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CHAPTER ELEVEN:  BELIEVE IN UFOs

     Coughing, Vash entered May and stumbled towards a toma trough.  His throat was tight and sore, so he drunk that nasty water.  After all, he needed to be able to breathe freely when confronting his brother.

     He wiped his mouth and began to scan the darkened town.  Nearly everyone was gone already.  "No bodies," he noted, only slightly relieved.

     A couple of trucks rolled slowly past him, filled with people dressed in hospital gowns.

     Vash ran over to the trucks and jogged alongside them.  "Excuse me, could you tell me where…The one who cause the trouble, I'm here to…"

     The patients remained stoic.  Only one replied. "Vash's kids…at the hospital," he murmured sadly.  Turning to face Vash, the man's eyes squinted to focus and then widened with a building horror.  "Oh my God, is that Vash!?  It's…It's Vash the Stampede!"

     The trucks suddenly jolted forward and sped into the night.

     Dropping his head, Vash sighed.  "…Since when did I have kids?  Hospital, huh?"  He cleared his mind of everything else, embarrassed to recall his recent inaction and attempting to maintain this newly built-up confidence.  "The hospital is…um…this way."

     Stepping along the abandoned streets, Vash began to pick up the faint odor of death.  Regardless of directions, he was mostly drawn to the hospital site by the smell, growing stronger and more terrifying with each drop of his boot.

     "Stop right there!" a shrill voice demanded.  There was a distinct metallic click in the distance.  "I mean it!  Get out of here, or I'll shoot, I really will!"

      "Millie!  It's me…Vash…"

     The gun fell to her side.  She didn't run to greet him, since she was stuck at that entrance by duty.  "Mr. Vash…Finally…"

     Vash ran to her, wincing at the sight of her injuries.  She had a black eye and a blood trial down her chin.  When she stepped a few paces in his direction, he noticed her limp.  "What are you doing here?"

     Millie cleared her throat, beginning to cry.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Vash, but we just couldn't get on that sand steamer!  There were these kids, and they ran out of tickets, and we think Mr. Knives was killing people, and we tried to save people, but lots of them fought their way in, and it's just awful," she rambled off quickly, stumbling over her words as the sobs grew.

     He listened with a frown, eyes downcast.  "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier.  I'm so sorry."

      "You waste so much time being sorry!"  Meryl shuffled to them from the opposite entrance of the hospital.  That pristine, white dress and long cape of hers were dirty and mussed.  She had seen worse than Millie, and had bruises along her face and a bloody bandage over her shoulder.

      "Meryl!  You've been shot!?" Vash exclaimed, moving to help her sit.

     She shook her head.  "I'll be okay.  You go in and stop this nonsense…somehow."

     Millie stooped beside her long-time partner.  "Yes, Mr. Vash.  It's been quiet for a while, but they're still in there."

     Vash sprung to his feet and drew the gun. "Who?  Besides him I mean…Are there hostages?  Survivors?" he asked optimistically, letting his pack and cloak fall to the ground beside him.

     Millie looked warily at Meryl.  "Um, Mr. Vash, she's in there…"

      "What?  Millie, you let her in?" Meryl asked incredulously.  "She could be-"

     Vash moved past them and began to enter the building.  "Is she the only other person in there?"

      "Well, maybe," Millie answered.  "There was lots of screaming at first, then not much at all, and Miss Vanessa asked me to let her in, and after that I haven't really heard much.  You know, she didn't look too good to being with."

      "Be careful, damn it!" Meryl demanded.

     But he was already inside.

     The smell was strong, blood splashed in the tiniest droplets along every surface of the waiting room.  Signature incisions had been sliced into the walls, tearing chunks of plaster from edges.  Bits of human rested at various parts of the place.  They led a trail down a hallway.  The volume of blood grew to such that Vash nearly slipped.

     It was as silent as a grave in here, and a million times scarier.

     He drew his hidden gun and pointed both ahead of him, gritting his teeth in concentration.   'If he's killed her, I may not be able to…I'd shoot him…But…'  Vash shook those thoughts from his head.  'Got to find it before I react to it…'

     Doors all around him were flung open, but one was the source of the blood trail.  There were the most body parts here, stacked just inside the door.  The doorframe was nicked and carved as though by a hundred saws.  And there was a breathing sound…Yes, a hoarse sort of breathing.  As though through gritted, bared teeth.

     Gulping, Vash dashed inside and scanned the place for somewhere to aim his weapons.

     Vanessa looked up from her seat on the tiled floor.

     Vash's heart fell when he saw her.  She wore her purple dress, and the usual light blonde hair hung over her eyes and down her shoulders.  But besides these details, and her pointed ears, everything was wrong. The sleeves of the dress were rolled up to make way for the injuries.  Her left arm was bandaged to her chest, hand hidden in wrappings.  The other arm was covered in thick bandaging from elbow to armpit.  He couldn't see most of her face, or her eyes, through the mass of dressings.  Her neck, shoulder, and - as he guessed from the pattern of the diagonal - her back was also concealed behind the white strips and gauze.

     Most frightening of all was the contents of her lap.  There lay the source of everyone's problems these days.  Knives looked unscathed, shoulders propped up and head leaning against her chest.  He was motionless.

     Scattered around them was a conglomeration of random medical supplies – rolls of gauze, vials of medicines, pills, syringes, I.V.s, and a dozen other products Vash didn't care at the time to catalog.

     Vanessa's right hand held Knives' limp wrist between thumb and forefingers, feeling for a pulse.  She was the origin of the heady breathing, truly with teeth bared and clenched.  It was the only detail of her face in plain sight – the pointed side teeth and filed front teeth, through which a rasping, wet breath drew in and out quickly.  Her body was shaking, shivering from effort.

      "Get out while you still can!  Trying to be the hero – see what it got the other ones?  Hurry," she hissed, anticipating the intruder.

     Both guns were placed into their respective sheaths; the silver one into its holster and the machine gun lowered into the prosthetic.  Vash stepped forward and crouched in front of her, wishing he could meet her eyes.  Those deep, relaxing eyes that smiled honestly to him alone.  "…Vanessa," he whispered, voice cracking even with the few syllables.

     Something in her stance relaxed, but she remained tense with pain.

      "Vash…you're late," she whispered softly.

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