Setting: ATF Universe
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
This story was written for Cin on her birthday. Happy birthday Cin!
It was just after six p.m., when the pizza toting duo exited the elevator. Buck and J.D. entered Chris's room, just as the nurse was helping him walk. His dizzy spells and long hours in bed over the last few days, had left him weak and unsteady. She settled him in a chair and nodded to the two visitors, as she left. Nate was in the other corner of the room, reading Chris's chart.
"Am I gonna live?" Chris asked, watching Nate scour the pages.
"Well, Boss," the other replied, "near as I can tell...fifty or sixty more years..."
"Hey Chris!" J.D. gushed, striding into the room. "We got him! Ezra was brilliant, that stupid torch-happy freak never knew was hit him."
"Cranston?" Chris eyed Buck who nodded, "...damn...that's a catch..." He took a slice of pie and bit off the end, before placing it on the paper plate provided by the youth.
"The Kid's right, Ezra outdid himself. Set himself up as the spoiled, moneyhungry son of an eccentric mother with a warehouse to unload...He's giving his statement down at headquarters."
"CNN even called, they wanted to interview him..." J.D. noted, "When you gettin' out of here, Chris?" He took a slice and sat on the upturned trashcan at injured man's knee.
"Not soon enough!" the blond replied, taking a soda from J.D. and popping the top. "Monday, maybe...some damn test keeps comin' back wrong. Where's Vin?" He eyed the room warily.
"He's not up to snuff," Nate answered, eyeing the others carefully.
"What the hell was that?" the leader demanded of the all-knowing-glance.
"He pushed himself too hard on Tuesday," Jackson replied, joining the others near Chris. He sat on the bed and sighed. "He was so stiff and sore Wednesday, he could barely move. Today he met with Orrin and stopped in the office."
"What?" Chris again saw the others exchange a wary glance. "Somebody give him trouble?" the blond angered, "he lose his cool?"
"No," Buck sighed, taking a seat next to Nate on the bed. "He doesn't have a cool...or any other emotion...he's like..." He ate his piece half-heartedly, thinking on the day they'd been through.
"...a zombie..." J.D. said crossly. "I couldn't look at him after awhile. He did his monthly report, you know how hard that is...how many times his trashcan gets kicked across the room or a coffee mug goes flying..."
"Cursin', stapler bangin', kickin' the printer..." Buck smiled at the image of the crusty, red-faced agent. "But he never made a sound...not even when the printer jammed and he lost his report. It took him three hours to do it again..."
"Shit..." Larebee winced, knowing how hard Vin worked at doing a complete, thorough job.
"He not only killed his temper, he took everything else too...not a smile, a frown, nothing...just this blank look."
"Where is he?" Chris asked, rubbing his pounding temples.
"Uh...Josiah took him back to the ranch. He passed out..."
"What!" Chris jerked his head. "What do you mean? What happened?"
"He's been having headaches on and off all week." Nate input, "I told him to knock off at three...his head was hurtin' so much he couldn't keep his eyes open. I made him rest on the couch in your office. I took his report to Orrin..."
"What was he doing at work? He's not supposed to be working..." the leader frowned.
"He wanted to talk to Orrin," Buck said, "Then we all got tied up with the arson case. We got back and he was already half done the report.. Me and Josiah came back from central, where we went to see Ezra..." Buck sighed, "Vin was at the printer, mumbling something about his forensics pages. He went white as a sheet, gave a short cry and went down."
"Why the hell did they discharge him?" Chris raged. "Jesus, he looks like a truck hit his face, he can't walk right, his jaw and mouth are wrecked...Passing out? Christ, he was driving my car on Tuesday..."
"Don't think I didn't give him hell for that!" Nate scowled, finishing his pie, "Damn fool could have killed himself..."
"Why didn't they keep him? What kind of hospital is this?" Chris vented, they saw Buck hiding a smile. "What the fuck is so funny?"
"You are, 'Mom'," The rogue teased and saw Larabee blush, "He's okay...he was only out a few minutes. We took him to the Infirmary. He's still comin' off his concussion and he supposed to be resting."
"Which is where his sorry ass will be until Saturday!" Nate barked.
"What's Saturday?" Chris asked, and Nate filled him in. "Damn..." Chris rasped softly, his admiration for his best friend filling his chest. "Good for you, Cowboy..." he whispered, laying his head on the back of the chair and closing his eyes. The dizzy spells were followed by raging headaches. He lifted an arm and Buck and Nate got him back in bed, where he fell into a fitful sleep. The troubling dreams came back, the accident and then something else. He was screaming, raging, out of control...but his victim was faceless. He moaned and tossed, finally sinking into a bottomless black hole.
Chris was dressed in a sweatsuit and sitting in a chair when Vin got to the doorway. It was just after eight a.m on Saturday. He and Josiah would be heading for New Mexico. The ex-preacher was outside, waiting in the car. He knew Vin needed to speak with Chris privately.
"Hey," Chris beamed, seeing the fading bruises on the still swollen face. "You're losing your color, Sport...Come on in...You okay? Buck told me you passed out. What the hell were you doing at work? Dammit Vin..."
"...enough..." Vin smiled, limping to the bed and sitting down. "You...look...better..." Vin said slowly, need time to get the words working past his swollen, tender jaw and tongue.
"Aw, hell," Chris grinned, "I miss Elmer Fudd..."
"Fuck yer...sorry...ass..." Vin paused, his jaw aching, "Larabee..."
"That's Wowabee to you..." Chris chuckled, "I hear you got your traveling shoes on..."
"Yeah," Vin nodded, "'siah's friend...teaches..." he winced, rubbing his jaw.
"Don't talk..." Chris coached, eyeing the folded papers in Vin's hand. Upside down, he could make out the words 'Anger Management' and nodded.
Vin saw his looking and handed it over, then waited nervously as Chris scanned the papers. He watched the blond fold them back up and smooth the wrinkles out. For several minutes, neither spoke. Then he saw the blond head rise up and the emotion in Chris's eyes.
"I'm proud of you, Vin Tanner," Chris said thickly, "This..." he held the paper up, "is some big fuckin' step...You're a better man than me, Cowboy..."
"No!" Vin hollered and immediately regretted it, doubling over and grabbing his face. He clenched his eyes closed as the waves of pain exploded in his face. He felt a hand on his back and a warm breath on his cheek.
"You okay?" Chris asked, seeing tears of pain in the blue eyes. He waited until the head nodded once and then sat next to Vin on the bed. "I mean that, Vin. Josiah told me you bought books in town on Tuesday, started in right off, making lists, printing out stuff, highlighting it, reading articles and books on facing the fire..." he broke off, "It took me years to make that step. To conquer the dragon in the mirror. I chased that fuckin' demon's tail for years. I was a coward, I lashed out at everything...broke stuff, wrecked cars, trashed my apartments, got suspended, put Buck in the hospital. Years, Vin...I'm still a student, I work at it everyday. But you had the courage to bite off the head straight off...Christ, I admire that...that takes real guts, Cowboy."
For several minutes, Vin was unable to speak due to the pain throbbing in this jaw. Then it was the heavy sensation in his chest that stopped the words. He not only heard Chris's praise, he felt every word sink deep inside. He would keep them there, using them to give him strength when times got difficult and the 'dragon' rose it's head.
"Thanks...Chris..." Vin said slowly, closing his eyes as a hand gripped his neck. The sensation put a shiver all through him and his chest constricted. Mabye now, the nightmares would stop. Maybe he wouldn't see Chris's head exploding or hear those bitter words screaming at him again.
"It's gonna be okay, Vin," Chris vowed, putting pressure on Vin's neck. "I'll be right here, you feel boxed in, like you're gonna explode, you call me." He offered, then squinted as the shaggy head rose. The eyes well in emotional overdrive and then... "Jesus, Vin, you're drooling..."
"I...am...not..." Vin slurred, swiping the saliva running from his mouth. "aw, hell...it's that...gum medicine..."
"Dammit Vin," Chris moved, "Don't be wiping your spit on my pants..."
"...sheeth...not punts..." Vin's tongue felt thick and he rushed his words.
"Hey, Elmer's back!" Chris grinned, wrinkling his nose as Vin's healing jaw caused him to dribble again. "I hear they got nice rooms across the way at the Nursing home...course you'd have to wear one of the short gowns with your ass stickin' the hell out...and you got no ass..."
"Shtop...hults..." Vin slurred, leaving out a trail of saliva and smacking the smirking blond's arm.
"You better get going before you drown me in Tanner spit." Chris decided, giving Vin a box of tissues. "Here, a little something from me..."
"Hothpital tissues..." Vin scowled.
"It's the thought that counts..." the smirking blond countered, rising with the younger man. "Listen, you'll do fine," he rested both hands on Vin's shoulders. "You've already aced this in my book, Tanner. You got balls the size of Texas..." He paused, seeing something he didn't like in the shifting blue eyes. Fear? What was Vin afraid of? "The accident? Is that bothering you? You can't turn back the hands of time, Vin. It's all over and I'm fine. It won't happen again, I know that." He paused, but the fear remained. "No grudges Vin, okay?"
But it wasn't okay and Vin knew it. The fear still remained, of the words spoken on Monday. Those caustic utterings from a man with Larabee's face. A stranger who spoke the truth. He couldn't help it, that stranger's voice rang true. He shook himself free and turned to Chris nodding and taking the tissues.
"Vin!" Chris urged, snapping his arm onto the other's forearm. "Good Luck..."
"Thanks...Chris..." Vin said slowly, swiping the saliva. "...wash yull...yer..." he corrected. "...back..."
"No thanks, the nurse washed it this morning," Chris replied with a grin, "...and she has great hands..." he laughed at the other man's smile. "You watch you own back, don't let some husky mountain woman kidnap and ravish you..."
"...wavish?" Vin cocked his head and winked. "..hmmm..."
"See you next week, Cowboy..." Chris smiled as the Texan shuffled to the door.
Time flew as swiftly as the mountain stream near the cabin that had become home. It was just three rooms, more than 'rustic', no frills and covered in dust, but Vin loved it. He spent the first couple days cleaning it, stocking it with food and taking long walks, using his journal and books to gage his temper radius and write down his feelings. The town was very picturesque. Josiah took him to meet the McHughs on Saturday night, they were guests at dinner. They were an open friendly couple, she a tiny blond bundle of energy and he a tall, dark lanky deep thinker. Vin took a walk with him after dinner around the town and felt immediately at ease, opening up to him and answering some prodding questions.
Sunday and Monday were a blur. Josiah left Sunday at noon, and Vin trudged happily into the mountains. Before he knew it, Tuesday arrived and the classes began . The eight hours each day flew, the Texan's mind was spinning with all the new information he was learning. He studied so hard at night, his headaches raged and forced him to rock himself to sleep. But as each exercise with the group and self-evaluation passed, he felt a calming inside. By Thursday afternoon, when they were in the home stretch, he was in the 'I can do this' mode. Armed with the tools of his new knowledge, he felt reborn and the air smeller sweeter. He called Chris, his exhuberance on the phone giving the blond a huge grin on the other end. Thursday night the group had dinner at the Lodge together. Sandy gave them each a certificate and included a hand written note to Vin. He cited how much courage it took Vin to make this step and how that would help him conquer his temper.
It was late when Vin arrived back at the cabin. Sandy had graciously offered it to Vin for as long as he wished to stay. He decided to stay at least through Sunday, he found the mountain air, pine trees and rushing stream better medicine that the pills he was taking. He tossed another log on the fire, stretched out on a sleeping bag in front of the snapping flames and fell asleep wearing a deep contented smile. He couldn't wait to show Chris what he'd learned.
It was the end of a long week for Chris Larabee. He sat in his den, watching the flames in the fireplace leap and move. He'd been discharged on Monday, but the ramifications of the head injury dictated that he not remain alone for three weeks. Buck moved in, it was a natural fit. Buck and he went back so many years, they were like an old married couple. Able to tolerate the others moods and differences and embrace the kinship. Most of the week was a blur, that headaches and blackouts giving him fits. Today, he was awake all day, alert enough to take a walk outside and visit his horses. But the barn seemed empty with the slow, drawling teasing tone of Vin Tanner. He smiled again, thinking of Vin's euphoric voice on the phone earlier. The words rushed together in excited breathless bursts. He knew he was wearing a drunken grin, the first he'd had all week. It felt good, damn good, to hear Vin's voice. He glanced at the mantle clock and rose, stretching his back. One a.m and high time to get to bed.
Buck sat straight up in bed, cocking his head. He rubbed his eyes and squinted in the dark. Too many years of experience told him not to ignore this silent warning. He tossed the blanket off and padded into the hall, cocking his head at attention. He was nearly to Chris's room, when the air-shattering screaming began.
Chris tossed fitfully, covered in sweat and moaning. His chest glistened in the moonlight, as the thin film of moisture clung to his muscular frame. The dream was the same...he was screaming obscenities, his face contorted in hatred. The words that pushed between the foul offerings were also the same: bastard, son-of-a-bitch, lunatic, animal. He was violently attacking someone with a verbal hatchet, chopping the victim into bloody, broken pieces. But tonight, the dream changed, the faceless victim was revealed.
"Vin!" Chris screamed, as the broken blue eyes appeared. "No...no....Fuck...Vin....God...No..."
"Chris!" Buck flung himself at the bed as a fist shot up and clipped his lip. "Jesus..." he muttered, grabbing the flailing arms and pinning them to the bed. The taut body buckled, fighting the strong arms that held it prisoner. "Chris! Wake up...it's Buck....it's..." he paused as the green eyes snapped open. "You with me?" He asked seeing the eyes wide and unblinking. The wet chest was heaving and gasping. Finally, the damp blond head nodded. Buck moved from Chris and turned the light on. "What the hell was that?" he asked, seeing the leader shaking from head to foot. "You okay?"
"No..." Chris whispered, tossing his frame from the bed. He sighed deeply, raking a trembling hand through his short, damp hair. His cotton pajama bottoms were damp as well.
"Same dream?" Buck pondered, having made this trip every night.
"No..." Chris said, "I...he...it was Vin..." He closed his eyes, trying to fight the headache. He licked his lips and stood, grateful for Buck's arm as his knees buckled a little. "I need a drink..."
"Okay," Buck agreed, walking beside the shaken figure as they went to the study. He got a brandy for Chris and one for himself. He sat on the sofa and Chris in the big wing chair.
"It was awful Buck," Chris recalled, "I was screaming at him...calling him names...cursing him...wishing him dead...Christ, what a nightmare...them damn fuckin' eyes of his...Shit..." he gulped the drink, welcoming the burning trail it left. The glass remained frozen at his lips, when he saw Buck avert his face. "Buck...talk to me..." he rasped, his stomach falling through the floor.
Buck took a deep breath and brought his head up. He stared right into the green icy twins and bit his lip. He knew this moment was bound to come, at least they were alone.
"It wasn't a dream, Chris..."
"What?" Chris choked, his voice barely audible, drowning out by his thundering heart beating. He saw Buck clench his eyes shut and then he felt like a dozen knives stabbed his tense gut. "Buck?"
"It was last Monday...right after you left the ICU. You still had amnesia, you didn't recognize him. He didn't know you lost your memory. He saw them wheel you into the room and came over. You thought he was the one who shot you...you hurt him, Chris..."
"Jesus fuckin' Christ..." Chris hissed, pushing his body back into the chair, trying to will it to devour him. "How bad?" he asked, when Buck's lips pressed together. "All of it, Buck...I gotta know..." As Buck quietly rehashed the soul whipping, nearly verbatim, Chris's insides went through a fiery shredder. By the time Buck finished, he'd moved to Chris's side, but the older man pushed him away. "Go away, Buck..." he rasped, downing the rest of the amber liquid.
"Not this time, Chris," Buck gentled, "Nobody knows but Ezra and me...Vin don't know we know..."
"What time is it?" Chris said, pouring himself some more brandy.
"What?" Buck turned his head, finding the wall clock, "Uh..four a.m...why?"
"Get packed, we're leaving in an hour." Chris drained a small bit of brandy and rose, his body fueled by determination and will. "I gotta see him, Buck. I gotta make it right..."
Twelve years of experience told the mustached man not to argue. He put a hand on the other's shoulder and gave a squeeze of support. He moved across the room and called Josiah's voicemail at the office, updating him only that he was taking Chris to see Vin. It wasn't even five a.m. when they made their way to the car. Buck eased the seat of his Jimmy all the way back. Chris was reclined and belted in. "You get some shut-eye," he ordered, turning onto the highway. "We got us a Tanner to find."
It was just past noon when they arrived in the tiny town nestled in the mountains. Buck stopped at the lodge that Josiah mentioned the classes were held at . The young man behind the reception desk gave him directions to the cabin that the McHugh's had outside town. Chris was out of the car and in the door, before Buck had the motor turned off.
"Vin!" He called out, eyeing the tidy abobe filled with signs of Tanner. Vin's clothes were neatly folded on a bench under one window. At the table, piles of books, articles and a stack of printouts were waiting. He ambled over and leafed through them, not missing the note from Sandy McHugh, praising Vin for his courageous decision. He felt himself nodding, his chest tightning.
"Looks like he's out..." Buck mused, dropping their duffle bags on the floor. "Chris, you okay?" The taller man didn't miss the fact that the blond was pale and ragged looking.
"Yeah, just a little dizzy..." he admitted, sitting at the table. Buck pressed a cold soda from the cooler on the floor, into his hand. He drank a mouthful and pressed the cold can against the side of his face.
"Look at this..." Buck paused next to Chris, eyeing the impressive array of study material. He handed Chris a leaflet he found about a ranch outside town with horseback riding, ATV Tours and rafting. "I'll tell you what," Buck didn't hide the pride in his voice, "Vin sure is something. I don't know if I'd have the guts...I mean to realize so fast..."
"Yeah," Chris sighed, rubbing the tension between his temples.
"You look awful, Chris. Why don't you chill out here for a couple hours. I'll take a ride over to this ranch," the rogue noted of the activities circled in red on the brochure, "...and try and find him. You get some rest, I'll be back in a little while."
After Buck left, Chris tossed his jacket on the empty chair next to him and read through some of Vin's handouts and exercises. By accident, he stumbled on the short essay Vin wrote on what caused him to seek out the class. As often as he'd seen the steadying force in those blue eyes, reading in the Texan's own hand how since the moment the bullet hit the windshield, his heart was ripped apart was painful. He pushed himself from the table and thought of his cruel words uttered at Vin. He wondered about that violent tirade. Although he knew the younger man was made aware of his amnesia, he had a gut feeling that Vin still carried the wounds of those words. He had to make this right...he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and walked outside to clear his head.
The air was always cleaner and sharper near the mountains. The wind lifted his the tendrils of his fair hair and he inhaled it's sweet scent. He was about to go back inside, when he spotted boot tracks by a path behind the house. Moving closer, he grinned as his fingers moved over the image of a coiled snake that was on the bottom of Vin's boots. He headed down the short path, calling his friend's name.
Blissful. That was the right word to describe his mood at this moment in time. Resting against a rock with his arm behind his head, turning his face to the glorious sun, Vin Tanner was blissful. He sighed and sat up, resuming the passages he was writing in his journal. So intent was he on pouring his soul onto the virgin pages in the book on his crossed-legs, he didn't hear his visitor approach.
Chris paused in the overgrowth of bushes by the side of the road, leaning against a tree. His features softened as his cast his eyes upon the slim figure basking in the warmth of the noonday sun. The soft breeze lifted the long brown locks, the trademark buckskin jacket was tossed to the side and the slender fingers were flying at record rate across the blank pages in a leather bound journal. His smile broadened when Vin lifted his face to the sky, the fine features were relaxed and at peace. He moved forward, his sneaker breaking a branch under his feet. The change was instant and so swift, he backpedalled, losing his balance.
"Jesus, Vin!" he hissed as the body whirled, blue eyes alert and a knife was whipped from the belt on the faded jeans.
"Good way t'get killed," Vin said in an even, cold voice, shaking his head as he turned back to his book, closing it and shoving it under his jacket, along with the knife.
"I wasn't spying on you..." Chris reacted to the defensive posture and movements. "I'll leave..." he turned back, only to be called upon.
"Chris..." Vin stood up and turned to the older man. "Ya look like hell...best ya sit down before ya keel over, Old Man..."
"Not so old that I can kick your scrawny ass, Tanner," Chris grunted, extending his hand and clasping the one offered.
"It's good t'see ya Cowboy," Vin offered, his light eyes crinkling in warmth.
"Same here..." Chris returned, clapping the back of the faded denim shirt.
"Wasn't expectin' ya..." Vin quizzed, his sky eyes narrowing as they easily read the anguish in the green ones. "What's wrong?"
"Listen Vin, we need to talk." he eased himself down onto a spread of rocks, while his friend remained standing. "I've been having nightmares...well, since the accident. But this week, they changed. I wasn't in the car, I was in a hospital room, screaming obscenties at someone. Filthy, awful words..." he bit his lip, eyeing the mountain peaks as the image rammed into his tender head. He didn't miss all the color draining from the younger man's face and the eyes widen in unadulterated pain. "Buck...he's been stayin' at the ranch, doctor's orders," he paused, "he heard me calling out...he told me...he said...he...it wasn't a dream...God, Vin, I'm so sorry..."
"Reckon I deserved it," the clipped reply came as bricks started building a wall around his tender soul.
"Don't shut me out, Vin," Chris grabbed the stones going up and threw them aside, with one strong , heartfelt penetrating glance. "Those words...came from someone...lost...hurt...full of fear..."
"...still the truth..." The words were bitter and the eyes icy blue and cautious.
"No, Vin, you're not an animal," Chris rasped, swallowing hard. "That demon I screamed at died in the car wreck. Like Phoenix, you rose from the ashes. The man who I stand before now is taller than most I've known. Someone who had the courage to look hard at himself and right the wrong. Christ, I admire that..." he moved to stand directly in front of the confused body, wrestling with emotions. "Though I've belted you and flayed you, By the living God that made you, You're a better man than I am Gunga Vin."
"Gunga Vin?" Tanner chortled of the takeoff of Rudyard Kipling's famous work,Gunga Din. The face broke into a warm smile, the light was back in the pale blue eyes and the soft laugh that cascaded down the mountainside, lifted a weight from both men.
"Gotta nice ring to it, don't you think?" Chris eased, drinking in the smile he'd longed to see again.
"Don't give up yer day job, Cowboy," Vin tossed back, taking the hand offered and then embracing the body with it. "I missed ya..."
"Yeah..." Chris couldn't get any more words out. He eased away from Vin, feeling the hole inside him close. Tanner was healing, the rift was mended and all was right with the universe again. He moved away to the edge of the canyon, looking across the landscape. "You about done with your chicken scratchings? Buck's gonna be worried..."
"Bucklin brung ya?"
"Yeah...he saw some brochure from a ranch, thought you went horseback riding."
"Got that penciled in fer Sunday..." Vin quipped, "Ya bring food?"
"Food?" Chris wrinkled his brow, "No, I didn't bring food. I was busy fighting off nightmares..."
"Just neighborly is all..." Vin smirked, walking ahead. He could feel Chris's wheels turning in his mind. "Don't take t'freeloaders..."
"Freeloaders?" Chris called after the lean legs in front of him. "You got balls...you give the word squatter a whole new meaning. Hell, you might as well change your address..." he noted sourly of the sharpshooter's frequent visits to his ranch. "...eatin' me out of house and home..."
"..ain't the same..."
"The hell it isn't..." Chris puffed, slapping his neck, "Shit!" he slapped a spot on his lower jaw, "Vin!" he screamed, as his legs buckled and his throat began to swell.
"Chris!" Vin moved in quickly and caught the staggering figure. He saw the wasps hovering and eased Chris down, quickly taking off his buckskin coat, covering Chris's upper body. "Hold on...they're leavin'..." he waited until the offensive beasts were gone and peeled the coat away. "Where's yer EPI stick?" he asked of the dosage of andrenaline contained in a pen-like device. It would ease the symptoms of the Anaphylactic Shock that Chris was now enduring. The team leader suffered severe reactions to wasp stings. The respitory distress would be followed by swelling, hives, difficulty breathing, and faintness due to dropping blood pressure.
"...coat...cab...b...bin..." Chris stuttered, as a huge wave of nausea and dizziness assaulted him.
"Listen up," Vin directed, turning the rapidly swelling face towards him. The blotches were already appearing and Chris's throat was thickening at a rapid rate. He knew the injection was vital to keep the stricken man conscious and alive, until he got him help. The blond was already having difficulty breathing and swallowing, "Chris! Stay with me!" he slapped the red patchy face hard and the eyes shot open. "Ya gonna throw up?" The heaving shoulders gave him his response and he quickly and deftly turning the choking body over his arm. Once Chris was done, he made sure his mouth was clear and sat him up, leaning the gasping body against a tree. "Chris...Chris...focus on me..." he coached, waiting for the muddled green eyes to find his, "I can't tote ya, it'll take too long. I can run back and get the EPI and be back in a few minutes. Okay...ya understand...I ain't leavin' ya..."
"...go..." Chris nodded, and leaned his head back, trying to overcome the urge to vomit again and pass out. He rested his eyes for what seemed like only a minute, when he felt a hand on the side of his neck "Vin..."
"Yeah..." the Texan was gasping, having run faster than he had in his whole life. He rubbed his trembling hands on his knees and assessed Chris's rapid pulse, pink color and swelling throat. They were out of cell phone range and town was too far. "Chris, I need t'put it in yer thigh...it'll buy us a few hours..." he noted of the intramuscular stick. He saw the damp blond head bob and quickly set about his task. His frustration grew at the skin tight jeans, that made it difficult to manuever.
"...good thing...you...t..t..t..took...cl..cla...class..." Chris stuttered, his glazed eyes catching the Tanner features screwing in frustration. Truth be told, he missed the crusty cursing. He hoped Vin hadn't changed so drastically, he'd taken too much of his personality away. Finally, with on good tug, the pants were free.
Vin grabbed a hunk of Larabee's muscular thigh and jabbed the dosage of epinephrine into the wall of muscle under the skin on the side of the leg. Chris tensed, gasped and then began to choke.
"Aw, hell...ya gonna get sick again?" Vin asked as the body groaned and doubled over.
"...wrong...end..."
"Shit!" Vin swored, moving into action. Diarrhea was another symptom of the allergic reaction.
"...poor choice of words..." Chris gritted, as the abdominal pains gripped his tender insides. He faded in and out, vaguely aware of Vin's strong presence.
Water. Vin cleaned Chris up and got his pants back on. He cocked his head and remembered the water bottle and fruit he'd brought with him. He cast his eyes back to the spot where he'd been writing. Tossing his coat over the shivering victim, he tapped the blotchy, swollen face. "Chris...I'm gonna get some water...okay?"
"...'kay..."
Vin trotted back to the clearing and scouted around for the paper bag. It had blown down the hill and he half-ran, half-slid to the bottom. It was nearly full and that was good. He picked it up and turned back, just as a woman's muffled cry caught his ears. He moved on instinct, a few feet away to a large section of overgrown bushes. His eyes widened in shock at the semi-naked young girl, whose dull eyes now stared unblinking at the afternoon sky. She was cut on the thighs, chest and breasts. The brute that knelt over her, wiped the knife that he'd used on her on his pants. He grabbed her breast and twisted it cruelly, grunting in pleasure as he continued to rut her unresisting body. A rage filled him, so intense was his hatred for this animal that he sprung at the villian, one thing on his mind.
Carl Winters never knew what hit him. One minute he was shuddering in rapture, the next neck was snapped. Clean and easy, in one jerk, Vin saved the state a lot of time and expense. He shoved the animal's body off the young girl and checked for a pulse, even though in his heart, he knew she was dead. He felt his stomach churning and wiped the blood spurting from her slit throat off his hands. He bowed his head and asked for God's grace, before gathering up her torn clothing. Her long denim coat was intact and he covered her with it. He never got the chance to stand up, a rifle slammed into his left side, breaking the still healing ribs. Hot pain shot through his whole body as his air was cut off. He gasped and doubled over, grimacing as a harsh hand yanked his head up by the hair. A knife was pressed to his throat, the blade cutting the skin, as hot, fetid breath assaulted him.
"That was my brother you killed, you long-haired freak..." Evan Winters hissed, his clean shaven looks and lean body gave a false appearance of a military man. "...and you're gonna be sorry you ever fucked with my family..."
As his hands were tied behind his back, the thin cords cutting into his skin like jagged teeth, he thought of Chris lying helpless on the road nearby. One kick to his knees forced his legs apart. The cruel hand pulled his hair even harder, forcing his head back. Two more bodies appeared, as lean and mean as the one behind him. The older one was about forty, his eyes so dark they were nearly black. A long scar ran from his eye across his nose and past his mouth. The other was a younger man, about twenty-one. The baby-faced looks and wide blue eyes under shorn blond hair didn't hide the killer inside. Vin felt a trickle of cold sweat run down his back as they descended. The first several blows to his stomach, caused him to nearly lose consciousness...then his head was snapped up and blows rained down on his face.
"Get out Goldie," Evan grunted to his cherubic baby brother, "We're gonna teach this faggot a lesson..."
Vin blinked stuperously, hearing only every other word. He was dizzy, disoriented and bleeding from a cut on his lip. He was pulled to his feet, the steel grip of the marine-like body behind him the only thing keeping him standing upright. His legs sagged and his chest was on fire.
"No..." he grunted in his semi-conscious state as the baby-faced killer put on brass knuckles. The explosion of pain brought bursts of colors before his dazed eyes. "...ris..." he coughed, curling up as his body crumpled to the ground. He was turned onto his back and through the blood running down his face, he saw the knife again...slowly taking the buttons off his shirt and exposing his chest.
"Does prick-eating-faggot have two g's?" The maniac laughed, drawing circles with the tip of the knife around Vin's right nipple. "You know my spelling is awful..." Bobby Winters pressed the blade in, drawing a small line and grinned at the sharp inhale of breath from the dazed victim. "You know, Evan, he sure is pretty..."
"Prettier than most of the whores you bring home," the older brother teased, kicking the bleeding prey hard between the legs.
"We're losing time," Mark Winters, the eldest of the quartet agrued. "We gotta take Carl and..."
"Carl's dead and it's his own fault," Evan spat in disgust. "He couldn't control himself...fuckin' freak..." he said of the convicted rapist. "He should have left her on the road," he said of the hitchhiker.
"You should have never sent him to that bar for beer, " Mark spat back, "We'd be in the air now on our way to Mexico. Shit..."
"It's not my fault," Evan raged, kicking the bound man in the back in frustration. "How did I know he'd pick up that slut?"
"For a slut she was pretty smart, she got his keys and damn near got away...and wrecked the car in the process..."
"She got what she deserved," the baby-faced killer replied, running the blade along the pale throat of his gagging victim. "So will this hump...gonna cut him up real pretty...might take a few hours..."
"Now we got no wheels and we're gonna miss the plane." Evan tossed back of the ride they were expecting to Mexico. Carl and Mark had escaped from prison four days before. Thomas Winters, an ex-con himself on the run from the law and the father of the monsterous brood, had been living south of the border for many years. He'd gotten quite a reputation and accumulated wealth in the drug trade. Evan and Bobby came north as soon as Carl called, the night they broke free.
"Maybe not..." Mark dropped next to the dazed young man who stumbled upon them. He took in the worn boots, long hair, tanned face and rugged appearance. "You a tracker?"
Vin eyed the cold dark eyes and coughed a wad of blood at him. The knife slashed his side, causing him to hiss and jump.
"You ain't too smart, are you faggot?" Bobby sneered, pressing the knife to Vin's breast. "Next one pops your nipple right off...answer him!"
"...fuck...off..." Vin coughed and bit his lip as the blade cut him again. Then another thought slammed into him. Chris...if he didn't get help, he could die. Through the waves of pain, he tried to formulate a plan. He drew his battered, bloodied face to the leader and nodded once.
"I thought so...I can smell you nature freaks a mile away." Mark stood up. "Get him up...he's gonna lead us out of here."
"We can't just leave Carl..." Bobby protested.
"You from around here freak?" Evan yanked Vin's hair again and eyed the marred face, one eye rapidly swelling and closing.
"...cabin...back a mile..."
"I'll get Carl...you keep the pretty, little faggot on a short leash. We're gonna drop my brother off at that cabin. Then you're gonna take us to Widow's Pass, we got a plane to catch...and you better not get us lost, or I cut your nuts in half..."
As they stumbled along, it was all Vin could do to stay awake. His mind was filled with too many decisions. How to save Chris? How to get out of this mess? Where the hell was Widow's Pass? Buck...his heart quickened, maybe he would be at the cabin and see them coming. First goal, get to the cabin.
"Who the hell is that?" Evan stopped, yanking Vin's head back and pressing the knife to his throat.
"What the fuck's wrong with him?" Bobby knelt by the semi-conscious blond man propped against a tree. His face was swollen and covered with blotches.
"...shock...allergic...wasp..." Vin uttered, trying to remain neutral and not let the enemy see his fear. He took a painful breath and thought on the exercises he learned in class. Stay in control...take deep breaths...visualize your rage...logic overcomes anger...stay in control...recognize the problem...think...listen...stay in control...breathe. He remained outwardly calm, even as Evan drew a gun and placed it against Chris's temple.
"We'll I guess we just better put this poor bastard out of his misery," he laughed, drawing back the hammer.
Buck found the Bar K ranch easy enough and made his through a large throng of people. The smell of sizzing meat filled the air, reminding him that he was overdue for lunch. He eyed the large, rambling ranchhouse, the corral with all. kinds of fine horses and the table under the overhang of the porch. Two young women sat behind the makeshift desk, answering questions and taking money. Wearing his world famous Wilmington smile, he walked towards the verandah.
"Mornin' Ladies!" he boomed, ducking under the overhang. "Buck Wilmington at your service..." he offered, eyeing both pretty girls. The blond blushed and turned away, but her attractive partner didn't. Her pale cocoa skin accented her fine features, set off by large hazel eyes. She leaned over and returned his grin, wearing an inviting one of her own.
"I'm Vanessa LaMaine and you're new around here..."
"Well now, you are a smart young woman," Buck shook the offered hand.
"Honey, if I had laid eyes on you before now, I'd have plenty more interestin' things to keep me busy this morning."
"Damn!" Buck laughed, shaking his head, "I gotta get down here more often. Listen, I'm looking for a friend of mine. Vin Tanner?" Buck waited and saw them squint and shake their heads. "Uh...smaller than me, mid-twenties, slim, long way brown hair, killer blue eyes..."
"Better looking than you, Sugar?" Vanessa purred.
"Well now, Darlin' that's damn near impossible...I suppose old Vin's passable in a good light." Buck pulled his wallet out, flipping through until he found the group shot taken at Nate's last birthday. "Here...he's the one on the far left..."
"I would have remembered something that fine...Uhmmm uhmmm..." she eyed the handsome young man in the photo. "Amy?" she passed the photo over.
"Yeah, was here a couple days ago...signed up for horseback riding and river rafting," she flipped through the log book in front of her. "Sunday...nine am...he's due back...Sorry?" She guessed when she saw his smile fading.
"Yeah..." Buck sighed, "I was hopin' he was up here. Guess I'll have a look around town."
"Well, now what is your rush, Sugar," Vanessa walked around the table and linked arms with the tall, handsome stranger. "I happen to know some real cozy spots...tourist free..."
"Aw, hell..." Buck muttered, feeling his pulse race as the warm body pressed into his side. "Tanner...I'm gonna skin your sorry hide..." he swore and pulled himself free. "I'm sorry, Darlin', duty calls...I gotta find Vin in a hurry. But uh...I'll be staying over the weekend..."
"I'll be waiting..." Vanessa purred, "I'll be at the Willows tonight, I waitress there seven til closing. It's in the lodge..."
"Yeah, I passed a sign coming up here..." Buck recalled, "Till then..." he bowed and departed.
Chris's eyes shot open and then he closed them again, thinking he was losing his sanity. He swore he saw Vin bleeding and beaten on his knees. The cock of a gun in his ear, told him this nightmare was real. He opened his eyes and the snake inside began to uncoil. The only thing he could see was one blue Tanner eye, dull and cold, the other was swollen shut. Blood covered most of Vin's face. Bloody gashes marred his chest as well. A cautious flick of his eyes counted a dead man, three dangerous live men, two with guns, one with a knife...a large knife pressed to Vin's throat. His stiffened fingers moved under the dusty buckskin jacket that was covering him and found Vin's knife. The blue eye locked onto him, as if sensing his actions. The head moved every so slightly, denying the attack. He trusted Vin, so he slid the knife back into the inner pocket of the lining.
"...s'yer funeral..." Vin coughed, already realizing the the dark-eyed one, Mark, was the one to reason with.
"Spread the fucker's brains and let's get going..." Evan demanded of his younger brother, who had a glazed look in his pale blue eyes.
"Hold it..." Mark ordered, squatting in front of the battered, bleeding prisoner. "What's that supposed to mean? You know him?"
Vin continued to try to control his breathing, fighting every lungful of air which caused his chest to fill with fire. He stared long and hard at the ugly, scarred face and ignored the blade that was drawing blood on his collarbone. Stay in control...you're the boss...breathe in like the tide...ebb and flow...you're in control...
"Answer him!" Evan screamed, kicking him in the back and grinning in sick satisfaction when the victim gasped in pain and grimaced.
"You fuckin'... touch him... again...and...I'll...mail...your...balls...home to...your mother...for stew..." Chris warned, eyes flashing.
"Shut the fuck up!" Bobby pressed the gun to the ragged breathing blond's throat. Then he moved the gun to the gasping body's knee. "Start talkin' faggot or I'll make him hurt..."
"Who is he?" Evan demanded, but still Vin remained silent, "Search him..."
Bobby kept he gun on Chris's knee, while Mark stepped over Carl's dead body and squatted beside the shivering, swollen man. He winced at the blotched face and rapid breathing. He tossed the jacket aside and saw the bulge in the back pocket. "Put him on his belly..." he ordered and Bobby violently threw the trembling blond to the ground, pressing a foot to the back of his neck.
It took all the strength Vin Tanner had in him to remain silent and stock still. But he never moved, didn't even blink. He locked onto Chris's eyes and sent a silent message to follow his lead. He saw the eyes blink and the head nod.
"Well...well...well..." Mark said, pulling the wallet free. "We got a high-falutin' piggie...a fuckin' Fed..."
"Shit!" Bobby said, cocking the gun and pressing it against the back of the damp blond hair. "Let's do him now..."
"...stupid...stupid..." Vin hissed, wincing as Evan's free hand pulling his hair painfully.
"You ain't fuckin' Siskel and Ebert....so shut he fuck up ...nobody's interested in your comments." Evan growled.
"Evan!" Mark warned, seeing too much of Carl in his headstrong middle brother. "Start talkin' Nature Boy...you know this pig?"
"...he's m'brother-in-law...come down fer the week...stayin' at the cabin..." Vin supplied.
"Can I kill him now?" Bobby pleaded, "I ain't never wasted a Fed..."
"No...just wait a minute..." Mark moved in, warning his tempermental youngest brother. "Get your head outta your ass, Bobby. He's a fuckin' fed...we off him and we're as dead as Carl. But on the other hand...he might clear some roadblocks for us if things go south."
"Yeah," Evan agreed, seeing the valuable bait. "We can use him until we get to the plane...then we can off him..."
"Hey!" Bobby's eyes gleamed, "We can throw him out of the plane over Texas somewhere... splat!" he laughed manically, giving Vin a chill.
"We're losing time..." Evan hauled Vin up, "Mark you get Carl, Bobby keep Hive Man on his feet. Go on Faggot...find that cabin...no funny stuff or he gets one in the knee. I can put plenty of lead in him and keep him alive."
"...he's m'kin..." Vin turned to Mark and waited, the older man man nodded.
"Cut him loose, Evan, he can tote Hive Man..."
Vin turned Chris over and made no move to speak, he knew every eye was trained on him. He sat the blond up and stared at him long and hard.
"Trust me..." The blue eyes directed.
"Lead the way, Cowboy," The green replied silently.
Vin gently eased the shivering body into his hide coat. He got Chris to his feet, pulled one limp arm over his shoulder and winced as half of the muscular team leader's body weight fell on him. Every broken rib protested, pushing to get free through skin and muscle. Blood ran down his chest, mingling with sweat and causing a thousand shards of pain.
Vin kept one foot in front of the other and prayed to see Buck's head in the window. No car out front, his heart sank. He stumbled on the porch and was thrown to the ground, causing his breath to leave him. The pressure and pain from the broken ribs exploded, causing tears to spring in his eyes. He clenched them shut, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He felt a thump as Chris landed beside him.
"Vin?"
It was a voice so soft and light, like butterfly wings on the wind. He heard the care and concern long before he managed to peel his good eye open. He managed to smile through his crimson masked face and tried to remain calm.
"...m'okay..."
"Shut up Faggot!" Bobby screamed, kicking Vin vicsiously between the legs. "Or I'll pretend you're that whore Carl wasted..."
Through the explosion of color and shapes that danced before his agonizing eyes, Vin saw Chris Larabee turned into something dark and feral. He saw the face blacken in rage and the lip curl up as Lucifer himself settled on the blond's features.
"Let it go..." he gritted, grabbing Chris's arm. He waited until the Prince of Darkness returned to Hell and the green eyes returned.
Mark returned, having deposited Carl inside, he was eating a sandwich and drinking a beer. He squatted next to the battered prisoners and sneered at Vin.
"Your brother-in-law, he ain't looking to good..." he eyed the swollen, blotched face.
"Corpse ain't gonna open the road fer ya..." Vin grunted, sitting up and waiting for the pain to ease up in his tender groin. "...food and water..."
Mark eyed the long-haired man and stood up. A few minutes later, he returned with a single bottle of water and container of yogurt.
"Yer all heart..." Vin hissed, lifting Chris up and easing him against the porch rail.
"You don't like the menu, Freak?" Bobby muffled, through a sandwich. He moved forward and grabbed his crotch. "I'll give him something tastier than water..."
Vin's lips curled up and he clenched both fists, until the inner voice broke free. Stay in control...you're the boss...logic over anger...breathe...stay in control. He tapped the blotched cheek and waited for the eyes to open again. "Got some water, Chris..." he coached and the slack lips parted. He got several small sips into Chris and used his fingers to feed the shivering man the container of peach yogurt. After taking a good gulp of water, he used a small bit to wash some of the blood from his face. He was already feeling lightheaded, he wondered about the many bleeding slashes on his chest and also the possibility of a punctured lung. Evan came out and yanked him by the hair, throwing him down the steps. From his side vision, through a red-hazy curtain, he saw Chris trying to stand. He shook his head negatively and the blond got the demon under control again.
"Get up, Faggot, it's time to go. Which way to Widow Pass?"
Vin managed to get to his knees and doubled over, the pain cutting him in half. For a terrifying few seconds, he thought he'd pass out. Can't do that...Chris needs you...keep moving. Widow Pass? Widow Pass? Stall...buy some time...then he thought of something and his eyes lit up.
"Northeast...it ain't far...right through the woods..." he dictated, moving to get Chris.
"Oh no..." Mark moved in. "You go with Evan. Me and Bobby will take good care of Goldilocks here...You so much as sniff of trouble and he gets a bullet in each knee...Get moving!"
So they set out and Vin tried to keep focused. Every step was painful and his hands were tied behind him again. Evan kept a gun pressed to his side and every time he stumbled and fell, a boot landed on some part of his anatomy. The painful blows were worth it, it allowed him to see Chris for a few seconds, before he was hauled up again.
"You sure this is right?" Mark called ahead, dropping the blond unceremoniously. "We've been walking for close to an hour. Bobby, run up the road and see what you find."
Vin crawled over to Chris and nudged him with his shoulder. Reluctantly the eyes peeled open.
"Ya with me, Cowboy?" Vin gasped, watching in amazemant as the trees and sky spin around him at a dizzying pace.
"You...look...like...shit...Tan...ner..." Chris managed, shivering uncontrollably. He was so cold...and every breath wasn't won without a hard battle. He knew was the Texan was thinking about...the shot of andrenalin would be wearing off in a couple hours. If they didn't get to a hospital, he could die.
"F...f...fu...ck...f...aw, hell..." Vin surrendered, too weak to tell Larabee off.
"...your taste is slipping..." Chris grunted, eyeing the motley gang.
"...recognized the ugly one..." Vin panted, blood and sweat rolling in his eyes "...dead one...him...prison...break...Mexico...plane..."
"Widow's Pass?" Chris guessed, shaking so bad his teeth rattled.
"Uh huh..."
"We near there?" the blond asked, watching Vin remain still, but seeing agonizing pain reflected in the lone eye that remained open.
"..hell if I know..." Vin coughed, then saw Chris's shoulder hunch and his chest spasm. The green eyes disappeared, leaving demonic white orbs in their place.
"Fuck!" Vin screamed. "Cut me loose...he's choking..." he felt his body shoved face first into the dirt as the cord was cut, along with a nice part of either wrist. "Chris..." he moved over and pulled the choking body over his arm. He forced his fingers in the gaping open mouth, running them to the back of Chris's throat. That worked...the vomit came and the body sagged against him.
Seeing neither as a threat, Evan moved away, hearing his youngest brother's voice calling in excitement.
"...yogurt sucks..." Chris wheezed, finally pulling his eyes open.
"..snob..." Vin returned, voice shaking in fear. Chris had come too close to leaving him and that wasn't acceptable. He kept on hand around Chris and hoped that his plan wouldn't fail.
"What's up?" Mark asked, as the youngest jogged to meet them.
"There's an old country store...it's got a truck outside. Just some old man inside. I saw some maps through the window..."
"Yeah...yeah...okay..." Mark decided, "Get the faggot and his kin on their feet..."
Vin nearly cried in relief. The plan took the turn he'd counted on. Now to get Chris to understand the next curve in the road. The dangerous one...the one were Larabee would have to die. They stumbled forward, each supporting the other like a pair of drunken sailors on leave. Mark was in the lead, Evan the rear. Bobby ran ahead, bursting in the store and screaming at the geezer behind the counter.
"You want to leave to cash your pension check next month Pops, you just play it cool." He shoved the old man towards the cash register. "Open it and put all the money in a bag..." He saw the few bills disappear and grabbed the small bag, shoving the man to a chair. "Evan tie him up...You alone Pops?"
"Huh?" the old timer squinted, "Can't hear...don't got my aid on..."
"Nevermind!" Evan hissed, shoving the prisoners into a display of soup tins and sending them to the floor. "Have a look around, you find anybody breathing, you waste 'em," he ordered, sending his blond brother to occupy the out of control temper. Mark appeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands. "Well?"
"It'll get us there...needs a new tire and some plugs...it won't take me long. Where's the map?" He followed the nudge of the head and rifled through the brochures on a rack.
Meanwhile, Vin moved over near Chris. The blond was curled on his side, not moving. Vin unbuttoned Chris's coat and eased it off, then laid it on top like a blanket. He bent low, eyeing the violent brothers while he moved his lips near the leader's ear. Chris was gasping audibly, struggling for every breath and his eyes were sliding shut.
"Chris" he waited and two slits appeared. "How's yer Hamlet?" he whispered and saw the sandy brows furrow. "...play dead..." he clarified.
"...do...I...get...a ...b...b....bone?" Chris gasped, trying to stay awake.
"Listen..." Vin hissed, pretending to lift Chris as he whispered the plan in his ear.
"What's going on?" Buck demanded, seeing the state police cars barring his path back to the cabin. A young officer approached, hearing the request.
"Got a murderer running loose. Sorry, nobody gets through."
"A murder?" Buck thought of Vin being missing. "Shit...I got friend whose missing. Who got killed?" He flashed his badge and got out of the car.
"Young girl from town, only seventeen." the rookie replied, inspecting the badge. "You up here on business?"
"No," the relieved man replied, "Where'd the murder take place? I got a sick friend in a cabin out near Eagle Lake. I don't want to leave him too long."
"Eagle Lake?" another cop walked over. "Did you say a cabin?"
"Yeah, it belongs to a professor, uh...McHugh. My friend Vin Tanner was staying there. He's ATF too. So is Chris Larabee, I left him there a few hours ago. Vin wasn't there and I went hunting him. Why?"
"We found a dead man in McHugh's cabin."
"Dead..." Buck pulled back in shock. "Who..."
"Blond, mid thirties, good build..." the anxious first year cop replied.
"Aw, Christ!" Buck rocked back, dropping his head in his hands. "What the fuck did I do? Jesus...My God..."
"Wait a minute!" A loud voice ordered. "Little, get your rookie ass to that roadblock, you got traffic backing up. Damn fool greenhorn..." he muttered, walking the the stricken man's side. "I'm Captain Jefferson and you can breathe again. The stiff is Carl Winters, rapist and murderer, escaped from prison about three days ago with his older brother. The old man is a drug czar in Mexico, send his two youngest up north to pick them up."
"Thank God..." Wilmington sighed, raking a hand through his hair. That didn't calm his stomach much. Vin and Chris were still missing...and killers were on the loose. Desperate men to vile things...visions of their carved up bodies filled his brain. "Any leads?"
"Yeah...the F.B.I. tracking them thinks they either have help or hostages. Too many tracks near the cabin. They lead down a dead end road to a little country store. The road only extends a half mile past the store. They're moving in now..."
"Hostages?" Buck's head shot up. "Look, I got a couple friends missing...I gotta know..."
"Yeah, I understand," the cop sympathized. "But you're out of your jurisdiction. I'll tell you what. You can ride with me in the cruiser. The Feds will have visual through the camera's they're setting up. You can stay at the command post and watch from there. It's the best I can do...it's just down the road from the store."
"Yeah, okay..." the dark head bobbed and followed the graying senior policeman to his car.
"You stupid fuckin' asshole!" Bobby screamed at Mark, "You wouldn't listen to me...I wanted to off him with that slut, but no...you let him turn your head. You turned faggot in that prison...you like the looks of that pretty ass of his, you wanted him for yourself..."
"What the hell are you rambling about, Bobby?" Evan moved in, separating his brothers.
"We're fuckin' trapped. That road dies just south of here...there's cop cars fuckin' up the road we came on..." the baby-faced killer screamed. "Now get outta my face, I'm gonna slice that faggot from his balls to his teeth...rip the livin' shit right outta him..."
"No!" Mark shoved the irate blond. "As long as they're alive, we got pawns...they die...we got nothing..."
The ringing phone broke up the tension. Mark moved to answer it, picking the receiver up slowly.
"Yeah...Winters?" he flinched. "No, it's fuckin' Snow White...No, you listen to me Prick, I don't give a flyin' fuck if your F.B.I or P.I.G. I'm calling the shots. Hostages?" he wheeled around and saw the helicopter. "You get that flying pigmobile outta here of I'll kill the pig in the pen...Laramie or Larson or What the fuck is his name?" he called to Evan who had the blond's ID. He tossed the wallet to Mark. "Chris Larabee...ATF...yeah...he's alive..." he looked at the old man who had pissed his pants. "We got Larabee's brother-in-law too, some long-haired faggot. Listen, you got a half hour to back off or the kid gets it...the blond guys already on his last leg...some fuckin' bug thing...he's covered in hives..." Mark hung up and looked at Evan. "He's gonna call back..."
Buck didn't move, he saw the images clear enough through the camera the F.B.I used in the helicopter. The sadistic killer's words didn't help. Chris must have been stung by a wasp...he looked awful...then what Buck thought was a pile of clothes moved. "Vin..." he sighed, "Jesus..." the Texan was a mess, he looked as bad as Chris.
"What's he talking about?" a brusk agent with a white crew cut asked.
"Anaphylactic shock...Chris is allergic to wasps..."
"We got EMT's on standby and a chopper, we'll get them out..." the other advised. "Call the asshole back..."
Vin saw the three argueing about what to do next. It was time for the showdown to begin. He flicked a gaze at Chris who looked like a guest at the morgue. He nodded once and the blond head dipped in response.
"Chris!"
"Vin!" Buck screamed, hearing the terror in the sniper's voice through the phone that the felon dropped. His blue eyes were rivited on the images on the monitor. Vin was jerking Larabee's body around like a puppet without strings. The blond head lolled and rolled, the eyes were closed. Finally, the body was laid on the ground. He saw Vin snarl something at the laughing blond kid next to him. The sadistic looking leader appeared still clutching the phone, moving next to Chris The next two words, spoken without any feeling and so cold it chilled Buck to the bone. They came from the bloodied lips of the sharpshooter, who gently closed the unseeing green eyes.
"He's dead."
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