“You left ‘em?” Buck
fussed with disapproval after JD came walking into the café across from
the Inn.
“Well sure, Buck. Chris
is still asleep, but Ezra was complainin’ he was hungry, said he needed to
eat to get better and that I should get ‘im some food. He promised to
watch after Chris ‘til I got back.”
“Damn that Ezra, he could
charm a rattlesnake.”
JD heard the
disappointment in Buck’s voice. “I knew I shouldn’t have left ‘em alone.”
“It’s alright, kid. I
just finished up and you look like you’re done in. I’ll go see if I can
sweet talk the cook into making something Ezra will actually be able to
keep down. If he’s feelin’ well enough to eat then it’s best I keep an eye
on him myself.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, go on now before I
have to haul your hungry carcass off the floor.” Buck shook his head,
watched JD take a seat next to Josiah then headed for the kitchen.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
The moment Chris entered
the hall the urge to run became overwhelming, but it didn’t feel aimless
this time. There was someplace he needed to go; someplace he needed to be.
He looked up and down the corridor, spotted a stairwell to his left and
hurried to the stairs. Using
the wall for support and summoning every ounce of strength he possessed to
remain upright, he began a plodding descent.
Ezra caught sight of him
in the dim light of the hall lantern and tried to catch up. The pain in
his shoulder was intense but his desire to stop his friend from
disappearing was even more powerful. In Chris’ state of mind, who knew the
amount of damage he could do to himself. He staggered clumsily to the top
of the stairs and pushed out a pained plea to stop.
At the sound of his name,
the gunfighter stilled, terrified to turn, but more frightened not to.
Slowly he twisted around and searched the darkness until his eyes fell
upon a shadowy silhouette. “Please, don’t follow me. I’m askin’ ya.”
“Where are you going?”
Chris stepped on the
landing below and stumbled away, beginning his climb down the next flight
of stairs. Every step the silhouette took to follow tightened the knot in
his stomach and sent him further and further into
retreat. “I have to go back.”
“Back?” Ezra moved quickly, closing the
distance between them by several feet.
Chris startled at the nearness but the
question momentarily waylaid his desire to flee. A sorrowful groan clung
to his throat as his confusion and agitation grew.
“Look at me, Chris.” Ezra said softly, gently,
aware his friend was ready to bolt.
“Go on home now, don’t be followin’ me.” He
turned as if to leave.
“We’re a long way from home, my friend.”
“It’s not that far; you can make it back on
your own.”
“You have got to snap out it, Chris. Look at
me.”
“Go home,” he ordered with a voice which
brooked no argument.
“Damn it, would you look at me? I am not
Adam.”
He froze.
“Adam’s gone now.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Ezra insisted.
“I sent him back.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I told him to go home,” he answered pitifully
into the darkness.
Ezra moved nearer. “Chris, Adam is dead.
Remember?”
“I sent him home.”
“Adam is dead,” the gambler repeated.
Glistening green eyes grew dark. His mind was
reeling; feeding him distorted images of demons, vivid echoes of screams
and devastating feelings of loss. “Dead… you want
me dead.” He leaned against the
wall and began the familiar rhythmic pounding of his fists. “You want me
dead.” Then the air fell silent, save the heavy footsteps of death. “Wait…
be quiet, he’ll hear.”
“Oh God,” Ezra said when he realized Chris had
slipped back into the nightmare.
“Please, just let me go. Let me out of here. I
don’t want to be down here.”
“What?”
“Stay away from me! Just leave me alone and
I’ll go.”
“I’m not leaving, Chris, and neither are you.
Wherever you think you’re going, you’re not well enough to get there.” He
watched the lawman pound the wall harder and knew exactly where the
nightmare was heading. “Oh, no you don’t. You are not going after that
damn bear again.”
“I have to go!”
Ezra closed the gap between them. “You’re not
going anywhere.” The instant he wrapped his fingers around his friend’s
arm, Chris swung wildly and caught him on the jaw. Before he knew what was
happening, he was forced to the ground with the full weight of the
gunfighter atop him.
“I said leave me alone!” he screamed. “You
aren’t going to do this to me! Not again! You hear me, you son-of-a-bitch?
Not again!”
“Chris!” Ezra howled as the man looming above
him drew back and pounded him in the face.
Chris grabbed his shirt and roughly jerked him
to his feet. “No more!” he screamed despite the hitch in his breathing.
“No…more…no…”The air in his lungs grew thin and the images crowding
his mind began to blur. He stumbled awkwardly to the wall, taking the
terrified gambler with him.
“Why are you doing this?” Ezra wheezed as he
stared into the crazed features of his friend. He was propped against the
wall; Chris’ body and hands the only things holding him up.
The blind rage that had driven Larabee to
attack slowly subsided, leaving behind a strangled fear and a deep-rooted
desire to vanish from the face of the planet. Memories were returning,
piece by terrifying piece, and what they told his conscious mind was more
than he could understand, more than he could accept. “I can’t,” he said to
the man pinned beneath him. “I can’t do this.”
Ezra didn’t speak, too afraid that if he did
the barrage of punches would begin again.
Chris fought for breath and took a long look
at the face near his. “Oh my God.”
Still Ezra remained silent, his bloody face
twitching from the blows it had taken and his single unbound hand shaking
uncontrollably.
Panic drew Chris’ hands to either side of the
battered face. “Ezra?”
Unshed tears spilled from the gambler’s eyes
as they closed with relief.
“W-what have I done?” Chris slipped his arms
around the smaller man and lowered him to sit on the stairs. “Damn it to
hell, what have I done?”
“Not your fault,” Ezra blurted out.
“I could’ve killed you. I could’ve…”
“It’s not your fault. Can you understand,” he
sucked in a deep breath, “none of this is your fault?”
“Like hell! I just beat the shit outta you! My
God… for a second there I… I’ve lost my damned mind!”
Ezra’s heart nearly stopped when he saw the
defeated look on Chris’ face. “You’ve survived nearly every atrocity a man
can suffer,” he answered with a shaky voice. “Drugs, beatings,
humiliation, fever… even a twisted resurrection of your own past.”
“What are you talking about? What has my past
got to do with me trying to…” he answered, finishing with a wave to Ezra’s
face. He just couldn’t get his head around what he’d done. The feelings of
anger and frustration still lingered in his chest, but he had absolutely
no idea why they were there. He shuddered when the memory of his fists
smashing the gambler’s face flashed through his brain. Then other images,
terrifying images, began to layer themselves until he thought he would
smother beneath them. Someone was beckoning him. Some… thing was chasing
him. “I’m losin’ it,” he mumbled.
“No,
you’re not. You’re as sane a man as I’ve ever met, but there is something
from your past haunting you.”
He looked up, turning a look of skepticism on
the man at his side.
“Something happened to you a long time ago.”
Ezra thought about the scars on the gunfighter’s hip and leg. “Something
perhaps you haven’t dealt with.”
“You’re talking crazy. Things happened to me;
things happen to every man; doesn’t mean he’s got the right to do harm to
a friend.” Another wash of confusion and anger flooded over him, sparking
images of blood, bone and darkness.
Ezra would have smiled at the address had he
not felt a hard tremor run the length of Chris’ body. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Chris replied, obviously
distracted. The darkness grew around him and with it came a cold, damp
dread. His breathing changed and his eyes lost focus. He felt as if he’d
been dropped into a pit and would soon be buried alive if he didn’t find
the light. The bitter smell of death clung to the moist air just as it
clung to his skin and he knew he had to get out now or die.
“Tell me,” Ezra pushed.
“I can’t do this.” He announced and climbed
the wall behind him. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me.”
“Chris…”
“I have to go.”
“You need to stay here, let us help you.”
He growled softly to himself. “I have to get
out. I need to get back.”
“Back where?” Ezra asked in a tone that
suggested support rather than obstruction.
“Up high. Where there’s light,” he muttered.
“High? Like a cliff?”
“Rocks. There were rocks. We were there. I
don’t know how I know. I just…”
“I do. I know the place you’re looking for.”
He raised his head and forced his attention on
the gambler’s weary face.
Ezra steeled himself and raised a bandaged
hand. “If you’ll assist me, I’m sure we can borrow a couple of horses and
ride out before sunset.”
“You’re in no shape to ride. Just tell me
where.”
“If you want to find the light, we’d better
move quickly. It’ll be dark before you’re able to find it on your own. I
assure you I can manage.”
Chris hesitated.
“You need my help—that’s an uncommon
occurrence where we’re concerned. I think I’ll just follow through if you
don’t mind.”
He took the Southerner’s arm and hoisted him
to his feet. “Uncommon? My brain may be messed up right now, but I get the
feelin’ I’ve been needin’ your help pretty regular lately. I'm grateful.”
Ezra didn’t answer; he simply leaned on the
gunfighter and allowed him to maneuver him into the street. If they
survived this night, he was going to have to take a serious look at these
new concepts that seemed to be working their way into his life -- concepts
like friendship and gratitude.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
They borrowed Vin and JD’s horses from the
livery and rode towards the same cliff they had been found just days
before. Ezra’s own recollection of the cave and the outcrop rising above
it were sketchy. Chris’ memories of the cliff were practically
nonexistent, but there was something about it that ignited a fire in his
brain. Images began to coalesce in his mind -- some pleasant, some
appalling, all overpowering. He hadn’t said a word since leaving the Inn,
he couldn’t. His mind had reached a point it was so saturated with the
past it couldn’t maintain its balance with the present. So he moved on
without trying to understand and make sense of it.
He dismounted Vin’s horse and started the
climb up the rise. Each step he took brought him closer to his own ghostly
memories. Up high, he insisted. We had to get up high.
Ezra climbed down from his mount and watched
as Chris drove his tired body to lumber up the incline. He stumbled a time
or two but seemed oblivious to his own physical need to rest. Whatever
demons possessed him, they weren’t about to leave him now, and that
knowledge made Ezra very afraid. Not for himself, but for his friend. The
selflessness of that thought surprised him, but it was true nonetheless.
I expect this is where I’m supposed to learn about undying loyalty and
being there to the end. Well, at least I hope it’s undying and I certainly
pray it’s not the end. He pushed himself away from the horse and
followed his friend up the hill. It took him a little longer to reach the
top than Chris but he made it, and when he arrived, winded and dizzy, he
found the gunfighter staring into the fading glimmer of sunset. He stood
rigid as the last delicate fingers of sunlight warmed the curve of his
battered cheeks and the last breath of day breezed in lazy swirls at his
feet. Ezra watched him take a long, lazy breath of his own as his eyes
glistened with memories. “Why are we here?” he asked.
Chris shook his head and continued to stare
into the dwindling sunlight. “We had to make it to higher ground. There
was nowhere else to go.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what happened with you,
Adam and the bear.”
The blond turned to glance over his shoulder
and stare at the ground near the gambler’s feet. “I never told anyone
about the bear… except Sarah, she knew.”
Ezra frowned. “If it concerned Adam, I’m sure
she did.”
“The nightmares were bad even then, but she…”
He bit down on his words and wrapped his arms around himself, then turned
away. “I had to get away for a while, there was just too much goin’ on. He
followed me. I knew he would, but I sent him back. I shouldn’t have let
him come; I shouldn’t have sent him away…”
“Why was it a mistake to do either?”
“It separated us, gave that monster a chance
to get between us. We lost time getting back to each other, but we did.
Then we ran.”
“That’s when the bear came after you.”
Chris’ reached a hand to rub at the ache
crawling up his neck. His breathing took on a whole new rhythm as a
barrage of memories was unleashed into his conscious mind. Terrifying
pictures of torn flesh, shredded muscle, gushing streams of blood and
unseeing dead eyes situated themselves firmly within his mind. He began to
walk, hoping the movement would somehow physically separate him from the
sight. A minute later, the walk became a hobble. “I can’t do this.”
Ezra made note of the change in Chris’ gait.
“You don’t have a choice. The memories you’ve kept locked away are going
to keep coming out, one by one. You won’t be able to control them. What
the warden did to you was wrong, unforgivable, but it’s done. You have to
deal with it and deal with what you’re remembering.”
“I told you… I can’t think.” The hobbling
worsened as he paced back and forth.
Seeing the gunfighter oblivious to his own
affliction, Ezra decided to chance pointing it out. “How’s your leg,
Chris?”
“My leg?”
“You’re limping.”
“I… my leg hurts.”
“It hurts when you remember, right? It’s
hurting now.” He approached and carefully touched Chris’ arm. “Don’t run
from this... You and Adam were chased by a bear. You said you were trying
to get to higher ground.” He could see the moment Chris’ mind moved closer
to the past. “Tell me what you see,” he asked and waited for what was
playing through the lawman’s mind to settle enough to grab hold of.
“We’re climbing the rocks. There’s a ledge. If
we can reach the right spot, we might be able to jump across to the other
side. I’m not sure though, it might be too far for us to make. Damn, he’s
coming.”
The change in the gunfighter’s verbal tense
was unnerving but Ezra pushed ahead. “Are you going to try?”
“Adam, you have to stay on your feet. We gotta
climb fast or…” he stopped and looked over his shoulder.
The sudden turn make Ezra look as well. “What
is it?”
“The bear.”
“The bear isn’t here now,” he replied, keeping
the memory on track. “You’re climbing…”
“We found it… the ledge.”
“Can you cross; get where you need to be?”
“It’s too far. We can’t get across, but the
drop isn’t too bad. The hillside angles some.” Another sound caught the
gunfighter’s attention and he stumbled closer to the edge of the outcrop.
Ezra followed, becoming more and more aware
his friend was being swept away by an ever-increasing flow of memory.
“Stay with me, Chris. If the hill angles at the ledge, can you climb
down?”
“He’s coming,” the blond stated just above a
whisper. “Adam, stay close.”
Ezra watched and listened. “Chris?”
“I can hear him. Son-of-a-bitch, how’d he
track us so fast?”
“I don’t hear anything,” Ezra lied. Oddly
enough, he did think he heard a sound coming from the rocks nearby.
“Listen. We don’t have time to find another
way over. You’re gonna have to slide down over the edge and stay put. I
don’t think he’ll be able to reach you there.” Chris’ pace was growing
more desperate, moving him closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.
It was then Ezra placed himself between the dangerous drop and his
disconcerted friend. This cliff was a lot more deadly than the one looming
in Chris’ mind. “What about you? What will you do?”
“Don’t you worry none about me, you just
listen out. When you hear him leave, head on back to the house.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Ezra said before he
thought and silently chastised himself for getting carried away. He knew
Chris’ plan in the past had been to lead the bear away from Adam, to
sacrifice himself, but that was years ago. Here, now, the man was in more
danger from himself than that animal.
“Don’t be arguing. There’s no time. You have
to go over the edge and hang on.” The gunfighter suddenly spun around and
came face to face with the beast. “Oh God,” he exhaled.
Ezra watched his eyes grow large with fear;
leaving no doubt in his mind Chris was seeing the same bear that had
attacked him so long ago. The same huge mountain of fur, teeth and claws
that had torn at his body in the past had come again, this time to
seemingly finish what it had started.
The gunfighter moved nearer Ezra and shouted,
“Go, Adam, move!”
“Chris, listen to me! There’s nothing out
there. We’re safe! You’re safe! Look around you, look at
me.”
“You can’t stay here! Just go! Move!”
Ezra was so startled by Chris’ intensity he
stumbled backward, and with his left arm bound to his chest, he was thrown
off balance and dropped to one knee. The sudden jar was like a hammer
slamming into him, sending a hard, excruciating pain into his shoulder,
and before he could stop it, a harsh cry of agony was ripped from his
lungs.
Chris heard the horror in that cry and
responded with the same ferocious desire to protect that had driven him
years before. “Adam, I said move!” he shouted, and with incredible
swiftness, reached down for the body huddled on the ground, pulled it
upright and pushed it over the precipice.
Ezra screamed in terror as he realized what
was happening and in a last-ditch effort to save his life, grabbed for the
sleeve of Chris’ jacket and held on. He didn’t have time to consider the
possibility he may drag his only lifeline over the edge with him – he
simply snatched at the only hold available and clung to it with every bit
of strength he possessed. His own shirt, which was too big to begin with
and only on one arm, slid instantly across his back, enhancing the
sensation of falling. The sleeve he wore fell towards him, bunching
awkwardly against his shoulder.
Chris fell hard with the weight of Ezra’s body
and instinctively groped at the hand gripping his arm. The crash to the
ground was so abrupt he nearly lost consciousness, but he and his burden
both held fast.
“Chris,
for the love of God, pull me up! Don’t let me fall!” Ezra screamed as he
glanced down into the shadowy maw beneath him. The sun’s last sprinkle of
light may have softened the appearance of the deadly rocks below, but he
knew all too well what a painful death it would be to crash into their
unforgiving, razor-like embrace. He had to draw his only hope for survival
back into the present and he had to do it now. “Damn it, I don’t want to
die! Pull me up!”
The plea came to Chris’ ears as garbled
nonsense, but the desperation rang through loud and clear. He reacted as
quickly as before and shifted his body until he could reach down and grasp
the limb clinging to his arm. His eyes sought the dusky dark until his
heart found Adam and when he gripped a bare forearm between his fingers,
the memory sent a shiver down his spine. It was the last hold he ever had
on Adam. The last time he ever touched him when there was life still
pulsing through his veins. That meant there was hope, a chance to stop the
unthinkable from happening. If he held on, he could save him. It wasn’t
too late. It couldn’t be. All he had to do was hang on. He dug in with his
fingers and squeezed so tightly they sunk into the tender skin of Adam’s
arm. Blood began to ooze until large red droplets cascaded off white flesh
and fell into the darkness below. He imagined their descent and let his
eyes wander to the spectacle just beyond the boy's kicking feet. “No.
N-no,” he muttered.
The bear had found them; had changed his
direction of attack and was now pawing at the base of the cliff. His large
head twisted with a vicious snarl, then he clawed at the dirt and rock,
angry, no, hungry, for his prey and slowly inched his way towards the legs
suspended just a few feet away.
Hurry,
he had to hurry, Chris thought but
time seemed to fold in on itself. The harder he tried to grab for Adam,
the slower his movements became. He willed his fingers to tighten,
commanded his muscles to pull, but his body remained defiant. Then time
was ripped open.
He made ready to use both hands to raise his
burden topside when he felt the flesh of his hip being sliced open.
White-hot pain seared through his mind and body,
threatening to send him into oblivion. He fought to stay conscious,
to maintain his grip on Adam, but he had to surrender one hand to grab at
the sudden agony tearing into this body.
Ezra tried to swallow the horror clinging to
his throat as he dangled precariously off the cliff's edge. He was at the
mercy of a man who no longer had a grip on reality. His very life depended
on the memories that filled his friend’s tortured and drug-ravaged mind.
By all rights, there should have been little reason to hope for a good
outcome, but then he remembered who his friend was. Chris was a man
passionate about family; if he believed a loved one in danger, he would
move heaven and earth to save him. Right now Ezra
was Adam Larabee
to the man who held his arm and it would be that delusion, he prayed, that
would return him to the safety of the ledge above. There was no time to
consider the danger of playing into his friend's hallucinations. He
screamed, “Pa! Pa, help me! Please, Pa!”
The urgent cry rang in Chris’ ears and
resonated in his mind. Pa? Pa, noooo…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“Pa!”
Larabee looked down his arm and saw the same
ghostly blue eyes he’d seen years before -- eyes overflowing with trust
and love. He tightened his grip and nailed the face below him with a look.
“Pa ain’t here, Adam, he doesn’t know where we are. But I swear I’ll get
you up. I won’t let go.”
Ezra was stunned by Chris' reply and
frightened thoughts rapidly became terrified screams. What the hell
does he mean, ‘Pa ain’t here?’ Pa who? He’s pa, and I’m Adam and I’m going
to be one dead son-of-a-bitch “if you don’t GET ME OUT OF HERE!”
“Adam, hold on to me! And stop kickin’ your
feet, use ‘em to climb!” Chris looked below and again saw the bear gaining
ground. “You’re always tellin’ me you’re as grown as me. Prove it, Adam!
Fight! Climb!”
The grip he had on the gambler's arm was so
strong his fingertips actually dug grooves into his flesh, which in turn
sent blood trickling down Ezra's bicep and onto his neck. That in its self
didn’t frighten Ezra -- it was the blood flowing onto his forearm from
Chris’ rope-torn wrist that put the fear of God into him. The slick liquid
began to well up against his rescuer’s palm and the tenuous grip holding
him began to slip.
“Chris…” Ezra choked in warning as he felt
strong fingers sink deeper into his skin. Long furrows were being cut into
the soft underside of his arm as he slowly slid away from the man above.
Chris leaned further over the edge, but couldn’t better his hold. The move
instead caused the ledge to crumble bit by bit beneath him and sent a
spray of dirt showering down into the gambler’s face.
“We’re both going to fall.” Ezra spat the dirt
from his mouth. He realized in an instant that saving his life might cost
Chris his. He wasn’t about to let that happen. “You have to let go.”
“I won’t let him have you!”
“No choice…”
“No!”
Before he could say another word in argument,
Ezra's arm was ripped elbow to wrist and the only hold Chris had left was
the bandage wrapped around the Southerner’s injured hand.
Ezra glanced up to see the blond look in turn
over his shoulder.
“No! Get off! You can’t have him!” Chris
hollered, just before his head slapped the ground.
“The hell I can’t,” a second voice growled.
When Ezra looked up again, he saw Buck
Wilmington lying on top of Chris, snaking an arm along his friend’s so he
too could grab onto him. “You just hang tight, Ezra. I’ve gotcha,” he said
as he took hold of the smaller man’s upper arm and slowly hauled him
upwards.
Ezra toed the ground with his feet, but both
of his arms were now completely useless. When he reached the top, he fell
in a heap and didn’t move again until his heart stopped racing. He simply
laid back and watched as the tall cowboy picked Chris up, moved him away
from the cliff’s edge and leaned him against a huge rock several feet
away. “I have no idea… how you found us… but t-thank you,” he gasped.
“I followed you two when you left town,” Buck
replied. He too breathed heavily from the excitement. “I’ve been hanging
back to give you some time with Chris. I figured maybe you knew how to
help him.”
Ezra twisted on the ground in an effort to sit
up. Wilmington bent down to help him. “I’m afraid I haven’t been of much
help,” he said in disappointment. “I seem to have done little more than
push him to the point of collapse.”
He and Buck both eyed Chris as he pressed
himself closer to the rock and hid his head with bloody hands. He hadn’t
stopped mumbling since he’d been put where he sat. “My fault, my fault.
Should've tried. I should've tried.”
“I saw him push you. What the hell was he
doing?” Buck asked excitedly, never taking his eyes off Chris.
“He thought he was saving my life.”
“Saving your life?”
“He was remembering when he and Adam were
attacked by that bear. He thought I was Adam,” the Southerner answered
carefully.
“I told you, Ezra, Adam was never attacked by
a bear. I know that for a fact.”
“Those scars on his leg…”
Buck interrupted. “Are on Chris, yes, I can’t
explain those. But his son, Adam Larabee, was never mauled or killed by a
bear. That little boy never even saw a bear.”
“That little boy,” Ezra repeated to himself. “That
little boy. How could I have been so stupid?”
Buck saw a spark flash in the gambler’s eyes.
“What? You know what’s going on?”
Ezra reached out. “If you’ll assist me, we
need to check on Chris.”
Buck pulled him to his feet and held him
upright. Chris caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and
lowered one of his hands from his head. He looked sideways at the tall
shadow and pushed himself nearer the rock.
“No, no, no,” The blond muttered in a tone
laced with fear.
When he looked up at Wilmington with a look of panic and fright on his
face, Buck felt both shock and hurt. Why should Chris be afraid of him? He
gently sat Ezra down near his friend before he himself took a kneeling
position in front of the gunslinger.
Chris had no more room for exit. He was as
close to the rock as he could possibly get. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry,” he
mumbled. Buck raised a hand to touch him but quickly pulled it back when
Chris begged, “No, don’t! Not again! Please!”
“He ain’t seein’
me, is he, Ezra?” Buck
asked over his shoulder. “And he ain’t seein’ that damned bear either.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Has he lost his mind?”
“No,” Ezra answered instantly. “He’s just
trying to make sense of more information than his mind can handle. Have
you ever had a nightmare from which you couldn’t wake up? I can tell you I
have.”
“Nightmare? He ain’t sleepin’! And this is
more than some bad dream.”
“Exactly. This is his past playing itself
out.”
“What?”
“Buck, you saw those scars on his body. At
some point in his life, he was
mauled by a bear.”
“Yeah, I’ll give you that, but what about
Adam? He thinks Adam was killed by a bear.”
“He was,” the gambler said with finality that
sent a shiver up Buck's spine.
“Damn it, Ezra. I’m tellin’ ya, that little
boy…”
“Not him.”
“What?”
“He told us back at the Inn. When you talked
with him about Adam, he told us ‘not him, not my son,’ remember?”
“Not my son?” Buck echoed the phrase.
Chris heard the words come from the cowboy’s
mouth, “Oh God, it’s my fault.”
Buck caught the anguish in his friend’s voice
and tried to move closer. Chris withdrew, nearly hugging the rock behind
him. “What’s he saying?” he asked.
Ezra didn’t answer, instead he moved in front
of the retreating gunfighter to get him to look up. “Chris? Chris, I need
you to listen to me.”
“Adam?”
“He ain’t hearin’ ya, Ezra,” Buck stated.
“I’m sorry, Adam. I should've tried,” Chris
said, trapped by the gambler's persistent stare.
“You did try.”
“I let you die.”
“This is gettin’ out o’ hand,” Buck said
nervously. “We need to get him back to town.”
“Not yet. He’s just beginning to reach the
memories he’s buried.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“It very well could be. He can’t go on like
this. The warden started something with his abuse, and trust me I will
personally make that bastard pay, but right now Chris needs to remember
everything he’s kept locked away. Not just bits and pieces, everything.”
“Ezra, this is not the place to do this.”
“This is exactly the place.”
“What the devil do you want to do,” Buck's
voice grew louder, “push him into something that'll really drive him off
the deep end? Let’s take him back to town and let Nathan help him.”
“So everyone can bear witness to his demons? I
won’t do that to him. Now either help me or leave,” Ezra shouted with as
much strength as he could muster. The cry took too much breath; he gasped
and swayed.
When Wilmington closed large hands around his shoulders to steady him, a
small voice came from behind.
“Don’t,” Chris said. “Leave him. You’re not
hurtin’ him again.”
Buck turned around.
“Leave him be, Pa.”
The look on his face was the oddest Wilmington
had ever seen. “What the hell?” he asked, glancing back and forth from
Chris to Ezra.
“No more. Pa, no more.”
“Why’s he calling me that?”
“Talk to him, Buck,” Ezra suggested.
“But listen to him, he thinks I’m his pa.”
“I know, talk to him.” Before the mustached
man could object, Ezra added, “Just do it.”
“What the hell do I say?”
“Talk to him about Adam, about his death.”
“Are you outta your mind? I ain’t goin’
there.”
“Ask him about the cliff.”
Buck was appalled.
“Don't you see? He thinks I’m Adam. He put me
over that cliff trying to save my life, although it was a much different
cliff than the one he was remembering, but that doesn’t matter…”
Frowning, Buck
tried his best to understand.
Ezra saw his frustration and slowed down. “You
say Adam didn’t die from a bear attack and Chris claims he did. Just ask
him who he put over that cliff. Find out why he thinks he’s to blame for
Adam’s death.”
“You know already, don’t you.”
Ezra didn’t answer if he did. “He has
to know. I have a feeling a lot more has been placed at his doorstep than
is rightfully his, but we won't know if we can't get him to tell us what
happened. Now please, ask him.”
Buck wrung his hands, took a deep breath and
turned his attention to his old friend. “Chris, son,” he said softly,
awkwardly, "I need to talk to you."
“Pa?”
“Yes son, I need you to tell me what happened
here.” Buck looked over at the outcrop. “I need you to tell me who you
sent over that ledge.”
“I had to. The bear was behind us. I had to
get him to safety,” Chris replied anxiously.
“Who, Chris, who did you get away from the
bear?”
“What?”
“I want you to tell me. I want you to say it.”
“I don't understand...” Fearful green eyes
risked a quick glance into his father's face before they returned to the
ground.
“Say it, Chris,” Buck insisted. “Who did you
put over the ledge?”
Nothing.
“Son, answer me,” he said firmly.
“No, I…”
Buck didn’t give in. “Who was it?” He looked
back to see Ezra motion for him to push harder.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Who was it? Tell me!”
“I know it’s my fault, I know he died because
of me! You know it too.”
“I don't know, Chris. Who died because of you?
Say it! Who?”
"Pa, please..."
"Say it, damn you," he yelled cruelly. "Who
did you put over that ledge?"
“My brother,” Chris blurted out in anguish,
his eyes flowing freely with the tears he'd kept pent for too many years.
“Oh God, I killed my brother!”
The answer was so unexpected Buck was rocked
from his knees to the ground. Ezra looked skyward for fear his own tears
would fall, his theory confirmed.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” Chris sobbed. “I didn’t
save you. I should've tried.”
“Chris had a brother?” Buck whispered to
himself. “Adam was his brother? But why didn’t he tell me?”
“My guess is he’d chosen to forget about him.”
Ezra replied sadly.
“He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t forget
family.”
“Not intentionally, but listen to him. He’s
claiming responsibility for his own brother’s death. Burying the memory
was probably the only way to survive it," he said, slowly regaining his
composure. "Tell me, how long have you known Chris?”
“Known him? Years, since we were both old
enough to be on our own.”
“Then what happened to his brother must have
occurred when he was not much more than a boy himself. You saw the hell he
went through when his wife and child were murdered. Can you imagine being
little more than a child yourself and believing you let your brother die?
He evidently learned very early in life how to take on and survive
enormous guilt.”
“But this doesn’t make sense. If Chris, just
now, was reliving what happened when that bear attacked him and his
brother, then how could he believe it was his fault? I saw him trying to
pull you away from the bear. Damn, what am I saying? There was no bear,”
Buck said clenching his fists.
“To him that animal was as real as the day it
killed his brother. He began remembering more details just before we left
the Inn. I’m afraid when the drugs the warden gave him wore off, he
couldn’t suppress the thoughts any longer. They drove him here, the place
most like the actual cliff he lost his brother.”
“Okay, so Chris believed it was happening all
over again. I still don’t see how he could believe he was responsible for
anything. He keeps sayin’ he should've tried. He did try. He nearly killed
himself trying to save you. I saw him. He was halfway over the ledge,
hanging on to your arm.”
“I don’t understand that myself. He did push
me over the edge, but he kept telling me it was to get me away from the
bear. He told me the ledge sloped enough for me to hide myself. But
something happened, something changed. He began trying to pull me back
up.” Ezra slowly began to relive his own terrifying memory. “He was using
both hands in the beginning, but then he cried out and moved one hand back
across his body.”
“To his leg,” Buck added as a sickening
feeling washed over him. “That must have been when he was clawed. Oh,
Sweet Jesus, he must've felt it happen all over again.” A great nausea
washed over him. Just the thought of that kind of agony...
“There’s a lot more to this, I'm afraid. We
only have pieces. I think Chris only has pieces – tiny fragments from a
boy’s terrified mind. That’s why he’s feeling guilty. I don’t think he
knows what really happened, but if my suspicions are correct, I think I
know how he came to remember everything wrong,” Ezra said in a voice flush
with disgust.
“How?”
“Ask him.”
Buck hesitated but new better than to argue.
He returned to his knees, cleared his throat and lowered his voice.
“Chris? Son, we need to talk about what happened to Adam.”
“We don’t have to. I know it was my fault.”
Chris shrank away.
“Why? Why is it your fault?” he questioned
softly. “How could you even think that you just stood by and let your
brother die?”
Chris' eyes darted around distrustfully.
“Son, tell me what happened after the bear
chased you up here.”
“I-I put Adam over the edge of the cliff. He
should've been able to hang on,” Chris swallowed, “until the bear went
away.”
“But you didn’t go over with him,” Buck
prompted. “You stayed up top.”
“I thought I could lead the bear away,” he
looked away from his father’s shadow, “but there wasn’t time.”
Buck and Ezra watched in amazement and regret
as the tormented man began to frown and rub at his left leg. The frown
soon turned into a painful grimace and the rubbing intensified until
Chris’ fingers were digging into his own flesh. Buck reached out to stop
the hand from clawing, but Chris kicked out with his feet and scooted
along the boulder.
“Hurts… it hurts,” he mumbled.
“What, Chris? What hurts? What happened after
you got Adam out of the way?”
“The bear, I couldn’t get him away so I tried
to go with Adam… but he caught me…” He nearly gagged on the words. “He
pulled me down! I tried to go over the ledge, but he was on top of me! I
didn’t realize at first that he had me, my leg was just kind've numb. Then
I felt his breath on my neck. I tried to roll over, but I couldn’t. Oh
God, it hurts!”
“Chris, the bear’s gone. It’s all over, son!
Listen to me, it’s all over!” Buck's felt his heart might break.
“He’s not gone! He fell!”
“Who fell? Was it Adam, did Adam fall?”
“No. The bear. The ground crumbled beside me.
He was so heavy the ledge gave way.” He wrapped his arms around himself
and watched the shocking memories rush back.
“That’s good, the bear can’t hurt you now.”
“No, Pa, he’s after Adam!”
“What?”
“The bear didn’t die! He’s coming again, up
the side of the cliff. He’s coming after Adam! Adam, hold on!” He screamed
and grabbed at his leg. “Pa, you were right… I put him there, I let him
die!”
Ezra decided to intercede and moved quickly to
grab Chris’ right forearm. “You didn’t let me die, Chris! You tried to get
me back. You tried!”
Chris reluctantly glanced at the ghost before
him, his voice thick with grief. “I let you fall,” he cried.
“No you didn’t. Look at my arm. Look at what
you did trying to save my life.”
Ezra offered Chris his arm, remembering the
care he'd taken to tend it back in the cave. Now he understood. Adam’s arm
had been injured, torn open by Chris’ attempt to pull him to safety. It
had been the man’s last hold on the brother he loved. He shuddered at the
thought of how that last tug must have felt in Chris’ hand; that last
sudden jerk when the bear snatched him away and killed his prey, leaving
Chris to watch the whole gory scene.
Chris eyes wandered down to the hand that held
his. He felt its warmth before he actually saw the blood oozing from his
brother's flesh.
"You tried to hold on to me," Ezra said
softly.
He stared at the long grooves seeping blood on
the inside of Ezra's forearm for several seconds before he raised his own
hand to examine the red smears across his fingertips and the gooey
thickness trapped beneath his nails. The realization came slowly as it
struggled to pierce the layers of guilt that had grown around his heart,
but when it came it did so with great intensity. There was an overwhelming
rush from his gut to his head. Had
he tried to save his little brother? The rush slammed into him again. Oh
Dear God, had he? He gripped the hand in his and stared purposefully into
his brother's eyes. “Adam,” he said with sorrow, “forgive me.”
Ezra pulled his hand from Chris’ and placed it
on the peacekeeper’s neck. Then he looked into his friend’s tear-filled
eyes and whispered, “There’s nothing to forgive. You did all a man could
do and that makes me very proud you’re my brother.”
It
took a moment for absolution to seep into his heart, but when the truth
reached his brain, he fell into his brother’s embrace and cried.
PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5 / PART 6 / PART 7 / PART 8 / PART 9 / PART 11
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