Setting: ATF AU
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.
NOTE: I want to thank the kind, generous and understanding editor, aka KET, for effortlessly going through this with her red pen. Thanks Pard, you got no idea how relieved I am to have my 'assets' covered. I am very very grateful, KET, thanks a million.
Adam winced and gave his only child a supportive pat on the back as the blond made his way into the battle zone.
"I can explain, Mom," Chris began.
"He thought he ate insecticide. He threw up. He's been sick all afternoon. Why didn't you tell him?"
"I tried... well, I was going to but the delivery came and then I got tied up on the phone with Buck. He was asleep and..." He flinched at the green lasers bearing down on him and then saw how terribly pale Vin was. He paused beside the quiet man and gave the back of his neck a tug. "I'm sorry, Vin."
"Weren't yer fault, Chris. I shouldn't have touched 'em. I'm real sorry, Kate. If I didn't mess with 'em, none of this would have happened."
"Well, I guess you both learned a lesson." She eyed the washed-out complexion and especially the eyes. "How's your stomach now?"
"Like a deckchair on the Titanic..." Vin moaned. "If it's all the same t'ya, Kate, I'm not real hungry. I'll make a mug o'tea and take it upstairs. I am really wiped out. We got a full day tomorrow..." He stopped, not able to say the mustached agent's name. He averted his gaze, not letting them see the guilt that had overcome him.
"Well... I suppose if your stomach is upset," she fretted, feeling his head. "You're not warm."
"I'm jest tired, really. I'm okay." He stood and saw the concern in her face and absorbed it. "I won't never do nuthin' that stupid again."
"Come on." Kate tapped Adam as Vin put a kettle of water on the stove to boil.
"Vin, I was gonna tell you... I didn't realize..."
"Been there already." He put his hand up. "I'm okay, Chris, I'm just wore out. Ya were right, I shouldn't have taken that ride today."
Dinner was delicious. Kate Larabee was a first rate cook. As he sipped white sangria, watching his parents stroll hand in hand by the corral, Chris thought on his two friends. He tossed Maggie odd bits of chicken that were left and wondered how he was going to fix Buck's problem. He couldn't imagine the outgoing man doing anything else. Buck knew him, inside and out; he'd known him longer than any of the team. He'd been there for most of the important moments in his life. He couldn't imagine the team without him.
He watched the colors of the sky bleeding and inhaled the sweet breeze. He found a small smile as his mother's head rested on his father's shoulder. The senior Larabee's arm went around her waist and he felt a pang of pain then.
"I miss you, sweet Sara..." he whispered to the wind and sat back, eyes closed. He let his mind travel back in time to a sun kissed beach and sharing special time with the most beautiful woman in the world.
Chris watched the group of passengers heading like cattle towards the luggage claim area. He scanned the crowd and saw a tall man on the edge.
"There he is." He turned to his quiet companion. "Vin, you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah." Vin stood up and shook the blues off. Buck had enough problems riding on him now and needed Chris to help him. He shoved his guilt away and swallowed down the bitter taste of what he'd done just as the visitor greeted them.
"Hey, there!" Buck grinned, clapping Chris's back and shaking his hand. "Good to see you, stud."
"Same here, Buck. Flight okay?"
"Yeah, fine." He turned towards Vin who seemed to be trying to hide behind Chris. "Hey Slick, you look a lot better. Sorry to hear about the bad dreams."
"I'm fine, Buck. How's the boys?" The Texan deflected, while arrows of guilt assaulted him when his eyes hit the affected arm of the injured man.
"Busy as hell. Three new cases. I'll tell you about it while Chris buys us lunch."
"Whaddya mean 'us'?" Larabee shot back, shoving Buck towards the luggage bay. "Cheap bastard."
Vin pushed his plate away, happy that he'd finished the soup and sandwich. Lunch had gone well and he�d kept his game face on as Buck explained the three new cases the team had been assigned to. Chris talked about his therapy and traded barbs with Buck about the pretty therapist Vin sensed the moment coming and excused himself.
"I seen a shoot 'em up by the front door," he noted of the arcade game. "Think I'll stretch m'legs."
"You don't have to go." Buck met the sky eyes and narrowed his own. For a moment, he saw something he didn't like harbored there, then it was gone.
"Yeah, I do," Vin replied, but smiled, warm and true. "But thanks, Bucklin, fer that. Means a whole lot. I'll be outside..." "So what's wrong, Buck?"
"It's some kind of nerve damage," the worried agent replied, unconsciously rubbing his arm. "My brain is telling my nerves what to do but they don't hear the message. Sort of like in the old west when a telegraph operator would miss some of the words. I can move my arm pretty good." He extended and raised it. "But not all the way and my fingers get numb and sometimes there's a burning sensation, like the aftershock of pins and needles. All week I've been trying to load my gun. It was like I had ten fuckin' thumbs. I can't aim..."
Chris licked his lips and felt his heart cracking, watching the second strongest man he knew struggling so badly. He leaned across the table and took the shaky hand, giving it a tug.
"You're not walking this road alone, Buck. Not now, not ever, okay? You said options?"
"Yeah, more surgery. This specialist in Denver... he said... well... this operation could help. If it works, it'll correct the numbness and let the signals get through. I need to do something. The fuckin' painkillers were turnin' me into a zombie. Vicodin, talk about strong..."
"How soon?"
"As soon as I get back."
"I don't see the problem. I mean, you have no choice, right?"
"But what if... I mean... it doesn't work. I know it sounds stupid but... as long as it's there, it's still a possibility. I keep thinking I'll wake up one day and be able to feel what I'm touching."
"Buck, putting it off won't make it go away," Chris directed, rubbing his eyes. He suddenly felt very strongly just how much Buck needed to be here. "We'll talk it over. Could be this mountain air will do you good."
"I had mountain air at home," Buck tossed back, then grinned like a wolf. He saw the worry in the green eyes and needed to replace it. "Had some good, old-fashioned 'Buck-fun' in that mountain air..."
"Here comes my lunch back up." Chris wrinkled his nose but saw something past the light of wistfulness in the blue eyes. "You really love Inez, huh?"
"It's the sun, the moon and the stars, pard," he emoted, tossed down some bills and stood. "Come on, let's get back to your folk's place. Vin seems better." He changed the subject as they headed for the door.
"He's hiding from me." Chris put his sunglasses on and watched Vin battling with Space Demons in a very loud arcade game.
"Hiding what?"
"I don't know, Buck," he sighed. "I can't push him too hard. You can't believe what the flashbacks do to him. It's like somebody is hitting his skull with an axe." He flexed both fists and kicked the unfortunate newspaper stand. "Fuckin' Bull Savage..."
"Easy, there," Buck soothed, seeing such a force in the tense body it scared him. "They're coming closer together?"
"Seem to be." Chris waved at Vin through the glass and the younger man headed towards them.
"Maybe we'll get lucky and the next one will bring him back for good," Buck decided, not realizing just how right he was.
The ride home was quiet. Vin was dozing in the back while Buck eyed the scenery. They were over two hours early, thanks to Buck's flight coming in early. They pulled up and saw the car in the driveway.
"Looks like my parents haven't left for Washington yet."
Buck was about to reply when Vin shot out of the car and bolted for the door.
"What's with him?" the rogue asked, easing his lanky frame onto the ground.
"He drank three large sodas," Chris remarked. "He's gotta tap a kidney. I'll get your bags."
Vin was halfway to the bathroom, having to pass through the den. He heard the telltale moaning and grunting while he was in the hallway. He saw the discarded clothing and a hint of toes from the edge of the rug on the floor. Flushing with color, he backpedaled fast, quietly exiting as his bladder threatened to explode. . "We can't go inside," Vin hissed, shoving past the other two, his eyes zoning in on the woods nearby.
"Why not?" Chris asked.
"Folks' is busy," Vin huffed, eyeing the woods.
"Busy?" the blond puzzled. "Busy how?"
Vin's animated eyes set in a red face told Buck the answer and he howled, slapping his knee.
"Damn!" he exuded with a shit-eating grin. "The General's on afternoon maneuvers. God, that man IS my idol!" he praised, then rolled his eyes at Larabee's pained expression. "What's wrong with you? That's something to admire, two people who love each other that much."
"They're my parents, Buck. Nobody likes to think of their parents having sex."
"You're a prude, Larabee." Buck ruffled the blond hair and laughed again. "You're jealous �cause the old man is getting more action than you!"
"Shut up, Buck," Chris warned, following Vin's path to the woods leading to the lake. As the three friends strode along, they didn't hear the news break. From the spot in the kitchen on a shelf, the small radio played to no one. Nobody heard the newscaster warning residents of a storm moving into the area later than evening — a violent storm.
It was almost seven p.m. when Buck, Vin and Chris arrived at Tully's Tavern. The mustached man remained slightly behind the others as they made their way to the door. His smile widened as they entered; he knew the surprise that waited inside.
"Hey, Chris!"
"Hi, Mike," the blond tossed at the bartender.
"Got a table in the back," he nodded. "I'll bring another pitcher of beer over."
"Another?" Chris wondered, heading for the east side of the room that overlooked the battlefield.
"Hey Boss!" Josiah greeted, holding up a pewter mug and sipping the foam off the top.
"We just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought we'd join you for dinner," Ezra greeted with a smile.
"Vin!" J.D. muffled, his mouth full of hot wings.
"Jesus, J.D., couldn't you wait until we sat down?" Buck teased, ruffling the dark hair and taking the seat next to the youngest.
"I was hungry!" Dunne defended.
"You were born hungry." Nathan rolled his dark eyes and lit a cigar. "Surprise!" he offered through a haze of blue smoke.
"Hey y'all!" Vin grinned, eyeing each face carefully. His heart skipped a beat. No flashes, no pain, no headaches. Maybe he could enjoy this meal without the awful interruptions of past times haunting him.
"Your hair grew!" J.D. eyed the shoulder length, very stylish locks. "Looks like Vin again!"
"Thanks, kid," Vin offered, taking an end seat away from the smoke. Chris had taken a cigar from Nathan and was enjoying it.
"I thought you bums were busy?" the blond gruffed, drinking in the camaraderie he'd grown accustomed to.
"Not until Monday," Josiah noted. "Even the Lord rests once in awhile."
"Besides," Buck winked at Vin, "the boy needed cheering up, 'Seven style'."
While the others began to talk, tease and spin bawdy stories, Chris met Buck's eyes over the table. He held his mug up and offered a silent toast. He knew without asking that it was Buck's idea. He stole a glance at Vin who was laughing and more relaxed than he'd been since their arrival. Then he turned back, winking at his oldest friend, thanking him with silent applause.
"More wings!" J.D. enthused as the waiter set a large platter down. "Where's Vin?"
"In the bathroom," Nathan replied, slapping J.D.'s hand. "How 'bout lettin' the rest of us eat some?"
Vin washed his hands and left the bathroom. He almost wished the night wouldn't come to an end. His hand moved across the soft cotton on his slim abdomen, trying to catch the 'warm fuzzy' feeling being with these men left inside. It felt good — damn good. He hoped with all his heart he'd get his memories back. He wanted every morsel returned and savored the thought of full restitution. He was passing the bar when a news bulletin caught his eye. He paused as the announcer's voice was matched with a picture. He didn't hear more than a few of the broadcaster's words. The image of twisted silver metal in a dense wooded area near water sent a fierce bolt of lightning through his skull and took his knees away.
"...officials have branded the storm as a possible cause for the plane crash..."
"Come on, Ace." Buck stood. "That kid's running himself ragged," he noted of the waiter. "We'll get the next round."
"Why am I required for menial labor?" the southerner quizzed as he rose.
"'Cause you're a pretty boy," Nathan replied, elbowing Chris.
"...and the bartender has his eye all over your ass..." the leader sent back, wagging his eyebrows.
"Charming!" Standish backed away. "To think I flew across country when I could have been insulted at home."
"Yeah, but we love ya!" J.D. added, watching Buck tapping Ezra on the back.
As they exited the small side of the old inn heading for the large area where the bar was located, they saw a small crowd. Then they saw familiar jeans and a hand on the floor amidst the bodies still standing.
"That's Vin!" Buck moved quickly. "I'm with him... move..."
"Vin? Vin?" Ezra dropped down next to the body with Buck across from him. He tapped the slack jaw and sighed in relief when the closed lids shifted and the head turned.
"What happened?" Buck demanded.
"Back off, Kojak!" a truck driver noted, not missing the anger flashing at him. "He was standing there one minute and just went down."
"Like Mike Tyson nailed him," another offered.
"Should I call 911?" The bartender had his hand on the phone.
"No... I'm okay..." Vin managed weakly, blinking up at two worried faces.
"You sure, Slick?" Buck offered. "Good thing that you came to. Otherwise, Ezra was gonna have to give you lip service"
"What... happened?" Vin asked.
"You passed out coming from the bathroom. Did you get sick in there?" Ezra asked.
"No... don't... think... so..." Vin paused, trying to figure if and how his queasy stomach added to the mystery. Then, like a lingering ghost from his hospital stay, another episode revisited. "Aw, hell... must be prophylactic shock."
"What?" Buck sputtered.
"...musta been what I ate fer lunch..." the confused man replied.
"Not one word, Mister Wilmington!" Ezra warned, seeing the rogue's chuckle threatening to explode. He could hear the wheels turning in that head and imagined all kinds of colorful replies to Vin's malapropism.
"Give me a little credit, Ezra!" Buck managed but had a hard time containing himself.
"What's taking so long?" J.D. asked, annoyed at the delay.
"Ezra." Nathan dipped a wing into bleu cheese. "Most likely he forgot the combination."
"Combination?" Chris asked.
"On his wallet," the medic sent back just as the bartender's face appeared around the narrow doorway.
"Shit!" Chris hissed when he saw the red-vested man motion for them to follow. "It's gotta be Vin... dammit!"
Vin's eyes darted back and forth, trying to recall what happened. He remembered leaving the bathroom and then... then. A flash of silver, a plane going down. Screaming voices in his head, fire and flames. Mother Nature cruelly jerking his hands from Chris Larabee as the plane broke apart. Then water... and blackness.
"Vin?" Ezra prompted, sliding his hand under the prone body's shirt and over his heart. "Try to calm down. Your heart is racing. We all have eaten the wings and other appetizers. I doubt if that caused your malady."
"Wings?" Vin shook his head, still dizzy and weak. "Naw, Chris says... I can't... eat... fishes..."
"Shellfish!" Buck sighed. "You're allergic, but you didn't have any today, Vin."
�He's not in anaphylactic shock," Nathan called out. "Move, Ezra! Let me in there."
"Why is he on a dirty floor?" Chris growled. "Get him off the damn floor."
"Don't be talkin' over me like I ain't here," Vin warned, eyeing the bodies around him. "Hell, why don�tcha call in more folks from the highway as long as yer all gawkin' at me."
"Get me some orange juice," Nathan asked, helping Vin to his feet and sliding him onto the chair that someone had provided. "Maybe his sugar dropped down."
"I'm okay now, jest... got... dizzy... fer a spell..."
"Bullshit!" Chris stood in front of Vin, hands riding slim hips. "You had a flashback, didn't you?"
Vin thought before replying, slowly sipping the cold orange juice. He avoided Chris's eyes and let Nathan check his pulse and breathing. He was enjoying this night and he knew Buck and Chris needed the others here as well. Having all of them around was vital — they were a team. A band of brothers who stood so strong and united. He pushed the gruesome image of the burning plane away.
"What I want," he said in a quiet voice that got everyone's attention, "is havin' ya all 'round... laughin' and spillin' bad jokes. Please, Chris?"
Buck signaled the bartender to send another round to the table. He knew by the drawl coupled with the hound dog blue eyes that Chris wouldn't say no. He never could, not when Vin used 'please' that way.
"Okay," the green-eyed sucker agreed. "But we're heading home after this round." He paused. "And we'll talk later about what you 'saw'."
"Deal," Vin agreed, took the hand up and nodded, feeling the full weight of just how much having brothers meant.
By the time they got back to the house, Vin was sound asleep. Josiah woke him up and guided the groggy man into the nearest bedroom, a very small guestroom at the back of the house. He took Vin's shoes off and pulled a blanket over him. The younger man sighed deeply, mumbled in his sleep and rolled over.
But the restful sleep didn't last long. While the others were in the front of the house, trading beer and bad jokes, the demon returned. He speared the unsuspecting victim as he slept, sending images that caused ripping pain.
Vin tossed and turned, clutching the sheets and sweating. It all unfolded again. The sputtering engine, the screaming of Bull Savage as the pilot fought to control the damaged plane. More screaming and sickening sounds of metal being ripped apart. His fingers were slipping; he couldn't feel Chris. The plane broke apart and he was torn free, his fingers curling around a metal chain instead of Larabee's neck.
"Chris..." he croaked as the plane broke apart and he was sent into a cold river.
Vin blinked and eyed the small, dank place where he was confined. He smelled the mustiness of the cave along with urine and body odor. Where was Larabee? Then he remembered the plane crash. He had to find his best friend. Chris could be hurt... lying nearby in pain. So he staggered to his feet and fumbled onward, not feeling the wind and rain. His only thought was finding that plane and his best friend.
"The storm is kicking up!" J.D. jumped as a loud clap of thunder exploded outside. It had been raining hard for awhile, but in the last few minutes, the wind had intensified.
"Close the windows!" Chris said. "I'll go upstairs."
Nathan ran with Josiah and Ezra, closing windows where gusty wind was whipping water inside on the ground floor.
Chris hobbled upstairs and shut the windows he found open just as the lights went out.
"Great!" he cursed, stumbling in the hallway to a large closet. He bent over and got out a large flashlight. He went down the stairs, seeing J.D. and Buck with candles. "There should be more flashlights in the pantry. There's a utility closet, metal, against the side wall."
"I'll get them," J.D. offered, quickly walking through the kitchen.
"Chris!"
It wasn't often Nathan Jackson panicked and that sent a chill into Larabee as he raced to the back of the house. He flashed the large beam of light into the small room. His heart began to gyrate like an out of control jackhammer when he saw beyond the tall black man's frame in the entry to the guest room that the bed was empty. Then his anxious eyes saw the preacher enter through an open door. It was then he noticed just how saturated the rug was. The door had been open for some time. The door inside led down a small narrow hall into the den. Since Vin didn't appear there, where they all had been sitting, there was only one horrid answer.
"He's gone," Josiah hollered over the wind from the open door that exited into the black night, nodding to the yard where muddied bare feet had left imprints.
For a minute, the only sound in the room was ragged breathing and the piping shriek of the protesting wind. Nathan recovered first, moving past the stunned blond and squatting down on the floor. His long dark fingers pressed into the carpet. He shook his head slightly, his face creased in concern.
"It's soaked. Looks like he's been gone for awhile."
"Well, we've been home what? Three hours?" Buck noted from the doorway. "Could be he had another spell, woke up and didn't know where he was... J.D..." He turned into the hall. "J.D.?"
"What?" Dunne called back, his light flashing ahead. "I'm not deaf, Buck..."
"Vin's gone. Get the sheriff on the phone. The number is on a list of emergency numbers by the phone in the kitchen. Chris, who's duty at night? Chris?"
He hadn't moved. He was barely able to breathe. His stunned eyes were still on that portrait of black outside. Howling wind, driving rain and utter and complete darkness. He drew up a frightening picture of his best friend, clad in only jeans and a tee shirt, lying at the bottom of any one of dozens of hills in the remote area. Three hours? He could be miles away or somewhere nearby. In a storm like this, with little visibility, they could be right next to him and not find him. The grisly image came again as his mind recounted news stories of lost hikers being found long after they'd died. He saw Vin's twisted body again, the head at an unnatural angle.
"Chris?" Buck moved closer, laying a hand on the shaken man's shoulder.
"...his neck's broken..."
"What?" Josiah moved inside, not liking how very pale his boss had become. "Brother, you with us?"
"Huh?" Chris blinked, bringing himself back into the room. "We gotta get help..."
"The kid's on the horn to the sheriff. Who's on duty tonight?"
"Midnight?" Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose as a pounding force began to throb. "Uh..Ben Graham. I don't know how much help he can be. I bet they have accidents all over the place."
"Chris?" J.D. called down the hall. "You wanna talk to them?"
"Yeah." He moved quickly and took the cordless phone. "Ben? It's Chris Larabee. Listen, you remember Vin Tanner? He's been staying with my folks."
"Sure do, Chris. Met him at church a few times with your mother. Nice boy," the silver-haired man noted. "You okay up there?"
"No, Vin's gone. He's got amnesia and he's been having flashbacks. They're bad, he usually passes out. I think maybe he had one and woke up... confused. He ran off. In the dark, these mountains probably look the same as the ones in Mexico. He's barefoot, Ben. The rug by his bed is soaked."
"How long since you missed him?" The lawman was writing up a report.
"We got in about three hours ago. When the power went out, we went hunting for flashlights. That's when we found the bed empty. There's muddy footprints across the patio and leading towards the woods."
"Okay, I'll do what I can, Chris. We're spread thin. A truck jackknifed on the interstate. I got ten cars involved and fatalities. Most of my men are over there. But I'll put an APB out. I'll call Stan Jarvik at the barracks," he noted of the State Police nearby. "He can update his men too. Give me some phone numbers."
"Thanks, Ben," Chris sighed, relaying numbers for each of their cell phones and his parent's phone.
"Chris, you might call the Red Cross and the local emergency rooms. Some folks south of where you are got flooded out and evacuated. Could be he's mixed up with them and got picked up."
"Yeah... thanks. I'll check in when I can. We'll split up and start hunting."
Chris sighed hard, handed Josiah the phone and went into the kitchen. He put the high intensity light on the countertop so it cast a bright light on the table. He grabbed the tablet and pen by the phone and began to write.
"Chris? You got maps?"
"Yeah, J.D." he replied, nodding to the cabinet by the sink. "The one on the bottom."
"Lanterns? Ezra, that's a great idea!" J.D. watched as the southerner entered with one lit lantern in each hand.
"Here." He set one beside Chris, giving the older man more light. "I suggest we split up. We can cover more ground." He placed another on a shelf near the foyer entrance, adding more light to the hallway beyond.
"Yeah," Chris nodded as the others spilled into the room. "Josiah?" He eyed the tall man who was on the phone.
"Red Cross doesn't have anybody yet with his name or description. He's checking hospitals," Nathan updated. "Tell me about the flashbacks, Chris. What sets him off?"
"Anything," he sighed hard, tapping the pen. "Everything... the other night, it was the game, Risk. He was putting it away and bam! Down he went. Had a flashback to you and Josiah playing one night."
"But tonight was different obviously," Ezra noted, scanning the maps over J.D.'s shoulder. "These other incidents, he 'wakes up' so to speak? Comes out of it relatively quickly?"
"Yeah, a few minutes... or he passes out," Chris replied.
"You think something in that bar triggered this?" Buck asked.
"I do," Standish replied, concentrating. "He was by the bar. There were about eight men nearby. Does anyone recall if one of them looked like someone who would appear to be a threat to him?"
"No! Shit, Jimmy Hoffa could have been sitting there," Buck snapped.
"What else could trigger it?" J.D. asked. "A song or something?"
"Amnesia's tricky, J.D.," Nathan answered. "Taste, sound, smell, anything could have set him off."
"Okay, we split up. For Vin to leave the house, he must really have been lost. I'm banking on he stumbled outside and saw those mountains and thinks he's in Mexico, after the crash." Chris scanned his notes. "But that's a lot of ground. We were inland and near the river..."
"Or what if he doesn't 'see' the mountains? He could be 'seeing' anything, given his state of mind. Didn't you two tangle with those cretins in the desert before you left New Mexico?" Ezra quizzed.
"Yeah, near Silver City..." Chris noted in a distant tone, recalling the chilling shoot-out on the deserted airstrip. "Okay, Buck, you're with me." He rose. "Kid, get some slickers from the utility room. Ezra, you and J.D. cover this area. It borders the ground between my folks place and their closest neighbor. This is a utility road," he tapped the map. "It will take you on a narrow path but it's a good road. Nathan, you and Josiah head into the mountains, the east trail." He took a second map out and opened it, then folded it to a close-up. He also handed the healer a crude hand-drawn map he'd just done. "Follow the blue line as far as you can. Vin took Maggie there a lot. There's trails back there."
"Maggie! Hey, Chris, think she can track him?" Dunne inquired.
"She's not here. She's at the kennel getting groomed," he sighed, taking a slicker from J.D. "Buck, you and me are gonna take the perimeter around the river."
"Radios," Nathan said. "I saw some back there..." He nodded to the utility room.
"Yeah, one for each team. Blankets and towels too. Grab what you can from the laundry room and stow 'em in the trunk. We do checks every fifteen minutes. I'll call each of you. I'll find out from Ben what frequency he's using. Let's go."
The road to Hell.
He was almost sure that's where he was. He was shivering so badly his bones were jumping and his teeth were chattering. The biting rain seemed to pierce his skin as he stumbled along. The wind was harsh and the cold night air had him numb to the core. The road under his cold bare feet was slick and he slipped, falling yet again. Something sharp cut his cheek and he lay there a moment. Gasping for breath, freezing and desperate, he cried out.
"Chris!"
There was no reply save the howling wind that cut right through his shivering frame. He didn't know where he was. The woods were dark and the road rocky with steep hills on either side. He�d lost count of how many times he'd fallen. His feet were cut, his face was cut and his head felt like a jackhammer was slamming into it. It would be so easy to close his eyes and let the cold and pain go away.
"..n..n..n....no...." he protested, shoving himself up and to his feet. Chris needed him. He might be lying hurt somewhere.
So painfully, he stumbled along, inch by inch, step by step, mile by mile. Numb and with senses reeling, the cold that penetrated him left no room for reasoning. He pushed forward, blind to anything but that image of Chris's hand reaching out.
Then the ground beneath his feet seemed to turn into ice. The slick mud sent him flying like a wayward skier. He saw the tree branch coming and tried to prevent the inevitable. His arm shot up and pain exploded in his shoulder as he tumbled into oblivion.
"I can't believe it's not letting up," J.D. noted, peering through the windshield.
"I feel our journey is about to end rather abruptly." Ezra slowed the car down and the headlights glanced over a large tree across the road.
"What now?"
"We go back to that last turnoff. We'll have to get to the main road."
The two had been driving slowly, stopping frequently to get out and flash the lights into the ravines and ditches. It was a slow trip but they felt they'd covered as much of the dense area as possible.
So far, none of the others had any luck either. They were in constant contact, updating each other and J.D. was keeping track on the maps he carried. With every passing mile and fleeing hour, their hearts sank a bit more.
"Chris?" J.D. pushed the button and waited.
"Go."
"We have to turn back, there's a tree down. We're taking a turnoff and heading to the main artery."
"Dammit!"
"Sorry," the youth winced, hearing the fear in the leader's voice.
"Not your fault, Kid."
The silence followed them through the darkness, each lost in thought. A half hour transpired before the end of the access road appeared. Then J.D. sat forward a bit and stared hard.
"Hey, Ezra, what's that?"
"Red flashing lights... an emergency vehicle of some sort..."
"Vin!" J.D. cried out.
"Possible, but doubtful."
Ezra pulled over, put the flashers on and rolled the window down. A large policeman with a bright yellow slicker leaned in, eyeing them carefully.
"ID!" he barked. "What's wrong with the two of you? You out joy riding in the middle of the night during a storm?"
"Certainly not!" Ezra's voice was sharp. "We're ATF agents from Denver. One of our comrades is missing. We're searching for..."
"Tanner," he nodded. �Yeah, we got a call about him."
"Then he's not here?" J.D. inquired as he took his wallet back. "We saw the lights... we hoped..."
"Road's blocked, plane went down this afternoon. We're under orders from the FAA not to let anyone by."
"We can't get back, there's a tree down..." J.D. started, but Ezra interrupted.
"A plane...?"
"Yeah." The cop eyed the road. "I can let you through the roadblock but you have to take Canyon Creek Road. Go right and it's about five miles until you pick it up. That's the best I can do."
"Thanks." Ezra rolled the window up, took the road and waited until they were out of view of the police. He pulled over and stared at the dark road ahead.
"What?" J.D. asked.
"That plane... I think that might be a key. There was a television by the bar, near the spot where Vin went down."
"A news bulletin," J.D. theorized. "He saw that plane and it triggered something."
"Perhaps, and it stayed with him as he slept."
"So he woke up... thinking he was in Mexico and they were in the crash?" Dunne thought aloud and picked up the radio to update Larabee.
With every passing hour, his heart sank a little more. He was soaked clear through to his underwear and so was Buck. They'd covered miles of muddy, wet riverbanks on foot before driving up the road and starting all over again.
But they had nothing.
There was just too much mountain and too little light to see much of anything. But the physical coldness that the storm caused was nothing compared to the icy fingers that stroked his soul. Every time his eyes caught that churning water, swollen from the storm and angry, he saw Vin's body being carried away.
Hold it!"
"What?" Chris hit the brakes and his wet head spun around.
"Go back, I saw something," Buck panted, cranking the window down. He kept his eyes fixed on the right side of the road as the four by four backed up. Then he saw it again and his heart soared.
"There... Shit...Stop the car!"
"What? What the hell are you... Buck!"
Chris called after the tall man who was already out of the car and running, slipping and skidding towards the edge of the road. He turned the motor off, kept the lights fixed on that spot and followed.
"What is it?"
"This!" Buck reached up and snagged a piece of wet green cloth. "Vin's shirt... he's here... Jesus, we found him. I can't fuckin' believe it. Vin? Vin?"
"Wait a minute!" Chris put his hand up and eyed the steep hill to their left. He flashed his light and saw the ridges in the mud. It was like a muddied version of a water park super slide. "He was up there... and came down fast..."
"Right into that tree." Buck peered into the darkness until Chris's light began a slow path over the ground far below. Then, in the midst of the blackness, mud and guck was a flash of white. A body sprawled against a rock. Long wet tendrils of hair splayed across a muddy face. And two blue eyes looking right at him.
"Vin!" Chris cried out and began to move until an arm hit his chest.
"Wait a minute!" Buck ordered. "First of all, you scared him." He nodded to where the younger man was now curled sideways, shaking badly. "Second, we need a rope. No way you can climb down. Third, we need help." He placed his hand on the other man's shoulder and saw how hard he swallowed. "He's alive. We got us a genuine miracle."
"Yeah," Chris managed. "Okay, I'll get a rope. You get the others.
Voices.
He was shivering so badly that just keeping his face trained in one direction was an effort. But he heard someone far above. The pain in his shoulder was unbearable and he was sure part of his head was missing.
Vin?
Someone was calling him. He sat back and blinked through the icy rain and saw white lights. He heard voices again and saw two figures moving. His mind flashed to soldiers with black boots and guns. Why would soldiers be calling him? Did they have Chris? Or was he dead? He shook his head, denying that thought. The voices came back.
Vin?
Louder this time and with urgency. He curled up, very confused and dizzy. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be dry and warm. He wanted...
Vin!
"...no..."
Then a hand touched his shoulder and a red hot poker jammed through him. He screamed, setting every vein in his neck to throbbing. He tried to fight but the arms holding him were stronger. His head banged against a chest, muscular and hard. It was too much and he began to lose his air.
"Vin, it's me!" Chris tried. "I'm sorry about your arm, I didn't know. Vin, you need..."
Clearly, the younger man struggling weakly in his arms couldn't hear him. It was like holding an icicle. Then he heard the choking sound. Vin was hyperventilating.
"Vin, calm down!"
He moved his body then from behind the shocked man and out in front. He grabbed Vin's chin with one hand and the flashlight suspended on his neck with the other. He held the light between their faces. "Vin, look at me! It's Chris!"
His jangled limbs twitched with such ferocity he felt like he was in the middle of an earthquake. Then the light hit his face.
And he saw... he looked hard and truly saw.
Gasping, coughing and choking, his watery eyes widened in disbelief. It couldn't be... could it? He jammed his eyes shut and opened them again. Was it a mirage? Another dream?
He saw wet blond hair and green eyes.
Green eyes.
"...Lar'bee...?"
He lifted his hand and reached out... needing to touch... to feel... to... to... There it was. Cold wet skin. A cheek... an eyebrow... an ear... lips... a chin. His frozen fingers moved and his chin quivered. It wasn't a dream.
"Yeah!" Chris slumped, his head dropping a bit. His own breath was ragged from the effort and adrenaline rush.
"God..." Vin choked, swallowing hard. "I thought ya was dead..."
"Thought we were goin' to Hell together?" Chris teased, moving his body to shield the injured man from the rain. He closed his eyes and gave silent thanks for the bounty in his arms.
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