Surrounded by excess luggage, Vash peered out of the motorcycle's sidecar. He hadn't realized that together, he and Wolfwood would have enough bags to occupy a well-kept woman. He could hardly see the road, and the dark fabric of their bags attracted intense sunlight, baking his skin. He anticipated their departure when he could finally have a slight breeze in his face.
Wolfwood lifted up his big mercy cross.
Vash's eyes widened. "You're not sticking that thing with me? I have everything else- oof!"
A sudden bulk squashed the outlaw's insides. His stomach retreated to his spinal cord and his ribs restricted his breathing patterns.
Wolfwood brushed off his palms. "You said you were going to keep everything on your lap," the Priest reminded.
"Yeah," Vash squeaked in an uncomfortably high voice. "My lap, not my stomach, chest, and shoulders! Why don't you help bear the burden with this cross?" Beads of sweat began to develop on the outlaw's face.
Wolfwood ignored him and slipped one long leg over the seat of the bike.
"Uh-oh," Vash squeaked. "I need to go to the bathroom."
"But you just went!" Wolfwood growled. "Spikey, the girls left over an hour ago!"
"Oh yeah?" He paused to fill his lungs with the minimum air necessary to speak. "Well, you'd need to go again too if you had all this stuff pressing" –breath- "on your abdomen!"
For a moment they froze glaring at one another- Vash blue in the face. Finally Wolfwood rolled his eyes and jumped off the motorcycle. Grudgingly, he relieved Vash of the cross, and turned to the other bags.
Vash inhaled a full breath of air without the jab of the cross in his lungs.
Wolfwood picked up his deep green bag when Vash announced that he seemed to be quite fine.
"Actually, I don't think I need to go to the bathroom anymore. It must have just been the pressure of that cross."
In silent irritation, Wolfwood thrust the cross back onto the outlaw. It landed like a cannon ball across his front. A small cough let the Priest know the force was enough to knock the air out of the needle noggin. As an accent, Vash's neck gave out and his head flopped like a lame duck to his shoulder. His eyes tumbled in spirals.
Wolfwood returned to his seat and twisted the key.
Vash's face began to regain its blue tone again, and just as they left the town, the Priest could spy some purple undertones.
The ride proved to be a silent one due to the fact that Vash knew the moment he opened his mouth, Wolfwood would bring up jello again, or worse, some other physical intimacy like broccoli, ground beef, or strawberries. Vash had been scarred, officially. When his stomach began to growl and food crept into his mind, so did Meryl. The very thought of his empty stomach was irritating. Leave it to the Priest to come up with such a life threatening metaphor.
Vash peered out from the cross. Normally he would see a wide selection of dirt, but this time he saw a wide selection of dirt and a Sandsteamer. He called it improvement and dared talk.
"Looks like a big Sandsteamer," Vash noted.
"Oh yeah, it's big."
Vash could tell by Wolfwood's voice that he had already put too much thought on the subject. The gunman continued to watch the Sandsteamer; dust flew up near the sides and plastered its dark skin.
"Hey, do you think the girls are in there?" Wolfwood asked.
"Are you kidding?" Vash snorted. "They must be iles and iles and iles ahead of us."
"They could be in there, with this baby." Wolfwood answered. He proceeded to give the motorcycle an affectionate pat.
"No motorcycle can go that fast, not even yours." Vash stated.
"Shhh!" Wolfwood cooed to the bike. Vash saw him rubbing it just below the handle bars. "He didn't mean it."
Vash blinked. He knew Wolfwood liked his new motorcycle, but he had never quite pictured him talking to it. As for the Sandsteamer, Vash restrained from pointing out it was going the wrong direction anyway. He knew he was already on the Priest's bad side, and he didn't want to get in an argument about a Sandsteamer. He sighed as it passed from them at amazing speed, treading iles and iles faster than the little motorcycle. Inside, that Sandsteamer had air conditioning, cold water, and flushable toilets, maybe even donuts.
The rest of the ride that day had nothing more exciting. Vash had watched dirt, dirt, and, yes, more dirt go by. His forehead felt dirty with dust and sweat alike. Once in a while Wolfwood would hum very quietly, so quiet that sometimes it was hard to distinguish it from the humming of the engine, and Vash would have never noticed if it wasn't for the change in pitches.
When the suns had finally reached the horizon, Wolfwood parked the bike in the middle of no where and pulled out the key.
"Well, Spikey, it's time to get some sleep unless you want to take the night shift." Wolfwood acknowledge and stepped off the bike.
"Keh! You know I don't know how to drive these things, let alone in the dark! Just get this cross off me."
The Priest smirked and took out a cigarette. Vash watched him light it, feeling annoyed. At his own leisure, Wolfwood blew out a puff of smoke.
"Alright," he said, and slowly came to Vash's aide.
Wolfwood removed the cross easily and stabbed the end into the gentle sand. The sand sloped around it and held it in place. Vash inhaled a much needed full breath of air, taking advantage of the opportunity to fill his lungs to their capacity. Wolfwood worked to remove a large amount of other bags and, like the cross, tossed them into the sand, until the outlaw was able to escape the tiny seat.
Silent, they both worked to make a usable camp. Sleeping bags were set on the soft sand after removing any stones embedded under the surface, and then a small lantern was placed in between them. Vash felt his stomach grumble when he had finished, he reached for their bag full of food and began to rummage through its contents: canned soup, canned beans, canned corn, canned peas, some type of canned mystery meat and, alas, canned pudding.
"Wolfwood, where's the firewood?" Vash asked.
"Firewood?" The Priest asked.
"Yes, firewood, you know, to build a fire with?" Vash elaborated.
"I don't buy firewood!" Wolfwood scoffed. "That stuff is expensive and lasts only several minutes. We might as well burn your money, Spikey." The Priest inhaled another breath from the cigarette. Vash watched it burn and decrease in stature before asking how they were going to heat up any food. "Vash, we're camping in the middle of nowhere, we don't need to heat up our food. There's a can opener in there, what more do you need?"
After reluctant consideration, Vash picked a can of soup. "What do you want? Soup, vegetables, pudding, beans or…" Vash looked at the mystery meat label, "whatever this gunk is."
"Throw me a can of beans." He said, and then put out the little cigarette.
Vash tossed it to him and returned to his sleeping bag with the can opener. He popped the top open and stared into the opaque substance, reminding himself he was lucky it was getting dark so he wouldn't have to see what was in the soup. He handed the can opener to the Priest, still staring at the can.
"You did bring spoons didn't you?" Vash asked.
"And waste our water on washing them?"
Vash looked at the Priest wide eyed. How little did this man want to survive on? The trip was difficult enough without being utensil-less.
"Naw, I'm just kidding. Lighten up, Spikey," Wolfwood smiled and tossed the utensil to the gunman. "I've never heard you so quiet."
Vash stirred the contents in his can with the spoon as he tried to come up with a reasonable reply.
After taking a bite of his beans, Wolfwood lit up and then quickly replaced it with his sly smile. The little light from the lantern reflected in his eyes and cast a yellow glow across his face. "You're nervous." He accused.
"About wha-"
"The reunion is practically here, and the man with $$60 billion on his head, is nervous!" The idea was humorous to the Priest; he even attached a laugh at the end of the sentence. The yellow light danced in his mouth with frivolity.
"I'm not nervous!" Vash answered defensively. "If you have forgotten, I had 5,000 pounds pressing on my stomach and chest today. I want to put you in that spot and see if you can even breathe! Maybe you would be quiet too. I bet you couldn't even hum a tune if you were sitting where I was." Vash took a violent bite of his soup.
Vash's comment stirred Wolfwood's well being quite greater than he had expected. The smirk had disappeared and instead, the Priest's jaw hung, lame, leaving his mouth slightly open. This pleased Vash, so he elaborated.
"I know you told me not to bring my walkman, and now I understand just why. Why do I need one when I have my own personal one right beside me?"
Wolfwood glared at his dinner. "I wasn't humming. That was the engine, it always hums."
Vash let his smile leak through, the sky was growing ever darker and he was unsure if Wolfwood could even see his grin in the lamp light. "I didn't know it knew how to hum Forever Mine or Skip to my Lou. That bike really is impressive."
Wolfwood put down the can of beans. "That reminds me, I need to get her ready for bed." He stood up, swiping the lantern.
Vash was confused by his comment until he watched the Priest walk over to the motorcycle. Then to his surprise, the Priest opened one of the bags and pulled out a dirt brown cotton sheet and began to cover the bike. Vash stifled a laugh.
"What? Is she going to get cold in the night?" He asked.
"No," Wolfwood answered. He pulled the blanket from all sides until the motorcycle was completely covered. "I put a lot of work into getting this bike, and I don't want anyone stealing her." He explained.
Vash had finished his cold soup by the time Wolfwood had sat back down. He climbed into his sleeping bag and stared up at the stars in near silence. All that broke the quiet was the repeated chewing and swallowing noise of the Priest. Vash's thoughts wandered aimlessly as his eyes scanned the colorful moons and began to search for constellations. He had found four when Wolfwood spoke.
"Don't worry, Spikey, she likes you." He said.
Vash rolled over to face him. "The bike?" He asked.
Wolfwood jammed the empty can into the ground. "No, Needle Noggin! The little Insurance Girl!"
His answer caught him off guard, but he silently regained himself. "That's what you think," He answered grumpily.
"No," Wolfwood pointed a finger at Vash. "That's what I bet you."
Here he went again, talking about that night this had all started and Wolfwood had become suddenly interested when Vash had let his feelings slip. The slip was an honest one, but right afterward Wolfwood began interrogating him with questions until Vash had confided his whole self to the Priest. At the moment, he had felt quite relieved to have told Wolfwood, but then the Priest back fired and somehow tricked Vash into this huge mess and began playing cupid.
"I've seen the way she looks at you."
"Which look? The annoyed one or the death-threatening one?"
"No…" The Priest growled, losing patience. "The look she has when you're not talking to her- when she's watching you."
"Yeah, because she's relieved I'm not talking to her." Vash even laughed, it was an argument Wolfwood was losing.
"You'll see," was all he said, and then with one swift blow, the lantern was out.
Vash was sleeping relatively well through the night, but when it began to reach the peak hours of the morning, he woke with a jolt and found himself shivering. His skin was plagued with goosebumps and his teeth chattered. In hopes to warm himself, he rubbed his arms. Slowly the bumps fell smoothly back into his skin, but the moment his rubbing stopped, they reemerged. After checking that his sleeping bag had been zipped up all the way, he pulled his limbs together and tried to ignore the outside nip. He closed his eyes again and waited….and waited….and waited.
He wouldn't fall asleep, not being this cold. Opening his eyes he remembered the motorcycle. Quietly, he crept to it, taking his time to avoid waking Wolfwood. With stealth he began tearing the brown dust-colored blanket away from the bike. They were in the middle of nowhere, he told himself, who would find them in the dark and steal a motorcycle without the key? Even if the thief did pursue the adventure, Vash was sure he would hear the person. At last the blanket was free. Vash tiptoed away from the bike until BAM!
Pain surged up his toe and he suddenly felt his heart beat pulsing through it. He bit his lips to prevent his cry. He heard Wolfwood readjust himself in his sleeping bag and waited until a quiet snore issued. With watering eyes, his free hand felt the object. This cross had to be his worst nightmare, if it wasn't lifeless, Vash would have been sure it was out to get him.
He crawled back to his bed, pulling the blanket around him.
….
The next morning Wolfwood woke up early. He yawned and began to stretch out his back; today would be an even longer day driving. His eyes scanned the dawning sky for a moment, and then returned to the ground where he found the cross. The weapon was leaning sideways in the sand, casting a dark elongated shadow just over the outlaw's bed that continued to make a large cross just above it.
And that's when he noticed it. His bike was gone.
Wolfwood stared at the empty space for nearly a minute to assure that his eyes hadn't failed him. Then he took a double take at Vash and sneered when he noticed the blanket. In pure rage, the Priest walked savagely to him, and ripped the blanket from his grip, he even went as far as to give the outlaw a friendly little kick.
When the blond opened his eyes, Wolfwood demanded, "where's my motorcycle?"
Rubbing the sleep from his face, Vash sat himself up and glanced at their supplies. To his disbelief, the bike was gone.
"You took her blanket, Needle Noggin! And now someone stole her!"
Vash stood up. "We're in the middle of nowhere, who would steal it?" He asked with a calm tone. He avoided Wolfwood's belligerent eyes and scanned the area. "There it is!" He pointed to the bulk lying sideways on the ground at the foot of a hill. "Bet they couldn't get far without a key."
Before he could finish, the Priest was racing to it. Vash followed at a slower pace. Wolfwood was kneeling at its side when he found him. The bike was bent irregularly, like a gigantic foot had stepped on it, and the precious red paint was scuffed terribly. Thousands of footprints littered the area, but because of the soft sand, they were impossible to decipher.
"There are so many footprints, it almost looks like an animal did this," Vash voiced.
"I don't care if an alien pirate monkey did it, I'm hunting them down." Wolfwood vowed, struggling to stay calm.
Vash blinked as Wolfwood took a look at the engine. His face gained a look of surprise mingled with disgust. His eyes were stained with distaste while his mouth hung open. Vash saw him carefully probe at something out of view. He then threw his head in Vash's direction and glared.
"Spikey, get over here!" He ordered in a threatening voice.
"Do I have to?" Vash whined. Inside Vash knew the question was useless, but Wolfwood's eyes were bearing into him and he would quite like to keep his distance from the Priest.
"Get over here and explain yourself!" Wolfwood growled, pointing at the engine.
"Alright…" Vash gloomily walked closer, preparing for an attack.
"What's this?" Wolfwood asked.
Vash followed his finger and found a luscious pastry stuck in the engine. "A donut?" He asked, bewildered. Suddenly his mouth began to water, but he tried to ignore the sensation. "How the-"
"That's right a donut!" Wolfwood yelled before Vash could finish, like a mouse trap he pounced to his conclusion. "Who loves donuts? You! You did this to her!"
Vash stared in disbelief at the Priest, and the Priest stared angrily back. Just the way Wolfwood stood made him look fierce and wild, like an animal ready to attack.
"Why would I destroy our only transportation?" Vash cried.
"Because you are afraid to go to the reunion!" Spat Wolfwood in return.
"And why would I put a donut in the engine? For one, I'm currently not allowed to eat them, so I wouldn't have any, secondly, if I did have one, I would have rather ate it than stick it in the engine, and why would I waste all my time walking back and forth in the sand to make these tracks?"
Despite Vash's efforts to prove himself, Wolfwood still glared. After what seemed like several minutes, he looked back to the engine and pulled out the pastry with a quick jerk. He held it away from his body with his thumb and index finger like it was an infested rat. Vash watched it eagerly. With one quick movement, the Priest spread out his fingers and let it fall to the ground. When it hit the dirt, grains of sand clung onto its moist sides. To make its death more painful, Wolfwood smothered the edge of it with his shoe, using the same technique he used to put out cigarettes. After kicking more sand on it, he turned back to the engine.
Disappointed, Vash frowned.
"Well, we might be in luck, Spikey, I think it will still work, but you owe me big time for this! Even if you didn't ruin it, you still took the blanket off and exposed her to the world."
After eating canned corn for breakfast, the two worked to repack their sleeping bags and clean up their camping mess. Vash was not looking forward to the cramped and twisted ride, and he knew if he did one more thing wrong, Wolfwood would wring his neck, so he remained silent when the cross pressed itself against his bladder again.
"My poor baby," Wolfwood patted the twisted motorcycle. The bike was dented sideways and Vash was curious how they would get anywhere. It would be impossible to make a left turn, and he had trouble wondering if they would be traveling in large right circles.
To their relief, the engine sounded fine when it roared. Wolfwood cocked the front wheel as far left as possible to retain a somewhat straight line and then they were off.
A nice breeze was in the air, and even a few little white clouds helped shield them from the burning suns. The ride wasn't too bad considering the bike's condition, and Vash was drifting off to sleep when Wolfwood spoke again.
"Brace yourself, Spikey. We're kicking up the speed."
Vash opened his eyes and saw sand dunes of all sizes in front of them; some only several feet tall and others hundreds. As promised, the handicapped motorcycle increased its speed. If they were to go too slow, the wheels would get caught in the sand. The motorcycle climbed and conquered many of the sand dunes. Vash felt his stomach leave him every time they descended down one, and the cross pressed against him with each bump. Wolfwood directed the bike toward the largest sand dune Vash had ever seen. The ridge at the top touched the blue sky and the steep slope seemed to glare at them under the suns' heat. Accelerating, the bike began to climb it. Vash hugged the luggage as the motorcycle let a loud sputtering noise. Wolfwood demanded it to continue climbing, but he too looked worried at the sickening noise of the engine. To his horror, Vash felt the bike begin to decrease in speed.
"Come on," Wolfwood growled, pressing the gas with more force.
Put put put put.
They were near the ridge when the bike regained a burst of energy and propelled them to the top. Both sighed in relief, but before it fully escaped their lungs, their heart's sped up to 100 iles per hour. Their faces were swiped clean of relief and replaced with looks of pure horror. They had reached the other side of the sand dune, but the slope was twice as long and twice as steep as the other side, and at the end was not the ground, but a large drop.
Vash screamed as they both fell into the hands of gravity, slipping forward in their seats. And to make matters worse, Wolfwood struggled to retain the cock of the front wheel, and before Vash knew it they were turning sideways. He screamed louder until the cross's weight fell fully onto him, and then it turned into a dying squeak that put all dying animal cries to shame.
"This is all your fault!" Wolfwood growled, and reached for Vash's neck, nearly choking him. Vash's squeak turned into a choking squawk as his head was forced in a mad frenzy from Wolfwood's shaking grasp. His whole upper body rocked to and fro from the Priest as Wolfwood strangled him.
Then due to Wolfwood's hands being occupied, the steering of the motorcycle was lost entirely and they began descending down the slope backwards. A bag escaped Vash's clutches and flew into the air, hitting Wolfwood square in the face. The Priest lost balance and tumbled overboard, rolling in the sand. Vash screamed louder in horror as he passed up the rolling Priest. The bike was spinning out of control and slightly tipping because of the loss in balance. It hit a rock and tumbled, making Vash and the entire luggage fly out onto the slope.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" He screamed. As Wolfwood gained speed down the slope, Vash latched onto him, his nails digging into the Priest's arms. They tumbled like rag dolls. Wolfwood was screaming too now as the motorcycle flew over the ledge with great momentum.
"SHE'S GONNA DIE!" He screamed.
"WE'RE GOING TO DIE!" Vash yelled.
Next was the cross, it shot into the air at the drop off and disappeared, followed by various bags.
"WAAAHHH!" Wolfwood dug his fingers into the sand as they neared the ledge, clawing the ground desperately, but the sand was too soft to even slow him.
WHOOSH!
The ground disappeared from underneath them and they were flying in the air, weightless until thump. Wolfwood hit the ground first and Vash followed soon after, landing on the Priest where a loud crack sounded and was followed by a quick oofff.
Author's note: sorry for the long wait, the next chapter shouldn't take me that long to get up. Thanks for all the reviews and thanks for reading!