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Disclaimer: Nothing but the story itself belongs to me, all characters except the one's I create are not mine.
Rating: R
Warnings: Extreme violence, so beware. This is just a little evil I wanted to inflict on Halloween. Enjoy!
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Come one, come all,
and ye will watch the Seven fall.
They protect, they serve,
but what do they truly deserve?
A bleeding heart, a steady hand,
where, oh, where shall I begin?
I pray for you, you pray for me,
but let me tell you what the Devil sees.
Am I real, am I not,
go check out my graveyard plot.
An evil thought, an evil mind,
this is what ole Satan's sought.
Yes it's me, no not you,
who will give the Seven's due.
What to do, where will it be,
just wait for me on All Hallow's Eve.
~Maggie
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"Come on, JD, let's go." Buck Wilmington stood just inside the jailhouse door and was motioning toward the Four Corner's sheriff, who was sitting behind the desk.
"I can't, Buck. I'm waiting on the stage. I promised Ms. Nettie I'd pick up the package that's suppose to be on it." Dunne shook his head at his friend. "I'll be on over to the saloon after that."
"Well, alright, but you'll miss all the fun." The gunslinger began to pout.
JD sighed, "I promise I'll be there in time for the big show, sogo." The sheriff started to grin, as Wilmington whooped with joy and ran from the building. You'd think he was the kid.
Dunne slid down into his seat and grabbed the dime novel he had beenreading earlier, hoping to distract himself from the party noise from acrossthe street. It was All Hallow's Eve and apparently Inez felt very stronglyabout the holiday. The sheriff had just resumed reading the page he'd stopped on, when a noise on the porch caught his attention.
JD put the book down slowly and started to rise from the chair, butbefore he was halfway up, the window shattered in front of him. Shardsof glass and window chips rained down on him. He threw his arms up to coverhis face from the particles. The shower of debris abruptly stopped, buta hissing noise soon replaced it.
Dunne lowered his arms and looked toward the sound and felt his heart drop to his knees. A stick of dynamite lay only a couple of feet from himand the fuse was almost gone.
"Oh God," JD took a step toward the broken window in hopes of jumping out before the blast, but his hopes were dashed when a horrendous roar and a hot breath slammed into him, picking him up off the floor and sendinghim flying. The blackness overtook him but didn't last but a split second.
JD opened his eyes slowly, assessing his body for injuries. Amazing enough, there was no pain. Actually, there was a feeling of nothing. The sheriff lifted his eyelids completely and felt the bile rise at a rapidrate, for there, lying in front of his face was one of his legs oozingblood. But what really had the youth panicked was the limb wasn't attachedto anything.
Dunne looked away quickly to escape the sight, but only encountered another one even more gruesome. An arm was lying a foot behind the leg, also covered in blood. The sheriff could feel himself losing control anddid the only thing he knew, he screamed.
"BUCK!!!" Over and over again he yelled, but it was like an echo.There was no one else around, no sound, no nothing. So, he screamed somemore. "BUCK!!!!" Then his prayers were answered.
"JD, JD!" Wilmington was bending over his friend and was frightenedby what he saw. "Kid, come on, snap out of it." Buck shook the youth franctically, trying to get him to wake up from whatever nightmare was gripping him."Come on, kid, ole Buck's here." Finally the hazel eyes snapped open, butthe look of pure terror that was reflected there made the gunslinger flinch."JD, you with me?"
Dunne blinked several times until the older man came into focus."Buck?" JD reached up and wiped the sweat from his face.
"Yeah, kid, it's me. You all right?" Wilmington let the youth goand sat down beside him on the bed.
JD swallowed a couple of times before nodding his head yes. "Yeah,I think so. That was the scariest dream I've ever had." The sheriff started to tense visibly as scenes from the dream started to replay.
"Easy, son. You're alright now." Buck patted his shoulder reassuringly,as he stood up. "You think you'll be okay until morning? It's only a couplemore hours to sunrise." Wilmington watched panic cross the youth's features."Okay, okay, how about I just bunk here on the floor. That okay?" The gunslinger grabbed the extra pillow and blanket from the closet and made a bed onthe floor.
"Thanks, Buck." JD smiled sadly, remembering the last time someone had to sleep in the same room with him because of a bad dream.
"Anytime, kid, anytime." Wilmington gave Dunne a smile, then settleddown for the night.
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The seven men gathered at their usual table in the tavern for breakfast. The dawn had broke an hour before, casting a brilliant yellow light acrossthe land, but the shadows adorning the youngest face had them obliviousto the beauty.
"You alright, JD?" Nathan Jackson leaned in closer to the sheriff, who was sitting beside him.
"Yeah, Nate, I just didn't sleep well last night." Dunne tried to give the healer a smile, but failed.
"You sure, that's all?" Jackson looked a little closer and could see the worry lines along the kid's eyes.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"I think he's fine, Nate. He had a pretty bad dream last night andI think it still has him a little shook up." Buck patted the youth's shouldergently, before picking up his silverware.
Nathan didn't want to push too hard, knowing that all the men were as stubborn as worn out mules when it came to being fussed after. "Alright,but if you have anymore trouble sleeping, let me know and I'll give yasomething."
JD nodded and Jackson went back to his meal.
They all ate in silence, which was somewhat odd for the group. Theywere never very talkative, but they would at least discuss the day's events.It seemed as if they were all caught up in their thoughts.
"I think I'll ride out and take a look around." Vin Tanner rose fromhis seat, leaving a full plate of food behind.
"You want some company?" Chris Larabee glanced up to his best friend,already knowing the answer.
"Nah, I should be back by noon. I'm just gonna go check the Samsonfarm. Mr. Samson's been complaining about some livestock missing." Thetracker pulled his hat onto his head and started to turn.
"You be careful, Vin." The sharpshooter stopped suddenly, when herealized it hadn't been Chris who spoke, but Josiah Sanchez. Tanner glancedtoward the preacher. "Something wrong, Josiah?" Vin watched the mixed emotionscross Sanchez's face.
"Not that I know of, just have this feeling." Josiah locked eyeswith the other man, trying to somehow explain his paranoia.
"Alright, I'll see you boys later." Vin tipped his hat and then disappearedthrough the batwing doors.
"Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Mr.Sanchez?" Ezra Standish pushed his empty plate aside and eyed the older man across from him. "Is the spirits at unrest on this All Hallow's Eve?"The gambler smirked at his implications toward the undead.
"Get real, fancy pants, there are no ghosts." Buck snorted, as hedumped more maple syrup on his pancakes.
"Ah, I agree with you whole-heartedly, Mr. Wilmington, but I do believeour preacher feels otherwise." Ezra raised an eyebrow in question to Sanchez.
"There are two things I believe in, Brother Ezra and that is goodand evil. And as in the Celtic times, I believe that the evil that has died this past year may come back looking for new homes." Josiah raisedhis coffee cup and pondered more on what he'd just said.
"What kind of homes?" JD leaned forward to look at the preacher.
"Bodies. It is said that the Celts believe that on All Hallow's Eve,those who had died the past year sought out new bodies to live in again.But they only had until the end of day to do it and if they failed, theywould be condemned to hell for eternity." Josiah's baritone voice had themall entranced in the story.
"You don't really believe that, do you Josiah?" JD stared wide-eyedat the preacher.
"No, but I do believe in the power of evil, JD. And if there is onething evil hates, it's those that oppose it." Sanchez put down his cupand rose from his seat. "The spirits may not come for us, but I fear thereis something that will." He nodded to the men and then left.
"Do you think Mr. Sanchez is being a little melodramatic?" Ezra pulled his cards from his pocket and began to shuffle them.
Larabee turned to watch Josiah cross the street and then he lookedback to the others. "I don't know what has him spooked, but it doesn't matter. Just watch your backs." Chris picked up his hat and followed inthe preacher's wake.
"I don't know about you all, but I'm really beginning to get a bad feeling." Buck put his fork down and cast a worried gaze around him. "A really bad feeling."
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Tanner didn't know when it happened or how it happened, but he did know it'd happened. He had the unholy pain shooting through his back to prove it. Somehow, someway, he'd been shot in the back. He'd never saw it coming. He'd never thought it possible, at least, not since he'd settledin Four Corners.
And that was your first mistake.
The voice was foreign to the tracker's ears, but their meaning wasn't.It was right, he'd made the ultimate mistake of trusting and now he waspaying with his life.
Vin tried to get up, but suddenly a man appeared before him brandishinga knife.
Where the hell did he come from? Tanner looked around him quickly, but there was no where to go, no where to hide.
"I've waited a long time for this, my boy. It's time you got your due." The stranger advanced forward, causing the sharpshooter to start his journey backwards, but the bullet wound and loss of blood held him in place.
"Who are you?" Vin tried to keep his voice steady, but the man was inching closer.
"Your worse nightmare." The man laughed softly and then plunged the knife into Tanner's chest, twisting it back and forth quickly. The tracker was writhing on the ground, his mouth opened wide but emitting no sound.
Vin was trying to scream, to yell, or just to moan, but the painwas more intense then he could ever imagine. And that idea changed suddenly, when the knife was ripped from his body and then plunged into his abdomen. Instead of a back and forth motion, it began a circular pattern. Carvingaway pieces of flesh as if it were a piece of wood ready for carving.
As the motion increased, so did Tanner's need to die. Instead of trying to cry out for help, he began a death chant. Willing the Great Spirit to take him.
"Vin?"
Another voice, but whose?
"Mr. Tanner?"
The tracker jerked upward, pushing at the form standing over him.
"Whoa, take it easy there, son." Mr. Samson held onto the sharpshooter's upper arms, keeping him from doing him harm.
Vin blinked rapidly, letting his breathing get to normal once more. "Mr. Samson?" Tanner looked up to the man that was keeping him propped against the oak tree.
"Yes. Are you alright?" The farmer finally let his hands drop when he saw the blue eyes become clear.
"Yeah. I guess I dozed off." The tracker picked his hat off the ground where it had landed and stood up. "Sorry about that."
"Not a problem. You had me kinda worried for a minute there. You looked like you were hurting." Samson stared into the other man's eyes looking for any signs of pain.
"I must've shifted while I was sleeping and a branch poked me or something." Vin smiled slightly. "I'd best be heading back." Tanner shookthe offered hand and quickly mounted. The sooner he left, the farther away he could get from that tree and hopefully, the dream.
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Nathan didn't know what made him end up at the James ranch, but here he was. He looked around slowly, noticing no one was around. "Okay, Nate, you've been staying up too late again. The lack of sleep must be getting to you." Jackson snorted to himself as he turned his horse back towards town. But, before he could get all the way around, he felt it. The loop of a rope sliding down over his body.
He froze for a second, then he began struggling to get the hated thing away from him. But the more he fought, the tighter it got, until both his arms were pinned to his sides by the rope. Nathan strained his head to the side to try and see who had captured him, but emptiness was the only thing still around.
Just stay calm. Jackson took a couple of deep breaths and tried to relax. He knew panicking wasn't going to help. As he was just beginning to ease, he heard the voice.
"Well Mr. Jackson, so nice of you to join us on this beautiful day for hanging." It was definitely someone he recognised. Not from the past few years, but from his past life.
"Get this rope offa me. I ain't your slave no more." Nathan put as much strength as he could muster into his words.
"Now, Now, my dear boy, you should know, once a slave, always a slave. Maybe not to me, but to mankind itself." The man's voice began to laugh. It grew louder and louder, until Jackson couldn't hear anything but the laughter.
Please, stop. Please, make it stop.
"Nathan?"
He heard it, but was it real?
"Mr. Jackson, are you alright?"
Ezra. Nathan's eyes flew open and he was never so glad to see anyone as he was the southerner. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Ez."
A frown creased the gambler's features. "Well, thank you, but I was merely hoping to wake you so you could attend to my wound."
Jackson immediately came awake fully. "You been shot, Ezra?" The healer grabbed for his medical supplies that were on the table behind him.
"Ah, no. I'm afraid it is much more serious than that. I have a splinter in my index finger and it is hindering my shuffling." Standish stared disgusted at the wood piece sticking about a half inch out of his finger.
Nathan looked first at the man's face to see if he was conning him, then down at the limb aimed at him. The laughter started as a slight chuckle and grew from there.
"I do not see anything humorous about my pain, Mr. Jackson." The laughter only grew and that was when the argument truly began. "I am abhorred at your manners..........." the words mingled with the laughter, as they floated into the afternoon breeze.
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