.

      "You'll wear it and you'll like it," she growled, pushing the wig and outfit into his chest.

      "It's not that…I can't let you come with me!" he corrected her.  "I can't!  This is dangerous!  He's probably mad as Hell, and you have NO idea what that's like!"

     "You can't stop us this time," Millie answered cheerily.  "We'll keep our promise, though."

      "How can you keep your promise?" Vash replied, flustered.  "You agreed to stay away from me so you won't get hurt!  You'll probably die if you follow me now!"

      "We're only going to follow you for a while," Meryl responded solemnly.  "Just until we're sure you've found them.  Once we've gotten you safely there, we'll split.  We're not such gluttons for punishment that we'd stick around for THAT."

      "Seriously?  But how do I know…"

     Meryl and Millie stood firm, crossing their arms stiffly.  Each was dressed for travel, toting respective weaponry and luggage.

      "Damn it!" Vash whined feebly.  "Not again!"

NEXT SECTION:  http://hometown.aol.com/artchick12/hisrules3.html

HOMEPAGE:  http://hometown.aol.com/artchick12/myhomepage/index.html