Against the Fading of the Light (Action of Purpose, 3)

by Stu Jones

  Swinging his blades in an overhead arc that brought them front and center, the giant began to shout, “Come, you devils! Come and witness the justice of the Lord!” Bending his knees deeply, Courtland launched himself into the air and over the first line of bandit vehicles as they spun their tires on the dirt, chasing Kane and the others. Landing squarely in the midst of the Coyotes’ ranks, he extended his massive arms and swung his blades in wide cutting arcs. With inhuman strength and speed, the giant moved with the grace of a dancer. Turning this way, shifting back that way, he cut his foes into ribbons, tossing their dismembered parts into the air before slashing down again and again.

  Amid the din of battle, gunfire, and human screams, Saxon saw a dark-haired woman shouting with fury as she fired her heavy machine gun into their midst, tearing them to pieces. It only took him a moment to recognize the fearless Israeli woman in the turret of the passing Hummer.

  “How is that bitch still alive?” Saxon shook with rage. “Get me over there, and I’ll finish what Shank couldn’t!”

  Swerving hard to the right, Saxon’s vehicle crashed into another, knocking bandits from it, who screamed as they fell. Pulling free of the gaggle, Saxon slapped his driver and pointed to Ari’s vehicle; the driver jammed down on the gas pedal with a yell.

  Tynuk watched the bright red flare fly into the sky, hovering for a moment before dropping out of sight.

  “It is the signal!” he called out, already mounted atop Azolja. The beast, seeming to know what was coming, shook his great head and chuffed, stamping a massive, taloned paw against the ground.

  Queenashano, atop his mustang, turned to Tynuk and said, “It will be my honor to ride with you this day, war chief.”

  “And it will be mine to ride with you and lead these noble people into the battle.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Tynuk smiled, his round face swiped with red and black war paint. He hoisted his strong, handcrafted Osage orange bow into the air. “Ride with me, brothers! Ride with me and let this filth witness the power of our people!”

  A howl arose in the red-rock canyon as Tynuk and Azolja shot forth, followed by Queenashano and the rest of the battle-clad warriors, their mounts winding through the narrow gulch toward the battle.

  It only took moments for them to clear the walls that surrounded them and burst forth onto the short plain before the dam. The forces of the New Comanche Nation opened up and unfolded as they charged with reckless abandon toward the bandit horde.

  The bandits were completely unprepared to see 150 Native American warriors, streaked in war paint, flood from the canyon to their right. Still stalled, trying to turn and chase Kane’s split forces, they had lost nearly all of their momentum when Tynuk’s forces slammed into their ranks.

  Arrows filled the sky, flying in all directions as the bandits fired wildly at a target that was there one second and gone the next. Many of them floundered, clearly with no understanding that to stand on open ground in a battle with mounted Comanche was a death sentence.

  Queenashano hung his hide shield on his left leg and slung himself down to the right, under his horse’s neck, firing twelve arrows from his bow in the time it took a bandit to reload one magazine. The stunned bandit toppled to the ground, no longer anything more than a human pincushion. Tynuk rode ahead fearlessly, yelping and dashing one thug in the face with his war club. He drew his bow and struck multiple arrow hits on another who had just pulled the pin on a grenade. The man and the grenade fell into the bed of the truck and, in a flash of smoke, killed the entire truckload.

  The larger bandit force was overwhelmed, reeling from the piercing ambush on their right flank, as Tynuk’s hardened warriors cut through their ranks on horseback. Riding hard, Tynuk made straight for Courtland, whom he could see bellowing and tossing bandits into the air as they surged around him, firing their weapons wildly.

  “Az, Courtland is in trouble. We will honor our promise!” Azolja roared in response as they crashed headlong into the seething throng of bandit scum. When Tynuk launched from the back of the beast, it was already sinking its fangs into its first victim. Tynuk landed and rolled, coming up back-to-back with the giant. Slamming his war club into the jaw of an approaching thug, Tynuk called out, “Courtland, I’m coming up!”

  “Come on, then,” Courtland called back between the passing swipes of his deadly blades. Moving with unparalleled agility, Tynuk launched himself up the giant’s back and onto his shoulders, the boy’s feet effortlessly finding purchase. With a movement practiced a thousand times, he swung his bow from his shoulder and into the grip of his left hand. Now working in tandem, the very visage of unstoppable force, Courtland belted scripture while slashing his enemies apart. At the same time, the warrior boy turned war chief steadily fired arrows from the back of the giant, launching them with strict precision into each long-range threat that appeared.

  Tynuk fired arrow after arrow, the last piercing a bandit through the eye. Below him, Azolja leaped, slashing two bandits open with a swipe of his paw and grabbing a third, sinking his fangs into the man’s neck, shaking him, and tossing him off to the left.

  Tynuk twisted his body to better see the dam and the strange, otherworldly darkness that spread above it. Inside it, if for only a moment, he thought he could make out indiscernible dark shapes moving and dancing. The whole thing gave him a very bad feeling indeed.

  “I don’t like that business over at the dam,” Tynuk said, drawing another arrow.

  “It is a door to another world.” Courtland swung down and left, dicing men apart like the blades of a blender. “Malak is trying to merge the spirit world with ours. Let us pray that it is not already too late to stop it!”

  “Tynuk and Courtland have them preoccupied!” Ari’s radio crackled with the sound of Kane’s voice. “We’ll make our move for the dam now.” Ari picked up her radio and keyed it. “Copy.”

  She opened her machine gun and prepared to load another belt of ammunition when a blast tore through the driver’s compartment of her vehicle. Rolling with the shock of the blast, the vehicle groaned, and Ari fell to the floor of the turret, knocking her head against a steel support pole. A wash of nausea passed over her, everything inverted, and all went dark.

  From the cliff above, Dagen saw Ari’s vehicle flip. Then he watched as Jenna’s vehicle swerved to take cover in the hills below. Across the field, Kane’s vehicle took a hit, tearing the back end away and sending the vehicle spinning. Kane fell from the burning passenger’s compartment of the ruined vehicle and crawled for cover. In a matter of seconds, the thunderous pounding of the electromagnetic rail guns brought the entire advance to a grinding halt. Malak had positioned them perfectly on the adjacent elevated highway bridge. The massive kinetic cannons had incredible reach and near-pinpoint accuracy, powered by the abundant energy of the dam. With kinetic projectiles tearing their vehicles apart, Kane’s people were now hopelessly pinned down.

  Dagen reloaded his .338 Lapua and turned to look at Jenna’s vehicle, close to where Ari had wrecked. Two cars of bandits drew near, sliding to a stop on the dirt. Savage raiders stormed from the vehicles, clearly salivating at the thought that their next victims were women. This group included Malak’s new second, the dark-headed man with blue face paint.

  Dagen took one last look at the distant rail guns, pounding away on Kane’s people from the safety of the parallel bridge, an elevated position of advantage. Kane and his people were never going to make it to the dam as long as those guns were functional, and since they were controlled remotely, he had no way of shooting the operators.

  Dagen looked back below him to see the Coyotes closing on Jenna as she fired from behind the cover of her vehicle and they returned the same.

  “OK, Jenna. Can’t keep yourself out of trouble, can you?” Dagen huffed his breath mostly out and allowed his body to become still as he took aim on his next target.

  27

  ARI CAME TO in the smoky interior of the flipped Hum
mer, the mixture of smoke, fumes, and dust threatening to put her back out again. Crawling, she dragged herself through the ruined vehicle, her head pounding, aching to the cadence of gunfire. She stopped long enough to note that the driver was gone—not just killed but literally vaporized by the blast that had torn open the driver’s compartment and flipped the truck. Cannon fire—maybe twenty millimeter.

  Kicking a door open, Ari wiggled her body out of the burning cab and into the open. She gasped, coughing and inhaling cleaner air. Her head was swimming with dizziness and pain. The battle was still well involved, the Comanche warriors howling like lost souls. She watched as one warrior was shot in the chest, rose to his feet like the undead, and was shot twice more before delivering his spear into the chest of the bandit. The Comanche were taking a beating, but they were certainly delivering one as well.

  She looked to her right and saw Jenna crouched behind her vehicle, firing wildly at a group of approaching bandits. She was doing just enough to keep them on their toes. She watched as two groups of bandits moved on her and Jenna. Then she saw him, the man from her nightmares with the blue face paint—the one who had cut her brother’s throat and left them both to rot.

  Ari tested her legs and arms and tried to stand but was overcome once again with dizziness. She watched helplessly as the savage men moved on Jenna when she heard the unmistakable crack of a rifle, followed by another and another.

  The bandits fell, clutching mortal wounds, struck down by some guardian angel. The rifle continued to crack, and the bandits continued to fall, until the only one left, cowering behind a vehicle, was Saxon. Ari was suddenly struck with the irrational fear that the painted man too would be shot and she would lose her opportunity for vengeance, but just as it started, the hidden rifle ceased firing, the air around them filling with silent tension.

  Saxon stood cautiously looking up and around for the sniper’s nest but found nothing.

  “Someone’s looking out for you two,” Saxon called out.

  Jenna caught Ari’s attention and wordlessly gestured with an empty rifle. It was just as well. Ari motioned for her to remain where she was. Slowly Ari tested her body again and found that this time it held.

  “Lion of Judah, be my strength,” she prayed. As she stood, still partially behind the cover of the burning wreckage of her vehicle, Saxon came into sight on the other side of his vehicle, neither trusting the other.

  Saxon laughed upon seeing her. “Well, well! You’re a tough little Jew, aren’t ya?”

  Ari had endured enough of this filth and his slurs. “You’re about to find out how tough.”

  Saxon laughed coarsely, as though he’d just been told a foul joke. “Sure thing, Princess. I’ll let you show me all your best moves.”

  Ari snarled, drawing the Beretta from her waist and firing as she began to run at a forty-five-degree angle to Saxon’s position. Saxon drew a big-bore revolver and flanked in the opposite direction. Both circled each other in a counterclockwise movement as they fired at each other. Closing the distance, she felt a round burn through the cloth of her shirt, searing her arm. She continued to fire, furious, the scream on her lips—the sound of an untamed creature. The final round found its mark, staggering Saxon but not felling him with a hit to the upper chest, close to the shoulder.

  Dropping their handguns, they collided with each other. Saxon, much stronger than she anticipated, struck her in the face and sent her reeling. Ari shrugged off the blow and stayed in the fight, ducking another and rising to his outside, where she landed four hard blows, the last of which struck his gunshot wound. Saxon screamed, blood foaming on his lips. With any luck she had shot him low enough, and now he was feeling the effects of a collapsed lung.

  Saxon lunged for her again, and she kicked low to his knee and then hard into his groin, dodging to the outside again with a hail of palm-heel strikes to the side of his head and jaw. He recovered fast, and she failed to deflect the uppercut that landed squarely in her gut, pitching her forward. Before she could draw air, he was upon her, grabbing her by the neck and forcing her to the ground, where he mounted her back and forced her face into the dirt.

  Ari struggled and received a series of punishing blows to her head and face.

  “You look the fuck away from me, Jew bitch,” Saxon groaned, pressing himself against her. “I’m gonna do you just like I did your little brother!”

  Spinning onto her back beneath him, Ari cried out, pulling her hidden karambit knife from her waistband and slashing like a trapped lioness. Jumping back, knife already in hand, Saxon swiped at her, a blow that would have removed her head had she not anticipated it. Flicking her knife forward, she split the fingers of his hand and caused him to drop his blade.

  Fighting now with the fury of a thousand men, her heart burned with singular purpose. She delivered a crushing round kick to the side of his leg and then another, spinning the opposite direction to connect the heel of her boot against his face. Saxon spun with the force of the strike and dropped to his knees. Ari closed the gap, quickly delivering multiple strikes of her curved blade to his torso before she planted her foot in his back and kicked him to the dirt. Jumping down on him, she dropped her knife and grabbed his chin, along with a handful of his long, braided ponytail.

  “You don’t have it in you, Jew bitch…”

  “Listen to me now, you filthy fucking dog! My brother’s name was Aviel! This is for him!” Ari violently twisted Saxon’s head and felt the spine separate under the force. With tears forming in her eyes, she gasped and shoved Saxon’s lifeless body back against the ground. It was finished.

  The crack of the high-powered rifle echoed again and again, resounding against the hills. It took a few shots for Kane to locate the shooter and determine that he was in fact shooting at Malak’s forces. But who was it? Ari and Jenna were pinned down like him. Courtland, Tynuk, and the Comanche were in the thick of it behind him. No one else in the group would be familiar with a long-range bolt gun like that— no one except Dagen. But that was impossible. Why would the man return to help them? What could possibly motivate him to do that?

  Kane watched as the next few shots from the sharpshooter struck true. This wasn’t just some guy with a rifle. It was an expert with a rifle. Kane screwed his face up. Regardless of the shooter’s identity, none of them were going anywhere until those guns on the bridge were disabled. He had to swallow his pride and take the chance. He pulled his radio from his belt and keyed it.

  “Kane to Dagen, do you copy on this channel?”

  Radio silence.

  Kane tried again, deciding this time to pad the man’s ego. “Dagen, do you copy? I know that’s you up there. No one else out here has skill like that.”

  “At least you’re willing to admit that now,” Dagen replied in a wash of static.

  “We need your help; we’re pinned down by the cannons on the bridge.”

  “I can see that.”

  Why does this guy always have to be so difficult?

  Kane gathered himself. “Is there anything you can do to help? These guns are going to pound us into the dirt.”

  Again radio silence.

  “I’m working on it,” came the reply, cold and distant.

  Dagen pivoted his rifle to look again at the bridge guns, which were blasting over and over again at both Kane’s and Jenna’s positions. He looked for anything, anyone he could shoot to stop them, any way to disable them with a perfectly placed shot. He came up with nothing. They were armored and positioned in such a way that there was nothing he could do.

  Dagen stared long and hard for a moment, his whole being quiet. Kane’s voice came over the radio again. “Dagen, maybe you care about what happens to us down here, or maybe you don’t, but either way we are going to be dead as soon as one of these rounds finds its mark. We need your help, now!”

  Dagen, lost in thought, didn’t reply. He watched the massive rounds blowing craters in the dirt below as Jenna and Ari crouched together, pinned helplessly behind a
n overturned Hummer.

  Pulling the bolt of his rifle open, he removed it altogether and flung the bolt away to his right, disabling the weapon. Leaving the rest of his equipment in place, Dagen crawled on his belly, dragging himself down the short rise to his vehicle and opening the door; he pulled himself into the cab of the Hummer. Cranking the vehicle, he grabbed the steering wheel and looked up the road the way he had come. He could leave right now. Go off and leave these unfortunate people to their war. Live the rest of his days and never think of all this madness again.

  But that wasn’t what he was going to do. Dropping the Hummer into gear, he shoved his hip forward, pushing his crippled foot down on the gas pedal. Tires spinning, Dagen careened down the embankment and crashed onto the highway, the shocks jumping beneath him.

  “Come on, Dagen,” he said, a look of hardened resolve forming across his face. “For once in your miserable life, do something right. Do something that matters.” Gaining speed, Dagen flew toward the bridge, abandoning all hope for any other course. “Semper fi.”

  Jenna heard the transmissions between Kane and Dagen. She knew now that he had been the sniper shooting over them, killing the men that came for her. Always trying to watch out for her.

  Crouched behind cover, she watched a Hummer bump down the hill and hit the road with a bark of rubber on asphalt. There was no question it was Dagen and that he was about to do something really stupid.

  Cautiously she keyed her radio. “Dagen, I know you can hear me.” She waited but received no response. “I need to tell you how sorry I am for what I said. I know that’s not who you are anymore.” Jenna wiped the tears from her face. “Please tell me you can hear me. Please respond to me.”

  Dagen looked down at his radio, his vehicle gaining speed, quickly approaching the elevated arch bridge. The highwaymen on the bridge now saw him. They fired their weapons in his direction, and the bullets struck up the hood and cracked the windshield as he gained speed.