Gunslinger Darius

Chapter Three

He awoke to pain; a pain he had only experienced once before. He lurched upwards and tried to scream but was stopped by a feeling of tightness and pain on both sides of his chest. The years of medical self-examination training kicked in.

Ribs; broken and bruised

Gunshot wound to left side; one grazed, the other penetrated and broke the rib

He collapsed back down onto the bed. He could hear the sounds of multiple footsteps running towards him. He looked around quickly, trying to familiarize himself with where he was. His brain analyzed his surroundings.

He was in a bedroom. Judging by the austere furnishings, he reasoned it was probably a guestroom. There was only a wooden wardrobe, a small bedside table and a medium sized wooden one with what looked like medical supplies as well. He was lying in a queen-sized bed. He tried to move but again collapsed as more pain shot through him.

Now the footsteps were right outside the door. He prepared himself for whatever may come through the door; his muscles tensing up in anticipation of action.

The door quickly opened and four individuals came into the room. He quickly looked them over and relaxed as he saw they were not enemies. He analyzed them none the less.

A short, elderly man, probably in his fifties entered first. He had white stubble on his face and a pair of spectacles. He wore a suit. He was probably a doctor.

The next man was tall, at least over six feet. His face was hard looking and covered with brownish red stubble as well, his hair was a dark brown; almost black. He wore the coveralls of a worker; probably a steam engine worker by the goggles hanging around his neck.

Then there was a woman, most likely the man's wife. She wore a grey casual dress and her brown hair in a tight bun. Tell-tale grease stains on the woman's dress said she too worked with steam engines. Her eyes had a soft but fierce look to them; the protective look of a mother.

Lastly was a young girl, no more than fifteen, possibly sixteen. Her hair was a dark as the second man—meaning he was probably her father; the woman, her mother. It did not fall any lower than her end of her neck and he could tell that at first glance, many would have mistaken her for a boy, especially given the rough coveralls she too was wearing. However, there were tell-tale signs: she had fluidity to her movements, very similar to her mother's, and despite the grease and oil stains, she had a feminine grace about her.

He had analyzed them in the five seconds it took them to enter the room. The doctor moved slowly towards him, clearly cautious of his patient. The boy knew that they probably knew what he was. The bandages wrapped around his torso meant that they had to have removed his garments, meaning that it was a distinct possibility that they saw the brand on his chest. He saw that the second man wore an old army revolver on his hip.

"Easy lad," said the doctor, trying to be reassuring and keeping his hands in the open to show he meant no harm. His voice had a crackle of fear to it though. "We aren't going to hurt you. I need to check your bandages."

The boy grunted in pain as he sat up and allowed the doctor to check that bandages wrapped around his body. He felt the doctor peel them back to look at the bullet wounds.

"Well, surprisingly enough, the wounds are healing," announced the doctor, "A few more days and you won't need these anymore. The ribs, on the other hand, will probably take..."

"One month, three weeks and four days," interrupted the boy. "This isn't the first time I've suffered an injury like this."

The doctor glanced towards the man and the woman. The boy could not see his face but it was easy to tell the doctor was concerned and utterly surprised. The man and woman both looked on edge; as if they believed something catastrophic was about to happen. The girl, oddly enough, had a look of pure fascination on her face.