Chapter 4
"It ain't looking too good, but he held on," the doctor said hopefully. "We chose not to bind his chest. They were too strained. We don't know what he may have, being unconscious. But it's a nasty fever. Bring him back here when he wakes up again if he's still breathing."
Javier saw through the act. They were trying to approach the subject of Arthur dying without coming off as being too much of an asshole. Arthur's hoarse breathing, the sign that he was barely clinging onto life, only filled his ears.
He didn't know what Arthur's illness could be. The man just randomly started hacking for breath one day and it quickly became a routine where he would beat against his chest, choking for air, with Javier just staring at his direction, attempting to keep as much distance as possible.
The strain between the two men resulted in this becoming easier.
But he knew that they couldn't stay here.
Earlier that morning, he caught a newspaper, revealing the details about Dutch, Arthur, John, Bill, himself, and the others. It was a terrible fact that the world was now ousting them out. Hosea'd always preached about how civilization didn't want them around anymore. Javier thought it was all bullshit, that Dutch's plans would keep them safe; but now those plans exempted him because he'd went back for Arthur.
"Thanks, amigo," Javier replied, numbed to the core.
"Take him where he could take it easily. The best remedy is rest. He has some sort of a sickness that we can't tell because he's unconscious." The sounds of coughing behind him on the chair made Javier's body stiffened, and everything was silent again aside from breathing. If only he could just wake up and walk it off. He'd done it before. This all felt like a goddamn nightmare.
Did Dutch knew Arthur had a sickness? What type of sickness it was? Anyone who didn't notice Arthur's condition had to be stupid. Goddamn it! Javier noticed, but he hadn't said anything! They were more important matters.
He gave fifteen dollars to the man before loading up Arthur's body.
He'd thought about words he said a few months ago, before they'd rescued John on that mountain.
'If the situation were reversed, he'd do the same for me.'
He was wrong. Even if John wasn't the rat, he chose that puta and her son over them. Still, he'd known that Arthur would have been carrying his body until the stubborn puto woke up. At least, a few months ago. Now, he couldn't be too certain about anyone and their loyalty. Not even his own.
He loaded Arthur on the back of the horse before climbing on, pulling on the reins and taking off.
He would stop frequently to check Arthur's breathing to make sure everything was in order. Some saliva was forming on Arthur's lips, pouring down his chin. It was blood... and watery. It worried him slightly, but at least his body seemed to be pushing through. The stubborn pendejo wasn't going to be allowing himself to die, not when he was being rode away from certain death.
He'd made another stop to the nearest store to grab some food, light drinks, and medicine. Valentine's vastness made this easier. It was coming into the modernizing times where civilization would soon rule over like in Blackwater. He'd almost snickered when he remembered how begrudging Arthur was willing to move East back in Colter.
Continuing to push with gentle haste, the Mexican found himself longing again for a time passed. The gang in its prime. Arthur not being sick. John still having some faith. All of them still being alive. Even Micah not being in the gang yet. He'd constantly warred with himself if Micah was indeed the rat or not. Everything did fell apart after Micah came into the gang now looking back, but it could be of mere convenience with Hosea's worst fears coming to past. He couldn't imagine Dutch ever being mistaken about the man.
Maybe, with some time to think about it, his former leader would be the same man he once was-back to the state of trusting in Arthur and vice versa, assuming that Arthur trust that everything would go as plan.
When it happened, Dutch would appreciate Javier saved his great son, and everything would go back to the way it was.
The thought made him smile. They'd survived worse, Javier attempted to tell himself. They could survive this. They could make it. They could recover from all of this.
Dismissing those thoughts for now, Javier continued riding, noticing that the lands were changing as he traveled to the outskirts of town. The town was not too impressionable. Well, that wasn't exactly true.
If you ignore the mud and the horse shit, Valentine's a pretty decent place to live in actually. Also, it had a great landscape, gotta say. Would be one of the places of consideration if Javier ever chose to take it easy.
Alas, it was not likely.
He was running from the past. He didn't have the means or support to go up North. Dutch had all of the money from the heists, and Javier wouldn't dare to go behind his leader's back to steal from him, even if he'd wanted to. He'd betrayed him enough, this time going too far.
Just a lost man riding onto his horse, his only compadre he had left...
The atmosphere felt colder, something dark brushing against his heart. It was like something was feasting off of him.
Javier squinted his eyes slightly when he'd noticed a shadow against the horizon, its muscular frame outlined by the faint light. Its horns curved menacingly, and its black eyes gleamed with an intense, almost primal energy. Its coat, black as midnight, absorbed what little light touched it, lending an aura of mystery and power to its presence. He had known bulls represented strength, power, fertility, or even certain deities or mythological figures.
He had seen it... before. Saw it when he first met Dutch. Again, after the Blackwater. Seen it after befriending Micah. And he was seeing it again, now, and its eyes glared into his soul, full of judgment.
He pulled on the reins absently, following it. He heard voices in his mind, tangling up into one. They were disorganized, from widespread of memories, conversations-most recent:
'What's wrong with all of you? Huh. Come on! Come on. What's wrong?!'
Thump...
'I got a son, Mr. Escuella! I want him to live!'
Thump...
'...I won't let my child die because of Dutch. I can't. I love Dutch, but this is getting crazy! You know it!'
Thump...
'Oh, you know what, you're an arrogant son of a bitch, John.'
Thump...
'I use my brain and you use yours.'
Thump...
'Why are you actin' like this? I thought we had... to stick together.'
Thump...
'You saved me once... more than once! I saved you, and now...'
Thump...
'Come on... both of you... a little faith... a little faith!'
Thump...
'These people ain't your family. Who are they?'
Thump...
'We'll... be okay if we stick together.'
Thump...
'You're not the man I thought you were, Javier.'
Thump...
'Listen, these are tough times, of course. But now... this is when we have to be our strongest. We are going to make it. We are gonna be okay, but please, Javier, I need you to be strong.'
Thump...
'All of you will die. Run away from this place, you fools. Run!'
The town felt very ghostly, devoid of inhabitant. Javier stopped as he got closer to the bull, tilting his head in curiosity. Why was he following la criatura anyway? A small part of him wondered.
The bull stared at him piercingly for a moment before it ran off. He moved to follow behind the creature, but it seemed to have disappeared or outran him.
He looked around to see that he was in the outskirts of Valentine. He'd noticed that Arthur was groaning, reminding him of the task at hand. Glancing around for the strange creature, Javier found none.
As it turned out, the creature didn't lead him astray-off of a cliff, some ledge, or enemy territory that would have resulted in his and Arthur's deaths. He was usually extremely attentive. It had been a reason why Hosea and Dutch selected him for guard duties constantly.
If anything, the bull led him closer to some of the destination. There were plenty of cabins, though most weren't on sale, in contrast to last time.
Javier fought an exasperated groan. Why does whenever he needed something, it never fucking comes through!
Though, he knew, with the rise of the new century, people wanted to get into homes - rather temporarily or permanently - in preparation for what would follow afterwards.
He'd wondered what life would be like in a hundred years from now or so by the assumption that the world lasted that long.
By some crazy folks there were talks that the world would end when the century came to an end.
The rise of the 1900...
Or the end of the world...
The latter would be a relief, but he had a feeling that wasn't going to be the case. He'd heard from the old people back in Mexico that they'd thought the 1800s were going to be the end. Realistically, the end of the year was probably going to be the same as last year.
There was nothing suggesting that the painful realities of the worlds were going to end. Crazy chatter just didn't count. The only thing that would end his life would being put the gun to his forehead and just pull the trigger. That wasn't an idea either. He was too much of a coward - a cobarde - to do that.
At last, he found a cabin a bit far out, seeming a bit abandoned if anything else, but a shot in the air only alerted the nearby wild life which was tamed.
His gut feeling told him that this was going to be his new home for a while.
Arthur's note: Yes, that scene was a reflection of Arthur finding out he had TB. And yes, his spirit animal is a bull in this. When I was researching if he had a canonical spirit animal, I came across an amazing Tumblr. A bull represents his heritage as bullfighting is a huge sport in Spain and Mexico. In my opinion, Javier's spirit animal would be same rather low or high, but its colors would be different. Javier is just a peak between low honor to medium honor at this point. His blind loyalty to Dutch and inability to call Dutch out led him to turn against the people he'd cared about and saved him countless times. Dutch had to take responsibility for Blackwater and everything that followed, and Arthur and John knew this. Javier just made excuses. However, he didn't yet become the fallen from grace man he was in Mexico in RDR1. But he still fell far. Shooting Micah and saving Arthur gave him some points, but one act doesn't atone for everything.
Officially, I am expanding this story. Originally this was going to be about Arthur, John, and Javier, but now I want to feature the other gang members who left. Going to also want to include as many Red Dead Redemption characters as possible.