There's a lot to think about when you're walking towards your end, but instead of the existential bullshit I expected my mind wandered in and out of the past. I reveled in memories I'd been unable to conjure for a decade, of my family as we were and my childhood friends. It was not something I wanted to forget again.
Finding the mine wasn't hard, I simply followed the road we had turned onto the day before. I had to go off trail a few times but I knew the map well - recalling details came so easily to me now. Still, as much as I hated to admit it, I didn't want to die sober. I wondered how much it would hurt. If he shot me in the head, not a lot I thought - at least that was something to hope for.
I was wearing six layers of clothing but frozen to the core by the time the sun turned the sky a murky gray. The cigarettes were gone and I had been jonesing for another for the past hour and a half. I needed more time but I knew I was almost there.
I left the trail I'd been on to make one more shortcut along the river and within twenty minutes I could see the edge of the mining camp. The sheriff must have been tracking me because he was already standing in the large clearing facing my direction, surrounded by nine of his men - and a smirking Jimmy Prescott. Jimmy was standing a few feet behind my father, smoking a cigarette and watching me as I approached. He winked.
Before I knew they were behind me, two deputies still in uniform grabbed my arms, pinned them to my sides, and dragged me the last few yards into camp. They dumped me at the sheriff's feet and he looked down at me in disgust. Thirteen. Thirteen men. And one bullet. I couldn't believe it all came down to the lies and whims of Jimmy-fucking-Prescott.
I stood up - noting all the guns suddenly drawn on me in response - and looked at the sheriff eye to eye. I was sickened to realize that we were almost identical in every way. His hair was the same dark brown color as mine, untouched by age. The skin on his face boasted only a few light creases and my terrible lifestyle and weathered features somehow matched his older age. I wondered how had Kimber stomached my face every day without turned away in disgust.
"Hello, Graham." I said and spat into the snow between us. "You're a goddamn disgrace."
"Shut the fuck up." The sheriff said. "Grigg, teach my son some respect."
I didn't bother to defend myself and I wouldn't have had the time anyway - Grigg knocked me back into the snow before I could even blink. His fist split my cheek open under my left eye and I didn't rush to get up from the cold, numbing snow that was now pressed against my face. It was in that moment that I felt Borrasca all around me again. It was as deafening as the last time.
I could sense it in the air: the fear, the suffering, and the pain. And I could almost hear them whispering through the walls like they had ten years before. Help me, please. Help me or kill me, but don't leave me here. The building to the sheriff's back was most surely the dorm. It was larger than the other one but radiated the same aura of agony and death.
"Now listen the fuck up, Samuel: this little charade of yours ends today. It appears you actually believe a woman and a drug addict could singlehandedly dismantle a business this size so you must be fucking stupid. And that makes me feel sorry for you. So why don't you just hand over the gun and go back to the ghetto you crawled out of."
I pushed myself to my knees. "No."
"No? Are you dog-shit insane, son? You broke into my house, destroyed pictures of my daughter, and beat my wife. You're lucky you're still alive. I've killed children for less."
