After the Fall

by Darrel Sparkman

  Trent interrupted him. “Stop it, Chico. We have no time. Do you have men close? Riders you can get to in a hurry?"

  "Yes. Yes, I think so.” Chico's voice was hopeful.

  "Go get them. Seal off this mountain. If the worst happens, Gunny must not escape. No matter what it costs, Chico. Even if Katherine and I both go down, you have to make sure Gunny doesn't leave this mountain. Is this understood?"

  "I will not fail, this time."

  Trent looked up the mountain. Now, Gunny. Now, you will pay. He faded into the trees at the edge of the clearing, leaving not so much as a ruffled leaf to mark his passing.

  * * * *

  Gunny watched her come awake slowly. He could see memory come rushing back, and watched as the pain in her head was replaced by fear ... a gut-wrenching fear that bolted her upright on the bed—only to be snapped back by the ropes holding her down. She swiveled her head and found Gunny gazing at her from beside a window.

  "You."

  "Might as well lay back and be comfortable, missy. It's going to be a long day.” Gunny went back to gazing out the window. “I'm going to kill him."

  "You will never do it,” Katie told him quietly. “Not on your best day."

  Gunny left the window and came slowly toward her. He saw Katie glance down at herself as she suddenly realized she was completely naked. He could see tears in her eyes as she fought the restraints holding her to the bed.

  "Please don't do this, Gunny."

  Gunny stood by the bed and calmly cupped one of her breasts. He could feel the heat rising within him. She was so beautiful. Her breasts were large and full and she was so worthy ... not now ... not yet!

  Katie stifled a scream as he pinched her nipple between his fingers. He withdrew his hand, only to come back with a glittering blade. Resting the cutting-edge between her breasts, he lightly pulled the knife down toward her navel, the weight of the knife the only pressure on her skin. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a thin line of blood started coming up in little beads.

  "Oh, he'll come, missy. He will come, and maybe he will kill me. Maybe we will both die. But, he won't be here for a long while. And, missy ... by then you won't care what he does. Not one bit."

  * * * *

  Trent stood in the gloom of the forest with sweat running in rivers from his body. A thin wire stretched across his leggings. Another inch, it would pull free, and the metal fragments from the satchel charge would tear him to pieces. He had worked his way up the mountain by the roughest route possible. Now, with the cabin in sight, he faced only one way to get to the top of the mountain. It was booby-trapped every step of the way.

  Slowly, Trent backed his leg away from the wire. His heart was hammering in his chest. He hadn't considered booby-traps, and he had almost paid for the omission with his life ... and Katie's. Think, damn it, think!

  He had just disarmed the explosive charge when the answer came in the form of Chico Cruz. Trent looked on, astounded as Cruz and two other men hazed a small herd of cattle ahead of them—and coming up the trail. Suddenly an explosion rocked the mountainside and one of the steers came apart in a shower of blood and hide. The rest bolted, panic stricken, into the brush. Two more men came up the trail, pushing more cattle ahead of them. Bovine minesweeping was cruel but effective, and something used in past war and conflicts. Two more explosions and the men came up even with Trent.

  Cruz grinned at Trent. “It's all I could think of."

  "Chico, how many more cattle down below?"

  "Many more, my friend, and my riders have found a way up the other side of the mountain."

  "We have to hurry. Gunny will figure out what we are doing. If he thinks he has to run, he will kill her.” Trent slid down the boulder he had been perched on. “I need an old-fashioned stampede, Chico. Everything you've got all in one push, right up to the cabin."

  * * * *

  Gunny stood by the window, listening intently. He had heard three explosions, then silence.

  "That boy's smart.” He turned and walked toward Katie. “He is trying to find all my satchel charges so he can explode them. Smart, but it will take him too long.” He stood by her side, rubbing the side of the blade against her abdomen. “Right now, it's time for us to...” His voice trailed off.

  The sounds of bawling cattle, shots fired and men yelling, signaled the start of the stampede. Chico's men drove the panicked cattle straight up the mountain trail, causing one explosion after another. Gunny leaped to the window in time to see what was left of the herd of cattle already pouring into the clearing around his cabin. Turning, he looked out the back window of the house to see riders coming in through the trees. Cursing, Gunny grabbed his rifle and threw open the front door. As he brought his rifle up to fire, a charging horse knocked him sprawling. He came up firing, emptying saddles all around him. His AK-47 clacked open and he threw it from him. Pulling his knife, he waited for the one he knew would come.

  * * * *

  "It's time, Gunny.” Trent was softly treading toward Gunny. “It is time for us."

  "Come get it, boy.” Gunny's face twisted in a snarl. “I'll give you a belly full."

  They came together in a clash of metal as razor-sharp knives made deadly designs in the air. A silent crowd on their horses encircled the fighting men, each mesmerized by the fight before them.

  Gunny lunged at Trent, his knife slashing across Trent's arm.

  Gunny stepped back. “Got you, boy."

  His laugh died in his throat as he back-peddled away from Trent's attack. When they pulled apart again, Gunny was bleeding from several places on his chest and arms.

  Trent waited quietly for Gunny's next move. When it came, it was so fast Trent barely avoided it. With his blade pushing Gunny's knife aside, Trent buried his fist in Gunny's belly. Then, when Gunny folded up, he met his lowering head with a rising knee. Gunny snapped backward and hit the ground, shoulders first, then rolled frantically away; fearing Trent would be on him.

  Trent stood quietly waiting. No emotion stirred his face as he stared at Gunny.

  The soldier stood slightly bent over, his left hand against his side. “That was good, real good. But not good enough. Now it's time for you to go, boy."

  He came at Trent with all his strength and speed until, panting for breath, they stood eye-to-eye in the middle of the clearing, their knives locked together as they strained against each other. As they stood, Gunny suddenly came up with a knife in his other hand. Trent wrenched away as the blade slid along his side against his ribs, then completed the turn, knocking Gunny sprawling in the dirt. Gunny came up spitting dirt and rushed him. Trent brushed aside Gunny's thrust and felt his blade bury itself in Gunny's stomach.

  Gunny looked down at the knife in his belly, then up at Trent. His breath was coming in gasps as he looked into Trent's eyes. “Guess I'll go ... instead."

  Trent pulled the knife up and over in a figure seven, then pushed Gunny's body away. He stood looking at Gunny for a long time, no sound coming from the men gathered in the circle. Finally, the horses parted and Trent saw a blanket-wrapped Katie coming toward him. Cruz had cut her loose and she was running to him, laughing and crying at the same time. As his arms were full of Katie, Trent looked over her shoulder at a grinning Cruz.

  "A long day, my friend.” Trent's voice sounded tired.

  Cruz sobered and looked seriously at him. “It will get longer."

  Trent, alarmed, pushed Katie away from him. “What is it, Chico?"

  Chico gazed down the trail. “We have all this hamburger..."

  Chapter 22

  THE CRISP, COOL air of an early fall day gently rustled the golden leaves in the towering oaks. The day was resplendent in color as the different kinds of trees tried to outdo each other, trying to be the brightest and biggest.

  Colonel Frank Bonham walked past the mass graveyard that chronicled the Fall of the United States far better than the printed word would ever do. He climbed a grassy knoll, walking toward the lone grave at t
he top. Brushing away leaves stranded against the stone, he placed a small bunch of wild flowers on the grave of his daughter.

  Standing again, curious, he reached down and picked up an object lying on top of the stone. Looking around the clearing, wondering who had left it, he finally let his gaze fall on the object. It was a small branding iron with a cross on the end.

  He nodded his head once, then reverently he placed it back on the stone. As he walked back down the hill, his steps slowly regained a youthful spring, his eyes clear and vindicated. His smile—a small thing—growing slowly.

  Author's Note

  Big Springs, the principal landmark in this story, is located south of Van Buren, MO on US 60, then 4 miles east on SR 103. It is one of the nation's largest springs. Flowing from a collapsed cave, it emits an average of 286 million gallons of water a day.

  About The Author

  Darrel writes for his own enjoyment, and started with poetry and essays. With constant support from his family and friends, he has expanded into novels.

  Early in his career, Darrel served in the Navy, training to hunt submarines, then went to Viet Nam for combat search and rescue. After that he came home to work in the family business, also spending 17 years as a volunteer medic with the local ambulance company, 10 years as a professional photographer, and worked as a computer technician. Somehow, he also found time to help his wife raise 3 children.

  Currently, Darrel lives in southwest Missouri with his wife of over 40 years. His three children and 11 grandchildren live close by. He is employed by a leading horticulture supply company and works in irrigation and tech support.

  Nearly as strong as his belief in God, is the adage that the only thing constant in life is change, and that luck is a fickle mistress indeed. It has been an interesting trip.

  You can find out more about Darrel at jontop.tripod.com