Original photos used with the written permission of the owner.

DEMONS

by Kim Roberts

© 2000

CHAPTER 11

Despite Teaspoon and Kid's urging, Buck refused to leave his post at the window, steadfastly guarding his view to the world outside - and his silence. He hadn't uttered a word since the argument with Teaspoon that morning and didn't intend to. His anger was well beyond words.

The uneasiness he had felt throughout the day had steadily increased and found its way to his stomach. Buck stared out the window watching day give way to night, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle, now and then wiping the sweat from his hands on his shirt. Although darkness had fallen, he didn't want to leave the window - the knowledge that there was still a world outside the cabin made him feel a little better. Growing weary, he leaned his throbbing forehead against the cool glass and tried to focus his concentration on anything but the intense need growing inside him. He tried to envision the new life he would have when he was released from this prison - imagined himself mounting the nearest horse and riding away from those who had held him captive, without a word or a look back. The thought pleased him, comforted him a little.

Buck tried not to give in, but the craving was overwhelming. His hands moved restlessly. He rubbed his fingers against his palms, longing for the feel of the smooth glass bottle against his skin. He touched the cool, welcome windowpane, and began to move his hands across it, almost convincing himself the smooth flat surface against his fingertips was the contoured bottle he longed for. His weakened body ached for the smell, the taste, the sweet numbness that the warm liquid in the bottle provided. For a brief moment, Buck imagined the drink in his mouth but when he swallowed it was nothing more than his own spit. Buck scolded himself. If he was going to get through this, he had to be stronger. Staring outside at the freedom he was denied, imagining something he couldn't have was useless. Determined not to show such weakness again, he left the window and made his way to the bed.

He was tired and hoped for a little rest, but found none. His increasing restlessness preventing him from lying down for very long and instead he spent most of the night sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms folded protectively across his sore chest, rocking back and forth nervously to a beat pounding in his head. Despite the cool night air, he was bathed in sweat, his body alternating between chills and fever. It infuriated him that he could no longer hide his discomfort.

Soon the rocking did little to alleviate his restlessness and Buck began pacing the floor. Over and over again he crossed the kitchen - seven steps, turn, seven steps, turn, seven steps, turn.

At Teaspoon's insistence, Kid settled down on his bedroll near the fireplace for a few hours sleep and Teaspoon sat at the kitchen table playing a game of checkers by himself, watching his troubled rider wear down the floor boards. Teaspoon Hunter considered himself to be a patient man, probably more patient than most, but the stubborn young Kiowa seemed intent on testing him. It frustrated him greatly that Buck would not speak to him. Teaspoon didn't find the boy's game very amusing and Buck's incessant pacing was making him nervous as well. He knew the boy was hurting, but Buck refused to let him help and that maddened him, too. The site of his normally calm and collected rider nervously pacing the floor like a caged animal, obviously in pain was hard to take. But lack of sleep and his frustration over the entire situation had left him irritable and his tolerance for Buck's silence wearing thin.

"Buck, will you please sit down!" Teaspoon barked, more exasperation showing in his voice than intended. Buck continued pacing as if he hadn't heard. "What is so all fired special 'bout seven? Why not six or eight or twenty-two?"

Buck heard Teaspoon's complaints through the pounding in his head, but paid them no mind. It fact, it pleased him some. The old man deserved to feel a little stress. After what he had done to him, Buck felt he deserved it. He had entertained notions of trying to get away during the night, but Teaspoon and Kid read his intent and blocked every available exit with pieces of furniture to hamper his efforts in the event he did try to escape. He had hoped his guards would grow tired and perhaps doze off at the same time providing him an opportunity, but it didn't happen, and he finally came to the distressing realization that he was stuck there.

"Son, it would do us both good if you would just sit down for a while. You're wearin' yourself as thin as the floorboards and you're 'bout to drive me to drink! C'mon over here and play some checkers with me. I'm pretty good, but I bet you can beat me. Here, you be black and I'll be red."

Buck glared at Teaspoon in disgust through weary eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was play a stupid, white man's game. It had been a very long time since he last took laudanum and it was all he could do to keep from screaming. Everything inside his body was moving too fast. Although he was exhausted, the only thing that seemed to help at all was to keep the outside moving at an equal pace to the inside. He continued pacing, seven steps in one direction, seven steps in the other.

Undaunted, Teaspoon set up the game board and made his first move. "It's your turn son. C'mon, make your move."

Buck merely glared at the man and clutched his stomach tighter.

"Alright, I'll make your move for you then."

Teaspoon continued to move the game pieces around on the board making his moves as well as Buck's. Buck tried to block out the noise but each sound of the wooden checkers dropping on the board shook the room and echoed off the walls like a clap of thunder and added to the storm already raging in his head.

"Now, son, that was not a smart move," Teaspoon said as he intentionally moved Buck's checker into a vulnerable position. "Just look what I can do now," he added and began to jump his red checker over three of the opposite color game pieces.

Unable to dodge the painful sounds any longer, Buck broke away from his well established pattern on the floor and flew at the table where Teaspoon sat. He grabbed the checkerboard and hurled it across the room. The board slammed against the wall behind Teaspoon while the individual game pieces clattered to the floor around him.

Teaspoon sat back in his chair, drew a deep breath and let it out very slowly while he contemplated his response as the boy glared at him from across the table with wild, animal like eyes. Well, if nothing else, at least Buck had acknowledged him. That was a start.

"Son . . . I believe it was my turn," he said flippantly, hoping to taunt Buck into breaking his silence.

But Teaspoon's provocation had the opposite affect. Rather than voice his anger, Buck allowed his actions to speak for him as he picked up an empty chair at the table and smashed it against the floor with all the force he could muster. The release of his hostility only fed his frenzy and Buck turned toward the kitchen in search of his next victim. Teaspoon jumped from his chair, knocking it over backwards in his haste, and started after Buck but not before the angry young man grabbed the coffeepot on the stove and sent it airborne across the room. Kid awoke and slowly rose to his feet, trying to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes, wondering what all the noise was about. The grogginess cleared quickly as the coffeepot flew by his head and smashed against the wall, the hot liquid spewing like a geyser from the pot.

"That is enough!" Teaspoon shouted as Buck scanned the kitchen area for another unwitting target.

"You already done tore up the bunkhouse, you ain't gonna do it here, too!" he shouted again and grabbed for Buck's arm as he picked up a crock from the top of the cupboard.

"Put it down, Buck!" Teaspoon ordered as he spun the angry stranger around to face him. "Enough!"

Buck looked Teaspoon squarely in the face with eyes that could kill and defiantly threw the crock against the floor breaking it into jagged shards of pottery.

Kid wondered for a moment what had happened during his short nap that had caused the two to face off like prize-fighters. He hurried toward the combatants, but froze as Teaspoon finally lost his temper and backhanded Buck across the face. The force of the blow sent the stunned boy stumbling backward.

The shock in Buck's eyes matched Teaspoon's own as the older man watched an angry red blotch mark the imprint of his hand on Buck's face.

"Buck . . .I'm . . .I'm sorry . . .," Teaspoon stammered, breaking the uneasy silence in the room. He had never raised a hand to any of his riders before, no matter how upset he had been with them. His hand had flown so rapidly, it was as if it had a mind of its own and he had been unable to stop it.

Fearing Buck would retaliate, Kid quickly stepped between the two, but his preventative measures were unnecessary. Buck stood there dumbly, overwhelmed with pain and disbelief. His already sore and swollen face was on fire and the sharp, stinging pain traveled to his eyes, making them water. Feeling tired and insulted, he lowered his eyes to avoid making contact with either Kid or Teaspoon, slowly dragged his aching, exhausted body to the bed and curled up in a tight ball, clutching the feather pillow close.

Teaspoon hung his head and prayed to God that he could turn back time. How could he have done such a thing? This boy was suffering and needed his help but he had only succeeded in adding insult to injury. He started toward the small figure on the bed but Kid's restraining hand stopped him.

"Why don't you get some rest, Teaspoon? You ain't gonna do him no good like this," Kid said quietly. "I'll clean this mess up."

After a moment, Teaspoon slowly nodded in agreement. "I reckon you're right." He suddenly felt old and tired.

It angered Buck that he couldn't rid himself of the feel of Teaspoon's hand across his face. He hated the man, he was certain of it. Why should it matter to him? Buck had been struck a good many times in his life, but something about Teaspoon's blow was different. He couldn't understand it and the confusion bothered him all the more. If Teaspoon hit him in the face, why did he feel it in his heart?

Buck closed his eyes, his body finally allowing a fitful rest to come.

He stood in the middle of the street outside Teaspoon's office, a smoking gun in his hand and Neville's lifeless body a few feet away. A dark mist rose up from the ground and snaked around his ankles. Buck recognized the unfinished dream.

He had taken Neville's life and felt no guilt in doing so. The strange, black fog applauded his courage and strength, and praised him for killing the man. The mist rose higher around his legs but he wasn't afraid. It felt warm and safe and he knew it meant him no harm.

The mist rolled and churned like a thundercloud, finally taking the form of a beautiful creature robed in black silk and disappeared beneath the ground, bidding Buck to follow. Awed by its magic, Buck took its hand and allowed it to lead him away to another place - a place far from common understanding.

They walked on a path covered by the same mist that had created the creature. Buck couldn't see the path, but he felt it, firm and solid, under his feet. As they walked, the creature moved its slender hand from side to side, pointing out untold mysteries and never before seen wonders. Buck was amazed by its knowledge. This beautiful being knew the truth. He enjoyed its company and the way it made him feel.

Buck saw a toll gate ahead and questioned why the payment of a fee was required to continue their journey. The creature merely smiled and assured him there was no reason for concern. Buck reached into his pockets but they were empty - he had no money to pay the toll. He was ashamed and hung his head in disappointment - he wanted to see what lay beyond the gate. The creature lifted his chin with a long finger and stroked his neck with a loving touch, assuring him a trade could be made. Buck bargained with the gatekeeper and offered himself in payment of the toll. The collector looked him over closely, estimating his worth. Satisfied with the value he raised the gate and allowed Buck to enter.

The land behind the tollgate was more beautiful than Buck could have ever dreamed. He gazed upon the landscape and memorized its every detail. It was a place of pristine beauty and virgin thought. A place holding answers to questions not yet asked. Buck saw the beautiful creature before him, swaying in the dark mist as if blown by the breath of heaven. Mesmerized by its mystical nature, he entered its homeland and devoted himself to the creature.

The dark beauty pulled Buck to its breast and held him tight - their souls melding together in a pledge of fidelity. With a touch of its hand, the creature offered sensual and sensory pleasures beyond the scope of his imagination and he accepted them willingly. Buck breathed the creature's sweet scent, tasted its luscious, smooth lips and they danced as lovers.

The creature pulled away from their embrace and moved further down the path, bidding Buck to come further. They came to a door and Buck eagerly followed the black robed creature into its parlor. The mist grew thicker and rose to his waist, but Buck wasn't afraid, he had felt the mist before. He lost sight of the magical beauty and searched the darkened room for his love. Buck heard footsteps and followed them in the direction of the door, but when he reached the opening it was locked.

Buck knocked at the door and called to the creature. The mist around him grew colder and heavy. He didn't like this room and wanted to return to the beautiful land, but the door remained locked. Buck began to search for another exit and walked along the hidden pathway further into the dark place. His footing on the path wasn't as secure as before and he slipped occasionally. But he wasn't afraid. His love was near - hiding somewhere in the mist.

It grew steadily darker and Buck began to worry. He needed the creature. This place seemed so far from home and he wasn't sure where he was anymore. He turned around and around in the mist looking for something familiar but succeeded only in disorienting himself. Realizing he was lost, Buck felt a flush of embarrassment color his face. He always knew where he was. He was Kiowa. He was a tracker. How could he be lost?

A sudden movement in the mist startled Buck and he watched in surprise as figures rose up from the mist and began moving in slow circular patterns. At first, Buck thought they might be magical, too, but as he watched he realized they were only men - no more special than he was. Buck was strangely pulled to these men. They were dirty and unkempt - offensive - but there was something about them that he understood. They seemed so sad and alone.

As Buck wandered through the sea of abandoned lives his eyes were drawn to the weary faces - so void of emotion or intellect. His heart went out to these pitiful souls. Where were their families? Why had they been left there?

The clanging sound of metal beneath the mist provided his answer. Although Buck couldn't see the leg irons, he knew by the noise that the men wore shackles. He understood - the men were prisoners.

Buck wondered how long they had been there - they looked so old and ill. Many suffered from open, festering wounds - full of infection. Some of the wounds looked serious, but with the proper attention, Buck thought they might heal. Others were beyond all hope of healing - their bodies were blackened and rotten. The stench of gangrenous flesh turned Buck's stomach and he was forced to move away. They would die soon.

Buck shivered at a cold chill in the air. The men jerked their heads up suddenly like wild animals catching a scent in the wind. The expressionless faces began to show fear and the men cowered down in the mist.

Another creature rose from the darkness. It wore a black robe similar to the lovely one, but the likeness stopped there. This dark being had a sinister soul so unlike the loving, sweet spirited creature he sought. Buck noticed a ring of keys hanging from its robe and he understood the new creature's purpose - it was the guard.

With a wave of its long talon-like hand, the guard demanded the men continue. The movement of its claws in the breeze sounded like the crack of a whip and Buck jumped at the noise. He felt sorry for the prisoners no matter what their crimes had been. It was obvious this guard was a tough taskmaster.

Fear spurred some of the men to move faster in their habitual patterns, anxious to please the guard. Others tried to hide from it only to receive a lash of its hand to penalize their attempt. A few of the men tried to escape and pulled at their shackles. One of them rubbed against the iron bands so furiously the metal cut into his flesh and blood spurted freely from the wounds. Buck heard the man cry out, but it was a cry of joy rather than pain as the metal band sawed away at the bone and the leg irons slipped off his ankles. The freed man ran, but his grotesque stumps left a bloody trail in the mist and the guard found him easily.

Buck started forward to help the fleeing prisoner, but his fear of the guard stopped him. Perhaps it was better not to interfere - after all they were prisoners. With a single slice of its clawed hand, the guard brought the man down. It became apparent to Buck that once put into bondage there, no one escaped and evidently, no one was set free. The guard returned to the other prisoners, stopping before each one of them, dangling its keys in their faces. Buck wondered why the guard carried keys if no one was ever released.

The guard grew tired of tormenting its prisoners and turned to Buck. Reaching out its hideous hand, it motioned for him to come forward, but Buck was frightened and refused. He tried to step backward but the mist had risen up behind him and turned solid, blocking his retreat. Trembling with fear, Buck watched the guard advance toward him. It stood inches away examining him with its hidden eyes. With a quick slice of its claw, the guard ripped open Buck's chest and abdomen, creating a gaping wound. Buck gasped in pain as the guard pried him open and inserted its hand into his body. It clawed at Buck's insides and pulled him open further to take a good look while the terrorized Kiowa writhed in agony against the wall. Buck hit and kicked at the dark being trying to break free from its clutches, but the guard continued to search until it finally found something that suited its purpose. The guard withdrew its hand and smiled at what it found within Buck. Yes, these would work nicely - they always did. Guilt and fear were very strong. The guard quickly wove together Buck's weaknesses into a strong cloth and gagged him, silencing his cry for help.

Buck tried to run, but he was weak and couldn't move through the mist. The guard suddenly disappeared and he searched frantically for the maniac. Fearing for his life, Buck tried desperately to scream but the gag of weaknesses prevented it.

Buck flinched as a cold metal band closed around his ankle. He felt the clawed hand of the guard on his other leg beneath the mist, and kicked furiously at the jailer. Why was this happening? He had only wanted to explore the beautiful land the creature had showed him. He wasn't like the others. He was only an observer. Summoning all his remaining strength, Buck broke free of the guard and ran for his life but the loose shackle flying around his feet tripped him and he fell. Buck felt a tug on his free leg and the cold touch of the metal band sealing his fate.

He was pulled to his feet, but rather than the hideous guard, he saw the dark beauty he sought standing before him. At last help had arrived - surely the creature would be his salvation. It loved him - it had told him so. Buck started to speak as the lovely one reached out and removed the gag, but it placed a finger gently over his lips to silence him. It brushed its soft hand over Buck's eyes and he closed them under the feathery touch. Buck felt its sweet breath as the creature came close and waited expectantly for his release. The dark creature whispered his name - claiming him for its own. It leaned over him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips . . . then threw its head back against the darkness . . . and laughed.

Buck woke from his nightmare delirious with pain and fear. The creature had been inside him. It ripped him open and tore at his insides. Buck's stomach began to churn at the thought and felt something very foreign inside him - something very wrong. It was still there. Buck bolted upright in bed and ripped his shirt open. He looked down at himself, expecting to see the large wound the creature's claws had made, but saw nothing more than smooth skin. The wound had healed with the creature still inside.

He cried out in agony as the monster grabbed at his back and twisted it in unnatural ways. Bolts of pain shot through his lower back and exploded into his legs as the imagined enemy tried to pull his spine apart.

Buck felt hands on him, trying to hold his legs down, but he kicked them away fearing the leg irons. He felt the claws moving inside him, shredding his body to pieces as the creature searched for the way out. Buck knew it would kill him soon. He pulled frantically at the skin on his chest and abdomen but the wound wouldn't reopen - it had healed so well there wasn't even a scar.

The guards tried to hold him down, but Buck pushed his way past them and crawled to the edge of the bed. He tried to stand but his shaking legs wouldn't hold him and he fell with a thud to the wood floor. The guards rushed to him and he felt their hands again but he kicked and hit at them until they backed away. He could feel the hideous claws reaching into his legs, squeezing the muscles until they tensed in rigid cramps. It had to be the creature - nothing natural could hurt that badly.

Buck began to tear at the skin on his abdomen, scratching fiercely with his fingernails until bright red streaks appeared. But it wasn't working - he needed something sharper.

His eyes flitted rapidly across the room and finally fell on the broken pieces of crockery Kid had left on the kitchen cupboard. Buck grabbed at the side of the bed and struggled to his feet while a baffled Kid and Teaspoon watched his strange actions. Although angry and upset, he seemed to have his senses about him when he fell asleep, but terror now filled his wide eyes. Kid looked at Teaspoon for an answer, but the helpless expression pasted on the older man's face told him he didn't have one either.

Buck gained his footing and clumsily made his way to the kitchen cupboard. Since he had reacted violently to their attempts to restrain him, Kid and Teaspoon thought it best to let him do what he wanted - until he snatched up a piece of the jagged crockery and his intent became clear.

Kid rushed across the room and grabbed at Buck's arm, knocking them both to the floor. He tried desperately to wrestle the weapon away from Buck, but the confused young man was intent on freeing himself of the creature inside him. Teaspoon held Buck around the waist while the delirious boy thrashed wildly against them. For a moment, Kid thought that Teaspoon would have to slap Buck again to bring him to his senses. But the older man had no intention of striking the boy again and instead wrapped his arms tighter and pulled Buck toward him, cradling him like a frightened child, rocking him gently back and forth while he struggled to free himself of the hold.

Buck feared for his life and continued to battle the enemies both around and inside him, but something was different. Something felt warm and comforting - safe.

Kid made a move toward the weapon and breathed a sigh of relief as Buck allowed him to open his hand and remove the sharp piece.

Buck drew a quivering breath as the pain tore through his back again, still trying to sort out dream from reality. He looked up at the faces hovering over him, expecting to see the laughing faces of his guards, but they weren't laughing - they were just as terrified as he was.

He lay in Teaspoon's arms, drawing air in ragged breaths and allowed the man's touch to calm him.

"You won't leave me there, will you?" Buck asked, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper.

Teaspoon didn't have a clue where "there" was, but it was obviously a place where Buck didn't want to be. He pulled the boy tighter to him and to his joy, Buck neither flinched or pulled away.

"No, son. We ain't gonna leave you there."