by Nathan Jones
“Thanks, then.” Trapper called back, although at least he didn't sound entirely sarcastic. “Now how about you tell me how we're getting out of this box canyon?”
He paused and gave the man a confused look. They'd both been through this area plenty of times, and knew it like the back of their hands. “It's not completely a box canyon, you know that. Not far in it loops around and opens out again south of here, the way I used to get here. We can get out that way, too.”
“It loops around,” his adoptive dad agreed patiently. “Right back towards the bloodies.”
Skyler fumbled a bit. “Well yeah, but we can easily get there before them and get out, then make a clean getaway.”
“Unless,” Trapper pointed out quietly. “They happen to have horses. The reason you had to step in and delay them in the first place.”
“Well yeah, but Surly can outrun any Sangue . . . nag . . .” Skyler stopped completely and turned to stare at his adoptive dad, face paling. Surly could outrun any horse, especially on these mountain slopes which were the surefooted beast's home. Which was why he hadn't been worried or given his escape much thought.
But the horse couldn't do that if he was weighed down by two riders. Trapper coming to “save” him had just seriously complicated his, their, getaway. He swore.
“Language,” his adoptive dad said sternly.
“You're worried about that right now?” Skyler demanded. “What're we going to do?”
Unfortunately, there was only one thing they could do. Trapper seemed to realize it, too, as he urged Surly forward again, leaning down wearily to offer Skyler a hand up. “The only thing we can . . . head up the canyon.”
“There's nothing but cliffs up there!” Skyler protested as he scrambled into the saddle behind the mountain man. “We'll have to get up at least one, probably two, if we want to get out!”
“I'm aware,” Trapper said grimly. “I hope you're feeling up to some serious climbing.” He urged Surly up the canyon at dangerous speeds, considering the uneven terrain.
Behind them came a clatter and shouts, and Skyler turned to see that the Sangue riders had reached the mouth of the canyon and were cautiously filtering into it. The bloodies pointed at Surly and his two passengers and shouted, raising rifles, and Skyler was just ducking as Trapper guided the horse around a corner.
Surly stumbled slightly, and the mountain man callously urged him on. “Hey, if I knew you were going to be so rough with my horse I would've insisted on taking the reins,” Skyler snapped. Trapper didn't reply, and something about the grim set of the man's back made his heart sink.
He knew, of course. He just didn't want to acknowledge it.
The box canyon was nearly impassible aside from its two entrances. There was no way to lead a horse out up there, unless of course the horse could fly; Surly couldn't climb cliffs the way Skyler and his adoptive dad could, and even they were going to have trouble managing it.
Which meant they were going to have to leave his horse, his faithful companion of more than two years, to the bloodies. Tears sprang to his eyes in spite of the desperation of their situation, and he hastily blinked them away.
If Trapper had trusted him to be able to get away on his own, had just stayed with Gray, they'd both be out of this mess right now. He couldn't blame his adoptive dad for wanting to protect him, especially since he hadn't considered the complication of two people and one horse escaping either.
Still, it seemed like a stark symbol of everything he was dealing with from his parents right now: they were determined to baby him at all costs, even if it put them all in danger.
They reached the spot where the canyon became too narrow and rough for Surly to go any farther within only a few minutes. Trapper immediately slid from the horse, groaning in exhaustion, but Skyler couldn't bring himself to join him just yet. Instead he slid forward in the saddle and rested a hand on Surly's neck, choosing to ignore the irritable flicking of the ears in response.
“I don't want to leave him to these monsters,” he said quietly.
Trapper rested a hand on his knee, expression sympathetic but urgent. “It's your horse or our lives, and painful as it is that's an easy choice to make. Besides, Sangue won't hurt good horses . . . Surly will just have a new owner, that's all.”
“You think that makes it better?” Skyler demanded, tears once again pricking his eyes.
His adoptive dad pointed up the narrow, winding stretch of canyon between the cliffs ahead. “We get up there, we're gone. They can't chase us from that point. So we turn him lose, hope he maybe gets away and comes back to us in the valley, or at least distracts the enemy and buys us some time. And we thank him for being a faithful mount while we had him.”
Nodding, he jumped from the saddle and rested a hand on Surly's shoulder. “Hear that, boy? You find a way to get past those bloodies, run free or make your way back to Camptown.” He smiled grimly. “And if you can, trample a couple of them for me on the way out.”
Blinking away his last tears, he slapped the horse on the rump firmly enough to make dust jump from his coat. Surly jumped as well, then with a reproachful whinny bolted back the way they'd come.
Nodding to Trapper, he turned and bolted the other way, up the narrow path.
* * * * *
The treacherous path up the canyon thinned to the point where they could barely squeeze through in one place, and required actual climbing in others, with few easy handholds and footholds. Tom wasn't terribly worried, since he and Skyler had scaled their fair share of cliffs over the years.
The teenager was actually pretty good at it, almost recklessly good when he was showing off.
Considering the bloodies hot on their heels, Tom picked climbing spots that put the walls of the canyon between them and their pursuit, even if they weren't the easiest places to scale. Then he sent Skyler up ahead of him while he crouched behind cover with his rifle, ready to take down the first miserable bandit that poked his head into view.
Although he hoped they were still well ahead of Sangue; it might be possible to climb while taking fire, as long as he could hold the enemy off on this narrow path long enough for his son to get up to easier ground, and then Skyler could cover him while he made the climb.
Possible, but it would be a miserable experience.
Unfortunately, fifteen minutes later while they were scoping out the third spot they had to climb, Tom's fears were finally realized. He'd found a perch that gave him a vantage over the canyon that let him see almost a hundred yards down it, and he'd barely settled down behind cover when a Sangue soldier darted into view, bolting for the cover of a rock ten feet farther up.
Tom fired, but with the moving target and the stress of the situation he missed a killing shot and only winged him. The soldier scrambled to safety cursing and clutching his wounded arm, and Tom panned his AK-47 across the rock the man was hiding behind and then down the narrow path where he'd appeared, waiting for more threats to pop up.
None did, but that was hardly a relief; they wouldn't sit around forever.
Up on the cliff behind him, Skyler cursed with surprising inventiveness. “They're already on our tail?” he demanded.
Already was generous, since the riders had been pretty close on their heels the entire time. Under the circumstances Tom didn't chide him for his language. “Get up the cliff,” he growled, still searching through the scope for any threats. “You need to cover me while I climb.”
“Meanwhile, I get to try to climb quickly with no good handholds or footholds while Sangue is shooting at me?” The teenager moaned. “This is literally my worst nightmare.”
“Relax, you're behind cover. Just don't flinch and lose your grip from any gunshots and you'll be fine.”
His son grit his teeth and redoubled his efforts.
Gunfire echoed up the canyon, a soldier Tom hadn't noticed sneaking a gun around the corner and firing blindly. Ricochets whined on the rocks around him as he ducked behind his cover with a curse, Skyle
r nearly mirroring his curse from the rock wall he was climbing as he almost lost his grip and fell.
Well, ricochets went both ways. Tom tried to judge the angles of the rock walls and large boulders near where the enemy was firing, then gave up and randomly sprayed shots at anything he thought would bounce his bullets farther down the canyon. He heard screams from around the corner, more than one person clumped up back there, and felt a moment of satisfaction.
Then the soldier he'd shot at first tried to make a break for his companions. Tom hit him twice before he'd gone three steps and the man went down. From around the corner he heard fading shouts and curses in Spanish and Portuguese.
That should by them some time.
“I'm up!” Skyler hissed, perched atop the twelve foot cliff he'd just scaled. He already had his rifle out and was scooting around to a good protected firing perch.
Tom wasted no time ducking around the corner and starting up the wall. In his exhausted state his limbs were trembling before he'd gone halfway, and he had to search for easier handholds and footholds than the ones his son had used.
He nearly fell near the top, but to his credit that was because rifle fire suddenly clattered from up above, soon followed by more from the canyon behind him that wasn't echoes.
He had a new appreciation for how nerve-wracking it was to be facing a rock wall, vulnerable and exposed, while gunfire was going on all around him. Even though he knew he should be covered from enemies down the canyon, he still found himself craning to look behind him. At least until he unbalanced himself and nearly lost a handhold, at which point he cut it out and focused on hauling himself up the last few feet.
Going over the lip of the cliff was the worst part. He felt like a big fat target for those last frantic seconds, expecting someone to tag him in the rump at any second. It was almost a surprise when he rolled to safety without harm, the narrow, enemy-infested path below finally comfortingly out of view.
His relief lasted up to the moment Skyler yelped in pain.
Tom immediately twisted, heart in his throat. “You okay?” he called frantically. His son shouldn't have even been here! He should've been safe back in Camptown. He-
The teenager scrambled past him, dabbing at a cut below his left eye. “Ricochet threw a rock chip,” he grumbled. “I'm fine, just caught me by surprise.”
He let himself breathe again, resisting the urge to yell at his son. Now certainly wasn't the time or place for it. Although he fully intended to give him a piece of his mind the moment they were in the clear.
They rushed along a narrow ledge that circled around the cliff at the end of the canyon, halfway up to the top of it. Tom's eyes darted frantically, searching for a good climbing spot facing away from the pursuing bloodies below. Unfortunately, the best they could find was a wide rock chimney, usually a fairly ideal climbing spot.
This one would've been too, since it went all twenty feet up to the top. Except the only climbing surface at the bottom ended halfway up, and the only other surface that looked doable was across the chimney from it. No inching around here; they'd have to climb up to that spot, then jump across to keep going.
The sight of it made him want to slump down and just wait until the bloodies caught up, try to slug it out in a gunfight. He wasn't sure he had the strength to even go up the first part, let alone try any daring midair acrobatics.
But there was no other option; it was go or get caught.
“This is going to suck,” Skyler said, scowling at the broken chimney.
“You first,” Tom told him. “Remember, you'll have an easier time supporting your weight on tenuous handholds and footholds if you're not falling at the time. So don't jump down or even straight across, jump up and try to time it so you reach the other side at the apex of your jump.”
“Jumping upwards from tenuous holds to tenuous holds?” His son grimaced. “I'll have to fully commit to it, won't I?”
“Given the circumstances, I don't think you can get away with a more cautious approach.”
“Fantastic.” The teenager started for the chimney. “Any other advice?”
“Jump as if you're trying to go through the wall, not to it.”
Skyler paused to give him an incredulous look. “And slam face first into solid rock?”
Tom nodded grimly. “You've never jumped to another wall while climbing, and honestly I'm glad because it's a flat out stupid thing to do. But if you've got to do it, you want to plaster yourself against the wall so your hands and feet don't have to handle as much weight as you get settled into handholds and footholds. Sort of the same idea as trying to hit it at the apex of your jump. You'll be fine, just do both those things and make sure you aim for good holds.”
His son glanced nervously at the drop below; the chimney went all the way down to the bottom of the cliff. “What if I can't find any?”
He forced himself not to look as well. “There's plenty. I can see that from here.” He rested a supportive hand on the teenager's back, urging him forward. “It's only a few feet to jump, you've got this. And once we get past here it's an easy walk back home and nobody's going to be following us.”
“That's what we thought before the bloodies on horses showed up,” Skyler muttered. But he wasted no more time picking out his first holds and starting the climb.
Tom once again found a perch that offered a vantage of the canyon below, ready to shoot at their pursuers. But to his surprise, he didn't see any sign of them.
At least, not until the grenade flew up onto the ledge and bounced and skittered towards him.
“Down!” Tom shouted over his shoulder, desperately swatting the explosive with the barrel of his rifle and sending it down into the canyon below. Then he threw himself to the other side of the ledge and huddled against the cliff with his arms over his head.
The explosion was smaller than he'd expected, mostly blocked by the cliff but echoing off the canyon walls so it seemed to come from everywhere. Unfortunately, it was still echoing when the roar of gunfire below was joined by the alarming whine of ricochets all around him as the bloodies opened fire.
He forced his eyes open and raised his head, looking around frantically in case the enemy had tossed any more grenades. He didn't see any, which was a small mercy.
Then a grenade did come bouncing towards his feet from behind, followed by another. Before he could freak out and try to kick them away, Skyler's voice echoed to him from the chimney. “Here's two grenades, Trapper! Give them a taste of their own medicine!”
Tom fumbled to catch the explosives before they went rolling off the side. “Where the blazes did you get these?”
There was an almost guilty pause, in spite of the bullets whining all around them. “Snagged them off some dead bloodies on the fortifications outside Emery.”
“You were there?” he snapped, louder than was probably prudent under the circumstances. “How did you . . . did some of the volunteers go behind my back?”
“How about you save the parenting moment for after you throw the stupid grenades?” his son shouted back. “I can only see sky from in here, so once you do I'm going to start climbing.”
Tom did his best to remember what the canyon below looked like, where a group of enemies would be hidden or how they'd spread out to attack the ledge he and his son were on. Then he quickly pulled the pin on a grenade and threw, immediately did the same for the second, and hugged the ledge as he waited for them to go off.
The moment they did, the closely spaced blasts shivering the air of the canyon, he scrabbled over to a lip of rock that offered some cover and peeked over. He could hear screams of pain and cries in two languages for soldiers to get back down below, and when he risked peeking down he saw that at least one grenade had hit a group of bloodies.
It wasn't a pretty sight; the only one still on his feet was currently struggling to pull another survivor to safety. Farther down the canyon soldiers were retreating, some to better cover and others simply fleeing back the way they'
d come.
Tom didn't see anyone pointing a gun his way, so he planted his rifle's bipod and began opening fire on any targets he could find. Just to be safe, after about ten seconds he ducked back behind the lip, and was glad he had when the sharp ping of a bullet ricocheting nearby made him duck even more.
He scrabbled to a new position, looking around in case they'd thrown more grenades and silently counting in his head. How long would it take Skyler to climb that chimney? He knew the teenager could scamper up a rock wall like a lizard under most circumstances, but the situation they were in was hardly ideal.
Did he trust Skyler's assurance that the soldiers below couldn't hit him in the chimney, even with ricochets or when he reached the top and was clearly visible as he climbed over? That they didn't know he was there, and wouldn't be trying to stop him somehow?
Tom trusted the teenager, but he wasn't taking any chances. He cautiously poked his head out enough to see below, then quickly aimed and squeezed off a shot at an enemy crouched behind a rock, his shoulder and arm visible. As the man bellowed in pain Tom ducked back behind cover, only moments before a hail of bullets clattered around him.
He hugged the ledge again, teeth gritted at the idiot risks he was taking. As long as they were shooting at him, instead of his son.
It didn't take long to figure out that the ledge didn't have much in the way of good spots to shoot at the enemies below, and once the bloodies got over their shock at the grenades they soon had the entire ledge covered. Tom nearly got his head blown off the next time he tried to get a peek at the canyon below, and could only duck back helplessly.
What now? Try to shoot blind? Throw rocks?
Skyler's voice drifted from behind and above him, strained and urgent. “Almost there! Start heading for the chimney, I'll cover you!”
Relief surged through Tom; even as hard as he'd been hoping his son would climb fast, this was sooner than he'd expected. He shimmied down the ledge to the yawning crack that was the chimney, in time to see Skyler hurl himself up and over the top and roll out of sight.
