Part 8

Albuquerque-2002

Vin opened his eyes as bright morning sunshine streamed in through the window. He lifted his left hand and rubbed against his forehead in an effort to clear his vision. He knew there was something he needed to do, something important, yet he couldn’t quite grasp it. He took a deep breath and grimaced as the throbbing pain in his head grew worse. He fought back the nausea and reached for the button on the rail of his bed. He closed his eyes as the room spun around him, but didn’t stop the movement until he was sitting up. He forced his eyes open once more and looked around the room, surprised to find he was alone. ‘They left without me,’ was his first thought, but he quickly shoved it aside, knowing they all realized something beyond the norm was happening and they were all needed to save Chris Larabee.

Vin fought back the image of Chris being dragged away by two men. He knew they’d done something to the blond as he didn’t seem to kick up much of a fight. He pressed the side rail as a sharp pain erupted in his right shoulder. He remembered the doctor telling him they removed the bullet, but the collarbone was broken. He shifted his weight until his legs hung over the side of the bed. He slid to the floor and leaned heavily on his IV pole. He felt a draft at his back and knew the hospital gown had come open, but it didn’t deter him from his mission. He looked up as the door opened and an irate voice hissed at him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Vin?” Jackson asked as he hurried to steady the swaying man. Once he was sure Tanner wouldn’t fall he held the gown closed for him.

“I needed to get to the bathroom, Nate. All these liquids they’ve been pumping into me have to come out sometime,” Tanner grinned as the medic’s hand steadied him.

“Thanks,” he said as Jackson held the gown closed.

“Why didn’t you use the call button? You know you’re not supposed...”

“Nathan, I’ve been going to the bathroom on my own since I was knee high to a grasshopper. Ain’t nothing gonna change that,” the sharpshooter moved away from the bed and walked slowly towards the bathroom. He could feel Jackson hovering close by and knew the man would grab him if he ran out of energy.

Nathan walked close behind the younger man until he made it to the bathroom. He opened the door and held it for the younger man until Tanner was inside. He stood there for a few seconds needing to know his friend was steady enough to continue.

“Nate, I can handle things from here,” the sharpshooter assured him as he closed the door.

Jackson remained where he was, just outside the door and listened for anything that would alert him his friend was in trouble. He tensed as too much time seemed to pass with no sign of the injured man coming out. He was about to knock on the door when it finally opened and the pale young man exited the room. “Are you okay, Vin?”

“Yeah, just feel like an ol’ man right now.”

“Well, you kind’ve look that way too,” Jackson grinned at the sheepish look on the tracker’s face. “It’s par for the course, Vin. You’ve been shot twice, had surgery, and suffered from dehydration.” He smiled as they slowly walked back to the bed. “that sunburn doesn’t help matters either.”

“Thanks, Nathan, ya really know how to cheer a guy up,” the sharpshooter said as he sat on the edge of the bed. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty. Breakfast is coming around...”

“I’m not hungry...”

“That’s okay,” Jackson smiled. “All you need to be is thirsty.”

“Huh?”

“Clear fluid diet. Jell-O, black tea and juice.”

“Oh, hell, wonder what Chris...” He stopped as he realized he was going to ask what Larabee was having. His eyes grew worried as he met the medic’s voice. “What time are we leaving?”

“Travis is sending the jet for us. It should arrive around noon. By the time it’s checked out and ready to go it’ll be after two. That gives you enough time to eat whatever they bring you and get some more sleep.”

“Jesus, Nathan,” Tanner hissed in frustration as a tremor ran through his lean form. “We need to move faster. The longer Chris is in the hands of those madmen the harder it’s gonna be to find him. He’s hurtin...bad!”

“I know, Vin, but would Chris want you ignoring your own health to go after him?”

Tanner smiled thinly as he answered. “N...no, he’d...”

“Kick your ass,” Jackson finished, smiling as the door opened and an orderly brought n a tray of food.

Vin continued to sit on the edge of the bed as the orderly placed the tray on the table and pushed it towards him. He looked at the tray, not seeing what was on it as his mind conjured up visions of Chris Larabee, alone and at the mercy of a madman who seemed to have ties with their past. All he could think about was the damage done to the victims of Robert Maguire in the 1860s and 70s. Somehow he knew Chris wasn’t faring any better than they had. He also realized his friend was probably going through an experience similar to the one his great, great grandfather had in 1876. That Chris Larabee nearly died according to the article and he prayed they’d be able to find their Chris Larabee before it was too late.

“Come on, Vin, I know it’s not much, but you need to try,” Jackson said.

“I know, Nate, I just can’t shake the feeling that we gotta hurry.”

“Hell, Vin, we all have that feeling. Buck’s driving everyone nuts wanting to get moving. We all know how important it is, but we can’t go anywhere until the jet arrives and Dr. Barnes takes a look at you.”

“Don’t matter what he says, Nate, I’m going.”

“I know, Vin, I just want to make sure we have everything we need to keep you comfortable and stave off any kind of infection. That means Dr. Barnes has to look you over and tell us what meds you need and what we need to watch out for.”

Tanner took a deep breath and turned his attention to the tray. The liquid diet was unappetizing, but it didn’t matter as his appetite was non-existent. His stomach churned at the thought of what could be happening to his best friend in the harsh white sands of the Black Rock Desert.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Black Rock Desert-2002

Robert Maguire sat studying the man hanging before him. He returned to the chamber three hours after using the REACT belt on his captive and now he was watching the man as he slept. The blond hair was soaked in sweat and matted to his scalp with dirt and dust. The face held a few scratches and a major bruise covered the right side of his face. The skin that wasn’t bruised held a gray pallor that showed just how much abuse this man had taken so far. He smiled as he realized there was more to come for his victim. He looked at the bone-handled stiletto in his hand and knew what he was about to do would mirror what his ancestor had done to his victims. Not all of them were worthy of it, but Christopher Larabee both past and present were bound to him, and he would again make it a blood tie. He took the blade and slid it down his left forearm, smiling as the crimson fluid ran down towards his elbow. Without a word he stood up and stepped in front of the still sleeping man.

He reached up and took hold of his victim’s right forearm. He smiled as the eyelids fluttered at his touch and the body instinctively shied away from him. “We need to do things right, Christopher,” he said as he slowly pushed the long thin blade into the bound man’s arm.

Chris came too as a sharp pain in his arm drove the final vestiges of a peaceful sleep away. His dream, in which he was lying on a sun-drenched beach with Sarah and Adam, quickly dissipated. He cried out as he was thrown back into the nightmare reality of a chamber of horrors run by his own personal demon. His eyes were drawn to the blade protruding from his arm and the blood running freely past his elbow towards his shoulder. It took a few seconds for Maguire’s words to reach him and he shuddered at the calm voice.

“This will make it impossible for anyone to break the chain, Christopher. You see, I’ve been studying my ancestor’s journal and one of the things he mentions is you. Not you, but your ancestor. He wrote that when he finally found the right soul he would make sure they were forever bound by mixing their blood. I do not believe I will take your soul with this, but there are some strange coincidences happening here,” he explained as he sank the blade even further into the un-protesting flesh. “It’s strange how both our great, great grandfather’s met under similar circumstances to ours. You are an advocate of what’s right and I am an advocate of what’s right for me.”

Chris clenched his teeth as the madman continued to push the blade into his arm. He cried out as Maguire suddenly jerked the intruding metal from his arm and placed his own arm against the open wound. He watched, mesmerized as the free flowing blood mingled and ran down their arms. He turned away from the blood tie Maguire was making and met the man’s gaze. He knew he was weakening, as evidenced by how hard it was to stand on his legs instead of sagging against the manacles on his wrists. ‘Meet his eyes, Larabee, if you don’t you might as well give up and fuckin’ die right now!’ he silently swore. Inch by agonizing inch he raised his head until he looked directly into the face of madness. He smiled as Maguire seemed to wilt under his glare. The man dropped his gaze and moved away, his eyes downcast for a few seconds, but it gave Chris Larabee a sense of control. He was down, but he was far from out and the bastard would not win every round. The pain he could manage and the knowledge that Vin Tanner was dead he would deal with as long as this man was sent to hell. He watched as Maguire cleaned his own wound and then walked towards him with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He knew what was coming and he set himself to deal with the pain.

Maguire smiled as he advanced on his captive. He couldn’t quite meet the man’s eyes and knew if he did Larabee would best him with a look. For now he would continue to work on weakening his victim’s body. His mind would weaken in time and he would hear Christopher Adam Larabee beg for his own death. When that happened he’d prove that he was better than any of his ancestors, including the man who’d wrote The Book.

“This might sting a little,” he smiled as he poured the liquor into the open wound.

Chris held his body taut as the fiery liquid mixed with his blood and quickly set fire to the nerves in his arms. He held his breath while Maguire cleaned the wound and taped a piece of gauze over it.

“I am going to send you on another trip, Christopher, but not until this afternoon. I find this blood loss exhausting and I am in need of sleep. You should take advantage of it as well, for when I return things will go very hard on you. Oh, I will not use the REACT belt as I have something that will involve the use of my hands. I will return this afternoon,” he said as he walked away and left his victim alone once more.

Chris took a deep breath as nausea threatened to overwhelm him. His stomach churned in spite of the rumbling that signaled its emptiness and dry heaves suddenly wracked his body. He coughed and groaned as his chest tightened and his lungs once more fought for air. He knew he was getting sick, but again he forced his mind and body to ignore it. He sagged in the chains, not realizing his body was giving in while his mind still fought. Blood soaked through the gauze on his arm and ran from the raw flesh around his wrists as he gave into the call of darkness once more.

His dreams were far from peaceful as a madman advanced on him with fire and his silent scream died before it left his throat. Faces, both male and female, young and old, long dead and living swam before his closed lids. There would be no escaping hell for Chris Larabee as past and present mingled to torture his mind as Maguire had tortured his body.

~~~~~~~~~

Albuquerque-2002

Frank Barnes examined his patient, checking his eyes, the bandaged wound on his head and recording every detail. He knew the reluctant patient was leaving the hospital today with or without his permission. Barnes looked into the dazed blue eyes of the man on the bed.

“I’m not signing any discharge papers, Mr. Tanner,” Barnes said as he looked from his patient to the medic standing on the opposite side of the bed.

“I know, Doc, just get me the papers and I’ll sign myself out.”

“Can’t you talk some sense into him, Mr. Jackson?”

The medic wanted nothing more than to see the young sharpshooter remain in the hospital where he belonged. He also knew there was no way that was going to happen, somehow they would all need to be there to rescue Chris Larabee from the clutches of a madman. A madman whose very existence seemed to transcend the bonds of time and circumstances. He met the eyes of the sharpshooter and saw his own thoughts mirrored in the clear blue pools.

“I’m sorry, Doc, once his mind’s made up it’s impossible to get him to change it,” Jackson supplied.

“Do any of you realize how serious his wounds are? Especially the head wound and I haven’t even mentioned the dehydration he suffered.”

“I know, Doc, and I’ve been hurt before, but this is somethin’ I gotta do. A man’s life hinges on...”

“Your life hinges on you getting the care you need.”

“Nathan’ll make sure I don’t over do things, Doc. He’s used to taking care of us and we trust him.”

Tanner’s expression showed the truth of his words and Jackson couldn’t help the pride his words conjured up. He’d always known his friends trusted him, but when the quiet Texan said the words in front of others it drove home just how much he meant to them. “I’ll make sure he rests, Doc,” he assured the man.

“Not just rest, Mr. Jackson. He needs to take his medications on time. He needs to keep his fluid intake up, he needs to eat and sleep.”

“We’ll see that he does,” the medic affirmed.

Barnes looked down at the injured man and saw the evidence of the pain the young man was trying to hide. “The broken collarbone is bad enough and it’s gonna be uncomfortable, but it won’t put you down,” His eyebrows rose and he continued to stare at his patient. “What will put you down, and keep you there is that head wound! You were shot and the bullet took a fair chunk out of your scalp and you’ll suffer the headaches that accompany a severe concussion! You’ll more than likely be sick to your stomach  and have dizzy spells. When this happens it’s because your body is telling you it needs to rest and I’m warning you not to take this lightly! If you don’t listen to what your body is telling you it won’t be long before you’ll be back in the hospital.”

“Hell, Doc...”

“Hell is right, Mr. Tanner! There’s little doubt in my mind you’ll be back in the hospital before long and when you are just remember what I told you today!”

Barnes turned to walk away from the bed, but was stopped by the soft Texan drawl. “If there was a choice, Doc, I’d stay, but there’s not. A friend...a brother is waiting for us to find him before it’s too late.”

Barnes’ face was serious as he looked at the determination in the sharpshooter’s eyes. “Would your friend...your brother want you to give up your life for his?”

“No, but he’d do the same if the roles were reversed,” Tanner said simply.

“I’ll get the papers ready for you to sign. This goes against everything I believe in, but there’s no way I can keep you here if you’re determined to leave.” He turned his gaze on the medic once more. “I hope you realize what this could do to him!” he hissed and left the two friends alone.

Vin studied the now brooding medic and knew the man was wavering. He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed to wait for the nurse to remove the IV from his arm. “Nathan, I know you’re worried, but...”

“I know there’s no choice, Vin, but I still don’t like it. We’re relying on...”

“Our instincts. Look, Nathan, you were in Four Corners. You and Josiah felt something there.”

“I don’t deny that.”

“If that was all I’d agree to stay, but, Nate, there’s a lot more to this. There’s too much going on to pass it off as coincidence. Chris needs us all and we both know it.” He stopped as the other men returned.

“How are you feeling, Son?” Sanchez asked.

“Truthfully, Josiah, I feel like shit, but I’m leaving here anyway. Is the jet here?”

“It’s here and being refueled,” Wilmington told him and walked to the window. He could feel five pairs of eyes watching him and knew they understood his pain. He’d known Chris Larabee longer than any of the others and had been there through good times and bad. He valued that friendship and wanted to hang on to it for years to come, yet he could feel the bond slipping through his fingers. He turned back to the others as tears welled up in his deep blue eyes. He met each gaze before stopping on the man whose bond with the blond was even stronger than his own.

“Can you still feel him?” he asked softly and sucked in a deep breath as the sharpshooter simply nodded. That simple gesture told him all he needed to know. “Then let’s get you ready and get the fucking bastard who has him.” With those simple words the six men knew they were ready to take down Robert Maguire once and for all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Black Rock Desert-2002

Chris opened his eyes and frowned as he lifted his arms. Pain radiated outwards from both shoulders and he tried to understand what that meant. He forced his eyes open and frowned as he looked up towards the ceiling. It didn’t take long for him to realize he was lying on the ground, but it took a few minutes for him to realize what that meant. He turned on his side and used his aching arms to force his body upwards. His shoulders screamed in agony as the stiffened muscles awakened with renewed vigor. He looked up at the broken beam and remembered his first glance upwards had revealed how the chains were cutting a groove in it. He realized the wood must’ve weakened over the years and finally collapsed with his weight pulling down on it.

“Jesus!” he swore as he realized he was wasting precious time. His hands were still encased in the manacles, but at least he could move them in spite of the pain it caused to his upper body. He looked down at his waste and recognized the hated belt wrapped around his midsection. He reached for the clasp, but swollen hands and fingers made it a lessen in futility. He cried out as his anger grew, and ignored the pain in his limbs as he snatched at the clasp. He sucked in a breath as he realized he’d been holding it, and tore the belt from his waist. He ripped the wires from the torture device before flinging it across the chamber.

Pain wracked his body, but there was no time to dwell on it as he looked down at his ankles. Blood stuck to the metal and the mangled flesh around his leg as he struggled to pull the bolt from the floor of the mine. He grew frustrated as the bolt held his feet tight and he swore angrily. He looked around the vast chamber until he spotted the small scraps of metal he’d torn from the REACT belt. Picking up the longest piece he inserted it in the lock wrapped around the chain. His fingers refused to work and he lost count of how many times he dropped the stiff wire. It shocked him when he pushed the wire in and the lock was already open. A smile formed on his pale face as he pulled the mechanism from the chains. The length of chain running between his ankles would make it impossible for him to move quickly, but he refused to let that deter him. Taking a deep breath to steady the growing pain in his body he turned onto his stomach and pushed up to his knees before climbing up on his feet. His ankles refused to hold him and he grabbed for the nearby table. He stood there, waiting until the needles and pins racing through his lower leg subsided.

Chris knew he wouldn’t get far if he didn’t get moving now. He pushed away from the table and walked towards the tunnel leading out of the chamber. He forced himself to move, ignoring the mounting pain that threatened to engulf him and send him back to the ground. His left arm snaked out and touched the side of the tunnel leading out of the mine and he stopped to catch his breath and fight down the mounting nausea. He listened for Maguire’s return, but all he heard was his own too fast heartbeat pounding in his chest. He kept moving, one foot in front of the other, sliding his hand along the wall in an effort to stay on his feet.

He could see sunlight streaming in from outside and had to squint as he got closer to the exit. He stopped again and listened for his captor’s return, but again there was nothing but his own labored breathing, and the pounding of his heart. ‘Just keep moving!’ he ordered as he made it to the misshaped entrance. He waited for his eyes to adjust and slowly looked to the right of the entrance. Nothing moved in the harsh heat and he turned to his left.

Maguire smiled as he swung the crowbar, connecting solidly with the limping man. He laughed as Larabee screamed in a combination of pain and rage as he dropped to the ground.

“Fu...uck...!” The victim’s voice was barely audible as wave after wave of agonizing defeat mingled with the blossoming pain in his hip. He writhed on the ground, not caring anymore if his captor saw his pain. There was nothing for him now, but the unbearable white-hot fire burning through his hip.

“Did you think you could escape me that easily, Christopher?” Maguire asked as he knelt beside the moaning man. He could see the bruise forming on Larabee’s hip and knew he’d probably broken it, but it didn’t matter. He would eventually kill this man, but for now pain was to his advantage. It would continue to wear down his victim and make him easier to manage. He reached out and pressed against the deepening bruise and smiled at the sharp intake of breath

Chris gritted his teeth as Maguire’s hand touched his hip. He could feel the bones shifting and knew his hip was either dislocated or broken. Somehow he knew the intense pain signaled that it was broken and probably badly. He fought against his darkening vision and again met his enemy’s eyes. “Si...ick....b...bastard,” he screamed as Maguire grabbed his injured hip and tightened his fingers in the bruised flesh.

“I have something for you to drink, Christopher. I was going to mix it with a little LSD and send you on another wild trip, but,” he smiled as he looked into the pain filled green eyes. “I think the pain you’re in is enough of a trip for now.” He lifted the bottle of water and shook his head as Larabee clenched his mouth tightly. “Now, Christopher, it really is only water.” He made a smacking sound with his lips as he reached for Larabee’s nose, pinching it closed until the blond was forced to open his mouth and take a deep breath. Again he forced the bottle past the dry lips and poured water into his victim’s mouth.

Chris had no choice but to swallow and he felt his body gratefully accepting the offering. He was forced to drink until half the bottle was gone and Maguire finally pulled the bottle away. The injured man lay still, his eyes closed against the dizziness assaulting him, his stomach churning as he fought to hold down the water.

“Now, Christopher, it’s time to get you back inside and see how you managed to escape. I don’t think you’ll be able to walk which means there’s only one way to do this.”

Chris felt the hated man grab him under his arms and begin to drag him towards his prison once more. He screamed as his hip bounced off the rocks and other debris as his captor laughed maliciously.

“You would’ve liked the LSD trip a lot better,” Maguire said as he continued to drag Larabee inside.

Time had little meaning to the injured man as the pain reached out and finally sent him into a blissful oblivion where even Maguire’s taunting voice couldn’t reach him.

He dropped his burden in the center of the chamber and frowned at the broken beam overhead. He searched the roof of the cave until he found a suitable replacement. He walked past the unconscious man and pulled the chains from the old beam. He knew he wouldn’t need to immobilize his captive’s feet as the broken hip would make it impossible for him to move without setting off a grating agony in his hip. He ran the chains over the new beam and frowned as he kicked something on the floor. He bent down and picked up the broken belt and swore as he noted the damage done to it. He threw it back in the corner and turned back to the blond. Once more he dragged the lean body to the beam and attached the length of chain. He walked back to the crank and began lifting Larabee off the floor. As he was forced to bend at the waist a sharp moan escaped the slack lips and Maguire smiled as he realized that even unconscious Christopher Larabee was in agony. He continued until his victim was standing with his hands raised high above his head once more before he locked the hand crank into position. He listened to the soft moans issuing from the blond and felt a tremor run through his body. A small stream of blood seeped from the corners of Larabee’s mouth and he realized he must’ve bitten the inside of his mouth during the trip back to the mine. He took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the evidence away.

“Sleep well, Christopher, for when I return hell begins again,” Maguire vowed as he left the mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albuquerque-2002

Vin sat on the edge of the bed as the nurse removed the IV from his arm. He felt lousy, yet he knew what had to be done, and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him. He sucked in a deep breath as the nurse pulled the tape from his arm, removing a thin strip of hairs along with it.

“Sorry,” she said as she put pressure on the tiny puncture wound.

“It’s okay, Caitlin,” he assured her as she placed the bandage on it. He looked up as Doctor Barnes came into the room with a stack of papers in his hands. He could see the man was still angered by his refusal to stay at the hospital, but he couldn’t let it deter him from what he had to do.

“I have your paperwork, Mr. Tanner. You need to sign everything and I need a witness to you signing them,” Barnes said as he placed the papers on the table.

“Sure, Doc,” Tanner found it awkward using his left hand to sign his name, but he managed it. He watched as the doctor went through the papers one last time to make sure everything was in order.

Barnes shook his head as he checked the final paper and finally met the blue eyes once more. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“I can’t,” the Texan said softly.

“All right.” Barnes was resigned to the injured man’s determination and he passed over a prescription for painkillers and antibiotics. “Get this filled right away. The painkillers are strong and will make you drowsy. You can take them every four hours if you need to,” he heard snickers from the other men in the room and frowned. “Did I say something funny?”

“Well, Doc, you should’ve left it at taking them every four hours,” Dunne said. “Vin don’t like taking pills unless he doesn’t have a choice.”

“I assure you he won’t have a choice. He’ll need them or he’ll be in misery the whole time!” He turned back to the injured man. “The second ones are antibiotics for the infection in the wound. Those must be taken every six hours and there’s no choice in that one. I also want to stress how important it is for you to drink plenty of fluids. Dehydration is a serious matter and...”

“I’ll drink, Doc,” Tanner said, impatient to get underway. The last hour or so of waiting left him feeling as if something had happened to the missing man. Something that would only grow worse the longer he was in Maguire’s clutches.

“That’s it then. Mr. Jackson, make sure he takes the medications and drinks. If he’s having any problems, other than what we discussed, get him to a hospital immediately.”

“We will, Doc. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me for doing something that goes against everything I believe in. Just make sure he takes it easy. Goodbye, Mr. Tanner, gentlemen,” he nodded and left the room, the nurse following closely behind him.

Tanner waited until the doctor left and looked at each of his friends. He could see the worry on their faces, yet he knew they understood how important it was for them to leave now. “Did you get me something to wear?” he asked.

Buck walked to the closet and pulled out a pair of blue jeans and an oversized blue shirt. There was also underwear, socks and a comfortable pair of moccasins. “Let’s get you dressed,” the ladies’ man said as he placed the clothing on the bed. He heard the others leave in order to give them some privacy as he helped ease the hospital gown off the lean shoulders.

Blue eyes met blue eyes and the two friends knew what the other man was thinking. Neither one said a word, yet they took comfort in the fact that they trusted each other with the fate of the missing man. The seven members of The Firm were a makeshift family, but there seemed to be something even more to the relationship between Larabee, Tanner, and Wilmington. Now, with Larabee missing and possibly dying, there was an empty place in their lives.

“We’ll find him, Buck,” the sharpshooter vowed as Wilmington placed the moccasins on his feet.

“I know we will, Vin. I just hope there’s enough of him left to find. Everything about this Maguire points to the classical definition of a serial killer. One whose victims are never found.”

“Chris is waiting for us. I can feel him,” he explained. “He’s hurting, but he’s there and he’s fighting the son of a bitch.”

“At least we have a place to start the search,” Wilmington said as he walked to the door.

“Yeah,” Tanner said as he waited for the inevitable wheelchair. ‘Black Rock Desert is one hell of a big area to search,’ he thought. His mind wondered back to the images he’d seen in Four Corners. They’d slowly began to clear up and he’d recognized each of the six figures and knew he was looking at his past, as well as those of his friends. Somehow he knew the reason he didn’t see himself there was because his ancestor was with Chris Larabee. He prayed he was right and that his friend was not alone wherever he was.

“Your chariot awaits,” Standish said as he came in with a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

Tanner shook his thoughts aside and slid off the edge of the bed as the conman walked towards him.

“Thanks, Ez.” He smiled at the gambler as the man helped him into the chair. Within fifteen minutes the six men were in a car and on the way to Albuquerque’s Sunport Airport.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Black Rock Desert-2002

A lean form dressed in buckskin eased out of the shadows of the cave and came to stand in front of the injured man. The figure was a shadow of itself and yet he wanted Chris Larabee to know he wasn’t alone. That friends both past and present were there and would continue to be there for him. The blue eyes were strong with heartfelt emotions as he reached out to touch the pale cheek. He ran his hand down the darkly colored bruise and knew there would be a long painful journey ahead for this man and his friends. He remembered when they found their own Chris Larabee in a damp cave, strung up much the same as this man was. He remembered the anger and frustration of being forced to listen to the ragged breathing and the soft moans of pain. He watched as the eyelids on the man before him slowly fluttered and a grimace of pain raced across the handsome features.

Chris slowly opened his eyes, knowing instantly that he was in hell, as fire burned in his hip, extending its flame-like tentacles out to encompass every bone in his body. He groaned as the images in the chamber became clearer and the pain became more pronounced as he shifted in the manacles once more. He hissed as he shifted his weight and realized the pain in his right hips was real and not a leftover from the dreams he’d been having. He tried to swallow, but there was no moisture left in his mouth. The tip of his tongue protruded from between parched lips as his eyes blinked rapidly. Sweat dripped off golden lashes into green eyes as a low-grade fever continued to burn through his body.

Chris let his eyes slide closed for a few seconds, but opened them again as he realized he’d seen a figure standing in the chamber with him. He tried to make out the lean form, knowing in his heart it was someone who meant a lot to him. He continued to blink the sweat from his eyes made out the dust covered, buckskin clad man in front of him. A tan colored hat hung low over his forehead, but there was no mistaking the limpid pools of blue staring back at him. The long hair hung over his shoulders and there was a strength to the set of the square jaw. He knew he was looking at Vin Tanner, but not his Vin Tanner, yet the worry and concern were written across the handsome face.

“V...in!”

‘Yeah, it’s me, Cowboy.’

Chris watched the face as it seemed to fade in and out of his vision. He wasn’t sure if it was real or his mind playing games on him, giving him something he needed to pull him through. His throat worked to force out the words as his eyes watered and he remembered the hated words spoken a seeming lifetime ago. ‘Tanner’s dead, Robert!’

 “You’re not really, Vin. He’s dead,” he mumbled tiredly.