A/N: So, up to this point, I had everything planned out and written down, but after this chapter, the text in my document for this story is just a jumble of random thoughts here and there. I will try to write the next chapter soon, but not only am I working two jobs, I am stage managing a show at the moment, so I'm going to be a little fried for the next couple of weeks. Please forgive me! And enjoy!
Chapter 7: Ride or Die
Quite honestly, Ben was tired of being captured.
He awoke from his beat down in a moving, convertible vehicle, the wind whipping at his face through the colored burlap on his head. He couldn't see anything, with the exception of light vs. dark. Pain shot through his head, and he felt the dried blood on his face crack when he moved his muscles. He heard conversation above the wind, and strained to listen.
"Why did you have to hit him over the head like that?" An annoyed female voice sounded.
"Because he was struggling!" A male responded.
"He's worth less if he's dead!"
"He's not dead, honey! Will you let me do my part of the job?"
"Let me see him."
The sack was torn off his head and Ben squinted into the harsh morning sunlight.
"See? He's fine!"
Ben glared at his captors and tried to move, though he knew he was still bound by metal. He forgot how lucky he had been with Jessie as his keeper. Now, he was tied with chains, gagged, and on his way to get sold on the black market. The car was moving too fast to jump, and even that wouldn't have done him any good. He had nowhere to go, no idea where he was (aside from the middle of dry wastelands), and he was bound and wounded. Groggy as well.
For the first time in his life, Ben had to consider the fact that he might be a dead man. Once on the black market, valuables literally disappeared. Especially people. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to be held as a hostage, but no one trusted the Alliance to keep their word on anything. He'd be sold as a slave, or perhaps to someone who wanted information, or parts of him would be sold for medical research, and no one would be the wiser. He hung his head, trying to think of what kind of tools he could use to escape once they reached their destination, but that was the tricky thing about the black market. It wasn't a place; it was all people who knew people. Dingy basements and dirty hiding holes, infested with rats as well as the reptile-like creatures. He was as good as gone.
They drove for some time, finally reaching a rundown oil rig around midday. His captors shoved him roughly along, past the rusting door and into a dusty old office. They sat him down in a chair, tying him to that with just rope. They exited the room and he heard talking from down the hall. The voices outside were negotiating prices. He heard the words "arms" and "saw it off" in the same sentence. Ben looked around hopelessly, but saw nothing of use. Not even a sharp piece of wood jutting out. What he did see, however, was a snake in the corner of the room, stirring from its slumber. He gulped, letting his dizziness overcome him.
x*x*x*x
Sweat mixed with tears as Jessie struggled in her binds. She was screaming and jumping, banging around, making as much noise as she possibly could so Wheezey would find her. Assuming they didn't get to him first...
If it was possibly for humans to spontaneously combust, Jessie was pretty sure she was close to achieving it. She sat still for a moment, looking around and trying to be smart about things. She strained to look behind her, at the contraption the Potato-Heads had put her in. She took a minute to breathe, then carefully scooted her chair back so she was closer to the nail in the ground. Next, she leaned her body forward, bringing the chair up, until her knees touched the ground. She adjusted, then reached her hands as far back as she could to grab the chain, and then she pulled as hard as she possibly could. The nail was stubborn, but as Jessie slowly put her legs into it, she felt the metal budge. With a few great heaves, she finally freed the nail from the wood, and, in consequence, flew forward about two feet and fell hard on her face.
Feeling triumphant, and with a new burst of energy, she clumsily managed her way over the back of the chair, so that her handcuffed hands were in front of her. She threw the chair over her head and brought it to the ground with a resounding CRACK that sent splinters and pieces of the sitting device everywhere. Jessie cringed, knowing she'd have to pay for that out of her own pocket. With handcuffs still dangling off her wrists, she took out her knife and picked the locks. Then she ran to her abandoned gun on the floor, grabbed her hat, and ripped the duct tape from her mouth, shouting,
"I'm comin' for ya, Buzz!"
x*x*x*x
He wasn't sure how long he sat in that old room, fading in and out of consciousness, thinking about all different kinds of things. What would his father say? Would the Regime give him a medal of honor? Would they even care? His thoughts wandered onto the rag-tag vixen and her bright smile. What would she do when he was gone? Well, she'd probably rejoice, not having to take care of him or worry about trust issues. He wondered what she would tell the Sheriff. Would he be a brag-worthy story at the bar? Or would he be just another bad memory?
No sooner had he completely given up when he heard a rather familiar cracking sound of an old-fashioned revolver. He looked up, biting down on his gag, and praying that it wasn't all in his imagination. There were yells and thuds, banging, and a few more cracks, and then the door was busted open.
And there she stood.
Two smoking guns in her bloodied hands, scored wrists, hair in a tangled mess, lacerations all over her body... and she was still worried about him. "Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln! They didn't even fix your head!"
Ben almost lost it. Never in his life had he expected Jessie to come for him. Yet there she was, like an apparition, walking in from the sunlit dust.
He saw the mustached man before she did, and he tried to call to her, but by the time he opened his mouth, the rock had come down over Jessie's head, and she slumped to the floor. It reminded him of when he had hit her with his laser, and her body looked like it was made of nothing but cloth and stuffing.
"You just don't give up!" the Mr. said, breathing heavily and nursing a bleeding arm. He kicked her stomach, and she crumbled into herself.
"Stop that!" he tried to yell, but it all came out as muffled vowels.
Bart scooped down and picked Jessie up by the hair. She struggled with him, managing to land a hit on his rounded stomach, and another in a a rather sensitive spot in between his legs. He let her go with a cry of pain, and she stood, now sporting her knife. She reeled back, swinging a right hook that Ben could've sworn knocked a tooth loose. The bounty hunter was down.
"Sorry if I forgot to mention," she huffed, straightening. "But that there's my hostage." For good measure, she butted him on the temple, then raced to Ben. "Sorry about all this," she was saying as she cut the gag, the ropes, then worked on picking the lock on his chains. "Some people just got no manners."
"I can't believe you're here," he said, his voice hoarse.
She offered him a toothy grin as the lock clicked open. "We had a deal, didn't we?"
"Why didn't you just sneak in the back and grab me?"
She shrugged a shoulder, working on his handcuffs. "Honestly? I was pissed off and ready to shoot somethin' anyhow."
"Jane!" the Mrs. called as soon as Jessie was done with his bonds.
Ben looked up to see the woman pointing Jessie's gun at them, launching a surge of adrenaline through his veins. With newfound strength, he reacted by throwing his weight to the side, shoving Jessie out of the way. A bullet whizzed past his ear, but he was quick to get up. With three moves, he had reached the Mrs., disarmed her in two, and knocked her unconscious in one. He was pointing Jessie's gun at the woman's body when he heard a sharp gasp from behind. He turned...
.. and his heart stopped.
The snake had moved and was sinking its fangs through the denim jeans into Jessie's leg.
"Jessie!"
Ben rushed to her side, but she had already successfully decapitated the damned reptile and chucked its head across the room. He kneeled beside her, taking the knife from her and preparing to cut an x on top of the wound, but she lashed out, knocking the knife away. "What was that for!"
"Don't cut," she said breathily.
"Why not?" he asked, genuinely freaking out.
"Don't... cut," she said again, with difficulty.
"Shouldn't I suck the venom out?"
"No!" Her hand was still on his wrist, and she squeezed hard, her eyelids drooping. "Oh, shit... Now I can't see."
He checked her pulse, discovering it had increased dramatically. "What should I do?"
"Cloth... over bite," she managed, and Ben obeyed, ripping part of his sleeve, lifting her pant leg, and wrapping it around the bleeding and swollen flesh. She hissed, cringing.
"We need to get you to a doctor."
She shook her head. "Sheriff's... Someone there can help. Only a few miles." Ben nodded, shoving the gun in his pocket. He gritted his teeth and managed to scoop her up in his arms, then walked quickly outside, where Bullseye was loyally waiting. He whinnied at them, worried for his owner.
"We'll take the car," he said.
"No!" Jessie coughed, a spasm rocketing her body. "Bullseye's faster."
"I doubt that."
She gave a weak smile. "Oh ye of little faith."
"This is serious!" he snapped, looking down at her paling form. "If I don't get you to the Sheriff soon, you're going to die!"
She looked up at him, blinking. "Didn't think... you were one to care."
His immediate reaction was to say, "I don't." Though the statement held absolutely no meaning. Ben hoisted her up onto her horse, then jumped up after her.
Jessie coughed again as she chuckled. "Always were... bad at lyin'."
x*x*x*x
Bo Peep wandered around the saloon, picking up empty glasses and dirty dishes for the Peas to clean. She smiled sweetly at the customers, being polite to even the various young men who flirted with her. She'd bat her eyes and give a wave just to thrill them, but she never took any of them seriously. None of the men could hold a candle to her Sheriff.
Thinking that she might pay her sweetie a visit sometime soon, Bo set down her bin of utensils, using a rag to wipe her hands. She was about to go to the back room when she thought she heard something alarming. She turned to look around the saloon, seeing if anyone else noticed. A few people shared looks with one another. Then it came again.
CRACK! CRACK!
It was a gunshot. A gunshot from a very old revolver that Bo knew all too well.
"Mercy alive!" One customer said as those around him began to panic. "Are we in danger?"
"Not at all," Bo lied easily. She addressed the whole room when she said, "Everyone stay calm. I'm sure it's just two hooligans out to prove who has a bigger pair." Some laughed, others relaxed, and still others stayed on edge. Bo turned to their bartender saying, "Sarge, I'm going out for a look. Make sure the customers don't get itchy trigger fingers."
The young man saluted her in the old-fashioned army style. "Yes, ma'am!"
Bo reached under her dress to grab her own Beretta Cougar before exiting the establishment. People on the street were either running or standing around, talking up a storm about the gunshots. She looked around the town, then spotted a horse coming down the hill, fast. She looked closely, her heart beating rapidly. Something wasn't right.
"What's that damn cowboy thinking?" someone near her snapped. "He trying to scare everyone in this town?"
That was when Bo recognized them. She'd know that bundle of red hair clad in men's clothing anywhere, and as for Bullseye, he was hard to miss, seeing as how he was one of five horses in the area. Jessie was back from her trip. But something was wrong...
Something was terribly wrong.
Bullseye was drenched in sweat, whinnying to her, and Jessie... Jessie looked like death.
"Good god!" Bo gasped and rushed out to meet the creature as he came to a stop right in front of the saloon. She looked at the stranger atop the horse, demanding to know what had happened.
"She's been bit," the young man replied, jumping down, then taking Jessie in his arms.
Her heart nearly stopped beating. "Oh, Jesus."
"Startin' to loose some feelin' here," Jessie spoke in a weak voice.
"We need to get her to Dolora," Bo said. "Come this way."
A few customers of the saloon had followed her out, and she ordered them back inside, but to tell Sarge what had happened. She hurried down the across the road and down a few buildings, the young man following her. She reached the little apothecary, opening the door with force.
"Dolly!" she called out, ignoring the few people who were looking at medical supplies.
"Christ, woman! Don't break my door!" A voice called out from the register. The quirky short-haired woman popped up from behind the counter, about to make some sort of sarcastic remark, but was silenced at the sight of them.
"Dolly, it's Jessie," Bo spoke quickly, even though she knew she didn't need to. "She's been bit."
Dolly didn't hesitate to vault over the counter and point them towards the back room, yelling at everyone else to get out. "Sorry, folks! Closed for the moment! Emergency situation! Get the hell out please!"
The young man set Jessie down on the bed in the back, Dolly right behind him with her suitcase full of instruments. Bo put her gun down, holding onto herself, trying to breathe.
"Jessie, honey, talk to me," Dolly ordered as she pulled out what looked like suction machines and a scalpel. "How do you feel?"
As a response, the cowgirl vomited, initiating a sharp gasp from Bo and tensed muscles from the stranger. She coughed, then said meekly, "I'll clean that up."
"Bo," Dolly said solemnly as she unwrapped Jessie's leg. "I don't think you should be here for this... It might get a bit messy."
"Is she going to be alright?" the young man spoke up, causing the both of them to look at him.
Dolly shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know. I need you to leave, but I'll let you know as soon as I can."
The stranger nodded numbly, and Bo took it upon herself to take his arm and lead him out of the room. She closed the door, and the two stood in the empty drug store, both pale and shaking. Bo let the gravity of the situation sink it, legs giving out underneath her. She let out a sob she had been holding, slumping to the floor.
"Oh god!" She breathed, putting a hand to her chest. "Oh god dammit, Jessie!"
"U-uh! D-don't uh, don't cry!" The young man stammered awkwardly. "I'm... I'm sure she'll be fine... I mean... I... her horse was very fast a-and... I mean..."
Though flattered at the awful attempt to comfort her, Bo took a moment on the ground, wiping her eyes. "She just means so much to us... I don't know what will happen if we... lose her..."
It was silent for a little while after that.
The stranger finally held out a hand to help her up, which she took gratefully. She straightened, inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry. I'm prone to these fits of emotion." They were quiet as Bo tried to control herself for the sake of the stranger. She asked him, "How did this happen?"
The young man scratched the back of his neck. "Well... I was captured by some bounty hunters, and she came to my aid. In the middle of the rumble, there was a snake, and... she got bit," he finished lamely.
Bo finally took notice of the young man's cuts and bruises, especially the wound on the left side of his head. "Lord sake's alive! Which bounty hunters were they that treated you so badly?"
"Uhh... the Potato-Heads?"
Bo stomped her foot angrily. "Those bastards! Treating a person so ill... we had a run in with the Potato-Heads a few years back when they were hired by the Alliance." She pulled down the shoulder sleeve on her dress to reveal a small circular mark that marred her skin. "That's from a few years back when they shot a bullet clear through my body."
The man's mouth had fallen open and he was rendered speechless. Realizing how unnerved she had made him, she cleared her throat, pulling her dress back up, and extending her hand. "I'm Bo. Bo Peep. Would you like me to help you with your cuts, Mr.-?"
"B-Buzz," he stuttered, shaking her hand. "Just call me Buzz."
Before Bo could analyze anything further, she heard the sound of spurs stomping about, and she turned to the door just as Woody walked in.
"Where is she?" He demanded, white with fear and worry. "Where's Jessie?" He stopped mid-stride, eyes locking with the stranger. His entire demeanor changed in an instant.
"... Ben?"