Storm Warning (Magnificent Seven)
In his head Chris walked.
Step after step along the road.
There was nothing about it that felt right, nothing he truly understood. Either he was searching, or he was fleeing. It had to be one or the other, but he didn’t know which. He was just alone, walking, in the heavy open air.
The trail he followed was beaten flat and narrow under the strangely silent tread of his boots. Chris felt as if he’d trodden this same path more than once. On either side the scrubby grass stood prickled and pale, covered in hoar frost.
As he walked he felt the fast flow of anger through his veins. He was sure it was one reason he was here, but he didn’t quite want to think why that was. If there was good reason or if it was his own fault. He was afraid, too. The fear choked his mind and confused all his senses. Every so often he felt a strong urge to look behind, and when he did the movement made his chest hurt, burning fierce where the bullet had gone in. But he couldn’t not look, not turn his head, over his shoulder, the way he had come. She was still there, following. Even if he couldn’t see her, he knew she was there.
Vin was somewhere near, too.
Tanner had been very close before, so goddamned skittish and wary, but not prepared to go away. And if he’d been so close before, it stood to reason he’d still be close now. Didn’t it? Vin wouldn’t just leave him alone out here. Even when he was unsure and keeping his distance the man had hardly strayed from Chris’s side for weeks, although maybe he had plenty of reason to. And neither would the others leave him. Not Buck, not J.D., not any of them.
Chris felt his stomach turn over, and then over again, leaps of hope and doubt. Whatever they might have muttered amongst themselves, whatever their eyes had said when they slanted looks at him, they wouldn’t leave him now either. Would they?
Maybe they were close, too.
He tried to focus on shapes at the far side of the lake as he walked, but the silhouettes were only of the trees, a line of poplars etched dark against light. He looked harder, hoping to see something different, or to hear it. Holding out for the sound of hoofs, for a footfall, a familiar voice. Once or twice he almost caught something, a faint holler of welcome, but before it was really there the drone of the wind had blotted it out.
He let his steps slow then and stopped.
The whole landscape seemed familiar. Chris wasn’t sure if this was because he’d passed it before, on some kind of endless circuit, or if was a place he knew, somewhere from long ago. Either way something had happened since he’d first seen it. There’d been a war, a cataclysm that had scarred the peace and beauty. There were beloved bones here, burned and buried under the iron earth. Despite the breeze the surface of the lake was still and lumpen.
A chill, perhaps fear of what lay behind him or within him, tremored up his back and he shivered.
“Shush,” he scolded himself, although he couldn’t quite hear his own voice. “Be still.”
Creasing his brow he searched the far shore once again. For a familiar shape looming up from the mist between the trees perhaps. A horse and rider, or maybe two, maybe more, maybe even a whole six of them all in a line. There was nothing. Only the same as had been there before, had been there all along. Except now the oddly-canting trees, the yawning lake and its harsh colors, hurt his eyes. They made his head ache so hard he had to close them. Tight.
*
In the dark there was a hand against his brow. Chris jumped, felt an icy twitch of panic up his spine. But it was not the touch he dreaded.
He knew this.
Didn’t he?
It wasn’t soft and pacifying, a nurse, a sister, a mother. It wasn’t a wife, although his heart hurt to acknowledge that. But he thought it some kind of comfort nonetheless. The contact was strong, it was cool where his forehead was heated, yet gentle against the pounding of blood in his skull.
“Easy now,” a low voice said close by. There was an anger that matched his own, a sadness he didn’t understand, and a tenderness. “It’s just me. Lie quiet.”
Something about that slow, rough voice soothed him. The very unexpectedness of it. The faint accent out of its place. Just for a moment or two the heat and chill seemed to die away. He didn’t have to keep walking.
Until he opened his eyes and the fear and anger urged him on again.
*
He began along the road, the flat and narrow path. His steps, he knew, would take him back to the same place. Every so often he looked round and when he did the wound seared fiercer than ever. But he had to keep looking, back down the road, over his shoulder, the way he had come. She was still there, following. Even if he couldn’t see her yet, he knew she was nearly here.
Out of breath, he stopped at the lake.
The trees stood up straighter now, the surface of the water unmoving. And she was here, somewhere.
Ella Gaines.
She may have leaked out of the landscape, just like Vin had said, but it didn’t mean she was gone. No, she’d just leaked right out of the landscape and into the thin air.
Or else into the clouds, sitting low under the trees. The more Chris looked at them the more they seemed to spread down over the lake towards him. Lower and lower all the time, drifting ever closer.
They were gray, black, brown. Ugly with an oncoming storm.
Step after step along the road.
There was nothing about it that felt right, nothing he truly understood. Either he was searching, or he was fleeing. It had to be one or the other, but he didn’t know which. He was just alone, walking, in the heavy open air.
The trail he followed was beaten flat and narrow under the strangely silent tread of his boots. Chris felt as if he’d trodden this same path more than once. On either side the scrubby grass stood prickled and pale, covered in hoar frost.
As he walked he felt the fast flow of anger through his veins. He was sure it was one reason he was here, but he didn’t quite want to think why that was. If there was good reason or if it was his own fault. He was afraid, too. The fear choked his mind and confused all his senses. Every so often he felt a strong urge to look behind, and when he did the movement made his chest hurt, burning fierce where the bullet had gone in. But he couldn’t not look, not turn his head, over his shoulder, the way he had come. She was still there, following. Even if he couldn’t see her, he knew she was there.
Vin was somewhere near, too.
Tanner had been very close before, so goddamned skittish and wary, but not prepared to go away. And if he’d been so close before, it stood to reason he’d still be close now. Didn’t it? Vin wouldn’t just leave him alone out here. Even when he was unsure and keeping his distance the man had hardly strayed from Chris’s side for weeks, although maybe he had plenty of reason to. And neither would the others leave him. Not Buck, not J.D., not any of them.
Chris felt his stomach turn over, and then over again, leaps of hope and doubt. Whatever they might have muttered amongst themselves, whatever their eyes had said when they slanted looks at him, they wouldn’t leave him now either. Would they?
Maybe they were close, too.
He tried to focus on shapes at the far side of the lake as he walked, but the silhouettes were only of the trees, a line of poplars etched dark against light. He looked harder, hoping to see something different, or to hear it. Holding out for the sound of hoofs, for a footfall, a familiar voice. Once or twice he almost caught something, a faint holler of welcome, but before it was really there the drone of the wind had blotted it out.
He let his steps slow then and stopped.
The whole landscape seemed familiar. Chris wasn’t sure if this was because he’d passed it before, on some kind of endless circuit, or if was a place he knew, somewhere from long ago. Either way something had happened since he’d first seen it. There’d been a war, a cataclysm that had scarred the peace and beauty. There were beloved bones here, burned and buried under the iron earth. Despite the breeze the surface of the lake was still and lumpen.
A chill, perhaps fear of what lay behind him or within him, tremored up his back and he shivered.
“Shush,” he scolded himself, although he couldn’t quite hear his own voice. “Be still.”
Creasing his brow he searched the far shore once again. For a familiar shape looming up from the mist between the trees perhaps. A horse and rider, or maybe two, maybe more, maybe even a whole six of them all in a line. There was nothing. Only the same as had been there before, had been there all along. Except now the oddly-canting trees, the yawning lake and its harsh colors, hurt his eyes. They made his head ache so hard he had to close them. Tight.
*
In the dark there was a hand against his brow. Chris jumped, felt an icy twitch of panic up his spine. But it was not the touch he dreaded.
He knew this.
Didn’t he?
It wasn’t soft and pacifying, a nurse, a sister, a mother. It wasn’t a wife, although his heart hurt to acknowledge that. But he thought it some kind of comfort nonetheless. The contact was strong, it was cool where his forehead was heated, yet gentle against the pounding of blood in his skull.
“Easy now,” a low voice said close by. There was an anger that matched his own, a sadness he didn’t understand, and a tenderness. “It’s just me. Lie quiet.”
Something about that slow, rough voice soothed him. The very unexpectedness of it. The faint accent out of its place. Just for a moment or two the heat and chill seemed to die away. He didn’t have to keep walking.
Until he opened his eyes and the fear and anger urged him on again.
*
He began along the road, the flat and narrow path. His steps, he knew, would take him back to the same place. Every so often he looked round and when he did the wound seared fiercer than ever. But he had to keep looking, back down the road, over his shoulder, the way he had come. She was still there, following. Even if he couldn’t see her yet, he knew she was nearly here.
Out of breath, he stopped at the lake.
The trees stood up straighter now, the surface of the water unmoving. And she was here, somewhere.
Ella Gaines.
She may have leaked out of the landscape, just like Vin had said, but it didn’t mean she was gone. No, she’d just leaked right out of the landscape and into the thin air.
Or else into the clouds, sitting low under the trees. The more Chris looked at them the more they seemed to spread down over the lake towards him. Lower and lower all the time, drifting ever closer.
They were gray, black, brown. Ugly with an oncoming storm.