Running Down

Thirteen months later, I had been sitting in the garden, minding my own business, when the Daniels boy arrived on the sand steamer.

His mother was the one who found me, approaching my sun-cracked bench, as she rung her hands.

"Father Wolfe?"

I gave her my best smile. "Ma'am?"

"Please, could you help me? It's… it's my sonny boy. He's been hurt again."

"What happened now?" I asked.

"Some sort of foolishness in May city. He pulled some stupid stunt in a tournament and got his arm tore up. Could you look at him, father? Father Leon swore he couldn't come."

"Course ma'am."

Sam was in the back of his father's beat-up pickup truck, with his right arm bound up like a mummy. I had never thought a face so young could be so ugly, but Sam had proved us all wrong on a great many predictions about his future. He sneered when he saw me slide into the passenger's seat.

"Thank you Father," his mom was saying, "He's not much, but he's the only one of my boys I've got left."

"Mom, what the hell are you doing?" Sam asked, "I told you to go get a doctor, not a priest! My arms hurting something bad, I need those fancy pills Doc Anderson gave me when I broke my leg!"

His mother smacked him upside the head with her purse, a large serious leather affair with lots of rivets, as she started the car. "You pipe down! If it weren't for you I wouldn't be wasting money to fix you up at all! And if you swear in front of the priest one more time, and I'll really give you something to cry about!"

"Owwiiee! Mom! Stop it!"

Sam was whining like a kicked puppy.

Or like an old friend.

Vash.

I never had stormed out of the school, bound and determined to walk the planet searching for him. I had never given into the desperation that had claimed me in the hours and days after he had left me. I had taken finals instead.

I kept telling myself that I could do it later, once all of my responsibilities were taken care of. Sure, part of me wanted to be out there. Take what money I had and buy a ticket to a city and start looking. Hell if I knew where and hell if I knew how. It still frightened me that I had become so taken with someone after such a short period of time. I wasn't sure how to get rid of it. He still haunted me after all this time.

And now I kept telling myself that after I finally went through with the ceremony, I would be all right. I would be safe. I didn't want anything or anyone like Vash to happen to me again.

The dreams had been less and less, but hadn't stopped again.

I kept thinking he would come back for me.

He had to, didn't he? I mean, I knew. Didn't that count for anything?

"Father?" Mrs. Daniels asked.

"Mmm? Sorry about that Ma'am. Kind of went off there for a second."

"It's all right. I was just wondering when you're taking your vows."

"It's planned for the 16th. Ten other brothers will be taking their vows with me."

"Really? Well, how nice that the church is expanding."

"Mo-om! You mean he's not a real priest!"

The handbag knocked him out with one swing. It made the rest of the trip to the Daniels ranch was quite pleasant.

Like his brothers, Sam had never been one to run from trouble. So over the years his mom had acquired quite the collection of first aid supplies. I accepted the offer of coffee, and could smell it brewing as I picked through her son's mangled shoulder. Nothing had been broken or fractured, but for a flesh wound it was pretty serious. Thankfully the wound had been well tended to early on, and had a chance of healing properly.

"Sam's got to watch this thing for a week or so." I told her, as she peeked over my shoulder. "He's got to keep his arm rested and the wound clean. You can use any one of the antiseptics you've got here to do the job. It should be fine, if he takes care of it."

"Thank you Father but…" she seemed embarrassed, "Could you bless the wound while you're here? Every little bit helps, especially when it comes to my sonny boy."

I blessed the water she brought me in the wash basin and splattered it against the tightly wound linen. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

"It stings!" Sam whimpered. His mom's handbag impacted with his skull again.

"You must have been shot down by the devil himself, then." I said, as I took the coffee his mom offered.

"Father, even I know no demon's going to take the time to shoot my son. It would be a waste of bullets."

"You don't know that momma! You should have seen the guy who shot me! Anyone of those gunmen could have been the Devil himself!"

"You shouldn't have gotten involved in a professional gunfight in the first place! The fact that those men are still alive speaks of the fact that they're much better that you'll ever be!" he mom said, turning red.

"How exactly did you get shot?" I asked, "I know you're not much of a fighter, but I would have thought you had gotten real good at running away by now."

"Well… you see, when the tournament was about to end, there was just two guys left to complete for the grand prize. But one guy got mad that the other guy was beating him, and it got real ugly. So I thought that no one would notice if I grabbed the prize money…"

"You didn't think someone would see you taking $$200,000!" he mom asked, handbag ready to swing.

"Mom! I wouldn't have tried if I thought I would have gotten caught! There were buildings getting blown up all around me! People were running for their lives!"

"So, what happened then?" I interrupted.

"Well, the angry guy musta noticed the money was gone, because he started coming after me. He got me into a dead end, but he only got my arm. Then there was a lot of gunfire all over the place, and when it stopped the other guy was asking if I was OK and stuff. He got me to a doctor, and then he put me on the sand steamer."

"How kind of him," his mom said, "and after all the trouble you caused."

"Kind? What are you talking about? He stole the prize money from me!"

The handbag appeared again, this time embedded in his skull. "That money wasn't yours to begin with! What kind of son did I raise?"

I began to sense it was time to make my dramatic exit. "Ma'am, it's getting late. Could I trouble you for a ride back to town?"

"Hmm?" she asked, mid-throttle, "Oh, of course father. Just let me get my keys."

Sam pouted as he sat up on the couch. "Kindness my ass." He muttered. "The guy was just mental. Who would go around calling himself Vash the Stampede, anyway?"

What?

"What did you say?" I didn't mean to raise my voice, but I hoped I sounded more angry than desperate.

"Gah!" Sam said, suddenly shy and sheepish, "I'm sorry father! Really, I am! I didn't mean to swear in front of you!"

"Never mind that! Why did this guy call himself Vash the Stampede?"

"I don't know… what, did you think I would ask him?"

I took a deep breath. Lord give me strength. "What did he look like?"

"I dunno… he was just some guy. As tall as you are with weird hair."

"What kind of weird hair? What was he wearing?" Now desperation was creeping into my voice. Lord give me fortitude, so that I don't start bawling in front of this dumb punk.

"He was just a blonde guy in a red coat! What else do you want from me?"

Oh god… it could be. No. The chances were astronomical. "Did he have green eyes?"

Sam was giving me an odd look. "…Yeah. I think so. He was wearing sunglasses, so I ain't sure…"

"Orange sunglasses?"

Sam was interested now. "Hey, yeah! What, do you know the guy?"

I pushed him away, and stood up. Christ, this wasn't happening. It couldn't be him. Not after all these months. But to know he's in someplace as far away as May city…

"When did you leave May city?" I asked.

"Leave May…?"

"I'm asking when you last saw him!" Fuck, I was shouting again.

"Geez, Father… he took me to the sand steamer depot when my ship left three days ago. He even helped me get the tickets."

He could still be there… he could still be there! Oh God, what was I supposed to do?

"So, he knew you were from December?" Did he say anything about me?

"Well, yeah." Sam rolled his eyes as if he was stating the obvious, "He said this was a nice town, and that we had a real nice church."

A nice church? All he could say was that we had a nice CHURCH?

"Father?" Mrs. Daniels was standing in the hallway, looking worried. "Is there something wrong Father?"

"No, we don't have anyone by the name of Ericks here. Sorry, sonny." An innkeeper told me, and the receiver clicked off. I went to the next name on my list.

May city had quite a few hotel chains. Luckily for me, almost all of them had phone numbers.

"We had an Erickson, but he's been gone for over a month." Another dial tone.

I shouldn't be doing this on a church phone without permission. Hell, I shouldn't be doing this! What could I have said if I found him?

"Black Cat Inn! Are you calling to make a reservation?" the man on the other end was shouting over the obvious party that was going on behind him.

"No, I'm looking to see if you have some one in your registry." I tried to keep my voice down, but it wasn't working.

"What?"

"I'M LOOKING FOR SOMEONE!" …oh hell.

"Oh! Right! Wait a second!" the phone clattered as it was put down. There was a chorus of loud drinking songs going on in the background. I thought I could pick out the chords of Colonist folk song 'Louie, Louie' among it all.

"All right son, who you looking for?"

"Ericks."

"Who now?"

"ERICKS."

"All right, I'll look."

"Something going on?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"PARTY?" Dammit, I was going to get caught, this was it, fuck me, fuck me…

"Oh that! We're just throwing a little party for the man who saved the quick draw tournament!"

"REALLY?"

"Oh yeah!" he said, "The Humanoid Typhoon himself! At least that's what he's been answering to. I'm ready to believe it myself, after the way he helped us all! I'm just glad he's staying at my place! The bar's been packed for days!" his mouth pulled away from the phone, and he yelled something I couldn't make out into the noise.

The maniacal laugher that answered back I could have recognized in my sleep.

Oh God. Oh God, Oh God, Oh FUCK! He was in May city. May, over a thousand iles away. Dammit Vash, how could I get to you now?

"I'm sorry to tell you this sonny, but we don't have an Ericks here!"

"S'allright." I told him, "Goodbye."

"Wha-" he was interrupted as the phone slide back into the receiver.

My shaking hands clamped tightly over my eyes. I wasn't going to get back to my room like this. I was already crying. I cried too much. I couldn't leave, I couldn't make it to May, not with my vows coming up. It was all a lost cause.

Sweet Heavenly Father, have mercy on my soul.

"I only wanted to talk to you about the request for a leave of absence you filed yesterday." The Father told me, when I arrived in his office. "I've come to expect nothing but impulse from you Wolfe, but even this is a little sudden."

"I thought it was my responsibility to inform the parish if I needed any time off. I know from previous experience that just taking off is not looked on well." I was irritated, and not just by the oncoming lecture. I had been counting up my money when Father Leon summoned me. I only had $$400 in savings. It would barely buy a 5th class bunk on a Tinkerbelle class steamer to May. And that was one way. I knew I would have to sneak on board, and I was trying to remember if I still knew how to do it.

"No, it's not. And I'm glad some of what we've been trying to teach you has been sinking in." Father Leon clasped his hands as he leaned forward over his desk, "But there are many different kinds of impulse Wolfe, and I'm wondering if this is just a redirection of your wandering natures."

I wasn't sure what he had meant by that, but I didn't like the way he said it. "Sir?"

"There are many different kinds of Priests, Wolfe. Some of us find their calling in wandering the sands, trying to sooth the unfortunate and convert those who need a path to follow. But even these priests must know the true nature of the church. A stable center is essential even in the most rootless parish. And while I can see your will and drive is impressive, even I do not see your spirit as a haven of calm repose."

"Forgive me father… I had thought I was improving."

"Oh you are in your own fashion. I have no doubt that you will take up the cross with vehemence one day. But you should not let the energy that fuels you turn to poorly controlled anger. The rumors of a misguided child should not stir you to violence, as I hear they have."

So he had heard about my talk with the Daniels boy. "I lost my temper with Sam, sir, but I certainly did not hurt him. I went with his mother only to help him."

"A priest cannot loose his temper at any time. He must be a source of calm. I have told you as much many, many times before." He sighed. "I can only hope that whatever business you must attend to will bring some peace to your troubled soul. You have been granted leave after the service today is done, and you will return in a week hence."

I couldn't even drive to New Augusta and back in a week. "Thank you father," I intoned, bowing my head in mock reverence to hide my frustration

Four days into my traveling and I was starting to consider that Father Leon and all of my teachers had been right when they said I was too impulsive.

I had taken off as soon as the service ended, the last sand steamer of the day left just minutes after, and I had been lucky enough to sneak aboard. I hadn't eaten since I had left; I had forgotten to pack anything of importance, like water or a map. And here I was, still more than a hundred iles from May, trying to hitchhike down a road that seemed to be free of travelers. In my cossack cloak.

The things were overheated as hell, and getting dirtier by the second. I should have stuffed them in my luggage, such as it was. But they had helped when I had been found in the sand steamer and when an argument in a bar almost got ugly. I could survive on a perception of humanity as long as I could.

What was I doing out here? Vash was probably already gone by now. I needed to be back in December in 3 days.

I was so tired and I hadn't really slept since I left. Until now I'd been too excited, too nervous. Wanted to make sure I could decide on a seconds notice.

"Mister! Hey, Mister!"

And now I was hearing voices. Perfect. … Wait a minute…

The man in the car behind me was about 40, tan to his bones with kind eyes set in a face like a balding vulture. "Do you need some help?"

"Yes!" I jumped on the car hood like a fat man on a salmon sandwich, "Please, can you help me? I need to get to May city as quickly as I can, I…"

"Woah, Padre. May's been hit with some sort of bomb. The city was evacuated over an hour ago."

"What?"

"Yeah, no one's really sure what happened, but people left and fast. The place has been barricaded on all five roads, no one's going in. There are even rumors about Vash the Stampede, if you can believe that. You'd have to be crazy to even try and get in there now."

"But I've traveled from December," I told him, "I'm trying to meet up with a friend of mine in the city. If it's being destroyed, I'm just as worried as I was before!" Especially since, if the legends really are true, he's probably caused most of the damage himself.

"Look Father, I just don't want to get into any trouble…"

"I'm not asking for you to get involved, but if you could get me as close to the city as you can, I'll get out and walk the rest of the way if I have to…I just need to see if…" The well timed coughing fit I had wasn't forced. Dammit, this wretched planet was dry.

"All right Father, it's your funeral. Get in."

He got me within a mile of the city. There were loud explosions that I could hear even from this distance, and a column of black smoke reaching up into the sky. I could see many of the buildings were still standing, but the smoke had covered a lot of the town.

Why was I suddenly so sure he was still in there?

I took one last swing of water from my Samaritans canteen, and threw my bag over my shoulder as I got out of the car. Hell. This wasn't going to be easy.

"You still going in?" the guy asked. "You're either brave or crazy Father."

"From where I'm standing, I think I'm just crazy." I gave him a friendly smile. "Thanks again for all your help. May you go with God, my son."

"Wait." The guy reached behind him, metal clashing together. "Take this. It's an old piece but it's better than nothing."

The gun shone with an oily brilliance.

"Thanks, but I wouldn't know what to do with the damn thing."

"Then take it to ease my mind. I won't have it on my conscious that I sent a Man of God into that without a shred of protection."

He did have the point. I carefully pushed the gun deep into my bag.

"Good luck father." The man said, starting the engine, "You're going to need it."

Next Chapter: Medium Well Done