Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Midvalley's Serenade ❯ A Mission of Mercy ( Chapter 8 )

A Mission of Mercy

When I woke up, Nick was still in bed beside me, a pleasant surprise, since he was usually an early riser. He was staring at the ceiling with an earnest look on his face.

"You look serious," I said. "Something on your mind?"

"Well, yes. It's about last night. I had the strangest feeling while I was in you, that you were in me."

"Ah, the glory of sex."

"This was different from what we did before. It was as if…I felt your mind in me. Did it really happen or am I going insane? Please, Midvalley, I've got to know."

I felt a little sad. "Did you hate it then?"

"It was real? What was it, Midvalley?"

"I guess you could call it a gift or a talent I have, though most of the time it's just a curse. You know that Legato and some of the other Gung-ho Guns have psionic powers. I'm sure you've at least seen them teleporting. You've seen me generate shock waves with Silvia, but you probably don't know that my power flows from emotion. I'm an empath. I can feel what others are feeling, and most of the time, it's not much of a picnic on this planet."

Over the past few months, I have gradually become more attuned to your emotions. Last night was not the first time I was in your mind, but it was the first time you trusted me enough to open yourself fully to me. The first time I was in you, your mind was on Mazarov, and I caught an image of you with him in your mind. I felt him in you tearing you up inside and the feelings of pain that came from you were intense. The image came so fast that I found myself I crying before I knew why I was and begged you not to think of him. But last night, all I could feel was the pleasure you felt in me. Tell me that you didn't hate it."

"If it was real, it was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"And to me. It was real, Nick."

"Real intense! What are you trying to do to me, Professor Hornfreak? Spoil me for regular mortals? And I had big plans to screw the room service maid after breakfast and bang Dave the Roadie's ass tonight. I know how it is with you non-jealous lovers. You want to spread the joy."

"Dave the Roadie can kiss my ass and so can the maid. And he'd better keep his lips to himself or Silvia will blow him a new asshole."

"You sound jealous, Midvalley. Are you sure you're not? I won't tolerate a jealous lover, you know."

"Don't call Professor Hornfreak on his tomas shit, Chapel. It's time for another lesson."

Nick grinned, "I thought I passed my final exam last night."

"You're ready for some post-graduate work now. But for God's sake let's shave first."

We made love three different ways that morning, the last time in a position so weird, it would be hard to describe. It left me giddy and weak in the knees.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Chapel."

"But what a way to go, no?"

"Yeah, wouldn't it be funny to be found dead in that position?"

"It'd be funnier finding someone else dead in that position. God, what is wrong with me? I'm so horny all the time. I hope I'm not wearing you out, Middie."

"Hey, Chapel, as hard as it is for me to believe, it took a sex-starved priest to finally match the stamina of the legendary Hornfreak."

"Does that mean we can do it again or not?"

"Oh, for God's sake, you're going to wear it away to a stub."

"Just one more time?"

"All right, into the shower with you then, but afterwards I really need to check the mail."

Before we went into the hotel dining room, I picked up a large envelope from the hotel desk.

Chapel received a telegram, but didn't disclose the contents to me.

The big envelope was from headquarters. I read it over breakfast. It was a long letter laying out the details and objectives of five new missions.

"Five?" Chapel asked. "What a relief! I am so broke."

Chapel was often broke. I don't know what he spent his money on. He talked of a debt. I wondered if he gambled. But when he was broke, he wouldn't borrow money from me. He wouldn't take it as a gift or a loan. He just cut out what he called luxuries, like drinking liquor or eating out. He lived on those tiny meal ration bars. If he ran out of money for cigarettes or coffee, he'd go hear confessions. This morning, as usual, his breakfast was black coffee and cigarettes. I was glad he'd have some spending money soon.

The first four missions were local and turned out to be routine to the point of boredom. We put the fear of Knives into the sheriff of Randall City, who had allowed himself to be influenced by some factions unfriendly to our Master. We had to kill a bank accountant at the Randall City Bank for embezzling $$2,000,000 from various accounts of Master Knives. We recovered the funds. A gentleman farmer had found a way to siphon off energy from the energy plant without being detected, or so he thought. After we executed him, we hanged his body from a lamp post in the busiest plaza in town with a sign on him that read, "I will never steal energy again." Crude but effective, I thought. Finally a gang of young toughs in their mid-teens had made the mistake of robbing a night club that belonged to Master Knives. They didn't get much money, but still it had been a successful robbery and that had impressed Master Knives. Our instructions were to scare them half to death and send them back to Evergreen's Academy. Knives thought he might find a use for them.

The boys recognized us from the picture in the Daily Dish, the gossip rag that had featured our work from the Burns' execution.

"Bernie, it's that sax guy and the priest dude that blew the guy's balls and brains away."

"Shit, Mister," pleaded the gang leader "we didn't know what we were doing. Please, don't. Oh, God, please put that gun away. We'll never try anything like that again. I swear on my mother's grave. Please, not my balls, not my balls, not my balls…"

Chapel fired the gun right between the kid's legs, and the kid fainted. He was really relieved when he came to and found his package intact, wet where he'd peed himself, but still intact. We gave all four of them the same treatment and then sent them off on the ten PM sand steamer, pledging eternal loyalty to Knives Millions when they discovered that he had spared their balls and brains.

After collecting our pay for the first four missions, Chapel and I took the next sand steamer to a middling sized town called New Junction. This was to be the site of the fifth and final mission. And this mission had the most potential for problems. We took a room at one of the local saloons, called The Redwing and started planning. Knives owned most of New Junction. The Mayor, the sheriff, the bank, the energy plant. He had just gotten it running smoothly the way he liked things, when a gang calling themselves the Crimson Blades decided to try to take things over. They had robbed the bank and killed the sheriff, which made Knives furious, since he could barely stomach humans in the first place and now was faced with finding a replacement.

Chapel and I reconnoitered the town, gathering information. Chapel heard confessions and visited cafes. I checked out the taverns and night clubs and chatted up the local musicians. I checked in with the mayor. Then Chapel and I rendezvoused to pool our intelligence. We estimated that there were between twenty and thirty members in the gang. They had a couple of armored cars and some pretty high-powered weaponry. But of course, so did we. Chapel's armor-piercing rocket launcher could take out an armored car. Silvia's sonic waves were capable of killing at certain frequencies and an armored car offered no protection from that at all. Chapel had discovered the location of the hideout. One of the women who had confessed to Chapel had been raped by a Blade and had revealed the location to him.

We sat in the Redwing saloon and made plans to assault the hideout and keep the damage to New Junction to a minimum, but the Crimson Blades made another raid on the town that very morning. The two armored cars the gang used barreled up the main drag, machine guns blazing. We could see them out the window. Chapel flicked the buckle on the Cross Punisher and was almost out the door as soon as he saw them with his rocket launcher armed. We swung through the batwing doors together.

A passenger bus got in the line of fire of the armored car and its tires got shot full of holes. The driver lost control and the bus careened down the street. A toddler fell off the boardwalk and struggled to her feet into the path of the weaving bus.

"No!" screamed Wolfwood . He ran at top speed to intercept the child. The sound of gunfire intensified. The gang members used the armored car for shelter and were shooting from slits in the side.. Wolfwood made a rolling dive and snatched the girl from the path of the oncoming bus and rolled on out of the bus's path. Not long after I saw he had recovered the Cross Punisher and I saw him launch a rocket at the armored car and heard the explosion.

That was the last I saw of him for a while. The other armored car advanced towards my position. I brought Silvia to my lips, concentrated on a feeling of utter pain and desolation and the shock wave that Silvia generated produced a chorus of agonized screams from inside the armored vehicle. I played and played until the screaming stopped.

In a few minutes, Chapel walked down to where I was standing. He was frowning. "You okay, Midvalley?"

"Yeah, fine. You don't look so good. Something wrong?"

"Don't feel so good either but I guess I'll live long enough to finish the job. Got clipped in the arm, nothing major. I'll get it looked at after we tie up the loose ends."

I saw his black suit jacket had a rip in the left sleeve.

"You're sure you're okay?"

"I said it's nothing major," he said a little brusquely. "There wasn't any money in the armored car, Midvalley. Twelve dead bodies, but no money. I'm thinking it's at their hideout."

"Let me check this one first " I said. I opened the latch of the armored car and counted 14 corpses, but didn't see any bank bags.

We rented a jeep and headed out to the Crimson Blade hideout. A couple of B-flats from Silvia blew out the windows of the two bunkhouses and took the fight out of any opposition that might be there. In the first larger bunkhouse, I counted one dead body and 17 canvas bags, stenciled with New Junction Bank. The bank manager had informed me that a total of 19 were missing. Chapel found the 18th bank bag lying just inside the door of the other bunkhouse. When he walked around to the back of the house, he found a truck with a driver at the wheel. Blood had leaked from his ears, eyes, nose and mouth and he had a canvas money bag on the seat beside him.

I decided to use the truck to transport the bodies and money bags back to New Junction. Chapel looked worn out so I had him drive back the rental jeep and told him I'd meet him later at the saloon. I got back in the mid-afternoon and returned the money to the bank. I visited the mayor's office shortly afterward and let him know that Master Knives would be pleased if he would arrange a volunteer burial detail for the Crimson Blades. The mayor was delighted to comply. I knew Knives wouldn't pay a penny in burial expenses. He'd think it bad enough that they'd be taking up space in the cemetery. My work done, I headed back to the Redwing.

I found Nick at a dark corner table with a half-empty bottle of bourbon in front of him. His upper body was slumped across the table top, his head face-down, cradled on his folded arms.

"Chapel," I called. But he didn't answer. I shook his shoulder.

"Lemme `lone," he slurred.

"Nick?"

"Oh," he mumbled, " Sorry, Middie. Need'd a drink awful bad." He raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot. He tried to focus them for a second then his head dropped down to his arms again.

"You're really drunk, Chapel," I said. He didn't answer me. He had passed out.

I had never seen him this drunk before. I thought about helping him up to our room. I touched his jacket. When I looked at my hand, I saw it was smeared with blood.

"Oh, shit, Nick," I groaned, "You were supposed to have that looked at."

I hoisted him over my shoulder carried him upstairs, and set him on his bed. Then I went downstairs again and retrieved the Cross Punisher and Silvia. When I got back upstairs again, he was lying as I had left him. I unbuttoned his black jacket and shirt. Now that I looked more closely at his clothing, I could see the jacket was soaked with blood. I began to be really worried and with my heart in my throat hurriedly pulled off the jacket and shirt, to see where the blood had come from. To my relief, the only wound I found was to his left upper arm where a bullet had blown a chunk out of his triceps. He was still bleeding, but slowly and the wound site, which was about the size of a double dollar coin, had red raw muscle tissue bulging out of it. That kind of injury always makes me gag but I managed to swallow my vomit back. I knew it looked worse than it actually was.

I had disinfectant, gauze and tape, so I swabbed the wound and bandaged it. Nick didn't so much as twitch. He was still dead drunk, so I decided to go for a walk.

I visited a few saloons and night clubs, checking with the bartenders and asking about the music scene. I saw a couple of players I recognized from around, but there wasn't much action this early in the week. After a couple of hours I went back to the Redwing.

I noticed a woman sitting on a bench outside the saloon. Her brown hair was pulled back into a bun. She wore a blue shirtwaist dress which had bloodstains on the bodice. She looked like she had been crying. She shifted her body when I stepped up onto the boardwalk and said to me, "You were with the priest."

I had no idea what she wanted from me.

"I saw he got hurt," she continued. "Is he going to be all right?"

"He'll be all right."

"He's the only priest I've seen around these parts. Can you ask him for a favor for me?"

I nodded.

"My little girl died and I'd like him to give her the last rites and say the words over her at the cemetery."

"I'll tell him," I said. "Is there a place he can find you?"

"At the Hotel Progress just up the street. I'm a maid there. Ask for Ginnie."

I nodded again. She stood up and said, "She almost got run over by the bus, but he ran and saved her. But it didn't do any good. My baby got hit by a bullet and died in his arms." With tears rolling down her cheeks, she walked slowly away.

I went into the bar and ordered a brandy and thought about Nick as I sipped it. I'd seen Nick tipsy, but never blacked-out-passing-out-drunk before. It must be about the kid I mused to myself. It was gradually dawning on me that children were special to Chapel. I thought back and remembered that he'd saved that waitress's grandchild after the Burns execution. Then he'd gone to work at the orphanage for a couple of weeks. Now I recalled seeing him giving street kids handouts. Hell, even on the way into New Junction on the sand steamer, he played peek-a-boo with a lady's baby for maybe half an hour. Then this morning, he'd risked his life and limbs to try to save a kid's life. The child dies in his arm and so he damn near poisons himself drinking a half bottle of booze. He was going to be in rough shape. I finished the brandy and headed up the stairs.

The first sound that greeted me as I entered the room was violent retching. Nick was kneeling in front of the toilet bowl. I said, "I'm back," and he puked again. I heard the toilet flush and Nick walked into the bedroom. One eye was closed, the other was squinting against the light. He looked like he felt like shit.

"Don't you want to brush your teeth?" I asked.

He didn't answer, just moved unsteadily across the room in his bare feet. He was still dressed in his black trousers as I had left him and his upper body was naked except for the bandage on his arm. He made it to the chair and fumbled in his suit jacket for a smoke and matches. It took him three tries to get the cigarette lit. He gasped in pain on his first inhalation and winced when he exhaled.

"That headache looks like a killer. I've got pain pills. You want some?"

Chapel said nothing.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" I asked.

"Sorry," he mumbled and lurched into the bathroom and threw up again. When he came out I said, "Your bandage is soaked through. I should check it and change it and I need to talk to you."

Nick sank down into a chair and smoked. I ran a pan of warm water in the bathroom and bathed his wound. It was red and raw and oozing pus. I know that it hurt like hell when I put the disinfectant on it, but Chapel just smiled, like it was the best thing that ever happened to him. He leaned back with his eyes closed while I bandaged his left arm. He held his cigarette in his right hand close to his chest. I saw a length of hot ash fall from the tip onto his chest. He didn't try to remove it, just left it there to burn.

"Nick, what is wrong with you?" I shouted and brushed away the cinder.

"The little girl died, Midvalley. She died in my arms. It's my fault she's dead."

"Nick, I saw you run to save her from the bus wheels. You took a bullet for her, for Christ's sake. What more could you do? You're only human."

"Took a bullet for her? Maybe they were aiming at me and she just got in the line of fire."

"There wasn't a lot of aiming going on. It was a stray bullet-an accident."

Chapel leaned his elbows on the table and covered his face with both hands. From the small movements of his shoulders I could tell that he was crying. It hurt to see him in such pain.

"I saw the child's mother on the steps out front today," I told him. "The last thing she told me was that she knew you had tried to save her child. She doesn't blame you so why are you punishing yourself?"

He brushed his arm across his eyes and looked up at me.

"Answer me this, Midvalley. If we hadn't been out there trying to kill the Crimson Blades today, would she have died?

"I don't know, Nick."

"It's this fucking job. That's what it is. I really don't mind killing shitheads, but a little girl died in my arms today and I am responsible. I hate this fucking job!"

"You really want to try and quit this job? Don't make me laugh. You're asking for the impossible and you know it. In any case, don't waste all your pity on yourself. She wasn't your child after all. Her mother wanted me to ask you for a favor since you're the only priest in the area. She wants you to give her daughter last rites and pray the words over her at the cemetery. Do you think you can get your head out of your ass long enough to help someone who really needs help?"

Chapel said nothing for the longest time. From the expressions which moved across his face, I could see his emotions were at war within him. Finally he sighed in resignation, and said, "You make me feel ashamed. Of course I'll do it. I owe her my best…and will you come with me, Midvalley?"

"Sure, Nick. Why I'll even go downstairs and bring up a pot of black coffee for you while you clean up."

"Thanks. I don't know why you put up with me."

"Go on. Get cleaned up," I told him. "I'll be back."

We walked to the Hotel Progress and found Ginnie. We walked with her to the undertakers. The child was lying in a small casket. She looked like she was sleeping, but she was so very still. She had fine brown hair like her mother's, a snub nose, delicate eyebrows and lashes. She was dressed in a blue jumper and looked ready for play. Her mother had put lots of stuffed animals in the coffin with her, and a favorite book. Her name was Molly.

Chapel wore his spare suit and wore a purple stole over his shoulders. He told me on the way that last rites is really for the living, but he knew it would make the mother feel better if he went through with parts of the ceremony. So he anointed the little girl's head with holy oils and ointments and blessed her with the sign of the cross, and prayed the Our Father and Hail Mary with the mother and talked with her about her daughter. The undertaker carried the coffin to the cemetery that evening and Chapel started to speak at first sundown.

"I only knew Molly for a very short time, but I felt she was a very special person. Her mother tells me that she was a good girl and a good friend to the hotel cat, Kuroneko. She always made sure that there was fresh water in his bowl and she never pulled his tail.

She gave tea parties and told stories to her stuffed animal friends.

She was a very fast runner and she liked to race with her best friend, Billy, the waiter's son. She and Billy were digging a big hole in the hotel kitchen garden and hoped to find a treasure chest soon. Billy will miss her very much.

But most of all, her mother, Ginnie will miss her. She will miss the joy of Molly's company every day and the sweetness of her hugs and kisses. She will miss the chance to see Molly's future unfold and she will never see the children Molly might have borne.

All that is taken away now. There is an emptiness in our lives, a break in the circle. We are shocked, sad, and angry to have her torn from us so soon. The bitterness of our lives would consume us were it not for our belief that through Jesus Christ, Paradise will one day be within our reach and Molly will be waiting to greet us when we come into his kingdom. And surely even now, she is sitting on his lap listening to a story that makes her smile. And he tells her not to worry for she will see her mother again.

We believe that in time every emptiness will be filled and each broken heart will be mended and we will live in Paradise with Jesus forever and ever. Amen."

Then Chapel sang a cappella a song called the Poor Wayfaring Stranger. In a minor key, it had a haunting melody. His voice was untrained but true and he sang from the heart. I found myself in tears when he sang the words, ` I'm going there to see my mother, I know she'll meet me when I come. I'm only going over Jordan, I'm only going over home.' It reminded me of the loss of my own mother.

We each threw a handful of dirt on the small coffin, and then Chapel and I walked Ginnie back to the hotel. Actually, Chapel and Ginnie walked together almost the whole way in deep conversation.

Ginnie apologized at the very beginning, saying, "Sorry, Mr. Midvalley. I need to make my confession to Father Wolfwood and I need his advice."

So, I walked some distance behind them and wondered what they were saying, but I didn't eavesdrop. But I saw her cry, and then I saw him cry and then they both cried together and hugged. When we arrived at the Hotel Progress, Chapel pulled out a business card from his wallet, counted out $$500, which was about all he had and gave them to her. They hugged again and she went into the hotel.

Then Chapel and I headed up the street to the Redwing.

"So, did you comfort her?" I asked.

"I think she comforted me," he said.

"What was that with the money?" I ventured.

"She was scared about what I said about the emptiness in her life. She didn't want to stay here at the hotel with reminders of her loss around her constantly. I knew about a job opening at the orphanage near December. They always need good help, and there's a little girl Molly's age that just lost her mother. Those two should meet up. The money is to help Ginnie put her affairs in order here and for the sand steamer and bus fare to the orphanage. The Lord works in mysterious ways," he said.

And so do you, my friend, I thought to myself.

I changed the dressing on his arm again when we got upstairs. It had been a long day, so we went to bed right away.

In the middle of the night, Nick's soft sobs awakened me. I took him into my bed, let him cry himself out in my arms, and there he slept until morning.

His breakfast once again was black coffee and cigarettes.

"Lucky for you we get paid today, Chapel. You can have noodles for lunch."

Chapel didn't say a word. He just sipped, puffed and smiled.