Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Play Me Some More of that Old Blues ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

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The slender figure stumbled again, falling against the side of a brick building. Lucky for him it was there, he'd have been on the ground otherwise. His hands trembled, and he clenched them together tightly. Sketchy memories fluttered through his newly awakened mind. He grasped a few, but like wind-blown grass blades, they slipped away again. One memory, however, remained sharp; a woman's voice.

 

“It was all just…a dream…”

 

A burning ache welled up in his chest, one not associated with his collection of scars.

 

She, this woman, was gone.

 

The man slid down the side of the building, landing heavily on the sidewalk. Various people walked back and forth before him, but none took notice of his demeanor, or his bedraggled state.

 

It was gone.

 

Like a serpent, another memory slithered inside. Eyes, burning with the hunger of a stalking wolf, stared into his own. A voice, laced with malice, snarled venom and demanded his life. Yet, he'd no longer had a life to give.

 

So what did he have now?

 

Tipping his head back, he stared up into the cobalt sky. There were no more answers above than below. If there was a God up there, he apparently found amusement in continuing this tragic comedy. His hands had stopped shaking, and he looked down at his palms. A small patch of skin on the outside edge of both trigger fingers was roughened; the result of firing handguns too many times. He wondered where his weapons were now.

 

A shadow covered him, and he glanced up. An old woman stood over him, holding out a single woolong note. “Go ahead, you look like you could use it.” He grimaced, then smiled abashedly, taking the bill. He started to thank her, but felt his throat tighten, cutting off speech. It made no difference; she'd already vanished into the crowd.

 

Sighing, he gathered his feet under himself. The trip up was a lot harder than the trip down had been. He had to lean against the building for several moments, sweating heavily and panting, while he waited for strength to return to him. Eventually, he pushed away from his support, forcing his wasted limbs to carry him onward.

 

Twenty minutes of struggle found him gasping under the shade of an awning. His thoughts had managed to solidify during his wavering walk, and the sequence of his former life played before him like a scratchy film. There was no sound, for he refused to hear it just now. Instead he saw only the grainy images of people he'd once known, and in a state of drunkenness, would have referred to as friends.

 

His eyes darkened as their faces were replaced by a flash of liquid light, reflections off a length of steel. The eyes that had always seemed cold, even when they were comrades, now glowed with the red anger of insanity. The voice burst in his head before he could stop it.

 

“Why don't you just DIE!”

 

He grasped his head, as if doing so could repress the memory. He'd known it was over then. Hell, he'd known it was over that day, that day he'd first seen her. Maybe there'd still been something of optimism in him; yeah, even that late in the game. Three strikes and you're out, right? Strike one; he meets the woman of his dreams. Strike two; the woman of his dreams happens to be the girlfriend of his best buddy. Strike three; his best buddy finds out. A bad situation for anyone, but a lot worse if the people involved happen to belong to a high profile syndicate. Even so, he'd thought, he'd hoped…

 

“I'm leaving… I want you to come with me…”

 

Blood and ashes, all that remained of that dream. His eyes tracked the movements on the street. So far, no one had even noticed him. Well, that hadn't changed from before. He'd had a habit of going unnoticed until he wanted to be seen.

 

A burning pain in his gut reminded him that the last meal he could remember eating had probably been a plate of sautéed bell peppers. How many lifetimes had passed since then?

 

He felt in his pocket for the money card, and found the woolong bill instead. Well, shouldn't let that go to waste!

 

Forty-five minutes later, he leaned on one arm against the side of a wall and retched violently. No solid foods, he'd forgotten that, and his intestines now felt like they were crawling into the back of his throat. But, God, those carnitas had tasted so good! His stomach jumped again and he heaved, nearly collapsing with the sudden wave of exhaustion. Pushing away from the wall, he tripped over a crumpled box and nearly lost his footing. He opened his mouth to curse, but the words were high-pitched and reedy. He clenched his teeth instead.

 

With his stomach voided he felt weak, and saw that his hands were trembling again. It had been over an hour since he left the… what had that place been anyhow? Shaking his head, and regretting the motion, he sat down on the box that had nearly tripped him up a few moments ago. An unfamiliar sensation was washing through him while he sat on his box. Always, always before he'd had a goal. Granted, that goal had cost him dearly, but it had been something. Since he'd left the syndicate, all he'd wanted was to recapture that moment of perfection he'd found with her. He never wanted to face down his enemies, had never wanted to meet for that final bloody showdown. Yet, it seemed… he shook his head. He never believed in destiny, fate, or any of that `profound' crap. What happened, happened. And now, it seemed, his survival had happened… again.

 

Why?

 

The question was like a raw wound. What was so important in this existence that kept pulling him back in? There was nothing in this life. Struggle, that's what it was. Life was a series of days; wake up, eat something (if you were lucky), hunt a bounty, smoke a cigarette, take a nap, go to bed. What the hell was the point? What were they trying to get to? In the end, you're just a corpse. Whether it happened now or fifty years from now, what difference did it make?

 

“I will not have your death on my hands, not after fighting so hard to save it.”

 

He rubbed his face. Hell of a thing, loosing your voice. Made you think more than was healthy. He'd never been this melodramatic before, it was making him sick… actually, no, it was the carnitas again. Turning just in time, he vomited, coughing dryly before flopping on his side. That's right, life really was worth living.

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Chester glanced at the figure beside him. The child had babbled almost nonstop for twenty minutes before grabbing up a strange computer and typing furiously. Returning his gaze to the road, the man sighed nervously. Four hours had passed since he'd picked up his traveling companion, make that `companions', he corrected mentally at the soft woof from the back seat. The only words he'd really comprehended had been the demand that he drive the two to Anchorage, Alaska. When he'd protested, the furry beast in the back had begun snarling, baring its fangs and eyeing up Chester's arm. So, here he was, driving like a maniac towards a distant shore. He studied the sign ahead.

 

PALMER 36 MILES

 

Well, not too much farther. Anchorage was the next big stop after Palmer. Once there, he could dispose of his unwanted cargo and get the hell out of here! And if his father wouldn't let him fly the zip craft, he'd walk from now on!

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Night cloaked the city in darkness. He awoke to pain gnawing him from the inside out. He bit his lip to hold in a groan, and forced his eyes open. He was lying on that same piece of cardboard he'd collapsed on earlier. Another spasm clenched his gut, twisting like a knife and leaving him breathless. When the agony finally subsided, he pushed himself up on his arms, feeling the fatigue draining his energy away through his fingertips. He realized he was thirsty. He shook his head slowly; thirsty was an understatement. What he was experiencing was closer to drought.

 

Crawling to the wall of a nearby building, he pulled himself up to balance on shaking legs. Hiking up his pants, he adjusted the dials on his leg braces, waiting for a few moments until he felt the artificial strength return. Tentatively, he took a small step. He remained on his feet. With a small measure of relief, he left the alley.

 

As he walked down the street amidst the scattering of pedestrians, he studied the signs and buildings around him, trying to establish where the hell he was. Not Earth, that was obvious by the lack of enormous craters, not to mention the fact that all the buildings were intact. It wasn't Mars; he knew his home planet like the back of his hand. He looked up into the sky, and saw only stars above; nope, not Jupiter either. His face appeared blank, yet behind his eyes, his mind was racing. He thought he knew most of the inhabited planets and asteroids quite well; he'd chased bounties on nearly all of them. He paused outside a sparsely lit establishment. There was no sign on the outside, yet he recognized it for what it was. With any luck, he could get some information inside. If nothing else, he could get something to drink.

 

If possible, it was darker inside than out. The murkiness was accentuated by the mist of dull smoke that floated through the room; it smelled like heaven. The bartended barely glanced at the newcomer, save to take his drink order. He may have quirked an eyebrow at the request for `just water', but made no comment on it as he filled a thick glass to the top. The man took the glass quickly, managing to spill a few drops before pouring the soothing liquid down his throat. He drank two more glasses before finally ordering something that cost more than time. While he drank, he casually observed the bar. Not many people seemed to be out this time of night. Granted, the bar was pretty seedy. There was no music, not even an ancient jukebox. There was little, if any, conversation taking place either. The only activity seemed to be with a group of four men playing cards in the corner. Mismatched eyes returned to the bartender. “Yo.” He said, noticing that his voice seemed less scratchy than before. The heavy-set man tending the bar finished filling a tall glass for another customer before ambling over to the newcomer.

 

“Need another refill?”

 

The stranger shook his head. “This is probably gonna sound really strange, but you see, my buddies decided to play a practical joke on me and strand me somewhere I wouldn't recognize. As it is, I don't even know what planet I'm on!” The bartender was, indeed, giving him an unusual look. No matter. He'd have gotten an even stranger look if he'd told him something closer to the truth. `Yeah, I just woke up after being half dead for who knows how long… and I have no idea where I am!' Oh yeah, that would've been real smooth.

 

He realized the bartender was speaking.

 

“…not be real good buddies if you ask me. In fact, I'd wager they aren't friends of yours at all.”

 

The man looked up in confusion, and the bartender continued. “You aren't on a planet, you're on Pandora. I regret to inform you that you won't be leaving here anytime soon. In fact, unless you have a personal craft in your pants, you won't ever be leaving here.”

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After leaving the bar, he made his way to a shabby establishment that appeared to be some sort of hotel. Unsurprisingly, he was one of only three patrons. A sagging woman behind the counter took his money card without a word, extracting a small amount to cover the room before sliding it back to him across the scarred counter top.

 

Once behind the closed door, he stripped off his shirt and sank into the shabby cot that was the only furniture. Just as he was passing to sleep, he noted that the sky was already beginning to lighten outside his greasy window. Then exhaustion took him and he thought no more about it.

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A N: Not much of a cliffhanger, but then, they can't all be I suppose! As always, you reviewers are the greatest people on earth! I feel very encouraged to keep working on this! Sorry about the sorta long wait for this update, but work had me busy for a few days. Anyhow, in case any of you are curious, here's the skinny on where Spike is.

 

Pandora is one of the moons around Saturn. Its revolution is 15hours and 5minutes. It was discovered in 1980, and has no atmosphere. Though it is heavily cratered, for the purposes of this story, it's been terraformed to create livable conditions.