Chapter Text
Adam Page took a long pull off the whiskey bottle as he staggered forward, his boot heel catching on a jagged chunk of rock. The dome of billions of stars blazed high overhead, their light exceptional with no competition from moon or clouds. Lowering the bottle, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He had no destination in mind but it seemed like something he should be doing. The deadlands spread around him for countless miles in all directions. The direction he was walking in had been chosen at random. One was as good as another this far away from any sort of civilization.
Somewhere a coyote called out, its voice clear as a bell in the stillness. He couldn't tell how far away it was though. The dry, thin air made judging distances tricky. It could have been miles away for all he knew. But the sound was reassuring considering there were other things out there in the wild, bad things. Things that would go out of its way to kill a man, or worse. But Adam was past caring. He took another swig. He thought about answering the coyotes. But in the end he decided the coyotes hadn't done anything to him. Unless they had killed and eaten a toddler, they didn't deserve his singing.
“Sorry Hangman. But you're one of those destined to be outlived.”
Dax and Cash had left him alone out there. He tried to wrap his head around the why hadn't he seen that coming of it. But deep down he knew. Kenny had told him once that self-deception was his special power. At the time he'd convinced himself Kenny was wrong, but nope, Kenny knew what he was talking about, as usual.
The problem was that he'd thought he had a lot in common with Dax and Cash; they were from the same area of the Confederacy, even knew some of the same people. He'd honestly thought they might be friends, or at least better friends than the Bucks. But, as it turned out, he was wrong. The Bucks hadn't been there for him, but Dax and Cash had actively used him until they got what they needed. Then they left, taking his horse, saddle and everything else, except his bottle of whiskey and the loose bit of rope Dax had mockingly placed around his neck. “Just in case”. Joke was on Dax though, there was only scrub brush, nothing that were big enough to hold he weight long enough to strangle himself.
It wasn't the first time he'd been wrong about people but he had to admit this one actually hurt. Mostly because they'd asked him to betray the Bucks. And he did, reluctantly but in the end it was his choice to go through with it. He took another swig and squinted at the stars swing lazily in his field of vision. He concluded he was drunk.
Good. That had been his goal.
Where was he even walking to anyway? He knew there was nothing out here in the deadlands to save him. Nothing except death. There was always death. He deserved it for what he'd done. His sluggish mind chewed the past few days over but eventually he gave up thinking about it. He kept walking though, mostly to stay warm. One step, then another, and another, not necessarily in a straight line. The ground beneath his boots rose gradually and he stumbled more than once. When the sun rose, if by some miracle he wasn't found by one of the local inhabitants before that, he still had nowhere to go. So why was he even bothering?
Somewhere in the distance behind him there was a low growling, like rocks sliding down into a deep ravine. He breathed out. Something had found his trail. It was big, whatever it was. He shivered in the cold air. At least the whiskey warmed him on the inside. He finally came to the top of the long, gradual slope and stopped. The distant horizon was visible as an uninterrupted absence of stars. He judged it was a pretty good as far as last views went. His legs folded underneath him and he sat down, bracing his elbows against his knees, the half empty bottle dangled from his fingertips.
Adam craned his neck and looked up and around, locating the North Star. He mentally calculated how many more hours until dawn. Too long, he decided. He'd seen his last sunrise already. What was behind him wouldn't let him see another. The holster on his hip was empty, Dax had relieved him of his weapons a lifetime ago.
He took a deep drink, determined to drain the bottle's last drops before it found him. No need to waste any whiskey on what was coming for him. It was the only thing that made him feel anything, even if what he felt was self-loathing. He finally lowered the empty bottle and set it on the ground beside him. He lay back, folded his hands behind his head and gazed up at the endless sea of stars. He couldn't say it had been a good run but he could say he was glad it was over. He smiled to himself. No one would miss him but that didn't bother him either.
Whatever it was was taking its own sweet time but it would be coming. He closed his eyes and let the whiskey pull him down into darkness. He was still smiling as his breathing deepened, and he fell asleep.
TBC