Albuquerque-2002
Vin heard voices, but none of them made any sense. The pain in his shoulder was bearable, but the agony that ripped through his skull every time he tried to open his eyes was too much. Each time he fought to waken the throbbing would escalate until he sank back into the beckoning softness of sleep.
Buck watched as a grimace came over the pale features and reached out to touch the injured man. “Hey, Vin, don’t you think it’s time you woke up? Come on, Pard, we need to know you’re alright in there. That you’re still you. The doc keeps saying the longer you remain unconscious the bigger the possibility is that there’s something wrong. I ain’t ready to let you go, Vin. None of us are, so get that sorry assed Texan stubbornness working and open your eyes.” He knew visiting hours were over long before, but they’d been given special permission to stay with Tanner as long as they stayed out of the hospital staff’s way. He turned towards the door as it opened and the four men walked in.
“Any change, Buck?” Sanchez asked.
“No. I thought he was waking up a minute ago, but I guess I was wrong. Did you find anything?”
“Nothing much,” Jackson answered as he moved closer to the bed.
“Did Ezra show you boys the card the nurse gave him?”
“Yeah, he did,” Sanchez answered. “This whole thing seems to have an air of mystery surrounding it. JD told us about your similar dreams and Nathan and I had strange sensations in Four Corners. There’s something happening here and I think we’ll find that whatever it is will help us find Chris.”
“I get the same feeling, Josiah,” Wilmington answered. “I just hope it won’t be too late for him.”
“It won’t be, Buck, I think we’re going to have to put normal thinking aside and see where these dreams and signs are leading us,” Sanchez explained.
“Captain Parker has agreed to let us see the evidence they found at the scene. He says there isn’t much except a couple of old newspaper clippings,” Jackson told them.
“Old newspaper clippings?” the ladies man asked. “What the hell does that have to do with Chris and Vin?”
“Right now, Buck, I don’t know for sure, but the way things are going we just might be surprised,” Sanchez said seriously. “I told Captain Parker you and I would be at his office at eight tomorrow morning to look at them. That gives us a few hours to catch some sleep.” He knew the look on Wilmington’s face, the one that said he was staying and held up his hands to stop him. “Look, Buck, we’d all like to stay with Vin, but he’d be angry if we didn’t do everything we could to find Chris. We need to stay sharp and in order to do that we need to catch some shuteye. Ezra, JD, and Nathan will stay here and keep vigil over Vin. They’ll call if something happens.”
Wilmington looked at the ex-preacher, a look of utter defeat on his face. He knew Sanchez was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. He stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back before placing a hand on Tanner’s bare shoulder. “You better be here when I get back, Pard,” he warned before he left the room.
Josiah knew the ladies’ man needed a few minutes to compose himself. He waited a short period, said a silent prayer for the injured man and their missing leader before joining Wilmington at the elevators.
‘Stay alive, Chris,’ Buck thought as they headed for the rented hotel rooms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black Rock Desert 2002
Chris couldn’t remember ever being so tired or so cold. The heat of the day had given way to the cold of nighttime in the desert. His throat was dry and he wished again for water. He regretted throwing the canteen away and couldn’t quite remember why he’d done so. He swore at his own stupidity for giving up something his body craved, but knew it was too late.
Winston watched as the ‘mouse’ moved slowly towards his hiding place. He smiled as he realized the drug was still affecting him, although he seemed to be able to think more clearly.
Chris continued to move through the white sands and noticed movement to his left. His eyes were still slightly unfocused, but he made out a dark shadow against the star sprinkled skyline. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring the pain in his head and shoulder, moving closer to the shadowy form of a man. There was little doubt in his mind that this was one of the ones responsible for the murder of Vin Tanner and he would pay for that transgression. He felt a smile forming on his face at the thought of what he was about to do. He staggered, part of the movement real, part of it for show as he stumbled closer to the shadow. He knew the drug was still affecting him, but it seemed to be losing some of its potency.
Winston almost laughed at the drunken gait of the ‘mouse’. His own face wore a Cheshire catlike grin as he watched Larabee stumble towards him. Too late he realized the ‘mouse’ had suddenly become the hunter and the ‘cat’ the prey.
Chris knew the time had come. It was now or never as he hurled his body at the shadow. A muffled grunt of pain rewarded his efforts as he followed the shadow to the ground.
Winston felt the air forced from his lungs as if a battering ram was shoved into his gut. He lost his grip on the rifle and heard it land somewhere behind him. He gasped and tried to roll free of the snarling Cougar Larabee had become. He shoved against the wild ‘cat’ even as a fist drove into his stomach.
Chris knew he couldn’t let up. He knew there was another man out there and he needed to even the odds before it was too late. All rational thought left him as he fought with everything he’d learned. His Navy SEAL training took over and he used moves he’d thought long since forgotten. He used his fingers to gouge his enemy’s eyes, smiling as a sharp cry of pain left the man’s throbbing throat.
Winston couldn’t believe the ferocity of the attack. There was something in the eyes glaring down at him. They glowed with reckless abandonment as the moon shone into them. He struck out, hitting the man, trying to dislodge him even as the blond wrapped his hands around his throat. ‘No!’ he gasped as his air supply was cut off. He brought his knee up into Larabee’s groin and was rewarded when the tight grip loosened and a hiss of pain came from the slack lips.
“I...I’ll fuckin’ kill y...you,” Larabee hissed as visions of Vin Tanner’s bloodied body assaulted his mind. “Fu...fucked w...with the wr...wrong man,” he said as he ignored the throbbing in his groin and tightened his grip once more. He could feel his hated enemy weakening and a feral grin formed on his face. “Y...you’ll die for w...what you did to Vin Tanner.”
Winston knew he was dying and tried one last move to dislodge Larabee. He lifted his arms and struck both sides of the blond head, praying it would be enough. He felt the hands loosen and heard a sharp gasp of pain as the body fell off him.
Pain exploded inside his skull as something struck him on both sides of his head. Chris knew he had to move or he would die here and now. He struggled to his knees and knew his nemesis was doing the same thing. The moon reflected off something in his enemy’s hand and he knew he was seeing a knife.
The two men made it to their feet at the same instant and began circling each other. Chris tried to keep his attention on the shifting shadow in front of him, but his eyes refused to focus. He blinked rapidly and moved out of the way as the blade struck out at him.
Winston forced air through his damaged throat and grinned as he realized he was again the ‘cat’ and Larabee the ‘mouse’. “I’m gonna make you bleed, Larabee!” His voice was haggard as he forced it past trembling lips.
“N..not fuckin’ likely!” The blond snarled with more confidence than he actually felt. Again he dodged to the right as the blade came towards him once more. His right hand shot out and he grasped his foe’s left wrist in a grip of steel. He knew he had to kill this man before his own body betrayed him. He twisted the wrist and groaned as pain shot through his wounded shoulder. He ignored everything around him, his own life hinging on his ability to draw on his rapidly dwindling reserves. With a quick move he forced the knife hand downwards and at the same time shoved his own body into a forward thrust. He heard a gasp of pain as the knife touched up against the other man’s body and sank into his belly. Chris released his hold and watched as the body stood for several seconds before toppling forward. He didn’t have a chance to relish his victory as bullets kicked up the ground all around him. He forced his mind to ignore the pain and exhaustion warring for control of his body and once more became the mouse to Robert Maguire’s cat. He ran, stumbled, fell, and even crawled when he needed to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Maguire swore as he stood over his dead friend’s body. This was something he hadn’t foreseen, but realized it was once more part of his destiny. His great, great grandfather had been alone when he’d finally captured Chris Larabee and now it looked as if things were mirroring the past once more. He would keep his ‘mouse’ moving towards the Winston home. Once here he would kill the woman and begin his quest for dominance over the blond haired man.
“You were never meant to be part of this, Mark,” he said as he closed the man’s unseeing eyes. He quickly pulled the bloodied knife from Winston’s body and wiped it on the man’s shirt. “I will use your knife to extract a small amount of revenge for you, My Friend,” he vowed. Thankful for the bright moon and stars overhead, he followed the stumbling shadow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mary Winston knew they’d be coming soon and vowed to help whoever this new victim was. She knew in her heart it wouldn’t absolve her guilt in the other murders, but she could feel some of her soul returning to her. She smiled as she picked up the small phone her husband’s nephew had given her in case of emergencies. It was a gift she’d seldom used but right now it was a gift she would use to save a man’s life. She walked to the door and opened it as she pressed the numbers that would connect her to the police department. A sound to her right distracted her and she gasped at the stumbling figure coming towards her. The sun was just coming over the horizon and heralded another day of high temperatures and near scorching sunshine.
“Oh, God,” she cried as she placed the phone on the railing and hurried towards him. She grabbed his arm and heard him gasp.
Larabee looked at her and frowned as his trembling legs threatened to give way. The incessant ringing in his ears made it impossible for him to understand what she was saying, but he was grateful for her help.
“I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “God, I’m so sorry!” she pulled him towards the house.
“P...phone?” The word came out as a pleaded question as they made it to the porch. He knew he didn’t have much time before the second man caught up to him. He hated putting the woman in danger, but he needed help and she was the only one around.
She eased him to the lone wooden chair on the battered porch and reached for the phone.
Chris saw the tiny instrument and reached out with bloodied fingers to take it from her. His hand trembled as he took it from her wrinkled fingers. He fought his swirling vision, unable to see the numbers. “C...can you do it?” he asked hopefully.
“What number?” she asked and gazed around the still empty front yard.
Chris tried to think who he should contact. The only one that came to mind was Josiah Sanchez. He told her the number and leaned heavily into the chair as his thirst grew more insistent.
“It’s ringing,” she told him and handed him the phone. She hurried into the house and grabbed a glass of cold water for him.
Chris held the phone to his ear and kept his eyes closed. His hope turned to despair as he was transferred to Sanchez’s automated answering service. He waited for the tone before speaking quickly. “Josiah, h...help...” he looked up as the woman returned with a glass of water. “Wh...where is th...this?” he asked confusion written on his face. He took the glass and gratefully swallowed a mouthful of cold water.
“Nevada, north of Reno. Black Rock Desert...” she gasped as pain flared in her chest and blood stained her white blouse.
Chris was on his feet instantly, the phone still held to his ear. He knew she was dead even as he watched the blood seeping from her mouth. He swallowed painfully and spoke rapidly, knowing he didn’t have much time. “North of R...Reno, Black Rrr...ock...” He cried out as something struck him in the lower back, the phone flying from his hand as he sank to his knees. He fought to stay upright as a man moved in front of him and blocked out the blinding sun. The struggle to stay on his knees was too much and he fell on his side.
“Hello, Christopher, so glad you finally made it,” Maguire smiled as he stood over the battered blond. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle and a clean rag. He held it away from his face as he poured a small amount of the chloroform onto the cloth. He knelt before Larabee and saw the fight still in the man’s eyes. “I knew this would be fun,” he said as he struck his victim’s hands and placed the cloth over his mouth and nose.
Chris pushed at the hand, but to no avail. His body, weakened by the drug, lack of water, and the beating he’d taken over the last few days, refused to obey his commands. He tried to pry the cloth from his face as he held his breath. The fumes seeped through and he trembled as the effects of the chloroform spread through his body. His lungs craved the oxygen they needed and he had little choice but to take a breath.
Maguire watched as his victim inhaled the chloroform and his struggles grew weaker. He smiled as Larabee took a deep breath and his eyes rolled back in his head as he sank into the welcoming arms of sleep. He waited a few more seconds to make sure his victim was really out before removing the cloth. He patted Larabee’s shoulder and turned his attention to the woman lying on the ground. The open, sightless eyes told him all he needed to know. He grabbed her under the shoulders, dragged her towards the ruined barn, and left her body lying just inside the door. With one final look at the dead woman he turned his attention to what needed to be done. He knew Larabee would be out for a couple of hours and that gave him the time he needed to get him ready.
The older man hurried to the entrance to the mine and pulled open the makeshift covering of boards Mark Winston placed there after the first victim died in the chamber. He knew there was a table to the right of the entrance and reached for the flashlight he knew would be there. He flipped the switch and the high-powered light cut a path through the darkened interior. He brushed past the cobwebs and knew the old woman had not been inside the mine since they’d last closed it up. He swore as he realized he’d have to prepare things himself. He quickly followed the short tunnel until it opened onto a vast cavern and smiled as the screams of his long dead victims seemed to echo through the empty chamber. He took a deep breath of damp air and moved towards the center. The chamber was five feet high at the outer edges and reached as high as ten feet in others. A tunnel to his left ran deeper into the main part of the mine, but it had collapsed long ago. He smiled as he looked at the beam overhead, knowing this was something he added to the cavern.
This was where his sense of control made his head spin. It was where Larabee would find out just what hell really was. He placed the flashlight on the ground and quickly lit the four lanterns placed in each corner of the almost square chamber. He reached up and tugged at the chains wrapped around the beam and smiled as they held tight. He walked to the back of the cave to the spot where the chain ended. A hand held crank would enable him to lower the chains and make it easy to attach them to the unconscious man. He placed his hands on the crank and tried to turn it, cursing as the lever stayed in place. He looked around until his eyes fell on the dirt covered can of WD40 sitting on a wooden shelf. He quickly reached for it and sprayed it over the wheels until it dripped onto the ground. He reached for the crank once more and pushed down with all his strength. He felt it give a little and once more put his weight into it, wishing Mark Winston was still with him. ‘Christopher Larabee will pay, Mark,’ he thought as a screech came from the clogged gears and the wheels began to turn slowly. He watched as the chains lowered to the ground and stopped when the clanking sound told him it was ready.
Maguire stood up and rubbed at his lower back, knowing the kinks he felt there were only a minor inconvenience for him. He walked back to the center of the chamber and removed the manacles from the main chain. He hurried out of the mine, blinking rapidly until his eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight. Larabee was where he left him, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. He was blissfully unaware of the madman coming towards him, and the plans he had for him.
He reached the prone figure and knelt beside him, smiling as he stroked a finger along the firm jaw and slack features. The dirt did little to hide the bruises and scratches on the handsome face and he felt a heady excitement at holding this strong man’s future in his hands. He placed the manacles on Larabee’s wrists and tested them to make sure they were tight. Once he was sure they would hold, he stood up and lifted his victim’s shoulders.
Robert Maguire was proud of his body and worked hard to maintain his strength. He easily lifted the man from the boards and placed him in the chair. He watched the face to make sure Larabee was still unconscious before hefting him over his shoulders. He staggered slightly under the weight, but easily righted himself. Taking a deep breath he headed back to the mine with his prisoner resting over his right shoulder. Once he reached the entrance he placed Larabee on the ground and grabbed him under the arms. He dragged his victim through the short tunnel and into the main area of the shaft. He stropped at the center and reached for the chain, attaching and locking it to the manacles encircling the blond’s wrists. He moved to the crank and slowly turned the lever until there was no slack in the chains. He continued to turn it until the unconscious man was pulled up by his hands. He put more effort into it as the heavier part of the body slowly lifted off the ground. He worked diligently until Chris Larabee was standing upright in the center of the chamber, his feet barely touching the floor of the mine. He locked the crank, smiled as he released the lever, and knew things were nearly ready.
Once more Maguire walked to the center of the chamber. He removed Larabee’s boots and socks and attached a set of manacles to his ankles before locking them to the links embedded in the floor of the mine. He stood up and smiled as he realized his victim was now helpless. There was just one more thing to be done before he left him alone and completed preparing for the next step in his plans. He took Mark Winston’s knife from his pocket and opened it. Slowly, methodically he cut the khaki pants and shirt from Larabee’s body.
“I’ll leave you a little dignity, Christopher,” he told the sleeping man as left the dark underwear covering the blond’s groin area. Once more he stood back and surveyed his handiwork. His victim was ready, all that was needed were his instruments and for Chris Larabee to wake up. “Soon, Christopher, very soon!” He turned and left the chamber knowing the next time he returned the games would begin. Games he’d been playing all his adult life. He remembered playing them as a child, but with animal victims instead of humans. The human variety was much more satisfying to the madman’s need for control and he knew this man’s death would be his coup de grace!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Albuquerque-2002
Sanchez and Wilmington sat in Jerome Parker’s office, waiting for the man to finish his phone conversation. The evidence folder rested on the desk before the police captain and they were anxious to see what it contained.
“All right, just keep me informed,” Parker said before replacing the phone in its cradle. “Sorry about that, but I need the information for another case,” he explained to the two men sitting across from him.
“It’s okay, Captain, we understand completely,” Sanchez assured him.
Parker opened the file on his desk and looked at what it contained, there was very little in it and he slid it across his desk. “This is all we found at the crime site. I’m not even sure it has anything to do with what happened to your friends, but it seems too much of a coincidence to me.”
Wilmington watched as Sanchez examined the newspaper clippings. “Coincidence?” he asked.
“The names of the victims and those mentioned in the old article,” Parker answered.
Before Wilmington could ask him to explain, Sanchez’s soft voice stopped him. “Buck?”
“Josiah, what’s wrong?” Wilmington knew by the ex-preacher’s tone he’d found another mystery that would either help or distort Larabee’s disappearance and Tanner’s being shot.
“Read this,” Sanchez ordered and passed the plastic covered article to Wilmington.
Buck took the article and began to read. His eyes widened as they were drawn to the two familiar names it contained. He forced himself to breath as he met Sanchez’ gaze. “How can this be?”
“If I remember correctly, Chris once told us he had an ancestor who was a lawman in Four Corners. I think this also tells us why Chris and Vin seemed to connect the minute they met. You know yourself there’s something strange going on here.”
“Y...yeah, b...but this. I mean...”
“There’s more, Buck, names and events. Too many things seem to parallel today’s events. I mean look at what happened. Chris Larabee disappeared...”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t say anything about Vin being shot...” he stopped as he realized Parker was frowning at them.
“Would you mind telling me what you’re talking about?” Parker asked.
Wilmington stifled a laugh as he looked at the captain. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you, Captain.”
“If it’s pertinent to this investigation then it doesn’t matter whether I believe it or not.”
“Right now I’m not sure if it’s pertinent or not, Captain. Its just some strange things have been happening since Chris and Vin left Billings. Nothing solid, mostly just dreams and things we can’t explain. If we do come up with anything we’ll let you know right away,” Sanchez assured him.
“Make sure you do,” Parker said as he watched a silent signal pass between the two men.
“We will, Captain,” Wilmington promised. “Is there any way we can get copies of the clippings?”
“I can’t see why not. I was asked to help you in any way I can. If you’ll wait here I’ll have copies made for you.”
“Thank you,” Josiah said as the policemen picked up the items and walked out of his office.
“Josiah, I don’t pretend to understand anything that’s going on, but I do know we need to find Chris.”
“I agree, Buck. The strange things that are happening seem to be happening around all of us, but centered around Chris and Vin. Nathan and my own reaction in Four Corners, feeling drawn to the old Church and Nathan to the livery. Ezra and the ace of spades. You know I’d love to find out if Maude’s deck is complete or if she’s missing that particular card. You and JD having the same type of dream with Chris and Vin being followed by seven men, yet you can’t see who they are.”
“Josiah, I have a strange feeling I do know who they are,” Wilmington said softly. He saw the ex-preacher’s eyebrows rise and continued. “I think the article made it clear. The men JD and I see in our dreams are...” he stopped, unable to voice his thoughts.
“Seven men from our past. Our ancestors showing up to warn us.”
“Yeah, that’s just the feeling I get.”
“Buck, I think you’re closer to the truth than any of us understand. If Ezra was here I’d ask him what the odds are that each of us had a relative living in Four Corners at the same time those articles were written.”
Parker returned to the office and handed the photocopies over to the two men. He sat behind his desk once more and looked at both them. “I know how much you guys want to find Larabee, but try to stay out of trouble. One man missing and one in the hospital is enough for us to handle right now.”
“We’ll do our best, Captain,” Sanchez said as they shook hands and left the office.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time they reached the hospital the others were there as well. The five men made a protective circle around the injured man and Josiah handed each of them an article. The silence in the room was deafening in light of the contents of the clippings they held. Papers were passed from one person to the next as each man read the faded print from long ago. It was hard to grasp what they were reading, yet the evidence couldn’t be denied. Somehow seven men had met and formed a team in 1872 and years later their children’s, children’s, children had done the same. If destiny could be proven it was happening here, in this room as five members of the firm silently stared at the paper in their hands.
Four sets of eyes turned to the ex-preacher and he felt the weight of the discovery placed on his shoulders. He took a deep breath, fingered the small cross on his neck, stood up and walked to the window. He knew they were waiting for him to shed some light on what was happening, but there seemed little he could say. He was as surprised as they were at the strange happenings. He looked out into the bright sunlight and sighed heavily before turning to the four men.
“I’m sure you all realize I don’t know anymore than you do...”
“But you have some idea of what’s going on, don’t you?” Dunne asked.
“I have a theory...”
“Let’s hear it,” Wilmington urged.
“I think the evidence is pretty clear that our ancestors were part of the seven peacekeepers known around Four Corners as The Magnificent Seven. I find it strange that none of us have ever realized it before. I do think Chris and Vin might have subconsciously known and that’s why it appeared as if they knew each other before they ever met. I mean we all know those two seemed to connect with just a simple nod of the head.”
“Yeah, they did at that,” Jackson observed.
“Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner did appear to connect on a different level than the rest of us,” Standish told them.
“Exactly. Anyway I believe there was a reason why none of us realized our similar backgrounds until now. Something tells me that destiny and fate have both had a hand in this. I think Chris and Vin were meant to go to Four Corners at this time. I think Buck and JD’s dreams were meant as warning of what was to come. Nathan and my experience in Four Corners was proof that things happened there many years ago and somehow they are being paralleled in our time. One of the articles mentioned Chris Larabee was kidnapped in the month of July by a man named,” he picked up the article and read the name aloud. “Robert Maguire. It seems to me that everything is coming to a head here and now. Buck and JD both dreaming of seven men. Me and Nathan in Four Corners,” he turned to Standish. “Ezra, have you ever looked at your mother’s old deck of cards.”
“When I was younger I found them in her boudoir. They were on her dresser and I wanted to see them. She’d never let a child handle them and I was in a rebellious frame of mind that day.”
“You, Ezra?” Wilmington teased.
“Me, Mr. Wilmington,” Standish answered affirmatively. “Anyway I took the cards out and tried to shuffle them, but they were too ragged and wouldn’t work. I had a devil of a time fitting them back into the case before Mother returned. Why do you ask, Mr. Sanchez?”
“Did you happen to notice if any of the cards were missing?”
All eyes turned towards the gambler as he thought about the question. The incident he was talking about happened over twenty years ago and he tried to remember what if anything was missing. He could picture fanning the cards out one by one, the dog-eared edges catching in his fingers. One by one the cards were displayed before his closed eyes until the last of the spades were before him. His eyes opened wide and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the card he kept there.
“Ezra?” Sanchez asked.
“Josiah, this...I...I can’t ..I don’t...it couldn’t be.”
“What, Ez?” Jackson asked, worried as he watched Standish grow pale before his eyes.
“This. The Ace of Spades was missing from Mother’s deck.”
“I thought so when you mentioned it earlier.”
“Josiah, h...how did you know?” Standish asked, sinking into the chair beside Vin’s bed.
“It just seemed like it had to tie in to everything else that’s happening. That card is a key to something.”
“But what?” Dunne asked.
“I’m not sure,” Sanchez answered.
“Maybe I know,” Standish explained. He turned away from the others and looked at the injured man. He lifted Tanner’s left arm and spread the lax fingers. He placed the card in it and closed his own hand over the unmoving hand.
“Oh my, God!” Dunne gasped as the injured man moaned and his eyelids began to flutter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris couldn’t remember drinking , but his head felt as if it was filled with cotton and he was suffering the worst hangover he had in years. His body ached in places he couldn’t remember ever hurting before. A soft moan eased past his lips as he struggled to remember why he felt so lousy. He tried to swallow, but there was no moisture in his mouth and his tongue felt thick. His back ached and he felt the need for relief in his bladder. He eased upwards and cried out as the pressure on his arms eased slightly and needles and pins stabbed into his extremities. He suddenly realized he was cold and wondered what he’d done with his clothing. ‘Hell of a dream, Larabee,’ he thought as he trembled violently.
“Welcome back, Christopher!”
The unfamiliar voice cut through the fog encompassing his mind and he struggled to come to grips with why he hurt so much and where he was. So far he hadn’t been able to force his eyes open past a narrow slit. The light blinded him and caused daggers of pain in his head each time he tried. His stomach churned as if he’d been on a binge for weeks, yet he knew this was not the cause of his discomfort. He knew what it was like to get drunk, usually he enjoyed the experience, but not this time. He groaned as he forced his eyelids upwards, unaware that he was being watched, until he remembered the taunting voice.
“Come on, Christopher, I’m anxious to teach you the meaning of the words Lord and Master. Open your eyes and look at me.”
Larabee ignored the voice until something clamped down on his left forearm and pinched the skin. He gasped and forced his eyes open, glaring at the man standing before him.
“That’s better, Christopher. Now pay attention to what I say.”
“Fuck you!” Larabee hissed as he pulled on the chains securing his arms to the ceiling.
Maguire grinned as he walked around his prisoner. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. There are some things that even I won’t stoop to.”
Chris could hear the man moving behind him and he tried to turn his head. Pain lanced through his shoulders as he twisted against his bonds, yet he couldn’t stop searching for the man. He finally gave up and let his head drop to his chest for a few seconds, fighting back the nausea threatening to overcome him. He opened his eyes as he heard the man returning to stand in front of him.
“Now, Christopher, there are some things you need to realize. Number one-I am your master.”
“Fuck you!”
Maguire tut-tutted as he circled the blond, his hands behind his back as he came to stand in front of Larabee once more. “Are those the only two words you know?” There was silence for a few seconds and Maguire watched his victim’s eyes. He saw no fear in the green orbs, just anger, irrevocable anger that told him he would die if this man ever got free. Visions of Mark Winston’s dead body came to mind and he was forced to hide his own fear. I asked you a question, Christopher, and I expect an answer.” Silence met his words and he pulled his hands from behind his back.
Chris saw something then that caused a shiver to run through his body.
“Do you know what this is, Christopher? Never mind, don’t bother answering. Have you ever been whipped? I know you have because I’ve seen the thin scars on your back. This is very similar to a whip except it’s called a cane. It took me a long time to find the right one. Actually I’ve had this one for many years now, but for some reason I have not used it,” he paused and stood in front of his victim once more. He took a deep breath and raised the three-foot long instrument over his shoulder. “Until now!” It descended with all the power Maguire could put into it and he smiled as a gasp escaped the surprised victim.
Chris held his breath as the stinging pain ran along the length of his chest. He looked down and saw the raised welt where the cane had struck his exposed skin.
“You will learn to bow to my will...”
“Who the fuck are y...you?” Larabee hissed as he waited for the burning in his chest to subside.
“I’m your natural master. The man who will make you beg for your own death,” Maguire laughed as he let another blow fall on Larabee’s chest. He walked around the struggling man and stopped behind him. “You will learn,” he struck at the well-muscled thighs. “To bow to my will.” Again he let fly, this time striking at the back of the knees, causing a gasp of pain from the bound figure.
“Bas...tard...” Larabee hissed as the cane came down on his shoulders.
“Oh, Christopher, I am not a bastard. I knew both my parents,” he walked to the front, facing his victim once more. He lifted the cane and brought it down across the lean chest. Crisscrossing the first mark he’d left there. He met the steady gaze and saw the pain in the green eyes, yet again there was no fear. The man standing before him was stronger than anyone he’d ever seen. He’d surpassed any of the other victims at the game of cat and mouse and even managed to kill Mark Winston. He’d realized the water was drugged, survived the low dose of LSD it was tainted with and now he was cursing him in spite of the pain ravaging his body. He placed the cane on the table just out of reach of his prisoner. He reached up and traced the two lines on Larabee’s chest with the index finger of his right hand. The center of the X seemed to mark the center of Larabee’s chest. “I guess X really does mark the spot, for this is where I will bury Mark’s knife when I am through with you. It is only fitting that you die with his favorite weapon since you killed him with it.” He watched the eyes closely, hoping to see a hint of fear in the green depths, but all he saw was anger and the promise of his own death.
Chris watched as Maguire walked to the table and picked up a bottle of water. His tongue automatically licked at his too dry lips, but he forced down his body’s craving for the life giving liquid. He remembered the last water this man supplied him with. He clenched his jaw tightly as Maguire stood in front of him. He knew instinctively what was in the water, the same thing that caused him to hallucinate and see his dead friend. His mind finally cut through the fog and he heard the hated words as they stabbed into the center of his being. ‘Tanner’s dead, Robert.’ He closed his eyes as a vision of a smiling, blue eyed, Texan invaded his heart. He knew he’d never see the young man again and yet he was the only man he wanted to see right now.
“That will not do, Christopher. I’m afraid this is something you have to have whether you want it or not. It’s part of the game.”
“S...sick fuckin’ game,” the blond hissed as more memories ran rampant through his mind. He saw the young man in the oversized flannel shirt as he read the poem he’d written for his ‘brother’. One verse in particular ran through his sorrow filled mind, a verse that gave him strength when he needed it. The words resounded in his mind in a soft Texan drawl he longed to hear.
‘What
I offer seems pale in return,
A vow that blood couldn't make stronger.
It's given with newfound pride and honor,
You are forever my brother, I am alone no longer.’
He felt the Texan’s strength as he heard the words and swore he would not die without seeing this man pleading for his life.
“Christopher, I said that will not do!” Maguire slapped Larabee across the face and gripped a handful of sweaty blond hair. He saw the mouth clench tightly and knew he’d have to resort to force. He released the hair and drew his right fist back. He aimed for the dark bruise over his prisoner’s right kidney and heard the gasp of pain as flesh met flesh. He quickly transferred the bottle to his right hand and pulled the head back. He grabbed Larabee’s nose and squeezed tightly, cutting off his air supply and forcing the blond to open his mouth. He forced the water through the lips and swore as he met another obstacle. He released his hold on the nostril and struck the bruised kidney again, and felt the bottle slip past the teeth. He poured the water into the unwilling mouth, smiling as he watched the man swallow the liquid. He continued to hold it in place until he was sure enough of the LSD laced water was in the victim’s stomach. He removed the bottle and placed his hand over the mouth, ensuring that the blond would swallow whatever remained there. He saw the Adam’s apple working swiftly and smiled as he removed his hand. “I am your master in this and everything else, Christopher, and it would do you good to remember that.”
“Fu...fuck y...you,” Larabee hissed as his stomach churned and nausea forced bile up in his throat. He wished he would vomit, but his rebellious stomach chose this time to hold onto its contents.
Maguire watched the handsome face for a few minutes and was satisfied that the drug would stay in his victim’s body. He replaced the cap on the bottle and turned back to the bound man. “I am going to leave you now, Christopher. I have a lot of work ahead of me and must eat to keep up my strength. I know you will enjoy your trip while I am away, but don’t worry I will probably have a starring role in it.” He reached up and once more ran his index finger along the raised welts. “Rest well,” he laughed. “I know I will.” He patted the bare right shoulder and left the well lit chamber.
Chris watched the hated man leave and tried to concentrate on the faces of the six men he called friends. He could feel the drug slowly creeping into his system and distorting everything around him. He cried out as shadows that should be still turned into grisly images intent on ripping into his bare flesh. A voice broke through his torment for a few seconds, one he prayed would keep him sane through the coming nightmares.
‘Be strong, Chris, your friends will find you.’
Larabee watched as the strangely dressed image of Vin Tanner came out of the tunnel before him. His eyes widened as he saw something from an old horror movie fall into step behind his friend.
“VIN!” he screamed as the creature released elongated talons on distorted fingers. The face reminded him of a creature from a kiddie cartoon as it loomed over the unsuspecting sharpshooter. “NO!” Larabee’s throaty scream echoed through the vast chamber, bouncing from one wall to another before dying down to nothing.
‘It’s not real, Chris.’
“D...dead...he k...killed y...you. N...now that thing...” He screamed again as the talons tore through the tracker’s body, blood spraying in a warm wet pattern across his chest, legs and face. He watched as the body of his friend tumbled to the floor and sobs tore from his chest. Tears ran unchecked from his eyes, creating a clean line through the dirt and sand encrusted on his face.
“No, oh God, Vin, NO! Not like this! Not again!” He screamed as the creature dragged the body of Vin Tanner towards its lair. The dripping fangs shone red in the lantern light as the ragged hole of its mouth quaked with laughter. Chris Larabee’s worst nightmare, one that he could never have imagined had just come true and many more would follow before the drug wore off.
Robert Maguire stood just outside the tunnel entrance, savoring the cries coming from the chamber. “Things will get much worse, Christopher,” he vowed. “Much worse,” he walked away from the mine entrance whistling an old tune and smiling at what lay ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~
Albuquerque 2002
He felt something in his hand and a tingling sensation slowly ran the length of his arm. He moaned as he shifted on the bed, unaware of the five sets of eyes watching him in complete, awed silence. A soft sound left his mouth as he tried to find the moisture needed to form words. A hand on his shoulder told him he wasn’t alone, but the heat flowing through his body made him feel like he was in hell.
“Come on, Son, open your eyes. You’re safe now and in the hospital,” Sanchez explained.
The words were said softly, but firmly and in a voice he knew he should recognize. He frowned and groaned as the motion pulled on the stitches in his head. He lifted his left arm, but found the hand clasped in a tight grip.
“Come on, Vin, we need you to wake up now. You’ve been sleeping long enough.” Jackson said as he watched the handsome face marred by lines of pain.
“Mr. Tanner, we really need you to open your eyes,” Standish said as he continued to hold the hand and the card in his grip.
“JD, go tell the nurse he’s waking up!”
“Sure, Nathan,” Dunne said and hurried from the room.
Vin forced his eyes open and looked at the worried faces surrounding his bed. He frowned as he searched for, but couldn’t see two faces. He knew Nathan had told JD to go get the nurse, but he couldn’t figure out where Chris Larabee was. “Na...Nathan,” he coughed and groaned as the movement reawakened the pain in his shoulder.
Jackson reached for the glass of ice water on the table and held the straw to Tanner’s mouth. He watched as the dry lips fought to make the straw work.
The straw stuck to his lips as he tried to find the energy to draw in the cold water. He sighed as the liquid finally entered his mouth, moistening his tongue, and gums before it slid down his throat and eased his body’s craving for water. He turned away from the cup as the door opened and he saw JD hurry back in. A woman followed him in and hurried to the bed.
“Hello, Mr. Tanner, how do you feel?”
The sharpshooter swallowed with some difficulty as he continued to watch the five men. “I’m okay...C...Chris,” he frowned as he searched the faces once more. “Wh...where’s Chris?” he asked as the nurse checked his vitals. He watched each face as they turned away or cast their eyes in other directions. “Buck?”
“Vin, we...I mean...We were hoping...” Wilmington turned away unable to meet the worried blue gaze.
Tanner moved on the bed and tried to sit up. He swore as Standish and Sanchez forced him back on the bed. His blue eyes grew wide and glacial as he looked at the two men. “Wh...what the hell’s goin’ on? Wh...” he gasped and his left hand reached for the wound on his head as pain and memories warred for dominance over his body and mind. He moaned in spite of the soothing touch on his shoulder, cried out even as the pain medication entered his system. He heard voices around him, but couldn’t acknowledge them. His mind was filled with the sight of Chris Larabee lying on a dusty street in the town of Four Corners.
“Easy, Vin,” Jackson said as Frank Barnes entered the room.
“What’s going on?” the doctor asked as he hurried to the bed and the five men moved out of his way.
“I’m not sure, Doctor,” the nurse answered as she continued to check his vitals.
“C...Chris!” Tanner gasped and opened his eyes. He pushed the doctor’s hands away and searched for his friends. He tried to sit up as he pleaded with them. “H...help him! God, M...Maguire,” he cried out and dropped back to the pillow as pain lanced through his skull.
“Doc?” Wilmington asked worriedly as Tanner lay still on the bed.
“Just a minute!” Barnes told him as he examined the sharpshooter’s eyes. He lifted the lids on both eyes and shone a light into them before turning to the five worried men. “He’s okay.”
“What happened?” Standish asked.
“From his reaction when I came in I’d say he remembered something that was a little too painful for him to face right now. He should be fine, but it’s important that he rests. He’s probably gonna suffer from headaches and dizziness as a result of the head injury and blood loss.”
“He’s gonna be okay though isn’t he?” Dunne asked.
“He should be, but what you guys need to realize is that even though his CT scan was negative he did suffer a serious trauma to his head. He’s got to give himself a chance to heal.” He turned to the nurse and told her to let him know if anything else happened. He was on call and would be available if and when his patient needed him.
“I will, Doctor Barnes,” she assured him as he left. She made a final check of her patient before turning to the five men. “Let him sleep,” she said, a soft, reassuring smile on her face as she followed the doctor out of the room.
They moved close to the sleeping man once more and took positions around the bed.
“Did you boys catch the name Vin mentioned?” Wilmington asked.
“I think we all heard Mr. Tanner say Maguire,” Standish said as he saw the look of disbelief on the faces of his friends.
“This just continues to get stranger,” Dunne mumbled, the tremor in his voice showed how much this was affecting him.
“Maybe Vin was referring to the newspaper clipping?” Jackson said.
“Do you really believe that Nate?” Sanchez asked.
“No. I don’t, but,” and he shook his head as he walked to the window and looked out at the cars in the parking lot. “It’s hard to come to terms with everything that’s happening. It just doesn’t seem possible that things that happened during our ancestor’s time seem to be happening again here and now.”
“But it is!” Dunne said softly as he looked at the card still clutched in Tanner’s hand. He wondered how the sharpshooter managed to keep his grip on the card when he passed out.
“Yes it does seem that the impossible is taking place,” Standish said as he touched the card once more.
“How did you know the card would wake him up, Ez?” Wilmington asked.
“I didn’t, at least not for certain, but I knew it had to have been given to our Mr. Tanner for a reason.”
“Everything seems to be happening for a reason,” Sanchez whispered as he looked at the wall phone. Since Tanner’s awakening he’d been drawn to the phone and couldn’t grasp the reason for it. Something tugged at his senses as he sat in the chair beside the injured man’s bed. He closed his eyes and tried to grasp what was troubling him about the past and Four Corners. He listened to the others talking as if from a distance until JD’s voice brought him back to the present.
“Maybe we should check into Robert Maguire. I mean it seems like each one of us had an ancestor in Four Corners and everything that’s happening seems to lead to that town.”
“I think the kid’s right. I’ve been trying to figure out why everything seems to have led up to those newspaper clippings,” the ladies man explained. “Chris never showed any interest in Ghost towns before, but all of a sudden he got the urge to come to New Mexico and visit the home of his great, great Grandfather. He asks Vin to accompany him and they find those clippings with both their names in it, sorry ancestors names in it. They find those clipping and it seems like all hell broke loose. I mean Vin is shot and left out there to die and Chris is missing with all the signs pointing to him having been kidnapped.” He stood up and paced the room, the fingers of his right hand worrying at his moustache as he thought about the events leading up to this moment in time. “If we believe everything that’s happened so far then we’ve got to check into everything. That includes Maguire having a great, great grandson who just may be trying to do what his great, great grandfather couldn’t and that’s...”
“Make Chris Larabee one of his victims,” Sanchez finished solemnly.
“Exactly,” Buck whispered. “So we let JD check into Maguire...”
“Robert Maguire,” Jackson told him.
Buck nodded and continued. “JD checks into Robert Maguire and if we...when we find him, we’ll probably find Chris.”
“I do believe it would be prudent to find Mr. Larabee as quickly as possible. If the details of those clippings are correct he will be in dire need of our assistance.”
“You’re right, Ez. I have a feeling Chris is at the mercy of a madman who doesn’t care about anything but terrorizing his victim,” Jackson said as he picked up the clipping describing the death of four of Maguire’s previous victims. The room was silent once more as the five men contemplated what the medic had just told them.
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