Chapter 4: Fire in the Blood


    The creek gurgled soft and steady, its whispers barely masking the sound of boots crunching on the dirt nearby. Levi lay half-buried in the muck, reeds tangled around him.


    His eyes narrowed as he spotted the two men up ahead near the water’s edge. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he didn’t need to.


    The way they carried themselves—the easy confidence, the weight of their movements—told him they were trouble. The kind of trouble that came looking.


    He stayed low, letting the reeds do their job, his heart pounding harder than it should’ve.


    ''Bald one looks dangerous.''


    Sweat trickled down, stinging his eyes, but he didn’t dare move. When they finally turned and started heading toward the settlement, he let out a breath, though it did little to ease the tightness in his chest.


    He stayed still as stone, waiting. Waiting for the sun to drop, waiting for the fire in his side to die down. Neither seemed in much of a hurry. The weight of the day began to bear down on him, every sharp breath reminding him the pain hadn’t eased—not since he’d made his break.


    With a shaky hand, he reached for his poncho, the ragged thing stiff with dried blood and caked dirt. He lifted it slow, just enough to get a look.


    The smell hit him hard—a sour, festering stench that turned his stomach. Infection. He turned his head quick, wiping his nose on his sleeve, fighting the bile rising in his throat. The poncho fell back into place, and he clenched his jaw so tight it felt like his teeth might crack.


    Letting his head drop back against the bank, he let out a breath that sounded more like a whimper. The cool mud pressed against his neck, but it didn’t do much for the fever burning him up.


    His amber eyes drifted to the sky, glassy and unfocused, watching the sun hang stubborn in place. Damn thing didn’t care he was suffering. Nothing out here did.


    Out in the frontier, worse always found a way.


    He shut his eyes, holding still as he could, breathing through the knives in his chest. The creek babbled on, unbothered, and the shadows stretched longer over the bank, like they had all the time in the world.


    ‘This can’t go on.''


    The thought felt hollow, like throwing a rock into a dry well.


    ----


    As the sun hung low, the last of its warmth slipping away, Levi still laid sprawled in the creekbed, his body shivering as the water lapped cold against him. Gritting his teeth, he turned over, but a sharp stab of pain tore through his ribs.


    He swallowed hard, fighting back a cough, but that just made it worse. The sickening pop of a suture stopped him cold.


    Instantly his strength gave out, and he hit the mud face-first, the damp chill soaking deeper into his bones.


    The world spun, and darkness swallowed him up.


    But it didn’t hold him for long.


    Levi’s head shot up, gasping, his lungs screaming. He rolled onto his back, clutching his side with a hand that trembled. His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to breathe.


    "I can’t keep this up."


    His sunken eyes flicked to the sky, now painted in bruised shades of twilight. Desperation tangled with the stubborn spark still burning inside him.


    He couldn’t stay put.


    With a groan, he shoved himself upright, leaning heavy on his good arm as the world tilted. His body begged for rest, but his mind latched onto one thing—it was nearly time.


    If he could just make it to the barn, there’d be hay to lie in, something to eat, maybe even the meds he’d been waiting on.


    For now, he had to move. Pain or no pain, the creekbed wasn’t gonna save him.


    Over the past week, he''d been holed up in Creekwater, keeping outta sight from the townsfolk. When he first arrived, it’d been in the dead of night, his body half-broke from days of trekking through the desert. He’d found what looked like an abandoned barn, threw together a sorry excuse for a bed from some rotten hay, and passed out cold.


    Luck—or somethin’ close to it—had been on his side come morning.


    Instead of being run out or worse, he was found by a boy, no older than ten. The kid’s face had lit up with fear when he spotted Levi sprawled in the corner, but that wide-eyed look shifted soon enough. The state Levi was in—ragged, bloody, and barely holding on—seemed to stir something in the kid. Sympathy, maybe. Or just plain sense.


    Over the next few days, Levi kept to a tight routine. He spent daylight hours hiding out on the edges of town, slipping through the trees and keeping low in the creek. Then, as night fell, he’d creep back to the barn, careful not to draw attention. The boy had promised to bring medicine, but it was taking longer than expected. Levi figured the kid was struggling to get the meds without stirring up trouble.


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    He’d memorized the safest route through the fields, a path he’d worn into his mind after days of sneaking around. Each step was deliberate, leading him to the back of the rickety old barn where he could slip inside unnoticed.


    He stifled a bitter laugh, his thoughts dragging him back to what felt like another lifetime.


    ''Scared of simple folk… been a long while.''


    But fear wasn’t the problem. He was too banged up, too weak. If anyone found him now, he’d fight—he always would—but there was no pretending how that would end.


    A door creaked open just off to his left as he crept past a grain house. Instinct kicked in. He pressed himself flat against the shadowed wall, every muscle wound tight as his breath hitched and held.


    Two men stomped out, boots heavy, and one of them was bald.


    ''The pair from the creek.''


    Their movements were deliberate, their posture screaming experience.


    ''Bounty hunters, by the look of ’em. Wonder why their here? Can''t have made the posters already.''


    The thought of his face plastered across the frontier towns made his chest tighten. He pushed the feeling down, burying it deep, as he tracked them with his eyes. They moved toward the opposite edge of town, their pace unhurried but purposeful.


    Levi stayed pinned, counting a few extra breaths after they were outta sight. He couldn’t risk making noise too soon. He noted the direction they were headed, storing it in the back of his mind.


    The barn wasn’t far now, but every step felt like dragging his body through fire and glass. The cold night air barely touched him—he burned from the inside out, the heat spreading like a wildfire he couldn’t smother. But even that heat couldn’t match the thunderstorm churning in his gut.


    Rage.


    It''s what kept him moving, the only thing that’d kept him whole since then. He had to live. He had to go back. They needed to pay for what they’d done—a debt so steep it couldn’t ever be squared.


    The strange sounds coming from his mangled body—every hiss, every clink—was a bitter drink he choked down with every step. Each metallic noise stabbed at his pride, stoked his fury, and sharpened his need for revenge.


    Stopping him in his steps, the sharp, bitter hallucination of sedatives flooded his mouth, dragging a memory to the surface like a hook caught deep.


    Clutching his head, it hit him—a flash of screaming, his own voice raw and ragged.


    He was bound, ribs laid bare, flesh pulled back with cold metal clamps. Where his arm should’ve been, there was only a bloodied stump capped by a grotesque metallic joint.


    As if sensing his thoughts, his left arm jerked, snapping him out of his haze with a fresh wave of pain, doubling him over.


    Gritting his teeth as the fit subsided, his vision cleared just enough to catch sight of it.


    Across a field scattered with rocks and scrub, the crooked two-story barn stood like a sinner’s last refuge. Beat to hell and half-leaning into ruin, it was salvation to his bloodshot eyes.


    Crossing the field, he slowly approached it, leaning heavy against the door, he pressed his ear to the worn wood.


    Sure, the boy had helped, but trusting someone outright was about as smart as kissing a rattlesnake, and Levi wasn''t a fool.


    He stood there a moment, straining to hear anything off, anything that didn’t sit right. Satisfied, he eased the door open slow, the hinges groaning just enough to set his nerves on edge, and slipped inside.


    “Mister! My God, you look—”


    “Keep it down!”


    Grabbing the boy’s shoulder, he winced as the movement sent a fresh jolt of agony through his stitches.


    “Did ya get it?”


    The kid, a wiry thing with reddish-brown hair chopped into a rough bowl cut, nodded quick. Freckles dotted his sunburnt face, and he moved with a jittery energy, like a bird too small to sit still.


    “Sure did.”


    His words spilled out fast as he helped Levi to a fresh patch of hay.


    “Sorry it took so long. Had to sneak it outta Widow Munster’s place. Paid my buddy Roger two coppers to open her hen house—worked like a charm. She came runnin’ out yellin’ bloody murder—"


    Levi cut him off with a tired, lopsided grin, his hand trembling as he held it out.


    “Kid, you sure can talk. Hand it over, quick. Fever’s startin’ to cook me.”


    The boy’s freckled face flushed, and he darted to a worn bag propped against the wall. Rooting around, he pulled out two small brown bottles and ran them over.


    “Here ya go, mister. It’s all I could grab. Hope it helps, cause ya look somethin'' awful.”


    Levi’s fingers barely managed to close around the bottles, but the weight of them in his hand felt like pure gold. He nodded, the closest thing to thanks he could muster, before sinking further into the hay.


    He knew the boy had stuck his neck out to help him. Levi had seen firsthand what happens to folks caught tangling with Wasters. At best, they’d be run outta town. At worst...


    But even that didn’t weigh much on him. When it came down to it, he’d do whatever needed doing to stay alive.


    "Good work, kid. Think this’ll do just fine."


    His eyes lingered on the bottles, the words Morphine and Calomel near glowing like gospel.


    "You wouldn’t happen to have a slug of water in that bag of yours, would ya?"


    The boy’s face lit up, and he darted back to his bag, pulling out a fresh canteen.


    "Gotcha covered! Oh, and I brought some sausages my ma made fer'' breakfast. They’re cold, but they’re damn good. Ma makes the best sauges in all of—"


    "Give me a sec''. Can’t think straight with all that talkin''."


    He twisted the stopper off the Calomel bottle, shaking a handful of the blue pills into his palm.


    ''If this don''t work, this arm''ll get me before much longer.''


    Without hesitation, he tossed ''em back, chewing hard before gulping them down dry.


    "Wait—you ain’t supposed to eat ''em all!"


    Levi waved him off, barely hearin'' the warning. He snatched the canteen, chuggin’ the water in long, desperate swallows. The burn in his throat didn’t care what he threw at it, but he ignored it, unscrewing the stopper on the morphine bottle with a sharp twist. He took a swig, then another, the bitter tang of morphine mixed with opium cutting through his fevered daze.


    "Mister? Mi—er?... Mi—?!"


    The boy’s voice faded like a bad song left unfinished, the world around Levi blurrier than a mirage. The morphine hit hard and fast, sweeping through him like a wave that didn’t care what it knocked down. For the first time in days, the fire in his ribs dimmed, and the ache in his bones vanished.


    Darkness wrapped around him, heavy and warm. He didn’t mind it one bit. Only the sudden creak of the door behind the kid lingered before everything went black.


    ----


    Whap!


    "Damn skeeters!"


    Rufus cursed, rubbing the fresh welt on his neck as he edged closer to the creek.


    "Couldn’t we’ve done this earlier? Night fishin’ ain’t exactly my hobby."


    "Not my fault you kept us there. She told you no."


    "No’s just a soft maybe if you ask me. A real no? That comes with a slap."


    Edmond shot him a withering glance.


    "Not taking lessons from a mut. Now shut it and—"


    They froze, both men going rigid as their heads snapped toward the same direction. A scream tore through the night, sharp and distant, but unmistakable.


    "That ain’t no coy dog."


    Edmond''s body moved first, faster than a racehorse, his boots tearing through the earth as he sprinted toward the sound.


    Behind him, Rufus’s face lit with a wicked grin. The black patch over his eye retracted with a smooth click, revealing a glowing red Vaporguard eye.


    "Finally, time to get paid!"


    Steam hissed from the vents along his augments as he leapt clean over the creek, his landing sinking the dirt beneath him. He caught his balance with ease, his laughter rolling out loud and free as he barreled after Edmond.