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“We can head into the cave or flush them out with dynamite.” Charles waited, crouched close at Arthur’s side as the man pondered his question, both unable to look away from the jumbled mess of limbs the Murfree Brood had assembled at the cave’s mouth. He counted two pairs of arms, three legs, and something that may have been a torso at some point, weeks past. He’d witnessed countless acts of senseless violence, and his own familiarity of breaking open an animal to all its components had somewhat desensitized him to gore. This macabre display of appendages had him nervous though, his normal patience taught and liable to snap.
He was just about to repeat the question when Arthur answered, with about as much surety as he felt. “Let’s surprise them in there.”
Charles nodded and gestured towards the lair. Having Arthur take the lead was more about keeping an eye on him than Charles would admit aloud, but he’d noticed the slight wobble the man came back from Guarma with. Arthur’s eyes seemed to flutter closed faster when his head hit his bedroll, and as he moved about camp there seemed to be a deep sort of exhaustion in him now. Even his riding seemed just a little bit less grounded, the sway of his body more than just the give and take of an experienced rider. He’d not mentioned it, hoping it was still just a side effect of all the tropical sun and rough travels. Still, for now, he’d have the man under his watch, in some small way.
When the first Murfree emerged from the cave, Arthur dispatched him quickly with a knife to the throat. They dragged the corpse to the side of the camp before turning their sights towards the slightly glowing depths of the cave. If somewhere such as Hell existed, surely it would be just like this- some indistinct cave that absolutely reeked of death and decay even from its outer bounds. They crept in cautiously, hugging the corners and crouching behind rock cover.
The approaching footsteps were soft, but it was impossible to miss the tall shadow creeping along the cave walls past them, one long shadowed arm ending in a curve of a machete’s blade. He waited till the man passed their cover before stepping out, hand closing over the other’s mouth before a single sound could escape his maw. Like Arthur before, Charles didn’t stay his axe as the man struggled in his hold. They didn’t have time to waste, but as he gazed down at the dead man by their feet, he was struck by the pale gangly spread of his limbs. The Murfree looked more ghoul than man, his beard long, and fingernails ragged and peeling.
“Come on,” Arthur whispered to him with similar disgust, pointing ahead as another shadow crept along the wall. They’d always worked well together, ever since that first hunting trip up in the cold of Colter. As they moved forwards side by side, it was easy to miss those simpler times- burdened sure, but not yet suffocated. They killed exactly seven more men before they were discovered.
Charles would never know which one of them tipped off their enemies, but the bone curdling scream that suddenly echoed against the walls was nothing short of bestial. He felt the hairs on his neck rise, his grip on his axe so tight it was almost painful. The next man who rounded the corner got an axe head to the face and Charles watched in grim victory as the blade cut through cartilage and then bone with devastation. He hadn’t even had time to draw his sawed off when Arthur started shooting. It wasn’t just the other man’s accuracy that always impressed him, it was his speed. He heard more than a couple bodies hitting the floor behind him as he lunged towards his next enemy. It was a familiar focus that overtook him as he slammed a man into the rocky wall so hard that he felt the reverberation along his own limbs. A scream bubbled up then died off with a final gurgle.
Once they’d downed all their attackers, they only had a moment to regroup. A frantic and bloody moment. Charles never considered himself a coward, but he paused as he watched Arthur move downward towards whatever horrors awaited them. The shouting that echoed off the cave walls betrayed a mass of enemies too big for two men, but as they should be pulling back to regroup, Charles found himself rushing after Arthur.
He drew his shotgun just in time to catch one particularly stealthy man in the face, barely saving himself from a rusty machete gash. A burst of crumbling rock and thick blood from the close-range shot sprayed over him hard enough to daze, but there was little he could do but prepare for another shot. It was the sound of steel on stone that had him jerking his head to watch as Arthur nearly missed a slash to the chest. Charles didn’t pull his weight as he slammed a heavy boot into the side of his friend’s attacker, feeling something snap under his heel as the machete went flying to find a home in the sand beneath them.
“Thanks,” Arthur gasped, voice sounding rough and strained as he brushed himself off.
“There’s too many of them,” Charles responded, decided. They might be fighters, but their odds in this battle weren’t good. “We should go.”
At first it seemed like Arthur didn’t take his meaning. As if retreat wasn’t something he cared to understand, but then he was coughing hard and nodding back, swaying a bit with the strength of the cough. Charles swore and grabbed the other man’s forearm, half to force the matter and half to reassure himself as more screams rose from beneath them. “Now!”
For all Arthur’s apparent discomfort, as soon as Charles yanked him along, he complied without a fight. They took a right at the next fork, then a left when he noticed a familiar arch of blood across the wall. The smokey air seemed to clear as they struggled on back the way they came, fresher and less cloying with every step, and Arthur finally seemed to recover his breath for it.
Charles was practiced at tracking and as observant a hunter as the gang had. Still, when the next screech hit them, he slammed to a halt in a moment of confusion. Above him. He dropped Arthur’s arm, and he drew another weapon when the realization hit him. There were more than a few Murfree blocking them off somehow, trapping them in the cave from both sides.
“What?” Arthur asked, a similar look of understanding dawning on him as they shared a look.
Charles stared before him in a sudden wave of indecision. He usually could gauge when to track a predator further, and when to turn back. When to risk a robbery and when to trust a traveler on the road. But now, as he stared down the unknown shadowed passageway and the well-trodden trail they’d come from, his mind roiled. The thundering sound of approaching men sounded like a small army was on their way to face them, but even that wasn’t loud enough to drown out the next round of coughs. It was a hopeless decision, more instinctual than he was comfortable with, but Arthur trusted him to it with almost painful acceptance. They stumbled along the unknown maze before them, the only comfort in Charles’s mind his familiarity with their own footprints and a rough mental note of each turn they made. Right, right, left, a slight stumble as the path sudden dropped a little. Slight right.
The white moonlight that leaked down through a web of openings in the rock above lit their path enough to see basic shapes if not subtle details. As they continued, he could still hear feet on stone and metal on rock, but it was more faded now. Less accurate and targeted, just jumbled background noise.
Arthur wasn’t doing well, that much was obvious as they finally staggered to a halt. He near doubled over with the effort of it all, and even Charles felt lightheaded. Enough so that he didn’t immediately notice the harsh void to their right until it was too late, the sudden disappearance of the wall. It was a slight intake of air that told him something was wrong. The fear in Arthur’s little gasp was enough to betray their danger as clearly as a shout would have. He first thought someone had somehow stolen out of the darkness towards them. But it was worse, Arthur was suddenly falling away from him. He couldn’t know if Arthur had tried to lean on the nonexistent wall or if he’d simply lost his feet in his exhaustion. He grabbed towards the other blindly and startled at the open air. When his fingers finally hit Arthur, it was too late.
Charles didn’t give much thought to his plans then, with Arthur clutching at his wrist. But neither did he expect the sudden weightless vertigo he was sent into as his own feet slide on the sandy cave floor. “Arth-” They found each other for a couple seconds as they careened backwards into that void. When they were ripped apart, his last thoughts were nothing more than a visceral fear he’d seldom experienced. A robbery might get his blood pumping, a lawman’s scrutiny might send an uneasy tingle down his spine. But this… this was pure hopelessness.
Then he hit water, and despite the icy sting, the relief was instant. They’d be alright. When he opened his clenched eyes though, a black void surrounded him, and he almost didn’t know which way to swim. It was the thrashing by his side that forced him into action. Arthur was also alive and close enough to touch, but when he did, it was almost like touching fire. The other man latched onto him with a grip so strong that Charles almost gasped water into his lungs. Instead, he pulled what he hoped was upwards, breaking the surface for only a second before facing another wash of panicking splashing that doused his face.
It was an animal type of fear not expected from someone like Arthur, and Charles could only manhandle the other man, shifting and gripping around his sternum and maneuvering behind him to dodge the flailing. Luckily, the hold on him was firm and Arthur finally submitted, first going limp, then kicking his feet in a more controlled manner that spoke of him regaining his wits. In the darkness of the cavern, neither could know just which way to go, but eventually his fingers glanced against rock. A blind grab found more of the bank, and with a final push, Charles heaved himself up into the air of the cave. Arthur was clearly trying his best to support his own weight, but only managing partial success as Charles gripped him by the arms and helped him join him on the solid earth.
“I….I’m.. sor, sorry…” Coughs overtook the words, but he could just understand them all too well from the tone. He’d never heard such guilt in Arthur’s voice. But surely there would be just as much in his own voice should he speak, for leading them into the unknown with no lantern in the first place. He wasn’t one to fixate on his mistakes as much as the other seemed to be, but it didn’t escape him how he’d dragged Arthur down this way instead of fighting the Murfree’s outright. He’d seen their death in that battle and forced them into this darkness instead.
They crawled up onto a rocky slope, feeling along the stone with their hands in the pitch darkness of the cave. As his breath came back to him, Charles was immediately aware of just how cold it was now, his sodden clothing doing nothing to stave off the chill. “Are you okay?” He asked after the shock had calmed somewhat. It was almost eerily quiet, save the echo of his own hesitant question and the sloshing of the water behind them.
Arthur didn’t answer him exactly, but Charles couldn’t miss the sound of the other man coughing up a concerning amount of water. “The Hell do we do now?” Arthur finally asked. If his voice sounded strained before, now it sounded like his neck had been shredded.
“If we find where we fell, maybe we can climb back up,” it was a doubtful answer, but Arthur gave a little grunt, followed up by another wet cough.
“Sure. I can’t tell one hand from another though…” Charles had to agree, the only thing grounding him at all was the sound of the other’s voice, close to his side. He reached over to find where Arthur was and almost pulled back when Arthur flinched away.
“Sorry.”
But Arthur caught his wrist, “no, it’s alright. This place just has me on edge, is all. Not used to being so useless.” After some shuffling, the pair of them scoped the ground by the water on their hands and knees. It was immediately painful, but with their hands before them, another sudden plummet was less likely. They worked their way to the water’s edge, the icy lapping at his hands enough to send another shiver up his arm.
“I’ll go,” Charles volunteered, wishing to do anything but return to the water.
“You sure?” Arthur asked from somewhere to his right.
“Yeah, I’m already soaked anyway.” He crawled a bit further along the bank until he found the wall of the cavern and slipped back into the water. The first few seconds were the hardest and Charles let out an almost pained breath as he found himself back in that icy embrace. His boots kicked at the water beneath him as he resolved to swim along the cliffside, bracing himself against the edge of the cliff encircling the pool. “Just keep talking, so I know how to get back,” he called out. He didn’t admit that his request was partially borne of fear for the other man and his continuous wet coughs. He’d seen a man drown an hour after returning to land, suddenly falling, and slipping right out of consciousness.
“Sure. Ummm… if we can get back before sundown, we might still have time to get some damn stew? It might taste like dirt, but it’d be warm…” The words didn’t mean much, but as Charles made his way further out into the void of water, he clung to those words desperately. Something about a hunt for crawdads with Pearson. Something about a horse. It didn’t matter.
He couldn’t tell where exactly they’d fallen, but as he explored with his palms, the news was worse than he’d expected. The whole wall was sheer and smooth, not a single rough patch for his fingers to find purchase on. He continued another hundred feet or so and found only more of the same. The whole side of the cliff was useless.
“There’s no way up,” he called back, interrupting whatever Arthur had switched over to.
“Shit. What if you go more to the side?”
“Already tried it, went the whole way,” he replied, hearing the strain in his own voice. He was a strong enough swimmer to get by, but his legs were beginning to feel more like lead than flesh, and a shiver had begun to take hold of him. “I’m coming back.”
He focused on Arthur’s voice again, breaking through the water with a bit more desperation than before. When he finally hit the bank again, he stuttered out a relieved breath.
“I don’t think we’re making it up that way,” Charles said again, softer this time. “It must be a hundred feet up, and it might as well be glass.”
“I have some jerky in my satchel,” Arthur said, “how long do you think we can survive on that?” It was a bitter, sarcastic question, but Charles still didn’t have the heart to tell the other they’d probably succumb to the cold far before they starved. It might be better than way honestly, but as he stared at nothing, it was a hard truth to come to terms with. “Hey?” He felt the other shuffle closer. “I was just kiddin’ ya. Should we scope out more of the cave? Maybe we’ll find some other way up.”
Charles knew placating when he heard it, and Arthur was a likely culprit of it. When John despaired, Arthur seemed to thaw a bit, setting his hurt aside to comfort his brother. He saw that rare optimism with Jack and Abigail too, the way he encouraged the others even as he suffered himself. He’d never heard it aimed at him though, and that alone was enough to wake him right up. “Alright,” he agreed. “Better than just waiting here. We’ll stay warmer if we keep moving too.”
Continuing at a crawl might be the more sensical answer, but he’d already worn through his pants and into his knees that way. It was almost startling how unbalanced he felt as he rose without his vision, the sense of vertigo he’d felt on that first descent returning in a nauseating burst. The hand that found his bicep in the darkness was oddly grounding as the pair set off, away from the water and towards who knew what. The ground was unstable, but at a slow shuffle they managed to keep their feet.
The far wall was just as hopeless though, that same smooth stone harsh under their hands. They continued shuffling along it for what felt like hours, and Charles would be hard pressed if asked to lead them back to where they’d started. He’d counted their steps sure, but it seemed like each stride was a different length as they stumbled over rocks underfoot.
“I feel somethin’!” Arthur breathed out finally.
“What?”
“Well… I mean, air.” As they both stepped forward, a very slight breeze chilled as it floated past. He probably wouldn’t have even notice something so small if all other sensation was still there. “There wouldn’t be wind goin’ towards a dead end?” Arthur asked. He nodded into the darkness.
“Probably not.” Neither one of them argued against taking the passageway. They were dead men waiting at the pool for a rescue that would never come. As they turned into the new path, it seemed the world had a bit of mercy for them, the ground was more stable, as if the wind itself had cut the ground to a smoothness absent in the cavern behind them.
“The rest of them won’t believe a word of this you know?” Arthur asked he led them further down the tunnel. “I don’t know if I like this campsite anyway, I sure as hell don’t want to face off against any more of those men… or creatures.”
“Me neither,” Charles agreed, “seems unlikely we’ll make it unscathed.” He still didn’t quite believe they’d make it out, but it was easier to play along now that there was at least a way forward. They only came across a single fork in the road, but neither path seemed all together more promising. The chill had seeped in enough that both were shivering, and airflow was harder to gauge from here. Arthur made the decision finally, with a shrug, leading them down the right most tunnel. They spoke for a time, but soon even that waned and silence overtook them. He shuffled forward; thoughts less pointed the further they got. But there was something hopeful there too, and part of him wondered if maybe they were getting closer to freedom. It was a little sound from before him that broke him clean out of his foggy thoughts.
“Arthur?” He asked, immediately worried. It took a moment to realize that what he was hearing was ecstatic but faint laughter, and he hastened to the man’s side for a better look. “What is it? Do you see a way out?” He almost fell over when Arthur pitched into his side like a sack of bricks. Somehow, he caught him though, and eased him down to the ground in sudden fear. He could still see nothing at all, and what might be funny was a mystery.
A few more gasping chuckles broke free into the darkness as Charles helped Arthur lean back against the tunnel wall and his own shoulder. “Did you hit your head?” It seemed the only explanation for the sudden outburst.
“Nah… I’m just glad we’re here together. I mean, if I had to be with someone,” he let out another little chuckle. “Learned somethin’ this mornin’- haven’t told anyone yet but… I’ve got tuberculosis, Charles.”
“What?”
“Not that it matters much now but, that’s the core of it. Spent about the rest of my cash gettin’ told I’m a dead man.”
It seemed odd that as they sat there contemplating freezing to death in this cave, Charles could be struck with such harsh emotion. “Oh Arthur,” he uttered, horrified. It all made sense given the way the man had been slow to rise and quick to cough. Despite the erratic way Arthur was suddenly acting, Charles could only believe what he was being told after considering all the evidence.
“Reckon I got it from that damn do-gooder near Valentine when I beat him near to death. Coughed all over me and… well I guess it don’t matter much now.”
“Of course it matters,” he whispered back.
“What?” Arthur slurred out. “It ain’t…You should really leave the gang ya know, Dutch is gonna ruin us with his plans. I know the man and he ain’t… he’s gonna use us all up and spit us out like nothin’. He ain’t makin’ any sense no more. John’s all locked up and… Should ‘ave heard how the man was talkin’ back in Guarama… in the cave…” Arthur didn’t seem distressed by any of it, it sounded matter of fact as he stumbled over his words. Charles felt with shock when Arthur suddenly perked up and moved his head around as if looking around, despite the pitch darkness. “Is Dutch here too?”
“Arthur! What are you talking about?” He just about begged. He shook the man a bit, horrified to feel how his head just kind of slumped against his shoulder like that of a rag doll.
“I’ll stick by ‘im,” Arthur whispered into his shoulder, almost too quiet to hear, “owe my life to Dutch. I’ll stick it out long after ya leave me.”
Charles had no idea what was going on. He felt almost as confused as Arthur even as he tried to get the other man to sit up with his own strength. Maybe there was something in the air down here, some poison that seeped into their lungs. Or maybe it was just the tuberculosis.
“I feel weird,” Arthur said softly, head dropping to his shoulder more heavily this time. “Don’t know where I am.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, perhaps too harshly. “We’re near Beaver Hollow.”
“You shouldn’t be with me no more Charles… thought you’d get the Hell outta here. With the Wapiti maybe? You mentioned helpin’ them out…”
“We need to go,” Charles near begged, pulling Arthur to his feet and pinning him firm against the wall when he threatened to fall again. He didn’t know if it was the nonsensical mutterings of the other man or the stale air down here, but he was starting to get affected by something, his mind getting fuzzy as he tried to understand the other. But as he tried to pull Arthur back up the way they came, he might as well be dead weight, immediately stumbling and only staying on his feet with Charles’s firm grip around him.
They made it a few meters before Charles himself felt another wave of vertigo, feeling sluggish and tingly. It hardly hurt as they hit the ground in a mess of limbs, and he could do little but blink up into the darkness and savor the feeling of a break.
“It ain’t so bad like this,” Arthur whispered to him, voice fond and airy. “Feel bad for admittin’ it, but I reckon’ I care more ‘bout you than most of them.” He felt another little rush of air against his cheek, as if Arthur had tried and failed to laugh, but didn’t even have the energy for that. “Scared to die alone is all… Want someone there with me, and you’re… I’d think I’d like it to be you, before you leave…”
He felt a burning at his eyes, unsure if Arthur was talking about now, or sometime in the future. He clearly didn’t even know where they were anymore, and the few coughs that racked him seemed to catch at his throat and wither there.
This wasn’t the first cave Charles had explored, but all that he could think of now was the odd animal skeletons he’d found, heaped together and gleaming white under his lantern. Remnants from a predator’s feast maybe, or maybe this madness. The ground wasn’t as uncomfortable as is could be here, smooth and flat. Arthur still made soft noises beside him, and some of them were even distinct words, but there was little sense in it now. The shivering had stopped too, and the body that was now curled up against him was almost startling still. “He’ll think… we ran.” Arthur finally said, but didn’t sound too bothered by that fact, uttering it out of nowhere as if was just an idle observation.
And Dutch would, Charles figured in a haze. Would even believe Arthur to be a traitor without even trying to find and help them. That bitter truth was a stronger motivation than he could hope for.
“Time to get moving,” Charles managed finally. Arthur was unresponsive as he tried to pull him to his feet but using the wall, he was able to drag the man upwards anyway. It was just like another deer he told himself, but when he tried to lift him, Arthur felt more like a moose. The second the man was raised to his shoulder Charles pitched to the side and slammed hard into the stone beside them.
Tuberculosis. A death sentence. With one hand tight on Arthur and the other braced on the wall he staggered forwards back the way they’d come. At what point would they be freed from this poisoned air though; he had no clue. Maybe the whole cave was just as bad, and they’d finally just run out of time. Or maybe it was just the cold, jumbling their minds. It was a dark thought when he realized that in his own labored thinking, he’d been hugging the wrong wall with his hand. He shifted towards the other side, and after a few moments of rest, he carried on.
He was almost confused when he felt the fork under his hand, the little press of rock that betrayed another path. The clearing of his head wasn’t immediate, and he couldn’t even begin to guess just how long he’d lingered in a daze. It was the cold of all things, that forced his thoughts back into him. He couldn’t remember being this cold before, even in Colter. Arthur was still weight on his shoulder, but for the first time in who knows long, he felt himself breathing easy and thinking more clearly. His fingers still tingled, and his next step wasn’t as steady as he’d like, but he made it all the same.
Heading into the next tunnel wasn’t a hard call. No, it almost seemed a simple fate. Either they’d find salvation in the one other passageway, or he’d get to settle back down into that calm peace and fade away, tucked away from harsh eyes and bullet fire by Arthur’s side. But for all that seemed to call to him now, he told himself they’d make it out and he’d bring Arthur back to his family, in whatever form that took.
The second path seemed similar at first, the same narrow walls and smooth floor, but as he continued the shivering fear was a persistent burden he welcomed. The tunnel looped around and a couple more forks posed more risks. He chose left and hoped for the best. When the tight tunnel walls fell away, he was forced to stagger into the next cavern with little to brace against. For a time, he made steady progress down the steep drop, trying to keep his steps stable even under the weight across his shoulder. When he finally tripped, it wasn’t due to the air, it was simple exhaustion and blindness. A stray rock got up under his foot and sent him barreling towards the ground. With a pained shout, he grabbed at Arthur as they rolled down further, a hundred scrapes tearing right through his pants and shirts. The previous plummet had been weightless, but this time every pound of weight seemed to slam into him as stray rocks and sharpness assaulted every part of him.
Pain seemed to dominate his whole body as he slid to dusty stop at the bottom of the slope, enough so that he sought his comfort in curling up in a tight bundle next his friend’s corpse. He was sure now, even without checking for breath, a despair so oppressive taking over him that he was paralyzed with more than just hurt. He blinked the flashes of white from behind his eyes, rattled and tingly as he gulped in more air.
“Charles?” It sounded like nothing more than a whisper, as he blinked back the pain. He felt a warmth at his face, his neck. Someone was talking to him in a recked and ragged voice. He could see the rough form of a head, but no details. It was that faint silhouette that shocked him into sudden movement and screeching pain from his leg. “You’re alive,” the other breathed in relief as he thought the same.
“Yeah,” Charles answered his friend, returned to him somehow. “Somehow.” He braced himself on his arms, trying to breathe steady through the blinding pain that seemed to radiate up his leg like fire. He looked up in a daze, eyes fixing on that same bit of static. A single star, shining down through cracks in the rocks. An opening to the sky, even if it was slight.
“I think we can get out down below. I think I can see a faint outline of an opening a way down there,” Arthur said, his pointing arm just barely visible in the starlight. But when Charles tried to move, it was like a lightning bolt careened along his limbs. “What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, voice shaking as he drew even closer, shivering hands settling on his arm.
“My leg…” he forced out. And a few of his ribs he figured.
“Shit… Can I?”
Charles nodded, realizing a moment later that the other probably couldn’t see. “Yeah.”
Arthur was clearly trying to be gentle, but even the barest touch to his leg was agony. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked Arthur, voice faint.
“It’s… Your foot ain’t bent the right way no more, Charles.” It wasn’t a surprising diagnosis to get, not with how much it hurt. “I’d usually want to brace it but… don’t got nothin’ to use. And even if we did… it seems like-”
Charles didn’t much want to know what it seemed like, “you should go on ahead and bring back help maybe.”
“And wait for the Murfree’s to get their claws into you? Nah. Here, if you put your arm over my shoulder, I can at least get you down the hill.”
“Arthur…” he wasn’t sure what he was going to argue, but then there was a bottle nearly shoved into his face.
“Got a bit of whisky left.” He wasn’t much for whisky, but welcomed it easily anyway, gulping deeply as Arthur made an approving sound above him.
“They ya go, now come on.” Charles wasn’t much help, but Arthur was merciless as he tugged him up. “Keep fightin’ me, and I’ll just knock you out.”
Charles wasn’t drunk yet, but he’d had enough booze to at least force a pained chuckle out of his mouth at the threat. Arthur might be a bull of a man, but Charles easily had fifty pounds on him on a good day. Now that Arthur was half starved from Guarma and sick in the lungs, even holding Charles steady on his one good leg seemed a burden.
“I’ma pick you up now,” Arthur told him, but he hardly sounded sure of that. But he did lift him, somehow, even if it felt more like Charles was suspended on a shaking sapling. “Hell…” Arthur clearly didn’t have the breath to complain any further as he made the first step. Charles tensed, readying for impact. Still, his body seemed to have other plans for him, and after a couple minutes of relative safety, he couldn’t do much but get lost in his own head and let Arthur get them out.
It was more than just his ankle that hurt desperately he soon realized. His finger was bent oddly, and the whole side of his face felt sticky and wet.
It was still night, but eventually the black before them took on a bluer hue, and Charles had a view of something other than stone. Arthur made a victorious noise and the pace increased, like an exhausted horse with water finally in its sights. When they made that final push into the crisp night air, Arthur just about dropped him. Charles was in enough pain to be grateful for the way Arthur helped break his fall with his own body at least.
For a time, they both just lay there wordlessly. “Don’t move.” Charles couldn’t think of how he’d do that, even if he’d wanted to. Arthur wasn’t gone long, their two horses led behind him. Then, Arthur was on the ground by his side again, and a canteen was roughly shoved into his hands. He took a long gulp as he marveled at the sudden richness before his eyes. Night had never seemed so bright before, each tree startlingly present before him.
“I ain’t never tell you this,” Arthur started after a few minutes of recovery, “but things aren’t looking great with Dutch now. I reckon you should hit the road real soon. When you can walk again, maybe.” Arthur said that as if recovery was a given, but as Charles looked down at the mess of his ankle, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even keep the lower limb. It looked… bad, even in the dim light. “Things ain’t goin’ so well for the gang. I’d feel much better if you wasn’t caught up in everythin’, when it finally goes south, once and for all.”
The pain made it hard to answer, as did the anger that had taken hold at the statement. Arthur was lying again, to keep him safe through it all. Did he not remember their conversation in that airless tunnel? All those terrible truths he’d released so easily? That he wanted Charles to stay with him, for that one final thing. He’d never once heard the man ask for anything from anyone. He had none of the selfishness that so many folks seemed to bask in.
“I’m not leaving you,” Charles managed.
“What about with the Wapiti?” Arthur asked, voice flat as if was trying hard to hide emotion.
“You’re my friend Arthur. You saved me! Not just anybody would carry deadweight like this through a mess of caves.”
“I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.” The answer was so earnest and truthful that Charles could hardly contain his regard for the other. Arthur didn’t remember.
“I’m with you till the end.” He heard the air catch in Arthur’s throat, even if he couldn’t see the expression on his face.
“If you gotta…” he muttered finally, clearly self-conscious. “It might be sooner than you think... But for now, we somehow gotta get you up on that horse and to a damn doctor.”
As they rode off together, Charles was glad, despite the pain. That they’d made it out together, to fight another day and try at another hundred impossible odds.