Part 31 

“Dear Lord!”  Ezra scrambled into the small room and urgently started digging back the sand where Larabee had vanished. His shoulder rebelled against the treatment, but he ignored the throbbing ache; a little pain was nothing compared to a life of a friend.  He scooped the sand frantically in every direction, but it made little impression.  There was no trace of the gunslinger.  Chris Larabee was gone.  

This can’t be real!  How does a grown man sink into the ground?   How would he explain Chris’ absence to Vin, and the others?  How did they get him back?  And was he alive?  NO…Larabee had to be alive, and until he was provided with proof otherwise, he would accept no other possibility. Ezra shuddered recalling the last expression on Chris’ face as it was covered over in sand ─ the gunman was absolutely terrified!  Once Chris let go, Ezra felt Larabee’s fingers slipping.  And his body had disappeared within seconds of their connection breaking, and even as Chris was disappearing, Standish had been making a second grab to restore their connection.  He hadn’t wanted to break the hold…but in the end he’d had no choice.  Then he was gone.  Ezra buried his hand through the top layers and wriggled it down until his shoulder was lying flat on the surface, but he could only feel sand.  It pressed around his arm like a glove and he could hardly move it in any direction.  “Chris, where are you?” 

Standish removed his arm and looked about in panic, his eyes wild and tense.   His gaze rounded on the tracker, curled on his side and resting peacefully. He winced uncomfortably, his gut queasy as he thought about Tanner’s reaction.  What would Vin do in this situation?  He considered rousing the younger man, but couldn’t bring himself to do so.  He tore his gaze away, disgusted with himself.  What was he going to do? The others wouldn’t forgive him if he gave up so easily, but what more could he do?  He stumbled back numbly, frustrated and worried, scrubbing at his damp face with his knuckles.  Don’t run out on me again!  He heard the words in his mind and fell onto his knees.  “What the hell do I do?” he screamed, his accent thick and full of emotion.   

A shadow passed by the window outside and Ezra jumped to his feet, scrambling for the door and palming his Remington.  He glanced once at Tanner, but figured he’d be safer inside.  Besides, Ezra would be limited to how much ground he could cover if he had to support Vin’s broken leg.  The wind tugged at the door, and whistled through the opening and through the gambler’s clothing.  The wind chilled his face and hands and he shivered.  Vin moaned in his sleep and rolled over on his back, unconsciously tugging the blanket up under his chin.  Even in his pain-induced sleep the cold was affecting Vin.  Standish stepped over the threshold and deliberately closed the door behind him.  He stood with his back to the shack undecided over which path he should take.  His anger and, in his mind, incompetence, was returning full force.  If he could have held on…just a while longer…perhaps…but no…it was too late now.  “You bastard, what have you done with him?” Standish bolted into the night, tripping over rocks and the uneven ground.  “Chris!”  Which way?  Where was he?   

The wind buffeted around him, stirring up dust and small twigs and whistling eerily. It sent the wispy clouds drifting across the sky, hiding the full moon at times, and creating more shadows and gloom.  Ezra spun about trying to look in every direction, even up at the heavens.  He took a step forward and several to the side, still he couldn’t determine where to go.  “I propose an exchange…take me in Chris’ place,” he shouted into the wind.  He knew it was a futile offer, who would trade Larabee for a common gambler?  He waited, resisting the temptation to recall the offer; he could feel the monster’s gaze upon his person, the unnatural atmosphere only added to his tension. 

“Please, please, don’t be dead, Chris,” Ezra said softly.  He paused by the trunk of the tree, its leaves rustling in the wind.  He gasped, the colour draining from his face.  Larabee’s gunbelt hung abandoned in the branches.  Ezra jumped away from the sycamore, and cautiously checked out the overhanging branches.  He reached up for the belt, stretching up on his toes and just touching it with his fingertips.  “Hell!”  He yanked back his hand, staring mutely at the narrow streak of blood on the back of his hand.  He grabbed for the gunbelt and sprinted back to the shack. 

Ezra tossed the gunslinger’s weapon on the floor.  He vaguely noticed the bundle on the floor, but didn’t bother to investigate further…there would be time for recriminations later when Tanner was awake.  He couldn’t face that yet.  But what if Chris was still out there?  How would he defend himself now that he was unarmed? Standish sighed deeply, pacing in the small enclosure.  This wasn’t the first time he’d failed Larabee, but it was definitely his biggest blunder.  He stopped pacing and leaned his head forlornly into the wall, angry and disappointed with himself.  He stood that way for five minutes.  It took that length of time for the raspy sounds to reach his ears, and the warm breath that touched the back of his neck. He straightened slightly, but the movement was insignificant at best.  Dear Lord…the spectre had followed him inside.  Damn!  He’d brought the monster inside, and now he’d pay the price. And Vin, unable to even defend himself… 

A hand grasped his shoulder, pinching his tender muscles in the previously dislocated shoulder.  He squelched a moan, but the weight tightened.  Ezra plucked up the nerve and glanced at the hand, a black jacket covered past the fingertips.  A nervous tick moved over his cheek, and a shudder raced along his spine.   

Part 32 

Chris screamed.  The sand in his mouth choked him, grinding under his teeth.  It filled his nostrils, scratched at his eyes and pressed against his chest.  It surrounded him completely and he couldn’t move.  The tugging force that had bound his legs together had relented; there was only a slight ache left in his ankles.  It didn’t help his situation though as he couldn’t move a muscle.  The sand had buried him alive.  It was dark and his heartbeat galloped wildly. Hell, he didn’t want to face death like this.  God it hurt!  How long could he hold his breath?   Sarah? Help!   

And then the sand wasn’t surrounding him.  His legs were free and the sand was gone and he could breathe.  It felt good to move his arms and legs, but that sense of freedom quickly dimmed.  Without the sand holding him in place, he fell.  His legs peddled, kicking out while his hands groped and clasped for a handhold to break his fall.  But there was nothing. “Argggggggg!” he screamed, ripping the very last miniscule of air from his lungs.  His throat burned and his stomach heaved with queasiness.  He fell ¾ seconds, minutes, or hours …he couldn’t hazard a guess.  The only thought that pressed on his mind was how painful the landing was going to be.  He hoped the end would be quick. 

He fell, and fell and all the while Chris tried to keep his feet turned to the ground.  But the gravity that pulled him down also kept spinning him about.  He’d run out of breath to scream and with the sense of suffocating still so close to his thoughts he panicked, which only sent him into a head-spinning tumble.  His stomach gurgled and bile rose to his throat.  Waves of nausea and light-headedness became the centre of his whole world.  The end came as a jolt, his body entering a dark pool of water with a splash.  He speared though the water, catapulting toward the bottom, but he never reached it.  He swallowed a mouthful of water before his mind even realised he should be swimming against the downward spiral.  Bubbles surged from his nostrils, as he finally kicked into gear and pushed towards the surface.   

Chris broke the glassy surface, gasping audibly as he swam to the edge.  He climbed out of the pool, dripping wet and exhausted.  He’d landed in a cavern, but bars separated him off from the other side.  “Hello?” he called out hesitantly and his voice echoed and returned ominously.  He peered out into the semi-dark room that was illuminated by torches and grimaced. This is not good!  He gripped the iron bars and shook them violently, looking upwards and frowning at the ceiling that was only a dozen or more feet above.  “Where the hell did that come from?”  How could he have fallen when there was a ceiling above him?  And where had all the sand gone? He shivered in his wet clothing, and hugged his arms around his chest, attempting to retain some of his body heat. 

“Ezra?  Vin?  Can anyone hear me?”  Chris shouted up at the roof, hoping one of them could hear him.  Standish was probably a mess by now, not knowing if Chris was still alive.  Ezra had been frightened, Chris had seen it on his face; he hadn’t thought Standish would ever put himself out on a limb like that, but that was the second, or third, time in a matter of hours he’d done so for Chris.  And Larabee had no idea where he was.  He could only assume he was below the shack.  If that was the case, reckon they’ll hear gunfire.  “What the hell?” he exclaimed feeling the belt, holster and Colt missing from his side for the first time. How had that disappeared without him noticing? He was unaccustomed with how exposed he felt by the absence of his Colt.  And he’d be reduced to relying on his brute strength and his wits, but would that be enough? 

Chris paced inside a cell; three-feet wide and dozen feet long, backed by a pool of water.  The outer cavern was lit with several torches, the meagre glow failing to completely enlighten his surrounds inside his cell. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, and quickly glanced out into the cavern for signs of life - but he couldn’t hear or see anything – he shucked out of his boots and without hesitation dived in the pool.  Hell, he was still wet anyway.  The mirrored surface crinkled with ripples as he swam to the back wall - which was solid rock and reached all the way up to the roof.  He paddled on top of the surface and spanned the length of the cave.  “Come on…it’s gotta be here somewhere,” he muttered, searching for a means of escape. Chris dove under the surface, and continued his search.  He swam down several feet and with no light below the surface he was forced to use his hands as a guide around the bowl-like sides of the pool.  He went around the pool in that fashion, taking a deeper route on each turn, but there was no passageway leading off from the pool.  But that didn’t stop Larabee’s determination and, after he’d returned to the surface for the sixth or seventh time, he dove again going deeper and deeper until his head was beginning to spin.  He returned to the surface, gasping and feeling woozy and generally disappointed.  “Damn.”  Larabee folded his arms on the floor of the cell, his body languid in the water.  “Has to be a way out.” 

Part 33 

“Ezra?” Vin squeezed the gambler’s shoulder with concern.   

“Vin?” he sighed in relief, almost staggering into the tracker as he turned around. Vin was wearing Larabee’s black jacket…how odd. “How did…you should be resting.” Ezra drew away, wondering how Vin would react this time.  Tanner was walking about on his broken leg again…to Standish that implied Vin was in a trance again.  And he wasn’t in a good frame of mind to coax and be gentle.  If Vin were going to attack him, he would not hold back.   

“Where’s Larabee?” Vin asked looking about the room. 

Ezra found the words difficult to form.  “He’s gone.” 

“Gone where?”   

“Just gone!” Ezra stormed past, throwing his hands up into the air.  He kicked Chris’ gun against the wall hoping Vin hadn’t seen the weapon.  He turned around, coming face to face with Tanner, and had to take a step backwards.  “Ah, Vin…Your leg?  Isn’t it advisable to elevate it?” 

“It ain’t too bad…” He watched as Ezra drew back from him again.  “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, Ezra.  Look, I’m real sorry ‘bout clippin’ ya b’fore, but I didn’t mean it…hell I don’t even remember it.” 

Standish arched a single eyebrow upwards.  “Pardon?” 

“Well, I hit ya…I figured that was why yer shying away from me…?” 

“You hit me?” 

“Ah…that’s what Larabee told me…said I came at him with a knife, too.  Reckon I don’t remember that either.” 

“Oh.”  Vin knocked him out?  He must have missed that piece of information…Larabee hadn’t informed him.  “Don’t concern yourself overly…you weren’t yourself.”  Ezra gently rubbed his arm where Vin’s knife had cut him.  Obviously Chris hadn’t informed Tanner that he’d actually injured Ezra. Well, he wasn’t about to tell Vin. The bandage was hidden beneath his jacket, so Vin wouldn’t be any the wiser.  He could feel the dampness through his coat, and when he turned his hand over there was blood between his fingers.   He looked up into Tanner’s blue eyes, and hastily lowered his.  As if he had all the time in the world, Standish wiped his hand on a linen handkerchief and stowed it back in his pocket. 

Vin frowned.  Why was Ezra bleeding?  And why was he hiding it?  “Yeah…that’s what Larabee said.  So, where is he?”  

Ezra sighed.  “I don’t know.” 

“Come again?” 

“I said, I don’t know!  The ground swallowed him whole.”  As if Vin was going to believe that, but he had wanted an answer.   

Tanner limped up behind Standish and swung him around.  Every step he took on his busted leg was agony, but damn if he was going to let that limit him.  He’d been lying around far too long as it was.  “You ain’t makin’ a lick of sense.” 

“There…” he pointed at the hidden room Larabee had discovered.  “Inside that crypt, Chris disappeared through the floor!  It had too strong a hold on him, and I couldn’t pull him back out.”   

Vin reached out to the distraught gambler, but Ezra reacted warily and moved away.  Fine, don’t trust me.  If he had to earn back that right, then he’d do just that.  He limped to the room and pried back the door.  He swallowed convulsively and wiped his hand down his face and grimaced.  “Ugly cuss.” 

“No! Don’t go inside!” 

Vin glanced back at Ezra, seeing the terror that had seized him.  “J’st takin’ a look.  Ain’t goin’ in.” 

“Splendid.” 

Vin regarded the room sceptically.  Broken pottery was scattered about on the hard packed floor and innards spilled between the cracked jars.  The corpse slumped in a pile.  “How did Larabee disappear?” 

“Through the floor…he sank into the sand.  I attempted to dig him out afterwards, but it…” 

Vin scratched his head.  “Ain’t no sand here, Ezra.” 

 “What?”  Standish pushed aside the tracker.  He frowned, shaking his head in befuddlement.  “No…No…there was sand on this floor…and the canisters were on that shelf…” 

“That shelf ain’t likely ta hold up anything no more.”   

“Indeed,” Ezra answered numbly, studying the two halves of the ledge broken on the floor.   

Vin closed off the fetid room.  “That Larabee’s gunbelt?” 

“After Chris disappeared, I ventured outside…in the hope of finding him…and discovered it hanging in the branches of a tree.”  He watched as Tanner hobbled over and picked it up. 

“Reckon I’ve had about enough of this shit!” 

Ezra’s lips twitched slightly.  “What do you suggest?” 

“Find Chris and go home.” 

“Amen to that.” 

“Right after we finish off that bastard!” 

Part 34 

Chris Larabee sat on the stone prison floor, cold and miserable.  There was only so much patience he could extend his guard…for he was certain there was one on the opposite side of the grill.  But no matter how much he’d shouted and ranted, even attempted to heckle the mysterious…creature, so far he’d yet to lay eyes on him.  He’d grown irritable and desperate, formulating elaborate escapes while he passed the time.   

Muted light from the touches reached inside his cell and brought with it a frightening chill. He glanced out into the sinister cavern, his breath catching while he furtively examined the room.  He ignored the narrow table that took up prime position and cast his eyes over the symbol on the floor instead.  The same one that had been drawn around the gambler inside the shack.  A pentagram, Ezra had called it.  Josiah had claimed it was a symbol of the devil.  His eyes narrowed, considering how this situation was going to unfold.  Larabee buried his head on his knees.   

He revisited the room within his mind’s eye, giving it due consideration.  Large thick columns reached from the floor to the ceiling, they were spaced fairly regularly and Chris could count at least eight; their purpose appeared nothing more than to give support to the ceiling.  A set of stairs led off into the dark; he could only assume that they would take him up to the surface, and a large arched door sealed another possible exit.  Chris reluctantly allowed his mind to pan back across the room to the narrow table, and his breathing quickened.  Above it was a row of unlit candles evenly spaced along a narrow ledge.  His mouth ticked involuntarily and he interlocked his fingers, wrapping them around his shins.  He could only assume this was some sort of chamber reserved for sacrifices.  Hell, what trouble had he landed into? 

Chris snapped his head up…the prison door sprang open with a squeal, the whine grated on his already taut nerves.  His mouth hung open, perturbed all the while as he leant forward searching the shadows and empty corners, wondering how his cell had opened.  Only the eerie presence of dread filled his soul.  “What the hell…” The gunslinger slowly climbed to his feet and tentatively stepped from his prison, but startled back a pace when the row of candles along the far wall came to life.  He gripped the bars of the cell, staggered as the room continued to explode into light.  Lanterns, candles and torches he hadn’t been able to see in the gloom, now shone brightly.  He shielded his eyes, blinded by the light.  “How…?” he whispered, dreading leaving his cell.   

He glanced at the stone stairs and channelling energy to his cold and stiffened limbs he sprinted, for what he hoped, was an escape.  The call for escape was very clear.  His legs pumped and his boots pounded on the granite floor.  Gonna make it!  But then, nothing is ever that straightforward.  Chris almost reached the steps, but skidded to a stop.  His exit was blocked, and now he stood within reach of the dark-hooded tormenter and his blood ran cold.  Goddamn it!  Where had he come from?   

Larabee retreated, his eyes never leaving the dark nemesis.  His hand automatically searching for his gun, but it brushed over vacant space.  The hooded creature leisurely took a step forward and Chris’ heart drummed frantically under his ribs, swelling as blood rapidly entered and expelled from the organ.  Chris held up his hand in vain, attempting to fend off the spectre, but he glided down the stairs and came within a hair’s breath.   Chris staggered backwards, his eyes roaming frantically as his breaths came in gasps.  He went with the fall and wheeled around, racing for the opposite side of the room.  “Ahhhhh!” he screamed, his shoulder burning with agony as he was catapulted several yards through the air and landed heavily on the floor.  “Urgh,” he moaned, levering himself up.  Chris looked behind, and seeing the flash of metal coming at him, he rolled to his right, drawing up his legs and seeking protection from under the sacrificial table.  The blade glanced across the granite floor and sparks flew up from the connection. 

Taking a deep breath, Chris rolled out the opposite side.   He stumbled as he found his feet, and needed to steady himself with his hand.  He hunkered below the table and kept it between him and the killer.  The heavy blade slashed through the gloomy cavern interior and hit resoundingly on the table.  Chris jumped back, panting.  He looked up searching for a face beneath the dark hood.  The killer lifted the blade high above his head and Chris stepped away from the table, giving it a mighty push.  It fell with a crash, and Chris dashed for the arched doorway in the moment of confusion.  He knocked the candles off the ledge and threw the torch out of the holder and behind him.  But as Larabee reached for the handle of the door, his feet were pulled out from under him.  He fell, his chin crashing into the ground hard and his vision blurring as he was dragged back to the centre of the room. 

Part 35 

Larabee kicked out struggling against the powerful hold.  His hands clawed along the stone tiles, arms flailing as he was dragged backwards against his will.  He passed the broken table and managed to snag a piece of the table’s leg.  His lips thinned, and his face turned to stone as he twisted, bringing the lump of wood around and connecting solidly with the killer.  It seemed to squelch through the black-hooded spectre, but he did release Larabee.  Chris was up and running for his escape.  For his life. 

Chris bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  He slogged up the steps not looking behind or pausing when the stairs levelled out into a narrow corridor.  The passageway enclosed around him, he could feel the cool press of stone and he fought the urge to return to the wide-open space of the cavern.  More stairs appeared in front of him that would take him up ever higher; he didn’t hesitate, but did climb more languidly.   

He slowed to a jog, resisting the fatigue, hunger, burning muscles and winded lungs, but it was fear of what was back in the cavern that kept him moving.  His eyes were becoming accustomed to the erratic light in the tunnel.  Every twenty or thirty feet there was a torch in a bracket on the wall.  As the gunslinger came within a few steps of the torch it would instantly hiss and a flame would appear.  Sometimes he would be totally in the dark and other times there would be light up and down both ends of the passage.  Chris had no idea where he was going, but he still ran; up the stone stairs, and along the narrow tunnel. 

Larabee huffed, coming to a set of stairs, he glanced behind him and he could see torches extinguish, disappearing while he watched.  A distant grumbling sound came through the tunnel, but while he stood and listened the sound sped up, until the groaning wail was all around him and reverberating in the narrow enclosure.  The walls shook with the resonance and Chris was thrown off balance.  The moaning echoed inside the tunnel and swallowed all other sounds.  He leaned into the wall, grimacing, as the sound grew louder pressing his hands over his ears, until he crumbled to his knees, incapacitated by the high pitched scream.   

Chris rocked on his knees, his head clasped protectively in his hands; with each forward movement his forehead touched the floor.  The screaming cacophony howled inside his ears, his hands a futile barrier against the harsh wail.  And his mind swarmed with confusion, his limbs uncooperative, and a single tear spilled from under clenched eyelids.  Get up!  Now, Larabee!  Chris crawled forward, his own voice finding sound and he shouted back, attempting to drain out the noise, but his cry went unheard even to him.    “Got to…keep going…need to…find a way out.”  He pulled his feet around and made an effort to stand using the stone walls as a guide.  He’d been motionless for a while and all the torches had diminished leaving him in total darkness.  The blackness seemed to accentuate the piercing scream.  He placed a foot in front of the other and followed it with a wobbly step.  He took six faltering steps in the dark before the torch on the wall flared.  The light had returned once more, but his ears were still ringing and the screaming continued.  

Larabee’s progress had slowed, but he was optimistic about having escaped.  There seemed to be no pursuit.  The dreadful clamour still consumed the tunnel, but the level had dropped a fraction.  Perhaps he was far enough away.  He’d come to the end of the passageway and only a wooden door barred it.  He only paused to recapture his breath before pushing it open.  “What the hell?”  Chris glanced around and swore.  “NO!” he shouted angrily. 

Part 36 

How was this possible? He’d returned to the cavern…after climbing all those stairs and running through the narrow tunnel, he had returned to the same room he’d escaped from.  No wonder there hadn't been a chase. Chris glanced at the tunnel on the opposite side of the room, the one he’d used to make his escape…there was no point going that way again.  There had to be another way out… It was only a fleeting thought before Chris’ side seared with pain.  “Aargg!”  

Larabee fell with the blow, his hand automatically seeking the wound; blood spilling out between his fingers.  He’d landed on his back and dared not move with the hooded killer standing over the top of him.  He glared up at his tormentor.   “You’ll have to work on yer aim if ya plan on killin’ me,” he taunted. 

“I will have no difficulty,” he predicted arrogantly.   

“Damn!  It talks!” Larabee hissed sarcastically, and knew the taunt had reached its mark when the killer swung his heavy sword at the gunslinger again.  Chris scrambled on the floor only saving himself from another strike by seconds.  He raced for the overturned and broken table, kicking at one of the legs until it was free.  He turned about and faced the killer, holding the lump of wood in his hands and brandishing it like a sword in his defence.  “Come on…” 

Pieces of wood flew out of Larabee’s weapon each time the black nemesis brought down his sword.  With each stroke Chris’ arms quaked under the violent attack, his arms and shoulders barely managing to keep the blade from hitting his flesh.  His side ached in agony; he’d do anything to prevent the blade from connecting with him again.  But even with this determination, he lost ground with every arc of the killer’s swing.   

Chris circled the room, desperately searching for a weapon he might use and his hazel eyes fell on an ornamental timber pole that held up a shelf.  “Missed,” he goaded, ducking under the head high assault.   His gaze wandered back to the pole…there were two, one on each side.  The wood had been turned and shaped, but the part that held some promise was the narrowed point at the end – almost like a spear – if only he could reach it…   

Larabee swung the thick table leg, blocking the stroke of the blade, and allowing the killer to push him back towards his goal.  The next stroke cut Chris’ weapon in half, and the killer laughed, a callous screech that chilled his bones.  He threw the remaining piece into the spectre’s face and made for the turned shaft.  He pulled it off the wall with a grunt and swung it around in time to meet the next assault.   

“It is almost time.” 

“Yeah?”  Chris jabbed the sharp end of his spear and it disappeared beneath the killer’s hood.  He pulled it back out as quickly as it had gone in.  The creature screamed, throwing back his head and ranting.  His hood fell off and Larabee shuddered, his stomach knotting with repulsion.  He stood motionless; almost waiting to see what effect the injury would have on the spectre.  If anything, Chris had only made it furious.  It came at him with more vigour and strength than he could defend against and subsequently lost his footing, landing square on his backside.  The wooden spear clattered on the stone floor. 

Chris stared up into the grotesque face, his hands working fervently to find the spear.  He watched in slow motion as the sword lifted high, and pleaded that this time would be the last.  He waited for the spectre to step forward, while his hands found and wrapped securely around the stem of his would-be spear.  Larabee took a deep breath, and surged up with the pole.  His aim was true and it slammed into the killer’s chest.  The sword dropped with a clamour.   

An immense torturous howl filled the cavern and the walls shook.  The body beneath the black cloak disappeared before Larabee’s eyes, leaving only the dark cloth to flutter to the floor, spreading out over the demonic symbol etched in the stone.   

------- 

“What the hell was that?” Tanner asked, frowning at the terrible wailing noise.   

Ezra drew his Remington, and pointed at the room.  “It came from in there.” 

“Reckon we oughta check it out.” 

Standish nodded in agreement and elbowed past the injured Texan.  He pulled back the exposed wall section and his breath dropped to his stomach.  “Oh my…Good God!” 

Vin limped awkwardly up behind the gambler and leant against him.  His leg was still paining him considerably, but he didn’t want to concern Standish further.   “How in the hell did…Hell if I understand what’s goin’ on here, Ezra.” 

The Southerner cupped his mouth in his hand and swallowed convulsively.  The corpse was pinned to the wall writhing; a wooden spear protruded from its chest cavity, the point disappeared into the wall at its back.  Something oozed from around the spear’s penetration, something that looked distinctly like blood. Ezra gulped, his face paling as he made eye contact with the undead creature.  The cadaver’s face wretched and contorted in pain, its withered hands grasping at the weapon, loosening the connection that held it against the wall.  “This seems rather improbable…”  

“Shit!”  Vin grabbed hold of Ezra’s coat and swung him around.  They both crashed to the ground, Tanner screaming as his broken leg twisted in the splints as he fell.  “Close the door!” 

Part 37 

Standish was up on his feet in an instant.  He put all his weight onto the door; his previously dislocated shoulder pressing into the wooden panels.  He grunted, boots slipping in the earthen floor.  The door rattled and bulged with the force applied from the opposite side.  “I can’t hold it,” he rasped.   

“Hang on,” Tanner urged, attempting to get upright, although the agony showed on his face. 

“Vin!” Ezra almost fell over when a withered arm and hand flailed out through the crack.  “Dear Lord!” 

“J’st for a while longer, Ezra.”  Tanner staggered, thumbing open Larabee’s Colt.  Five bullets.  “Where’s my gun?” 

Standish shoved harder, while attempting to stay out of reach of the creature’s hands. His forehead beaded with perspiration, his shoulder burned and his wound split open and bled under the bandage.  It took a moment for Tanner’s words to register.  “Inside the fireplace.” 

Vin arched his eyebrows and glanced at the fire.  There were only embers left in the hearth.  “M’ bullets?”  Surely they wouldn’t have left the gun loaded. 

Standish looked down.  “My …pocket.” 

“Toss ‘em.” 

“Easy…for you…to...say.”  The gambler turned around keeping his back planted firmly against the bucking door and dug the cartridges from his jacket pocket and threw them across to Vin.  “Oomph!”  Ezra was jolted unexpectedly away from the wall and the corpse pushed through the gap.  Standish was on his back foot, but quickly adjusted and lunged forward, slamming the monster between the wall and the door, trapping it half in and half out of the room.  It howled, throwing its head back and screaming; the pitch of the cry had both Ezra and Vin wincing.  Dead flesh stretched and crackled over bones, and its mouth worked viciously as teeth hungered after the gambler’s flesh.  Ezra brought up a fist and hit the undead creature in the face.  His stomach lurched when his hand splintered through the skull.  “Ugg.” 

“Okay, Ezra.”  Vin had collected his sawn-off Winchester from the fireplace, but it was too hot to handle, so he returned it to his holster.  He’d use Larabee’s Peacemaker first and hope he could load his quickly enough when he needed it. 

“Finally,” Standish hissed, lunging for the ground and rolling out of the way, allowing the door to open widely.  Several bullets from Larabee’s Colt slammed into the corpse as it came into view.   

“Whoo!  Take that you ugly bastard!” 

Ezra rolled and took up the attack when Vin stopped in order to reload his own weapon.   The corpse jerked with the entry of each bullet and staggered under the combined assault, falling back inside the room.  It lay unmoving and finally appeared to be defeated.   

“Do ya reckon it’s dead?” 

Ezra slammed the door closed and faced the tracker.  “That is difficult to determine, under the circumstances, but if I were to hazard a guess - I’d say, no.”  Last time, bullets had little effect on the spectre.  He doubted that they had seen the last of it.  It might be down for the moment, but how long would that last? 

“That’s what I figured.  Reckon we oughta burn this place to the ground.” 

That might work.  “Excellent suggestion, Mr. Tanner.”  Although Standish gave the hidden room a forlorn look, wondering if they’d ever see the black-clad gunslinger again. 

Before they’d even taken a step away from the hidden room, the ground trembled beneath their feet.  Ezra reached out to support Vin, but the floor sunk, the earth crumbling and falling into a hole taking both lawmen screaming into the bowels of the earth. 

Part 38 

Chris Larabee stood transfixed, his mind sluggish and his limbs uncoordinated.  The immensity of the situation he’d survived taking its toll.  He gingerly moved to pick up the black cloak and quickly dropped it; his stomach churning just touching the hideous garment.  He kicked it off the symbol and bent to his knees, fingering the deep groves chiselled in the stone.  The spectre had gone, but did he dare hope that he’d dispatched it permanently?  Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to believe that.  Blood dripped from his wound onto the symbol, the bright crimson red stark against the grey stone; Chris stared at it for a moment then stood.  Just standing on the pentagram gave him the chills.  He stepped outside the scope of the circle and pushed a handkerchief under his shirt to stop the flow of blood at his side.  It was damn painful, but at least it wasn’t deep.  Fighting the spectre had taken a lot out of him, physically and mentally. He lethargically spun around, his breaths coming in short gasps as he scanned the eerie cavern for an escape.  How did he get out? 

His head snapped up as the silence in the cavern was broken by screams that were quickly swallowed by an explosion of water.  A flash of red had caught his eye; it gave momentum to his legs, carrying him toward the pool.  “Vin?  Ezra?”  Chris didn’t wait, knowing that Tanner had no hope of swimming to the surface with his busted leg, and dove into the rippled surface. 

Larabee swam down, feeling blindly in the spasm of turbulent water.  He sucked in a mouthful of water, it rolled like a solid lump in his throat and he was forced to swallow it down; it landed with a heavy thump in his belly.  His fingers touched briefly on something that wasn’t rock, and he quickly reached out in the darkness, hoping to catch onto it again.  Luck was with him and he brought the limp body with him to the surface.  “Vin?”  He pulled the unconscious tracker to the edge of the pool, struggling to keep his head above water, their combined wet clothing and boots weighing them down and working against them.  Chris slapped the Texan’s face, but there was no response… At least he was breathing. 

Ezra broke through the surface, spluttering and gasping for breath, his left arm heavy and aching with renewed pain.  It took a moment for his mind to clear and to catch his breath.  He’d thought he was never going to reach the top.  He was relieved to discover Chris had rescued Tanner, he couldn’t be certain that he would have managed.   

“You all right?” 

“Per... fectly,” he panted, swimming a few strokes to join Chris and Vin at the edge.  “Is he…?” 

Larabee shrugged.  “Reckon hittin’ the water, was too much for his leg.  Will ya hold him up, while I get out?” Chris released Vin into the gambler’s hold and sluggishly pulled himself from the pool. He staggered, needing to take a couple of deep breaths, before he attempted to lift Tanner out.  He glanced down and noticed his wound was bleeding once again; it stung persistently since he dove into the water.  He closed his eyes and swayed dangerously on his feet. 

“Chris?” Ezra frowned at the gunslinger’s unsteadiness; he grew more concerned when he noticed the wound on his side bleeding.  With strength he didn’t realise he still had control over, he boosted Vin higher in the water, but he realised, as probably Chris had done, that he couldn’t lift Tanner out of the water from this point.  He needed Larabee’s assistance.  “Chris…” 

“Yeah…” Larabee staggered to the pool’s edge and bent at the waist, tucking his hands under the tracker’s armpits and dragging him out; he noticed that Standish had gone under the water and helped lift Vin out from below.  “Damn, he’s heavy!” Chris winced, touching his side, and sinking to his knees.  He glanced at the pool, frowning.  Ezra was still in the water, his head resting on his arms, completely spent.   Chris didn’t know if he had the energy to pull Standish out, too.  “Ya need a hand?” 

Standish opened one eye, unable to lift his head.  “I’m fine.” 

“Ah huh…” 

Ezra groaned, not wanting to move.  He lifted the top half of his body above the waterline and rested his stomach on the edge.  Leaning forward, he used the momentum and practically rolled the rest of the way out.  He lay exhausted on his back, content to be returned to dry land – or in this case, the cold stone tiles.  He could feel the gunslinger’s eyes boring into him and he looked up, his mouth twitching slightly.  “I’m relieved to see you haven’t expired.”  Larabee returned the grin, but his lips thinned at Ezra’s next words.  “Although you appear to have sustained an injury.”   

Larabee pressed a hand against his side; he was surprised by Ezra’s observation and the concern in his green eyes.  “It’s just a scratch.” 

“Hmmm…is there anything I can do…” 

Chris grinned widely, pleased by the Southerner’s offer.  “Nah…I’ve got it covered.”  Literally, in fact.  

Ezra nodded, resuming his study of the rock ceiling.  He frowned.  “Where are we, exactly?  And how did we get down here?” 

Vin moaned and Chris crawled to his side.  “I’m up ta the part, where I’d rather just get the hell out of here,” he answered the gambler.   

“I’m for that,” Vin agreed. 

“Hey…Enjoy yer swim?” 

“Could of done without it.”  He wiped his face and flicked water from his hair.  He gritted his teeth and stifled a moan.   “S’pose ya want… yer jacket… back now?” 

Chris grinned.  “Would’ve preferred it ta be dry.” 

“That would’ve been good.”  Vin sat forward and shrugged out of both Larabee’s borrowed coat and his own.  They were too heavy to keep on and only added to the cold that invaded his body.  His shivering was more pronounced once he was down to his shirt, and his teeth started to chatter.  “Ezra okay?” 

“Certainly.”  Standish turned over onto his side to answer, then rolled back.  Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, he sat forward to remove his coat and vest, wringing the excess water from them.  It left him wearing his linen shirt with the left sleeve missing.  The white bandage around his arm that Larabee had applied earlier in the night was seeping blood and running down his arm and dripping from his elbow.  Standish sighed philosophically and searched for a handkerchief.  He could feel both Larabee and Tanner watching him as he fumbled to secure the cloth over the bandage. 

“Want me ta tie that off?”  

Ezra only met concern in the hazel eyes of his leader.  He’d been about to refuse, but surprised himself and Chris by saying, “That would be appreciated.  Thank you.” 

Vin watched closely as Larabee knotted the cloth, wincing in sympathy with the gambler.  He still hadn’t worked out how Standish had sustained that injury, but with how much it was bleeding he assumed the wound was fairly deep.  He wanted to pursue the topic, but knew it could wait until later.  “Ya been down… here, the whole time… since ya disappeared?” Tanner questioned Larabee. 

“Yeah…had a run in with our friend, then he vanished on me.”  Chris patted Ezra’s arm as he finished the task. 

“Let me guess,” Ezra drawled, lying back down and resting his head on his wet jacket, “you impaled him through the chest with a wooden lance.” 

Larabee frowned at the Southerner.   “How…could you possibly know that?” 

“That ugly cuss… in the room?”  Chris nodded.  “He weren’t… real happy… ‘bout that.” 

“Amazing recuperative powers…” Ezra mumbled sleepily.   

“Reckon he ain’t gonna… be real happy… ‘bout all them bullets… we put in him either.” 

Chris looked worriedly out into the cavern.  “That didn’t stop him?” 

“Slowed him down some…” 

“But our floor collapsed beneath us, before we had the opportunity to inflict further damage,” Standish finished. 

“I figure that makes him about due back down here.” 

Ezra sat up on his elbows, taking in the surrounds and not impressed by what he saw.  “Then I suggest we leave.” 

“That’s easier said then done,” Larabee sighed.

Part 39 

Chris’ guess was more accurate then he wanted to accept.  The spectre appeared on the stone stairs, making little noise as his emaciated and shrivelled body stalked across the room.  It skirted the cell and moved directly toward the sacrificial area.  But there could be no doubt he knew the three lawmen were down in the cavern with him.  He had them exactly where he wanted them. 

“Boys,” Tanner nodded wearily.  “Reckon we got company.” 

“Hell…” Chris glanced at the weapons Ezra and Vin carried.  “Tell me you’ve got bullets left?”  Not that they would work after the dousing they’d received. 

Vin sat up with a groan.  “Sorry…I’m all out.” 

“Likewise.” 

Larabee climbed to his feet keeping a watchful eye on the killer.  “Shit!”   

“Reckon we can get past him and up those stairs…” 

“There’s no point.  It’s a circuit, comes back out through that door.” 

“Then there must surely be another egress.” 

The spectre set the fallen candles upright, ostensively ignoring them in the open prison cell.  He waved his arm and set the candles to life.  The cavern illuminated with a blinding light and the three lawmen were forced to shield their eyes and turn away.  The spectre moved over to the pentagram, setting candles out around the points of the star. 

“Vin…can you stand?” 

Tanner sat forward.  “Just get me up… and I’ll be right.”  Ezra and Chris took hold of an arm and gently brought him to his feet.  His face paled and he clutched painfully at both men to remain upright.   He knew right away what they were thinking.  “I’ll be fine…j’st need a moment… ta adjust.” 

“Might be best if ya stay in here…” 

“I ain’t gonna sit around and watch!” Vin retorted, balancing on his good leg and taking his weight off them.  “Let’s get this over with.” 

Chris was still undecided.  He strode out the cell door, and the spectre turned to face him.  The bars of the cell started to swing closed and Ezra dove through the closing gap, only narrowly escaping being trapped inside the cell with Vin.  He landed on the floor with a groan.  “Ezra…” 

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, gratefully accepting Larabee’s hand to pull him to his feet.   

Vin rattled on the prison bars.  “Hey!” he shouted in the general direction of the spectre.  He glanced hopefully at Larabee.  “Chris?   Can ya open these?”   

Chris shook his head; he had no way of opening the door.  “Sorry, pard.”  At least Vin would be safe in there and they could find a way to open the door later when they’d disposed of the cretin. 

“Apparently he was determined to confront us individually.” 

Chris grinned at the gambler.  “Yeah.  Ya ready for this?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Part 40 

Chris went to the left and Ezra to the right, with an unspoken agreement they circled the killer.  Chris took a torch from its holder; it wasn’t his first choice of a weapon, but he’d use whatever was available.  He noticed Ezra removing the other ornamental spear from under the shelf and nodded approvingly, they wouldn’t be much defence against the heavy sword that the spectre had reclaimed, but it was two against one.  The odds were in their favour.  It had to mean something that the spectre only wanted to take them on one at a time.  Perhaps his strength was waning.   

The undead killer faced Chris, and Larabee felt chills run down his spine.  “I can understand now why you were so keen on wearin’ that cloak,” he goaded.  He was absolutely hideous! 

“Chris,” Vin hissed from his cell.  “Don’t rile ‘im.” 

Chris ducked under the wild swing, stabbed forward with the flaming torch, rushed past and turned on the opposite side.  The candles that the spectre had taken particular care to set out were knocked over and the flames snuffed out. 

Ezra joined in the fight launching at the killer with his wooden spear.  “This is so barbaric,” he muttered.  He brought the long spear around meeting the sword mid air; the blade hit the shaft sending spasms up Ezra’s arms and to his injured shoulder. He grimaced, fighting the need to drop the shaft.   

“Don’t get in too close, Ezra.”  Larabee followed up by slamming the burning torch into the spectre’s back.  Standish attacked from the front, but lost half his spear when the spectre brought his sword down on the wooden pole.  They kept attacking from the front and behind, getting in their licks as the spectre diverted its attention from one to the other. 

Vin hung on to the bars, wincing as he put more weight on his leg.  He wanted to cheer his friends on each time they made a hit on the killer, but he was afraid of distracting them.  Instead, he whispered out encouragement.  He hobbled to the end of his cell, peering into the cavern, straining to see the fight.  The wide columns holding up the ceiling invariably blocked his view and he cringed every time Standish or Chris disappeared behind them.  He saw the torch Chris had been wielding slide across the stone tiles, his breath caught in his throat, unable to see what had happened.  “Chris…where are you?” he softly called.  He received his answer when Larabee jumped out from behind a column and picked up a table leg.  Tanner sighed deeply, wishing he were able to be of some help. 

Ezra’s spear was being whittled down; soon it would be useless as any form of defence.  He’d been paying attention to the spectre’s hold on the sword and knew they needed to separate the two.  He spun around, kicked out with a jump and landed a boot in the spectre’s jaw, he followed this up with a deft manoeuvre with his spear, catching the hilt of the sword and robbing the spectre of his hold.  It flew through the air clattering into one of the columns twenty feet away.  Ezra couldn’t resist a satisfied grin.  The smile was quickly replaced by a grimace, as he found himself ultimately too close.  Emaciated fingers clutched his shoulders with supreme strength and swung him firstly into Chris and then tossed him effortlessly aside.  He hit a column and slumped under it. A dish of oil was broken off the column, its contents spilling and running over the floor.  The slippery liquid slithered to the symbol and filled the engraved pattern. 

“Ezra!” Vin screamed.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to pan out. 

Larabee was stunned for a moment, stumbling back as the gambler was knocked into him.  He’d had to abort his attack on the spectre as Standish would have received it and he lost his momentum.  Sweat dripped down his face, tendons in his arms and legs rippled, taut muscles burned and his side was searing.  His breathing was rough and raspy and he could do nothing to prevent the Southerner being hurled around.  Unsteady on his back foot, he spared a worried glance at Ezra. He didn’t move, and his arm was slicked with blood.   “Shit…Ezra?”  Chris had taken his eyes off his adversary for too long. 

“Chris…Look out!” Tanner screamed hoarsely. 

Larabee flinched as a fist connected with his jaw, his head twisted around under the blow and the table leg dropped from numb fingers.  The woozy gunslinger was picked up with ease and thrown through the air.  He connected with a thump on the far wall, his inert body slumping in a heap on the ground.   

“Oh my, God…Chris!” Vin screamed, shaking the bars as though they would suddenly release him.  “This can’t be happening.  Ezra…” He winced, tears brimming from his eyes; Standish was struggling valiantly to get off the floor.  But would he find his feet in time?  “Come on, pard,” he urged. “Get up.”  Tanner felt so useless, trapped in the cell watching while his friends faced the attack.  He gripped the bars tightly, the knuckles of his fingers turning white with the exertion.  “Chris!”  His gut turned and his blood ran cold.  The spectre was closing in on Larabee.  Vin couldn’t bear to watch, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away. 

“NOOOO!!!!!”  Standish screamed, tackling the creature around the legs and stopping him cold, but it brought both of them down and the spectre recovered faster.  With an almighty howl the killer pulled Ezra up and threw him across the room.  He landed on the edge of the pentagram with a scream that echoed a hundred fold over in the cavern, his shoulder dislocated on contact.  “Arggg!”  He moaned, and hugged his left arm, supporting it by the elbow. Damn, not again!  Not now!   Blood dripped from the bloody bandage around his arm and landed between the points of two stars and the arc of the circle.  The gambler took no notice; his shoulder burned in anguish and hazy lights danced before his eyes.  He stumbled a few steps and came down on his knee, muttering and cursing his unsteadiness.  He blinked away moisture and glanced up at Tanner.   

“Ya c’n do it, Ezra…come on, pard.  Look b’hind ya.”  Vin pointed desperately, trying to coax Standish, but not arouse the killer’s interest. 

Ezra fell forward, resting his face on the cool tiles.  It felt good on his flushed skin.  What was Vin telling him?  Heavy bloodshot eyes met with blue orbs.  “What?” 

Vin glanced desperately from the spectre closing in on Larabee and back to Standish.  He didn’t want to voice it out loud, but he did want Ezra to pick up the sword.  “Ezra,” he called again, using the gambler’s name to bring him out of the pain-induced confusion he was in.  “Get up,” he ordered, “and look b’hind.  You’ll find something…” 

Ezra shook his head and sat back on his heels, cradling his arm protectively.  Time stalled and everything moved in slow motion while he lethargically searched for what Tanner was pointing at. He sighed, eventually seeing the heavy blade that had been abandoned.   He looked to Vin and to Chris, his heart beat frantically with indecision.   

Interpreting Ezra’s hesitation Tanner called out.  “Ya can’t help Chris unless ya get it.” He hoped that was cryptic enough to confuse the spectre, but not Standish.  

Ezra sighed, and stood on wobbly legs.  He teetered between the columns using them as guides.  He reached down and picked up the weapon.  It had an unfamiliar feel and he stiffened, feeling a surge of life flow from the blade.  Heat raced up his arm, giving strength and power to his weary body; the heavy blade fit snugly in his hand and he deftly swiped it through the air experimentally.   His left arm was useless, but the pain was gone.  He smiled, but didn’t meet Vin’s concerned look.   

The spectre turned around and laughed, a hollow and vicious cry, it seemed he had known exactly what Vin had been alluding to, and didn’t care.  The power of the sword brought him a new ally. 

Part 41 

The interference from Standish gave Larabee time to come to his senses.  He gathered his reserves and found his feet.  His head spun and he used the wall behind him to steady his legs.  He glanced over at the cell…Tanner was shouting and pointing, but his mind was under a foggy haze and couldn’t make out what the tracker was saying.  He swallowed painfully, staring mutely into the face of evil.  Nothing they’d done so far had made any impact on the spectre.  He pressed himself into the wall, wanting to escape, but his legs were not cooperating.  But with each moment he had to clear his head, the muffled sounds in the cavern started to ring more clearly.  Tanner wasn’t calling out to him, but shouting at Standish.  He shifted his line of vision past the killer to where Ezra was struggling to gather his feet.  His mind was cloudy though and he couldn’t put Tanner’s words together to make sense to him.  Chris groaned, leaning heavily onto his side and pressing a hand to his wound.  It had started to bleed again.   

Larabee sluggishly rolled his head up, startled by the menacing cackle.  The spectre had turned and was watching Standish, clearly amused by something.  Chris frowned. This isn’t right!  Ezra had the sword and was slicing through the air with indifference to their situation.  “Ezra…lose the sword!”   At Larabee’s words the spectre spun around and growled, bearing hideously yellowed teeth.   Chris flinched back from the threat.  

Standish blinked.  He strode to the centre of the pentagram and stood in the circle.  He ignored Tanner’s incessant pleas and looked thoughtfully at the engraving.  Part of the spear he’d used was lying across one of the points of the star.  His mouth twitched at the corners and he lifted the sword, hesitated, glanced at the spectre and brought it down with a clang.  The strength that surged through him helped to bury it deep into the stone tiles.  He pushed it easily through the stone as though it were butter and kept going until it was almost to the hilt. Then he released it.   

Cracks splintered out from around the sword and the symbol opened, deforming before his eyes.  The walls of the cavern shook and trembled.  The columns cracked and one shattered instantly under the added pressure. The cell door of Vin’s prison opened and rocks fell from the roof and splashed into the pool.  And the spectre screamed, a terrifying piercing howl that drowned out all other noise in the cavern.  His emaciated body bolted to the symbol and Ezra stepped warily out of his path.   

The ground trembled and the stone engraving continued to break up.  The spectre howled persistently and reached to remove the sword.  He growled in frustration, unable to retrieve it from the stone.  The cry grew with intensity as he saw the blood on the stones.   

Vin limped from his cell and carried a torch to the symbol; he threw it into the centre and the oil that had seeped into the engraved pattern ignited.  The spectre was trapped in the centre, as the ground beneath him broke apart.  A wide tunnel of blinding white light grew from the symbol,  encompassed the spectre and reaching to the top.  The cavern stopped shaking, but small stones and pebbles loosened in the quake rattled down occasionally.  Inside the tunnel of light the spectre writhed and screamed. 

Tanner gasped.  “Chris, I need m’ jacket, would ya get it for me?” he ordered urgently. 

Chris shook off the last of his stupor and ventured inside the cell.  He picked up Tanner’s wet coat and brought it to Vin, handing it over curiously.  “What’s…?” 

“Thanks.”  Vin balanced awkwardly on one leg and turned out the pockets.  He felt the burden of guilt as his fingers found what they were searching for.  He should never have taken the coin…he couldn’t even explain why he’d done so…but he attributed that with everything that had befallen him…and now it was time to get rid of it.  Tanner held up the copper coin and flicked it high into the air, it spun, turning head over tail into the column of white light.  “Wanted ta return this.” 

The coin disappeared inside the light and they heard a gut-wrenching scream from inside.  The floor broke under the symbol and a surge of fire flew out, attacking and swallowing the spectre within the tunnel of white light and sucking it into the bowels of the earth.  Wind whipped around the room, buffeting the columns still standing.  The hole began to close and sucked the windstorm down, drawing the last vestiges of evil below.  The ground sealed over - the spectre, the symbol and the sword were gone.  Left on the stone floor was the wooden torch Vin had thrown into the circle and sitting under it was the broken portion of the spear.  Together, they formed a cross. 

Chris looked around at the devastation; a satisfied small broke out on his face.  He shook his head and grinned.  “Nice touch, Tanner.”   

Vin returned the smile.  “Couldn’t let ya’ll have all the fun.” 

Larabee grinned at Standish, but it faded realising that the gambler was holding his left arm tightly.  With the sleeve gone he could easily see the swollen joint bruised and out of alignment.  “It out again?”  Standish sighed.  “I’m gettin’ good at this…shouldn’t take more’an three goes,” he teased. 

Standish groaned and shook his head, surrendering to the inevitable.  “Fine.” 

------- 

Ezra bit down, his teeth clenched tight.  Larabee had promised to set his shoulder, and it had only taken two attempts, but it sure as hell hurt.  He wasn’t up to talking just yet. 

Chris patted the Southerner on the back sympathetically.   His gut rolled; he’d never get used to performing such a manoeuvre - bone grating on bone and deliberately inflicting more pain to fix an injury…uck!  He wanted to take the pain away for Standish, not to have been the person to cause more.  When Ezra lifted his head he could read the gratitude in his eyes, but there was still pain that lurked behind them.  He needed to get his friends out of this hole, but Standish needed a few more minutes to compose himself.  “How’d ya know…what ta do with the blade?” 

Ezra wriggled his fingers with relief.  “I didn’t…it just seemed… appropriate.”   

Vin leaned against the bars; he’d been standing there waiting for Larabee to give him the signal, he suspected Chris already guessed what he was about to say.  “There’s light comin’ from the bottom of the pool.”  

Chris nodded, pulling the gambler to his feet and following Vin into the cell.  Figured Vin had found something.  He peered into the water expectantly.  Yep…definitely a light coming from down there.  “I’ll check it out…” 

“Be careful, cowboy.” 

Chris slid into the water and was gone for ten minutes. 

“I’m going after him.”  No one could hold onto their breath for that length of time. 

 “Wait on, Ezra.  Here he comes.” 

“That’s our way out,” he answered breathlessly.  “Who’s goin’ first?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Ya reckon ya can swim with that arm, Ezra?” 

“I could manage…” 

Chris shook his head.  It was a hard swim down, even for him.  “I’ll take Vin first…give me an hour…?”  He needed some time to recoup after making the long swim.  “Ya be okay here on yer own?” 

“Naturally…but I…” 

“Wait for me,” Chris ordered, pointing at the gambler. “Ya ready?” he questioned Vin. 

Tanner frowned dubiously, but nodded, trusting his friend. 

Epilogue 

Chris Larabee climbed down into the well, leaving Tanner up top.  At the bottom of the well was a deep spring of water that was fed from the pool inside the cavern.  He slid into the water and returned to the cavern to collect Ezra.  It was under the specified hour, but he was anxious to have all his friends back together.  He broke through the surface inside the cavern and grinned.  Ezra had put his jacket back on and rested on the floor, both Vin’s and his jacket pillowed under head.  “Comfortable?” 

“Not really.” 

“Let’s go.” 

------- 

Larabee could smell smoke; it filled his nostrils and clouded his senses.  He crawled up the insides of the well and the smoke grew thicker.  He took gulping breaths and began coughing; he very nearly slipped back to the bottom.  He heard Ezra coughing as well.  His fingers crawled over the well’s rim and pulled himself free of the well.  Larabee turned back to help Standish crawl out the last part.  Tanner had been busy.  “Ya couldn’t wait?” 

Vin broke into a smile.  “Thought we agreed on havin’ us a bonfire.”   

“Guess so.” 

“Figured I’d get it goin’ so we could leave.” 

“Excellent proposal, Vin.  Might I suggest we vacate these premises forthwith.” 

“I’m good ta go.” 

“Yeah… all right.  But first we need ta close off this well…” He was almost convinced that they’d never see the spectre again, but would feel better knowing the cavern below was not going to be accidentally stumbled upon.  Larabee walked over and pushed on the side and it collapsed in on itself; a cloud of dust rising from the debris.  He clapped his hands together and wiped them down his pants’ leg. 

“That was straightforward,” Ezra drawled. 

Chris pulled a face and offered his shoulder to Vin.  Tanner had ‘conveniently’ forgotten to rescue the stretcher from inside before setting the shack alight, but Chris wasn’t about to admit it’d be easier on his aching back and injured side and Ezra’s shoulder and arm to support Vin between them, rather than on the stretcher they’d been using.  But Tanner was going to be feeling awful wretched by the time they reached town.  “Let’s go then.”    

Larabee glanced back for a parting look just before they entered a cluster of trees.  The fire had consumed the dilapidated building in minutes, levelling it, but a thick cloud of smoke rose high into the sky.  It surprised him to see that a large area around the burnt shack was completely barren…there wasn’t a tree or bush, or any living thing within that circle…How had he missed that? 

“Chris…” 

Larabee turned his back on the ruins.  “Yeah.”  It was time to go home.