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--------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER TEN: CORNERED (cont2) "Put me down," Vanessa whispered hoarsely. Half relieved, half concerned, Knives obeyed. He was about to collapse from the weight of the two backpacks and a weakened companion. And he was terribly thirsty. Slowly and carefully, he set her on her bare feet in the sand. They were mere minutes away from May city, and he guessed that she knew it from the sounds of bustling humans. "You think you can walk now? I don't want to see you faint again…" "Then I won't," she murmured. "We have to be calm, try not to rouse suspicion. Hospital is in center of May. Have to get there. No incidents. No violence." "It would be simpler to-" "No, bad Knives," she interrupted, proving subtly that his concern allowed impudent dialogue to slip by unchallenged. "Be sensible. Agreed?" "Agreed. But if things…For now, I'll restrain myself. For now." He frowned, tugging the edges of her cloak over her more completely. They walked, his arm about her waist once more, onto the crowded city streets.' In the meantime, Vanessa continued to remind herself of the most horrible memories she could muster – Vash's, Knives', and her own. The constant flow of tears wetted her eyes and eased the dry discomfort caused by the new eyelid openings. This way she could keep her eyes soaking in the natural saline solution, preserving whatever of her eyes that she could. Despite the sadness these memories triggered, Vanessa was actually quite happy. After all, holding Knives to that angel arm formation for so long had to have given Vash a clue of their whereabouts. She had faith in Vash, whom she would surely need to save the rescue ships. "Stop here!" Meryl hit the brakes. Sand flew as the mini hummer settled to a still purr under an afternoon sky. "I see something up ahead," Vash murmured, jumping from the vehicle. "Can you guys locate the position on the map?" Millie peered at him from the edge of the said map. "Um…yes, Mr. Vash. But it's going to take a while, since we drove so far in the dark." Vash nodded solemnly. "As soon as you figure it out, I want you to go straight to the nearest sand steamer station and ride it far away from here. Don't come any closer to that place over there," he ordered, pointing at a barely visible brown dot in the distance. "You think he's over there?" Meryl asked in a hushed tone. "I think so. You and Millie need to do as promised, and leave now. And get on those ships once they're here." Meryl crossed her arms angrily. "Aw, come on, Vash! This isn't right. You don't even know that we're close! I only promised to leave when I KNOW he's nearby." Vash walked to her side of the hummer and opened his arms to offer a parting hug. "Thank you for all you've done for me. Both of you. I'm so sorry it couldn't have been more fun. But it's goodbye for now." He was trying to hide his fear and sadness beneath the usual goofy grin. Leaning out to him, Meryl hugged him tight. "I hate you for this," she whispered desolately, "always leaving me; always going off to die." "That's not what I need to hear," he replied, chuckling. "Millions of lives depend on me now. I need some confidence so I won't end up letting them down!" "You're so full of it," she murmured, beginning to choke up. "Oh, Mr. Vash! Promise we'll see you again!" Millie requested emotionally, suddenly gripping him in a fierce hug. Vash gasped, worming his way out of her rib-squeezing embrace. "I can't promise that, Millie. But I'll try!" He stepped away from them, smiling and waving. "You both promise you'll do just what I say, right? Please?" They reluctantly nodded, and waved enthusiastically as he stepped towards that little dot on the horizon. Striding towards the future, Vash's hand rested nervously against his holster. He would almost certainly have to utilize his angel arm in place of the gun, but this familiar silver Colt gave him a strange sort of conviction. As everyone on Gunsmoke was well aware, Vash the Stampede was the best gunslinger in the history of man. Even as he neared this apparent campsite, he couldn't see figures. Nevertheless, this could be a trap, so he kept his cool and walked steadily. This was the spot where Knives had angel armed. Vash knew it. For whatever reason, Knives had held it for a full half hour before the feeling faded. For the last 12 hours, Vash had pointed in the ghost direction of his senses, but by now, it seemed his brother and Vanessa were long gone. Vash began to run, collapsing on his knees before a mess of blankets and ripped cloth. Red…red stained cloth, drying to a rusty stiffness in the sun, causing his stomach to turn. Whose blood? He couldn't tell. But there were no bodies, and no pieces of a body. And the smoky remnants of a bonfire were undisturbed. He lifted a less bloody blanket to his nose. Somehow, it smelled like Vanessa. Vash couldn't have sensed Vanessa's angel weapon, he could only perceive Knives'. That feeling proved that Knives was here, with Vanessa. With no sign of a third party, Vash had to assume that one of the two had been injured. Vash stood and surveyed the surrounding sands. The blood was centralized here on the blankets; surely they weren't traveling with open wounds. Knives' shirt was torn and bloody, both in slits at the left sleeve and along the hem in strips. So they had bandaged the wound, or wounds… Hoping to leave no clue undiscovered, Vash combed the grounds, looking for any signs of struggle. The one thing he hoped not to discover was a grave. This was just odd – not like his brother at all. 'Knives wouldn't leave all of this behind, out in the open. That fire had been left burning, a beacon to anyone within sight. Every detail pointed to haste, a desperate emergency of some sort, surely linked to the blood. It wasn't really enough blood lost to kill a person, but this was a serious injury nonetheless. They must've had sufficient supplies to mend the wounds for traveling, but the haste…What could it mean?' Vash wondered, a whine in his mind. 'Oh, Vanessa…are you okay?' Feeling that past confidence fade away, he hurried to find his position on his map. There were so many towns nearby. So many options. Would they head towards a village? A town? Or…May city? He couldn't know. And he wasn't willing to guess. "What the heck are you going to do now, Vash?" he asked himself, climbing to his feet. His eyes squinted in the sunlight, scanning all horizons. "They're out there somewhere…rushing to some goal…injured somehow and trying to get somewhere. Where would they go in such a hurry? What do they need…help? Would Knives seek help from humans? Is he in such trouble that he can't solve it on his own? What happened here, to turn his cool demeanor into panic?" Perfect blades must have cut that left sleeve. His shirt was the most striking detail, because it proved more than the mere fact that the angel arm had been retracted. It showed an intent to injure, and was soaked in the blood of result. 'Why would Knives put his arm so close to get this bloody? Was it Knives' blood? Vanessa's? Why would Knives hold the formation for so long, without killing? Surely no one died here; there's not enough blood. Perhaps he meant to hurt her…maybe this was torture. Why would Knives carve Vanessa up? Wasn't she important to him?' Vash shook his head, ignorant of the tears. "It doesn't make sense! How am I supposed to figure this out, without knowing where they went? If I head in the wrong direction, I'll lose them for good…and if I don't act..." He sat in the sand, hugging his backpack. 'But I can't bring myself to act,' he thought honestly to himself. 'So now I'm going to have to sit here and worry until some bright idea hits me. Knives, you've won again.' |
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