Chapter 2
Ezra woke up with a horrible headache. He groaned weakly and covered his eyes with his hands, rubbing them until they came into focus.
"What's wrong with me?" he mumbled as he raked his fingers through his hair. The last thing he remembered was wrapping his wound neatly in clean linen before crashing next to Vin in the bed. Odd, he didn't even hear Vin wake up, as it became accustomed for him to get up as soon as the tracker did.
No matter though. Ezra could tell that it was around mid afternoon and Inez was still serving lunch. And, even odder for Ezra, he was hungrier than he had ever been in his life.
* * * * *
The rest of the Seven were surprised to see Ezra finally come downstairs at two o'clock in the afternoon not looking as crisp as he usually was. He was wearing the same outfit that he was wearing yesterday, all wrinkled and loose with the cuffs and the red jacket unbuttoned and only one of his shirt tails tucked in. His usual expensive hat had been abandoned and it looked like he hadn't even bothered to brush his hair or shave. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." he croaked out as he stumbled weakly to his usual chair. "I hope you don't mind my tardiness from this morning."
"Ezra, are you feeling all right?" Nathan asked as he covered Buck, who was the sickest member of the group at the moment, with an extra blanket as he coughed feebly. JD and Josiah looked like they were on the mend while Vin and Chris were still sniffling and coughing, but getting better.
"I am quite all right Mister Jackson, thank y-," he stopped mid-word as Nathan put his large hand across his forehead. 'Is the man deaf? I said I was fine.'
Nathan's dark brown eyes squinted with concern. "Ezra, you're clammy and burning up. I think you should come down to the clinic with me and take some medicine."
"Oh, Dear Lord," Buck groaned, clutching his mouth and gagging. "Please don't mention that shit around me, Nate! I can hardly stand the smell of yall's coffee as it is."
Nathan rolled his eyes at the lady killer. "Oh, come on. You were the one begging me for a shot a whiskey not thirty minutes ago."
"Whiskey! Oh-oh....." Buck swallowed repeatedly, but no one could deny the sounds of his stomach churning at the thought.
Ezra smiled and raised his hand to get the healer's attention. "I'm fine, Mister Jackson, just a little famished. Nothing that a little nourishment won't cure."
"Well, you don't look fine. I think you should just come over-"
"I SAID I'M FINE, GOD DAMN IT!" Ezra snarled as he slammed his hand onto the table. And as quick as his anger flared it was gone, leaving Ezra surprised and embarrassed by his outburst. Five pairs of stunned eyes were staring at him, while Buck was in his own little world trying to keep from vomiting on the table. "I. I'm sorry Mister Jackson. I don't know why I said that. I assure you I'm fine, but I think you should escort Mister Wilmington out of here before he explodes."
Nathan's gaze flashed to Buck, who was wilting in his chair and groaning in pain. "Okay Buck, calm down, let's go to the clinic and give you some more medicine."
"Oh God!" Buck moaned, clutching his mouth desperately as he sprinted out of the tavern, where a sound of retching and ladies screaming met their ears. Nathan sighed and followed him.
"Ez, are you all right? What was that all about?" Vin asked, concern in his eyes.
Ezra stared at Vin, an angry smirk on his face and his voice low and menacing. "Mister Tanner, the reason for my outburst was because Mister Jackson would not stop badgering me. Would you like to be next?"
Vin thought he was seeing things, but for a split second he thought he saw Ezra's forest green eyes flash an ugly blood red before returning to their usual color. 'Best to ignore it', he though. "Okay Ez, I'm sorry."
The gambler smoothed out his unruly hair and cleared his throat. "No harm done." It wasn't long after that Inez walked up carrying her notepad and wearing a friendly smile. After she scribbled down the other four's lunch, she turned to Ezra. "Would it trouble you if I ordered off the breakfast menu?" he asked kindly.
"No trouble at all, Señor Standish." said Inez.
"Great. In that case I'll have a short-stack with blueberries, butter and syrup, a side of bacon, two orders of hash browns, sausages, eggs and toast with marmalade."
Everyone, including Inez and a couple of people who were sitting nearby, stared at the con man. Ezra Standish was known for eating small light meals, like a couple of slices of toast or some fruit, and he had just ordered a feast big enough to feed three people.
"An-anything to drink?" Inez mumbled.
"I would love a ice cold jug of milk, if you don't mind."
Half an hour later Ezra was shoveling the food into his mouth, only taking a few seconds to take a breath in between bites. Gone were the delicate table manners of the young southern gentleman, who was actually using his hands to eat his pancakes. Five pairs of eyes watched (Nathan had returned by then) in awe and disgust as Ezra inhaled his food, and they all winced whenever Ezra made an animalistic grunt as he chugged his milk with his mouth full of food.
"Ez?" Vin asked quietly. Ezra didn't hear him. "Ez?"
Everyone at the table jumped as Ezra snarled and slapped his hands against the table, guarding his prey. "What. is it. Mister Tanner?" he hissed.
'My God. Vin thought. His eyes are red'. Vin's thoughts were interrupted by Larabee. "What the hell is the matter with you Standish? You're actin' like a jackass and you're eating like a pig. That ain't like you and you know it!"
"What I do and how I act is my problem, Mister Larabee, not yours." he rose up from his chair and turned his heel. "Good day, gentlemen."
Nathan stood up and walked towards the fuming gambler. "Ezra, you look really bad. I really think-," he was cut off short as Ezra turned toward him sharply and backhanded him hard across the face, sending him to the ground.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK, YOU FUCKING NIGGER!!!!" Ezra roared, his usual tenor voice changing to a booming shriek and his eyes glowing an intense red. A gasp escaped his lips and he fell to the ground, clutching his chest and breathing raggedly. Now green eyes shone with tears as he stared at Nathan, who's face was a mixture of shock, pain and rage. "N. Nathan. I didn't-.I didn't mean it. Believe me. I don't know where that came from."
"Oh I know where it came from." Nathan growled. "A fucking racist. You Southerners are all fucking alike! I always knew that you joining us was a mistake."
Before Nathan could utter another word, a man came barging into the saloon, winded and desperate. "Wh-Which one of you is Nathan Jackson?" he panted.
Nathan cast Ezra another steely glare before rising to his feet. "I am. What's wrong?"
The man took off his hat to reveal a bald head glimmering with sweat. "I-I was ridin' into town for the night, when I saw this body near the border. He's alive but he's been shot pretty badly."
"Lead me to him." Nathan demanded and followed suit. The rest of the team followed, with Chris glaring and Josiah frowning at Ezra, who was still on the floor. JD took a step away from Ezra as he walked out of the saloon. Vin was the last to leave. He just stared at Ezra, shook his head and left. That, to Ezra, was the most painful.
Ezra pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arm around his middle. 'What's wrong with me'? After a couple of seconds holding back tears he, too, left to see the injured man.
Nathan was carrying the man in his large arms and making his way to the clinic. The man was as naked as the day he was born and there were several bullet holes punched into his body. He was fairly young, maybe early twenties, with blazing red hair, freckles and a long nose. Ezra watched as the man was carried, but for a split second he saw something. The man opened his eyes and stared at Ezra. They were as red as blood. The man gave a smirk towards Ezra before closing his eyes again.
Ezra gave a step back, startled by the man's action. It was then that he noticed that he was very itchy.
* * * * *
The itching grew worse. Ezra scratched at his skin over and over until he was breaking skin and drawing blood. He was riding Chaucer out into the desert, trying to think of what had happened today as the sun had just sank below the mountains. His temper had become superior to a madman's, his appetite had increased tenfold and now the constant itching. As he was thinking he saw a little black speck on his sleeve and as he moved to touch it, it hopped away.
"Damn it! Fleas. Could this day get any worse?" Ezra sighed. He knew he spoke too soon when a dull ache seemed to grow from the pit of his belly.
"Ah" he hissed, clutching his middle. "That damn breakfast. Ate too much for my own good." But every time he took a breath, the pain grew more sharper and began to burn. Ezra jerked his head toward the sky with a shuddering gasp as the vision of the full moon blurred before his very eyes. "Oh, God. Chaucer-" his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell off of the saddle. He paid no heed to the fall, he was in terrible pain.
Ezra finally let out a horrible cry of pain, but the agony grew more fierce and had now spread all over his body. The gut-wrenching feeling of a million knives seemed to push through his skin as his head and limbs felt as if they were being ripped away from his torso.
Ezra could hear the faint sound of Chaucer whinnying in panic and galloping off, but mostly all he did was scream. Then his own screams started to change. The sound morphed from a man crying out in pain into the wild screeching of a mountain lion.
Fear and excruciating pain filled his head until he felt the release of falling into a black abyss.
Ezra woke up with a horrible headache. He groaned weakly and covered his eyes with his hands, rubbing them until they came into focus.
"What's wrong with me?" he mumbled as he raked his fingers through his hair. The last thing he remembered was wrapping his wound neatly in clean linen before crashing next to Vin in the bed. Odd, he didn't even hear Vin wake up, as it became accustomed for him to get up as soon as the tracker did.
No matter though. Ezra could tell that it was around mid afternoon and Inez was still serving lunch. And, even odder for Ezra, he was hungrier than he had ever been in his life.
* * * * *
The rest of the Seven were surprised to see Ezra finally come downstairs at two o'clock in the afternoon not looking as crisp as he usually was. He was wearing the same outfit that he was wearing yesterday, all wrinkled and loose with the cuffs and the red jacket unbuttoned and only one of his shirt tails tucked in. His usual expensive hat had been abandoned and it looked like he hadn't even bothered to brush his hair or shave. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." he croaked out as he stumbled weakly to his usual chair. "I hope you don't mind my tardiness from this morning."
"Ezra, are you feeling all right?" Nathan asked as he covered Buck, who was the sickest member of the group at the moment, with an extra blanket as he coughed feebly. JD and Josiah looked like they were on the mend while Vin and Chris were still sniffling and coughing, but getting better.
"I am quite all right Mister Jackson, thank y-," he stopped mid-word as Nathan put his large hand across his forehead. 'Is the man deaf? I said I was fine.'
Nathan's dark brown eyes squinted with concern. "Ezra, you're clammy and burning up. I think you should come down to the clinic with me and take some medicine."
"Oh, Dear Lord," Buck groaned, clutching his mouth and gagging. "Please don't mention that shit around me, Nate! I can hardly stand the smell of yall's coffee as it is."
Nathan rolled his eyes at the lady killer. "Oh, come on. You were the one begging me for a shot a whiskey not thirty minutes ago."
"Whiskey! Oh-oh....." Buck swallowed repeatedly, but no one could deny the sounds of his stomach churning at the thought.
Ezra smiled and raised his hand to get the healer's attention. "I'm fine, Mister Jackson, just a little famished. Nothing that a little nourishment won't cure."
"Well, you don't look fine. I think you should just come over-"
"I SAID I'M FINE, GOD DAMN IT!" Ezra snarled as he slammed his hand onto the table. And as quick as his anger flared it was gone, leaving Ezra surprised and embarrassed by his outburst. Five pairs of stunned eyes were staring at him, while Buck was in his own little world trying to keep from vomiting on the table. "I. I'm sorry Mister Jackson. I don't know why I said that. I assure you I'm fine, but I think you should escort Mister Wilmington out of here before he explodes."
Nathan's gaze flashed to Buck, who was wilting in his chair and groaning in pain. "Okay Buck, calm down, let's go to the clinic and give you some more medicine."
"Oh God!" Buck moaned, clutching his mouth desperately as he sprinted out of the tavern, where a sound of retching and ladies screaming met their ears. Nathan sighed and followed him.
"Ez, are you all right? What was that all about?" Vin asked, concern in his eyes.
Ezra stared at Vin, an angry smirk on his face and his voice low and menacing. "Mister Tanner, the reason for my outburst was because Mister Jackson would not stop badgering me. Would you like to be next?"
Vin thought he was seeing things, but for a split second he thought he saw Ezra's forest green eyes flash an ugly blood red before returning to their usual color. 'Best to ignore it', he though. "Okay Ez, I'm sorry."
The gambler smoothed out his unruly hair and cleared his throat. "No harm done." It wasn't long after that Inez walked up carrying her notepad and wearing a friendly smile. After she scribbled down the other four's lunch, she turned to Ezra. "Would it trouble you if I ordered off the breakfast menu?" he asked kindly.
"No trouble at all, Señor Standish." said Inez.
"Great. In that case I'll have a short-stack with blueberries, butter and syrup, a side of bacon, two orders of hash browns, sausages, eggs and toast with marmalade."
Everyone, including Inez and a couple of people who were sitting nearby, stared at the con man. Ezra Standish was known for eating small light meals, like a couple of slices of toast or some fruit, and he had just ordered a feast big enough to feed three people.
"An-anything to drink?" Inez mumbled.
"I would love a ice cold jug of milk, if you don't mind."
Half an hour later Ezra was shoveling the food into his mouth, only taking a few seconds to take a breath in between bites. Gone were the delicate table manners of the young southern gentleman, who was actually using his hands to eat his pancakes. Five pairs of eyes watched (Nathan had returned by then) in awe and disgust as Ezra inhaled his food, and they all winced whenever Ezra made an animalistic grunt as he chugged his milk with his mouth full of food.
"Ez?" Vin asked quietly. Ezra didn't hear him. "Ez?"
Everyone at the table jumped as Ezra snarled and slapped his hands against the table, guarding his prey. "What. is it. Mister Tanner?" he hissed.
'My God. Vin thought. His eyes are red'. Vin's thoughts were interrupted by Larabee. "What the hell is the matter with you Standish? You're actin' like a jackass and you're eating like a pig. That ain't like you and you know it!"
"What I do and how I act is my problem, Mister Larabee, not yours." he rose up from his chair and turned his heel. "Good day, gentlemen."
Nathan stood up and walked towards the fuming gambler. "Ezra, you look really bad. I really think-," he was cut off short as Ezra turned toward him sharply and backhanded him hard across the face, sending him to the ground.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK, YOU FUCKING NIGGER!!!!" Ezra roared, his usual tenor voice changing to a booming shriek and his eyes glowing an intense red. A gasp escaped his lips and he fell to the ground, clutching his chest and breathing raggedly. Now green eyes shone with tears as he stared at Nathan, who's face was a mixture of shock, pain and rage. "N. Nathan. I didn't-.I didn't mean it. Believe me. I don't know where that came from."
"Oh I know where it came from." Nathan growled. "A fucking racist. You Southerners are all fucking alike! I always knew that you joining us was a mistake."
Before Nathan could utter another word, a man came barging into the saloon, winded and desperate. "Wh-Which one of you is Nathan Jackson?" he panted.
Nathan cast Ezra another steely glare before rising to his feet. "I am. What's wrong?"
The man took off his hat to reveal a bald head glimmering with sweat. "I-I was ridin' into town for the night, when I saw this body near the border. He's alive but he's been shot pretty badly."
"Lead me to him." Nathan demanded and followed suit. The rest of the team followed, with Chris glaring and Josiah frowning at Ezra, who was still on the floor. JD took a step away from Ezra as he walked out of the saloon. Vin was the last to leave. He just stared at Ezra, shook his head and left. That, to Ezra, was the most painful.
Ezra pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arm around his middle. 'What's wrong with me'? After a couple of seconds holding back tears he, too, left to see the injured man.
Nathan was carrying the man in his large arms and making his way to the clinic. The man was as naked as the day he was born and there were several bullet holes punched into his body. He was fairly young, maybe early twenties, with blazing red hair, freckles and a long nose. Ezra watched as the man was carried, but for a split second he saw something. The man opened his eyes and stared at Ezra. They were as red as blood. The man gave a smirk towards Ezra before closing his eyes again.
Ezra gave a step back, startled by the man's action. It was then that he noticed that he was very itchy.
* * * * *
The itching grew worse. Ezra scratched at his skin over and over until he was breaking skin and drawing blood. He was riding Chaucer out into the desert, trying to think of what had happened today as the sun had just sank below the mountains. His temper had become superior to a madman's, his appetite had increased tenfold and now the constant itching. As he was thinking he saw a little black speck on his sleeve and as he moved to touch it, it hopped away.
"Damn it! Fleas. Could this day get any worse?" Ezra sighed. He knew he spoke too soon when a dull ache seemed to grow from the pit of his belly.
"Ah" he hissed, clutching his middle. "That damn breakfast. Ate too much for my own good." But every time he took a breath, the pain grew more sharper and began to burn. Ezra jerked his head toward the sky with a shuddering gasp as the vision of the full moon blurred before his very eyes. "Oh, God. Chaucer-" his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell off of the saddle. He paid no heed to the fall, he was in terrible pain.
Ezra finally let out a horrible cry of pain, but the agony grew more fierce and had now spread all over his body. The gut-wrenching feeling of a million knives seemed to push through his skin as his head and limbs felt as if they were being ripped away from his torso.
Ezra could hear the faint sound of Chaucer whinnying in panic and galloping off, but mostly all he did was scream. Then his own screams started to change. The sound morphed from a man crying out in pain into the wild screeching of a mountain lion.
Fear and excruciating pain filled his head until he felt the release of falling into a black abyss.