It's a race to save your life.
Eight iles of hard, fast riding on a stolen tomas. That's where the next town is – what your map said when you both last looked at it before everything went down. A little place called Gerard's Way. Vash isn't even sure they'll be able to help, but what choice is there?
The worm cult follows. Their own toma cry out far behind, kicking up dust and shooting stray bullets in the air. Vash zigzags across the dunes. It's hard to lose them.
Sunlight beats down hard on Vash's brow. His head feels singed. He tries his best to shield your body from the heat, the light, the bullets. You're so limp; your head flops against his chest with each panting step of the mount.
In all the running, Vash still has time to overthink. What if he doesn't get you to a doctor in time? What if the last thing he said to you was 'good night?' What would he do if the cult caught up to you? If he had just stayed instead of jumping out the inn window, if he hadn't hesitated in knocking out the guards to the cave, if he had just not been a coward –
A bullet grazes his calf and he veers left. His arms cage you in as you start sliding off the saddle. He does his best to keep you on, and in a moment of enraged weakness, thinks, If they hadn't been insane I would – I would kill – Grinding his teeth, he shakes his head and looks forward. These feelings are dangerous. Harmful. Rem. Think of Rem. Get to town, get to town, he repeats over and over. Safety in numbers. The cult will fall away once another town is too close.
Unless it's another worm cult...then you're both screwed.
Vash stifles a manic little laugh at that. That would be just his luck.
But town appears on the horizon, and tears prick the corners of his eyes. He leans down and presses his lips to your ear, raggedly saying, "We're almost there," and he kisses your lobe once. "We're almost there. Don't you give up. Please don't give up."
You give no reply. The blood on the saddle is answer enough. Vash kicks the tomas all the harder, and with a squall, the bird hoofs it toward the shining, rusted buildings.
YOU ARE READING
150 Bullets
Fanfiction150 years. 150 bullets. 150 drabbles of your relationship with Vash the Stampede as it grows, wanes, forms, shifts, and transforms. Inspired by "150 Bottled Fairies" by BlueMoon_Cafe, a work near and dear to my heart for years now. Take a lo...
