DISCLAIMER: The Young Riders is the creation of Ed Spielman, and the property of Ogiens/Kane productions in association with MGM/UA television. The characters from the television program The Magnificent Seven are the property of Trilogy and The Mirisch Co. I am making no money from their use.
This Story is created for entertainment purposes only, no infringement intended. Not to be copied without permission from the author.
RATINGS: PG - violence, mild language
WARNING: This Story contains an alternative Universe theme, if this type of story is not to your liking or will somehow offend you please delete this mail immediately and do not read any further. In addition it is a The Young Riders/The Magnificent Seven Crossover, so if crossovers are not your cup of tea, please go no further. Furthermore this story contain semi graphic images of a terrorism nature, if you feel this may disturb you please find a different story that you will enjoy.
NOTES: The song that inspired the Title is by Garth Brooks on his fresh horses album. Eternal thanks to Mog for letting me play in her ATF AU sandpit. Thanks heaps to Enid (known affectionately here as my font of all knowledge) for all the brainpicking I have done. Thanks to my net sisters Lyn and Dayna for all the collaboration and characterisation help, couldn’t have done it without you.
Chapter 13
I hear them saying
You’ll never change things
And no matter what you do
It’s still the same thing
But its not the world that I am changing
I do this so
This world will know that it will not change me
Ezra opened his eyes slowly knowing that to open his eyes would let the light in and that was not something that he would relish. His head was already a cacophony of pain. Somebody had left the entire drum section of the orchestra in his head and now they appeared to be warming up for the concert. Trying his hardest not to focus on the pain he tried to recall exactly how he found himself here, it seemed that his entire body hurt desperately. Taking stock of his body he realised that he was hurt as badly as he might be after having a four storey building fall on him. Feeling a familiar if unwelcome pain in his right shoulder he realised that he had dislocated it – again. Apart from that and the orchestra in his head the only other real pain he felt appeared to be in his ankle. Pulling himself up against the brick mound he was laying against he gingerly moved his legs, biting back the scream that accompanied the white hot agony lancing through his leg, glancing down he realised his dilemma. He could see a bone protruding from his lower leg the flesh around it torn and ragged.
His stomach churning dangerously at the sight he sat still for a few moments desperate to regain control of the pain that had taken over his body. Turning his head away from his foot he saw something that brought a smile to his face. Buck was half laying half sitting in their little tomb, his eyes, bright with fever, open and watching him carefully.
“Buck” Ezra spoke softly
“How the hell did you come to be part of this Ezra?”
Ezra ignored his question for the moment “you look awful Buck, you feel okay?”
“Damn Ez, like I keep telling the kid, that is damn near impossible, but if I look half as bad as I feel I guess you must be right” he spoke “Where’s Lou?”
Ezra realised that his companion must be feeling quite ill to actually admit he felt poorly, but while he was awake they could keep each other amused.
“We’re a sorry pair aren’t we” Buck spoke quietly
“Not as sorry as we could be I assure you” Ezra shuddered to think what could have befallen them had they been a few feet further out of the basement.
“Where’s Lou?” Buck asked again, worried about the young woman who had become such a good friend
“I wish I knew Mr Wilmington” Ezra spoke “She was ensconced in Mr Cody’s arms and ahead of us on the stairs when the bomb went off”
“who else is here?” Buck frowned
“Apart from the four of us?” Ezra questioned and continued at Buck’s nod “Just Mr Tanner and Mr McSwain”
“Damn Chris is gonna be pissed” Buck swore.
“Yeah well that’s a given” Ezra laid his head back against the bricks, the pain slicing through his ankle beginning to overtake his body. Closing his eyes he willed the pain away
“Ezra” Buck spoke softly “I’m sorry”
“What for?” Ezra asked him softly looking across the short distance to him.
“If I had been paying attention this wouldn’t have happened” he paused “If not everyone makes it, it’s nobody’s fault but mine”
Ezra heard the guilt and sorrow in his friends voice and reached out to him with his good arm, taking Buck’s hand in his and clasping it tightly “This is no one’s fault but the bastard that set the bombs” he spoke
“We will all get out of this I promise you”
“So how long do you think it will take them to find us?” Buck changed the subject quickly not acknowledging Ezra’s words.
“Let’s hope they expedient in their efforts Mr Wilmington” Ezra smiled tightly as he rested his head back against the bricks, the pain ricocheting through his body forcing him to close himself off from outside stimuli and fight against it the cloying void it tried to drag him into, before it sucked him back into its folds and away from his friend.
Vin opened his eyes slowly, realising that if he couldn’t get himself out of the mess that he had found himself in he would die closed up in this crumbled tomb. That wasn’t to going to happen. His mind, clearer now then the last time he awoke, he rolled onto his side, his bruised body protesting every movement. Raising himself up on one elbow he managed to reach back and began the task of plucking bricks from his legs. He didn’t know how long he worked at moving bricks, but it seemed like hours, his fingers raw from scraping across the jagged brickwork, until finally he was able to move his feet.
He laid back on the concrete that he rested on, his face twisted in a grimace of pain, and the blood began to flow through his lower extremities unhindered again. Taking stock of his body he realised that except for the gash on his forehead and a monster headache he really didn’t feel too bad. All he knew was that he wanted out of the tomb that he was trapped in. Climbing to his feet, he laughed to himself when his still numb feet almost didn’t hold him, but then started to move the bricks and concrete that made up one wall of his own personal hell.
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