Dan Evans (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lasthalfmile) wrote2008-10-29 01:37 am
lasthalfmile) wrote2008-10-29 01:37 am
conversations with dead people oom
Someone is whistling.
When Johnny comes marching home again
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then
Hurrah! Hurrah!
There's a sharp sound, too, a rat-tat-tat-tat that he recognizes as a drummer.
The men will cheer and the boys will shout
The ladies they will all turn out
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
And then another sound, just as sharp, just as sudden as that first shot that had rung out over the crisp, clear air in Contention. Dan hits the ground without realizing he's even falling, but he's not hurting. Another gunshot, and he curls his fingers into the earth, cold mud underneath his bare palms as he glances up --
The old church bell will peal with joy
Hurrah! Hurrah!
To welcome home our darling boy,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
His hand curls around that rifle and he runs as fast as he can.
(but it's not fast enough to avoid the goddamn shot)
He wakes up in a hospital with a searing pain in his left foot that makes him scream, nerve endings hollering at him loud enough to send sparks behind his eyes and fireworks down his spine, until they drug him with something, a towel over the nose and mouth to knock him out again, hands on his shoulders and thighs to hold him down stay still Evans we need to amputate and then there's nothing but black.
The village lads and lassies say
With roses they will strew the way,
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
The stagecoach jostles over the dusty, dry road...but this isn't right. This isn't Bisbee, at least not like he remembers it. Dan steps out of the stage (every god damn step hurts like hell) and starts walking towards the ranch house.
The crops look different. The sun is hanging at an odd angle in the sky, and he can't recall the air ever being this still. There aren't any birds, or insects, and things are quiet. Too damn quiet, as he walks up the front steps of the house and reaches to knock --
(the door's already open)
Get ready for the Jubilee,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give the hero three times three,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
-- so he steps inside.
His footsteps echo in the stillness, wooden floorboards creaking quietly under his weight as he moves into the house. He can't quite find his voice to call out for them, but he doesn't need to, once he sees her sitting at the dining table.
"Alice?"
She doesn't look up at him, but he walks closer...
"Stop."
He does.
"Don't come closer."
"Alice?"
Her head snaps up at him, and he can see the tear stained tracks running down her face, streaking across her pale skin, trails in the dust. The entire room is coated in dust. Being this close to the desert, a land this dry, dust was a given, but this...this is wrong. This is too much dust.
"You left."
"I had to, Alice."
"No," she says. "No Dan, you didn't."
The laurel wreath is ready now
To place upon his loyal brow
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
When she pushes her chair back from the table, the air swirls (it's cold, it shouldn't be cold in here) and dust kicks up, but he doesn't sneeze. He doesn't even move, not as she walks closer to him, and he can see how much older she looks in the harsh light. He's not sure when the light got so harsh.
"You didn't."
"Yes, I did."
Alice Evans puts her hands on her hips and gives him a look that he knows means she's pissed at him, her eyes flashing and narrowed. She doesn't get angry often. She doesn't have the heart in it, when she knows what's going on behind his eyes. A rancher on a dying ranch with a dying son...
"Where are the boys?"
She doesn't say a word.
"Alice, where are the boys?"
Silence.
"Alice, where-"
Let love and friendship on that day,
Hurrah, hurrah!
Their choicest pleasures then display,
Hurrah, hurrah!
The bullet rings out from outside, and he stares at her for another long moment before he turns and bolts outside. Yelling. The air isn't still anymore. There's dust kicking up, covering his clothes and getting in his eyes and filling his lungs until he's choking. That barn is burning before his eyes and he can't do a damn thing about it, they're going to lose the horses...
Only it's not ash that flies through the air, or sparks.
Just dust.
Dan chokes and hits the ground, searing pain in his foot again, and it's too damn loud to hear himself think, too damn loud to scream. He's lying on the ground, it's dust but it's grass at the same time, and he can hear the cannon fire mixing with the steady woosh of the steam engine from that damn 3:10 train.
"Dan."
She's kneeling next to him, dress dull from weather and hem spotted with blood. He wonders if it's his blood. Her hand is running over his forehead.
"Dan, you're just dreamin', it's the fever. The boys are alright."
"Alice, I'm not..."
"You're not really here."
"How did..."
"I don't know," she says. "But the boys are alright."
He sits up a little, oblivious to the battlefield erupting around them. Someone screams but he doesn't even flinch. "I had to go, Alice. I know I promised you..."
"You got him on that train, Dan." She smiles, and it's a tight smile. "The boys are awful proud of you. William...he's a bit angry but suppose you knew that would happen."
Dan nods, not trusting his voice to ask about Mark.
"He's..."
Her voice trails off, a sickening hollow feeling in his chest spreading as the silence breaks for muted gunfire. It's like he's been hit hard in the head and everything is echoing around him. She wasn't there the day he got shot and she wasn't there the day he died, but she's here now, he's not sure why...
"What is it?"
"He misses you."
There's a solid lump that grows in his throat when she says those words.
"I miss him. I miss all of you."
And let each one perform some part,
To fill with joy the warrior's heart,
And we'll all feel gay
"We know."
Dan shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I had to..."
"I know," she says. "I'm not angry."
He's not going to cry, he's not going to cry but she's wiping away hot tears from his face. Soldiers don't cry. Neither do fathers. Or husbands. But he isn't any of those things anymore. He's dead. She's not, and neither are his boys, but he's not there. He curls his hands into the dirt, trying to grab hold of it, keep it.
"You can't stay, Dan."
"I know, but I don't want to leave. I never wanted to leave you and the boys."
"We know." She smiles at him. It's an honest to God genuine smile. "But you're all right."
(he knows she's telling the truth)
"You're all right, Dan," she continues. "And you got him on that train."
His mouth tastes like bitter iron and cold ash, but he manages to nod. He doesn't trust his voice to speak without coming out in a scream of a sob, so he just nods. The rat-tat-tat-tat echoes around in his skull with each jerky movement of his chin.
"You need to go to sleep."
"I don't want to."
Alice smiles, and leans down to kiss him, gently on the mouth. "I don't either, Dan, but you have to go now."
"I love you."
His lips brush against hers, and he kisses her, not deep, but tender and soft.
"I love you, too, Dan."
Dan looks up at her and feels the ground go warm, soft like the cotton sheets on his bed under his hands. He grips tighter, clawing for that earth. "Tell the boys."
She smiles at him again. "They already know, Dan. They always have."
When Johnny comes marching home.
When he snaps his eyes open, his fists are curled into the bedsheets and the light in the room is a gray blur, almost like fog, and he wonders if this is still part of the dream...but it's not. Just his tears. Dan hastily wipes the water out of his eyes and then flops back down with a heavy exhalation of breath.
He's tired, but he doesn't go back to sleep.
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then
Hurrah! Hurrah!
There's a sharp sound, too, a rat-tat-tat-tat that he recognizes as a drummer.
The ladies they will all turn out
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
And then another sound, just as sharp, just as sudden as that first shot that had rung out over the crisp, clear air in Contention. Dan hits the ground without realizing he's even falling, but he's not hurting. Another gunshot, and he curls his fingers into the earth, cold mud underneath his bare palms as he glances up --
the grass is covered by a low lying fog, only it's not natural, it's sulfur and smoke from cannon fire and rifles bitter to the scent and mingling with the iron and metallic taste in his mouth
one man charges across the field and the bullet hits him in the gut, he doubles over with a shout before he's silenced when his face presses into the ground
and then there's another sound, sobbing, someone yelling that they can't do this, there's too many of them, it's suicide and they've got to run before they get caught in a trap but they can't run or they'll lose the post they're supposed to stand
another sound, a choked gurgle as a body falls back into their trench, he's bleeding from the throat, dark red mixed with pale skin, he's too pale and it makes him stare he's too pale
-- and then he runs.
Hurrah! Hurrah!
To welcome home our darling boy,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
His hand curls around that rifle and he runs as fast as he can.
He wakes up in a hospital with a searing pain in his left foot that makes him scream, nerve endings hollering at him loud enough to send sparks behind his eyes and fireworks down his spine, until they drug him with something, a towel over the nose and mouth to knock him out again, hands on his shoulders and thighs to hold him down stay still Evans we need to amputate and then there's nothing but black.
With roses they will strew the way,
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
The stagecoach jostles over the dusty, dry road...but this isn't right. This isn't Bisbee, at least not like he remembers it. Dan steps out of the stage (every god damn step hurts like hell) and starts walking towards the ranch house.
The crops look different. The sun is hanging at an odd angle in the sky, and he can't recall the air ever being this still. There aren't any birds, or insects, and things are quiet. Too damn quiet, as he walks up the front steps of the house and reaches to knock --
Get ready for the Jubilee,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give the hero three times three,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
-- so he steps inside.
His footsteps echo in the stillness, wooden floorboards creaking quietly under his weight as he moves into the house. He can't quite find his voice to call out for them, but he doesn't need to, once he sees her sitting at the dining table.
"Alice?"
She doesn't look up at him, but he walks closer...
"Stop."
He does.
"Don't come closer."
"Alice?"
Her head snaps up at him, and he can see the tear stained tracks running down her face, streaking across her pale skin, trails in the dust. The entire room is coated in dust. Being this close to the desert, a land this dry, dust was a given, but this...this is wrong. This is too much dust.
"You left."
"I had to, Alice."
"No," she says. "No Dan, you didn't."
To place upon his loyal brow
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
When she pushes her chair back from the table, the air swirls (it's cold, it shouldn't be cold in here) and dust kicks up, but he doesn't sneeze. He doesn't even move, not as she walks closer to him, and he can see how much older she looks in the harsh light. He's not sure when the light got so harsh.
"You didn't."
"Yes, I did."
Alice Evans puts her hands on her hips and gives him a look that he knows means she's pissed at him, her eyes flashing and narrowed. She doesn't get angry often. She doesn't have the heart in it, when she knows what's going on behind his eyes. A rancher on a dying ranch with a dying son...
"Where are the boys?"
She doesn't say a word.
"Alice, where are the boys?"
Silence.
"Alice, where-"
Hurrah, hurrah!
Their choicest pleasures then display,
Hurrah, hurrah!
The bullet rings out from outside, and he stares at her for another long moment before he turns and bolts outside. Yelling. The air isn't still anymore. There's dust kicking up, covering his clothes and getting in his eyes and filling his lungs until he's choking. That barn is burning before his eyes and he can't do a damn thing about it, they're going to lose the horses...
Only it's not ash that flies through the air, or sparks.
Just dust.
he's really starting to hate dust riding on the trail over his land on the way to the canyon. that's the third cow they've lost in the last two weeks, already dead and been chewed up by scavengers. nothing can live in this heat except dry grass and a few trees, and he hates it so damn much
but his boy needs it
mark coughs hard and his little lungs heave with the effort to get oxygen, and he's pressing a damp cloth over his mouth to filter the dry air into his body, while his father stands in the room next to the bedroom and resists the urge to put his fist into the wall because he can't fix his boy
he hates this dust
Dan chokes and hits the ground, searing pain in his foot again, and it's too damn loud to hear himself think, too damn loud to scream. He's lying on the ground, it's dust but it's grass at the same time, and he can hear the cannon fire mixing with the steady woosh of the steam engine from that damn 3:10 train.
"Dan."
She's kneeling next to him, dress dull from weather and hem spotted with blood. He wonders if it's his blood. Her hand is running over his forehead.
"Dan, you're just dreamin', it's the fever. The boys are alright."
"Alice, I'm not..."
"You're not really here."
"How did..."
"I don't know," she says. "But the boys are alright."
He sits up a little, oblivious to the battlefield erupting around them. Someone screams but he doesn't even flinch. "I had to go, Alice. I know I promised you..."
"You got him on that train, Dan." She smiles, and it's a tight smile. "The boys are awful proud of you. William...he's a bit angry but suppose you knew that would happen."
Dan nods, not trusting his voice to ask about Mark.
"He's..."
Her voice trails off, a sickening hollow feeling in his chest spreading as the silence breaks for muted gunfire. It's like he's been hit hard in the head and everything is echoing around him. She wasn't there the day he got shot and she wasn't there the day he died, but she's here now, he's not sure why...
"What is it?"
"He misses you."
There's a solid lump that grows in his throat when she says those words.
"I miss him. I miss all of you."
To fill with joy the warrior's heart,
And we'll all feel gay
"We know."
Dan shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I had to..."
"I know," she says. "I'm not angry."
He's not going to cry, he's not going to cry but she's wiping away hot tears from his face. Soldiers don't cry. Neither do fathers. Or husbands. But he isn't any of those things anymore. He's dead. She's not, and neither are his boys, but he's not there. He curls his hands into the dirt, trying to grab hold of it, keep it.
"You can't stay, Dan."
"I know, but I don't want to leave. I never wanted to leave you and the boys."
"We know." She smiles at him. It's an honest to God genuine smile. "But you're all right."
"You're all right, Dan," she continues. "And you got him on that train."
His mouth tastes like bitter iron and cold ash, but he manages to nod. He doesn't trust his voice to speak without coming out in a scream of a sob, so he just nods. The rat-tat-tat-tat echoes around in his skull with each jerky movement of his chin.
"You need to go to sleep."
"I don't want to."
Alice smiles, and leans down to kiss him, gently on the mouth. "I don't either, Dan, but you have to go now."
"I love you."
His lips brush against hers, and he kisses her, not deep, but tender and soft.
"I love you, too, Dan."
Dan looks up at her and feels the ground go warm, soft like the cotton sheets on his bed under his hands. He grips tighter, clawing for that earth. "Tell the boys."
She smiles at him again. "They already know, Dan. They always have."
When he snaps his eyes open, his fists are curled into the bedsheets and the light in the room is a gray blur, almost like fog, and he wonders if this is still part of the dream...but it's not. Just his tears. Dan hastily wipes the water out of his eyes and then flops back down with a heavy exhalation of breath.
He's tired, but he doesn't go back to sleep.