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7. Again or never

It was late afternoon when Bill reached his territory again. He eyeballed the shed, then he disappeared in the house.
On his way, he had enough time to calm down and tried to think about other things.
"Never mind," he said to himself. "Not long and the chameleon will be down and I can pinch the town again and everything will be back to normal."
Feeling a little better, he went to the kitchen cupboard and took a new bottle. He sat down in front of the kitchen table and drank out the bottle half-empty. Then he put it on the table and thrummed his crawls on it.
Did the chameleon die in the meantime? Since yesterday, he didn’t look after him. His state alone looked very bad.
"Bill. Help me!"
Bill closed his eyes.
Not again!
Why did that damn sheriff say that damn words? Now he couldn’t get it out of his head.
"Be quiet, will you!" he grouched and clutched again at his bottle. Shortly after he drank up, he took another bottle from the cupboard.
"Just ignore," he thought. "Just ignore."
After he had emptied the second bottle, he threw himself on the bed.
"That’s better," he murmured half-drunk.
"Bill!"
The Gila monster sat up with growling.
"Shut your trap!" he shouted.
There was silence.
"There we go," Bill muttered tiredly and lay down again.
Dozing he tried to sleep. He saw his brother’s grave again. He couldn’t forget it. What must it be for a feeling if you would stand beside your own grave.
"Bill!"
Bill scared in horror when his 5 year little brother appeared beside the grave.
No, that’s not you!
"Get off!" Bill cried. "You are dead!"
"Bill." His brother reached his hand for him. Bill fell back.
"Stay away!"
Tears welled in his brother’s eyes. Suddenly he hid his face in his hands and cried. "You hate me."
Bill jumped forward. "I don’t hate you! Stop crying!"
But the child cried louder.
"Stop that! Stop that!" Bill cried. "I can’t hear that anymore!"
He tugged his hat deeper in his eyes. Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He got on his knees and embraced his brother. "Stop crying. Stop crying. It’s okay, it’s okay."
Then he interrupted hugging and helt his brother’s shoulders. His brother looked at him.
"Why are you never here?"
Bill didn’t know what to say. "I… you know…because…"
Tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t say that he wanted to forget him.
"I was been there," Bill said with pressed voice. "But you are gone."
"I miss you," his brother sobbed.
Bill pressed his eyes together. Tears ran down his face.
"Me too."
"Help me."
Bill held his shoulders tight. "I couldn’t."
"Why is the aunt crying?" Wyatt asked.
Bill didn’t understand. "Why?"
His brother pointed left to him, where not far away a woman kneed on the ground in front of a grave.
Bill stood up and approached. The figure seemed familiar to him. The woman spoke quietly prayers and crossed herself several times.
Bill opened his mouth in disbelief. It was Beans.
He narrowed his eyes. On the grave sat the sheriff, but Beans didn’t see him somehow. Rango breathed heavily. He reached his hand for Beans, but Beans continued her praying.
"What’s wrong with him?" Wyatt asked and pulled Bill’s shirt.
"I don’t know."
Rango looked at Bill. "Bill, help me."
Wyatt went ahead and laid himself beside Rango on the grave.
"Wyatt, come back," Bill cried.
"I’m tired," his little brother muttered.
"WYATT!" Bill jumped forward. He staggered aside and fell into an empty grave.
"AHHHH!"
Bill screamed and crashed on the floor. There he turned himself around wildly, until he could orientated himself. Panting he lay beside the bed. Slowly he became clear that he had dreamed. Tired he rubbed his face. "Damn alcohol."
After a while, he became calmer and thought of the dream.
It saddened him to see his brother like that. Although it had been a dream, he wished the dream had been longer if that damn sheriff never appeared inside. Nevertheless, his brother didn’t seem to hate him. Or was it the fact that Rango said the same words like him?
Moaning he stood up. The dream had exhausted him.
Why did his brother lay himself beside Rango on the grave? Did he want to say something or did he read nonsense into that? Dreams are lies, but the picture didn’t disappear of his head.
"Wyatt," he muttered. "What do you want to say?"

Bill hesitated to open the door of the shed. Several times, he turned around and turned back. He didn’t want to do it, but a part of him forced him. Finally, he grabbed the deadbolt and pushed him aside. He opened the door carefully and looked around. In the shed everything was quiet. Nothing budged. Where was that chameleon? It wasn’t long until he found Rango. The chameleon lay crowded together in a corner with tucked up legs.
Bill looked askant at him. Was he frozen?
He tapped him on his shoulders. But the chameleon didn’t react to his haptics. Or was he dead?
He grapped Rango’s shirt and dragged him out and pulled him in the middle of the room. He laid the chameleon on the back and watched him thoughtfully. He didn’t seem to be dead totally, because the torso still moved. Mucous dripped out from Rango’s mouth. Bill wrinkled his nose. Then he pressed Rango’s cheeks and opened his mouth. The inside of the mouth was red, the throat phlegmy and inflamed.
Bill narrowed his eyes.
Cold influenza.
Typical of that illness. It was a good thing for him that he had got that illness when he was a child.
He fetched his knife from his pants pocket and cut through the ropes. Afterwards he lifted Rango’s arm and let it fall again. The chameleon was complete powerless.
Frowning he scratched his head. Here the chameleon has no chance of survival. He needed an antiserum, which you could find only in town.
Bill sighed and rubbed his forehead. His father’s words echoed through his mind again.
"I will make ready the cart. We drive to town immediately."
Bill looked upward. "Did you tried to tell that to me?"
He wished his brother would answer just this once.
What if it was wrong? What if his brother had never wanted it?
He tried to imagine, how his brother would lay on the floor.
"Bill, I’m tired."
He smiled softly.

The two roadrunners lifted their heads in surprise, when they saw how Bill left the shed with Rango on his shoulders. Excelsior cackled excited. Instinctively he could feel his rider wasn’t in good condition. He flapped his wings several times, jumped up and down, when Bill came closer. The Gila monster climbed about the fence. He threw Rango on the ground and took the saddle from the fence to saddle the stolen roadrunner.
Excelsior positioned himself beside his unconscious rider and pecked on his clothes.
"Stop that, stupid poultry!" Bill growled, when he was ready with saddling roadrunner and picked Rango up from the ground.
"Will you stop it!" Bill shouted upset when the roadrunner ran around them restless. Annoyed Bill pushed him away and threw Rango on the saddle from the other roadrunner. Then he took the reins and left the paddock.
Excelsior followed them nervously.
"You stay here!" Bill ordered.
But Excelsior didn’t dream of it. Instead, he ran back and forth again and Bill became more and more annoyed.
"In you go!"
He drew his revolver and fired several shots in the air. Scared Excelsior ran back into the safety paddock.
"There we go. Why you didn’t it without delay?" Bill muttered and closed the fence.
The roadrunner ran back and forth indignantly. Bill didn’t bother about the excited clucking and climbed on the roadrunner, so that Rango laid crossways in front of him on the saddle. He goaded the roadrunner and rode away.
Befuddled Excelsior looked after them.

It is still a long way to town. Whether he will survive?
These questions were crossing Bill’s mind when he rode with Rango through the desert. From time to time, he took a gander at Rango to be sure that he was still alive and that he didn’t rush himself for nothing. Who would be so crazy and ride like a mad man to bring away a corpse?
When the way became stony, the roadrunner had to jump several times. Rango muttered some vague sounds.
"Stay down!" Bill said.
Rango cough stertorously.
"I hope he doesn’t vomit," Bill thought a little worried.
Washing clothes wasn’t his hobby.
He stopped his roadrunner, when they reached a bifurcation. Now he had the choice to take the longer or the shorter way with bumpy area.
He looked at Rango and lifted his chin.
He needed the antiserum at once!
Bill steered the roadrunner to the left and a riding above many obstacles began. Bill wasn’t squeamish in such things. It was true of him: Grit your teeth and get to it! Fortunately, roadrunners were used to ride in habitats like this, so that Bill only had to govern the speed and the direction. The roadrunner did the rest. For a moment, Bill looked to the side and watched how the landscape flied past.
He blinked irritated. This high-speed riding remained him, how his parents had brought his brother to town.
Bill sped up his animal to maximum output. The animal seemed to fly. Suddenly they reached an area with many fallen cactuses. The roadrunner climbed up a rock and jumped above with a great leap. With hard impact, the animal landed on his feet again on the other side. Bill’s vision blurred.

…..

Brutally the cart crashed against his small body.
"Bill?"
Bill looked at his brother. "I’m here."
He reached his hand.
"Bill… help me…"
He took his hand and held it tight.

I hope it was okay. While I wrote this chapter I listened several times the song "The Sound of Silence" by Disturbed.
The song has noting to do with the story, and at the end of the songtext absolutely not anymore, but I had to listen the melodie again and again. Maybe the begin of the song let me fall in sadness.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UiEhFa…

Description
7. Again or never

It was late afternoon when Bill reached his territory again. He eyeballed the shed, then he disappeared in the house.
On his way, he had enough time to calm down and tried to think about other things.
"Never mind," he said to himself. "Not long and the chameleon will be down and I can pinch the town again and everything will be back to normal."
Feeling a little better, he went to the kitchen cupboard and took a new bottle. He sat down in front of the kitchen table and drank out the bottle half-empty. Then he put it on the table and thrummed his crawls on it.
Did the chameleon die in the meantime? Since yesterday, he didn’t look after him. His state alone looked very bad.
"Bill. Help me!"
Bill closed his eyes.
Not again!
Why did that damn sheriff say that damn words? Now he couldn’t get it out of his head.
"Be quiet, will you!" he grouched and clutched again at his bottle. Shortly after he drank up, he took another bottle from the cupboard.
"Just ignore," he thought. "Just ignore."
After he had emptied the second bottle, he threw himself on the bed.
"That’s better," he murmured half-drunk.
"Bill!"
The Gila monster sat up with growling.
"Shut your trap!" he shouted.
There was silence.
"There we go," Bill muttered tiredly and lay down again.
Dozing he tried to sleep. He saw his brother’s grave again. He couldn’t forget it. What must it be for a feeling if you would stand beside your own grave.
"Bill!"
Bill scared in horror when his 5 year little brother appeared beside the grave.
No, that’s not you!
"Get off!" Bill cried. "You are dead!"
"Bill." His brother reached his hand for him. Bill fell back.
"Stay away!"
Tears welled in his brother’s eyes. Suddenly he hid his face in his hands and cried. "You hate me."
Bill jumped forward. "I don’t hate you! Stop crying!"
But the child cried louder.
"Stop that! Stop that!" Bill cried. "I can’t hear that anymore!"
He tugged his hat deeper in his eyes. Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He got on his knees and embraced his brother. "Stop crying. Stop crying. It’s okay, it’s okay."
Then he interrupted hugging and helt his brother’s shoulders. His brother looked at him.
"Why are you never here?"
Bill didn’t know what to say. "I… you know…because…"
Tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t say that he wanted to forget him.
"I was been there," Bill said with pressed voice. "But you are gone."
"I miss you," his brother sobbed.
Bill pressed his eyes together. Tears ran down his face.
"Me too."
"Help me."
Bill held his shoulders tight. "I couldn’t."
"Why is the aunt crying?" Wyatt asked.
Bill didn’t understand. "Why?"
His brother pointed left to him, where not far away a woman kneed on the ground in front of a grave.
Bill stood up and approached. The figure seemed familiar to him. The woman spoke quietly prayers and crossed herself several times.
Bill opened his mouth in disbelief. It was Beans.
He narrowed his eyes. On the grave sat the sheriff, but Beans didn’t see him somehow. Rango breathed heavily. He reached his hand for Beans, but Beans continued her praying.
"What’s wrong with him?" Wyatt asked and pulled Bill’s shirt.
"I don’t know."
Rango looked at Bill. "Bill, help me."
Wyatt went ahead and laid himself beside Rango on the grave.
"Wyatt, come back," Bill cried.
"I’m tired," his little brother muttered.
"WYATT!" Bill jumped forward. He staggered aside and fell into an empty grave.
"AHHHH!"
Bill screamed and crashed on the floor. There he turned himself around wildly, until he could orientated himself. Panting he lay beside the bed. Slowly he became clear that he had dreamed. Tired he rubbed his face. "Damn alcohol."
After a while, he became calmer and thought of the dream.
It saddened him to see his brother like that. Although it had been a dream, he wished the dream had been longer if that damn sheriff never appeared inside. Nevertheless, his brother didn’t seem to hate him. Or was it the fact that Rango said the same words like him?
Moaning he stood up. The dream had exhausted him.
Why did his brother lay himself beside Rango on the grave? Did he want to say something or did he read nonsense into that? Dreams are lies, but the picture didn’t disappear of his head.
"Wyatt," he muttered. "What do you want to say?"

Bill hesitated to open the door of the shed. Several times, he turned around and turned back. He didn’t want to do it, but a part of him forced him. Finally, he grabbed the deadbolt and pushed him aside. He opened the door carefully and looked around. In the shed everything was quiet. Nothing budged. Where was that chameleon? It wasn’t long until he found Rango. The chameleon lay crowded together in a corner with tucked up legs.
Bill looked askant at him. Was he frozen?
He tapped him on his shoulders. But the chameleon didn’t react to his haptics. Or was he dead?
He grapped Rango’s shirt and dragged him out and pulled him in the middle of the room. He laid the chameleon on the back and watched him thoughtfully. He didn’t seem to be dead totally, because the torso still moved. Mucous dripped out from Rango’s mouth. Bill wrinkled his nose. Then he pressed Rango’s cheeks and opened his mouth. The inside of the mouth was red, the throat phlegmy and inflamed.
Bill narrowed his eyes.
Cold influenza.
Typical of that illness. It was a good thing for him that he had got that illness when he was a child.
He fetched his knife from his pants pocket and cut through the ropes. Afterwards he lifted Rango’s arm and let it fall again. The chameleon was complete powerless.
Frowning he scratched his head. Here the chameleon has no chance of survival. He needed an antiserum, which you could find only in town.
Bill sighed and rubbed his forehead. His father’s words echoed through his mind again.
"I will make ready the cart. We drive to town immediately."
Bill looked upward. "Did you tried to tell that to me?"
He wished his brother would answer just this once.
What if it was wrong? What if his brother had never wanted it?
He tried to imagine, how his brother would lay on the floor.
"Bill, I’m tired."
He smiled softly.

The two roadrunners lifted their heads in surprise, when they saw how Bill left the shed with Rango on his shoulders. Excelsior cackled excited. Instinctively he could feel his rider wasn’t in good condition. He flapped his wings several times, jumped up and down, when Bill came closer. The Gila monster climbed about the fence. He threw Rango on the ground and took the saddle from the fence to saddle the stolen roadrunner.
Excelsior positioned himself beside his unconscious rider and pecked on his clothes.
"Stop that, stupid poultry!" Bill growled, when he was ready with saddling roadrunner and picked Rango up from the ground.
"Will you stop it!" Bill shouted upset when the roadrunner ran around them restless. Annoyed Bill pushed him away and threw Rango on the saddle from the other roadrunner. Then he took the reins and left the paddock.
Excelsior followed them nervously.
"You stay here!" Bill ordered.
But Excelsior didn’t dream of it. Instead, he ran back and forth again and Bill became more and more annoyed.
"In you go!"
He drew his revolver and fired several shots in the air. Scared Excelsior ran back into the safety paddock.
"There we go. Why you didn’t it without delay?" Bill muttered and closed the fence.
The roadrunner ran back and forth indignantly. Bill didn’t bother about the excited clucking and climbed on the roadrunner, so that Rango laid crossways in front of him on the saddle. He goaded the roadrunner and rode away.
Befuddled Excelsior looked after them.

It is still a long way to town. Whether he will survive?
These questions were crossing Bill’s mind when he rode with Rango through the desert. From time to time, he took a gander at Rango to be sure that he was still alive and that he didn’t rush himself for nothing. Who would be so crazy and ride like a mad man to bring away a corpse?
When the way became stony, the roadrunner had to jump several times. Rango muttered some vague sounds.
"Stay down!" Bill said.
Rango cough stertorously.
"I hope he doesn’t vomit," Bill thought a little worried.
Washing clothes wasn’t his hobby.
He stopped his roadrunner, when they reached a bifurcation. Now he had the choice to take the longer or the shorter way with bumpy area.
He looked at Rango and lifted his chin.
He needed the antiserum at once!
Bill steered the roadrunner to the left and a riding above many obstacles began. Bill wasn’t squeamish in such things. It was true of him: Grit your teeth and get to it! Fortunately, roadrunners were used to ride in habitats like this, so that Bill only had to govern the speed and the direction. The roadrunner did the rest. For a moment, Bill looked to the side and watched how the landscape flied past.
He blinked irritated. This high-speed riding remained him, how his parents had brought his brother to town.
Bill sped up his animal to maximum output. The animal seemed to fly. Suddenly they reached an area with many fallen cactuses. The roadrunner climbed up a rock and jumped above with a great leap. With hard impact, the animal landed on his feet again on the other side. Bill’s vision blurred.

…..

Brutally the cart crashed against his small body.
"Bill?"
Bill looked at his brother. "I’m here."
He reached his hand.
"Bill… help me…"
He took his hand and held it tight.

I hope it was okay. While I wrote this chapter I listened several times the song "The Sound of Silence" by Disturbed.
The song has noting to do with the story, and at the end of the songtext absolutely not anymore, but I had to listen the melodie again and again. Maybe the begin of the song let me fall in sadness.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UiEhFa…