Hell's Highwaymen

by Phillip Granath

  A shot zipped just past his head, “I’ll put the next one right between your eyes shit kicker!” the biker shouted.

  “Don’t tell me, I think I can guess what you’ll do with the hole after,” Cort shouted back.

  “That’s fucking right!” came the reply.

  Cort looked up, and down the wall in frustration, more bikers would undoubtedly reach the crest of the hill at any moment, but with the pinned man so close he couldn’t break cover to fend them off. He had to do something and quick. Glancing down the wall, his eyes fell on the priest and Danny yet again. Cort pointed at Father Callahan and then gestured in the biker’s direction. The priest raised his hand in front of him in the universal sign for “And just what the fuck do you want me to do about it?”Cort grabbed one of the loose stones from the base of the wall in front of him and made a swinging gesture with it and then pointed in the direction of the wounded man again.

  The priest’s face looked shocked, “What? No!” he mouthed back.

  Cort repeated the smashing motion with the stone again this time with even more emphasis and then shook a fist a clenched fist at the priest.

  “Where you at cow fucker?” the biker shouted from the other side of the wall.

  The cavalryman repeated the gesture with the stone and then held up his heavy pistol for the priest to see. Father Callahan wasn’t exactly sure if it was a threat or just the next step in the plan.

  “Oh lord forgive me,” Father Callahan begged.

  Then the priest selected a fist-sized stone from the base of the wall. He glanced up to see Danny watching him and hissed, “Pick up a damn rock!”

  The teen nodded in reply and quickly found a stone of his own. Danny and the priest shared a glance and then stood, each hurling their respective stones in the direction of the pinned biker. The priest’s throw went wide, but Danny’s sailed true and struck the man’s free leg just below the kneecap. The biker screamed in response and twisting on his back fired a pair of shots at his newest attackers. The first round struck the wall just in front of the priest sending up a spray of stone shards and splinters. The second shot would have killed him if Danny had yanked him back down behind the wall a moment later.

  At the sound of the shots, Cort stood smoothly and drew a bead on the pinned biker. The cavalryman's heavy revolver bucked in his hand a heartbeat later, and the lead ball blew apart most of the man’s head. As if on cue three more bikers crested the hill behind him, but Cort didn’t hesitate, he fanned the hammer on his pistol fast enough to make Jamie proud. Cort emptied his gun, managing to kill one of the new arrivals outright, wounded another and sent the last man scrambling back over the edge for cover. Cort then dropped back behind the low wall himself and shouted.

  “We’re fucking falling back people!”

  “About bloody time!” came Oliver’s reply emphasized a moment later by the blast of his flintlock pistol.

  “Move now, everyone go, go, go!” Cort shouted.

  Father Callahan and Danny broke first. Each leading a pair of ghostly horses by the reins up the steep slope. As Cort instructed, they kept their heads down as they moved and tried to stay in between the horses. Oliver followed a moment behind them, the big man unshouldering his flintlock carbine as he ran uphill.

  “Oliver, save your long gun we may need it!” Cort shouted.

  “Easy for you to say!” came the Brit’s reply.

  Cort broke from the cover of the wall a moment later and as he ran he shouted back over his shoulder, “Shinji cover our retreat!”

  But even as Cort voiced the command Shinji was already moving down the wall firing as he went. Two more bikers were down with black arrows protruding from their chests with perhaps a half dozen more cowering just over the edge.

  “Fuck you…you not horde!” Shinji shouted in his broken English.

  As Cort ran, he broke apart his revolver in his hands with practiced precision. The barrel then followed by the spent cylinder came away in his hands. He tossed the empty cylinder away without a second glance and then reaching into a pouch along his belt removed another freshly loaded one. He fought to get the new cylinder secured in the pistol while at the same time trying to scramble up the rising slope. How many times had he needed to pull out the extra cylinder he wondered as he ran? Antietam he thought and perhaps Chancellorsville, but he couldn’t recall a single time needing it since he had died and then arrived in this place. Even Cort had to admit that wasn’t a very good sign.

  Luckily for the riders, the distance between the first and the second wall, while even steeper than the first wasn’t nearly as far. Father Callahan and Danny reached the second wall and guided the mounts back from the edge. Oliver arrived a moment later clearing the second wall with an awkward leap. He landed roughly in the mud beyond the wall then feverishly began reloading his pistol.

  A moment later Cort landed next to the Dragoon still working on his revolver. Cort slid the heavy barrel back into place with a quick snap and then cocked the hammer back. Next to him, Oliver jammed a heavy lead ball down the barrel of his own pistol.

  “Make them count Oly! Then when they get in close go to the blade!”

  “It isn’t like I got more than a single shot now is it, they always got to count!” Oliver shouted in reply.

  The Lieutenant risked a glance over the low wall just in time to see Shinji fire another arrow and then turn and start running up the hill himself. Seeing the warrior’s back, a half-dozen bikers suddenly found their courage and rushed up and over the edge of the first wall.

  “Covering fire!” Cort shouted as he stood.

  Shinji moved as quickly as he could, darting up the torn and muddy slope. Most of the bikers were only armed with hand weapons and they were forced to scramble up after him, but one stopped long enough to raise a small revolver and fire a pair of wild shots. Cort’s heavy pistol responded a heartbeat later, and the biker took a lead ball to the chest that sent him toppling back down the slope. Shinji looked up at the Cavalryman giving him a wide toothy grin in thanks, but at that moment, a shotgun roared, and the Mongolian went down with a scream, his back and legs peppered with shot.

  “No damn it!” Cort shouted.

  A moment later he found the source of the blast as a biker crouched behind the rock wall racked the slide on a sawed-off shotgun. The man started to rise to finish Shinji off, but the cavalryman just managed to fire first, hitting the wall and sending the man ducking back down for cover. In response, the biker pointed the barrel of the shotgun over the low wall and fired blindly in in Cort’s direction, in turn sending Cort diving for cover.

  Shinji rolled onto his back, his face and armor caked in mud and blood. His attackers were almost on him, mere steps away now. With a grimace of pain, the warrior just managed a half pull of his bow and let go a quick shot. The arrow struck the nearest biker almost within arm’s reach of him. The man went down with a scream dropping his knife and clutching at the black shaft now embedded in his stomach. The other two bikers were only a few yards behind, one carrying a machete and the other swinging a length of rusty chain. The warrior fought to pull free his own sword, but the killers were just to close.

  “They’re on him!” Oliver shouted.

  The big man stood and raised his rifle to fire.

  “No damn it, I said save it!” Cort shouted yanking down the rifle barrel.

  The Dragoon turned and met Cort’s eye with a look of rage, “We can’t just leave him!”

  “We aren’t, pull steal and get ready to follow me, but save the long gun!” Cort shouted drawing his own saber.

  “We have a plan?” Oliver asked.

  “Run down, there kill anyone that isn’t us and drag Shinji back,” Cort replied.

  “Simple plans are always the best I say,” the Dragoon said with a smirk, and then the two soldiers went over the wall side by side with steel in hand.

  Cort immediately fired two shots at the low wall, the rounds went wide, but they kept the gunmen cowering for a
t least a few moments longer. Oliver thundered down the slope just to the Cavalryman’s left, the Dragoon letting out a terrifying war cry as he ran sword and pistol in hand. The sound brought the head of the charging bikers up, and they replied with series of curses and taunts themselves.

  “Covering fire!” Cort screamed again.

  Danny and the priest stood for a moment temporarily stunned by the suicidal charge. Father Callahan looked from his charging friends to Danny, and the boy replied with his own confused look.

  “We’ll don’t just stand there, give the man some covering fire!” he shouted. Then scooping up a stone threw it downslope at the approaching bikers.

  Shinji tried desperately to try and push himself back up the slope still dragging his wounded legs. But as he looked up a biker wielding a wicked looking machete stood over him. The leather-clad man drew the blade back to strike, but at that moment, a rock smacked into the man’s face, and he staggered back. A bloody gash was now open on his cheek, and the biker cursed spitting out a pair of teeth. The he turned back to face the wounded warrior and sent a vicious slash towards Shinji’s head.

  In a clash of steel Cort’s saber intercepted the blow as the charging cavalryman leaped over Shinji. He pushed forward with the blade forcing the biker back a step. The man lost his footing for just a moment, and Cort’s left hand came up quick as a snake. His revolver caught the man high on the left side of the head. The biker collapsed in a heap, and the Cavalryman drove a quick thrust into the down man ensuring he stayed that way.

  “On your left!” Oliver screamed.

  A pair of bikers rushed Cort, one swinging a steel studded club for his head and the other coming in low with a knife. Cort was just able to wrench his blade free of the dead man to block the low thrust when Oliver’s flintlock boomed. Cort and Shinji were immediately splattered with the dead biker’s brains and a split second later engulfed in the pistol’s cloud of thick sulfur smoke cloud. A second later the shape of the big Dragoon charged through the smoke and then began to viciously hack away at the knife-wielding biker. The man managed to parry the first swing and narrowly dodged the second, but neither of them had any doubt how the fierce exchange would end, and the biker quickly retreated back downslope. Oliver moved to follow him when Cort shouted.

  “Grab Shinji!”

  The Dragoon growled in frustration at the fleeing man, but as he watched him back down the slope, he saw several more biker scramble over the edge ready to join the fight. It was clear that soon enough they would have more company than they would be able to handle.

  “Right,” Oliver said and turning scooped up the injured warrior.

  “Go all the way up to the third wall and make sure the Padre is at the ready with the horses!” Cort shouted.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Oliver replied as he began running up the slope as fast as his legs would carry him and Shinji.

  Cort watched the gathering group of leather-clad bikers for a few more moments and then began to move. The shotgun-wielding biker peeked over the edge of the stone wall, and the cavalryman fired another shot sending the man ducking back down again, he then turned and ran back up the slope after Oliver. The three men reached the second wall at nearly the same time, and Cort helped Oliver hoist Shinji over the wall.

  The warrior cried out in pain and shouted, “Fuck you…fuck you both!”

  “Rides not over yet brother. Oliver, up to the third wall, move!” came Cort’s reply.

  At the base of the muddy hill, Cesar and Jamie watched as the biker’s frantic charge up the slope stalled and nearly failed. Cesar cursed at the wounded and bleeding bikers that managed to stagger back down off the hill. The remaining riders were now spread up and down the slope, their motorcycles hopelessly stuck in the mud, abandoned, and a few were now even burning. A dozen of the horde’s riders were now swarming over the second wall and preparing to push up to the third. Cesar held no doubt that his remaining men could climb the short distance to the third wall and finish off the cavalryman and his remaining riders. But the gang leader was far from satisfied, in fact he was furious. What should have been an easy victory was turning into an embarrassing outing for his horde.

  “Something bothering you amigo?” Jaime asked with a petulant grin.

  As the attack had devolved into a chaotic mess, the young gunslinger had just sat on the back of his horse and watched with an oddly amused look on his face. It had infuriated the gang leader that Jamie hadn’t even attempted to help them. Then as the attack had begun to falter, Cesar would be damned if he was going to ask for help.

  “Bothering me? I think you got a pretty good god damned view of what is bothering me!” Cesar replied gesturing towards the hill.

  “Yeah, I saw old Cort’s plan right off. Make you chase him into someplace where your lil old bikes won’t help you none,” Jamie replied.

  “It’s no matter now, even if he makes it to that ruin we have them surrounded,” Cesar said with a nod.

  “Yeah, not exactly,” Jamie said.

  Cesar turned his head from the slope to look squarely at the gunfighter, his eyes burning with anger.

  “What the fuck are you saying?” he demanded.

  “Well, this here is one of the Priest’s little pieces of hell you see. It’s his ancestral home or something like that. We have only been through here a few times that I can ever recall, but you see that’s kinda my point, we were always just passing through. We have never stopped here, and we never go into the house. Father Callahan just straight refuses to go near the place, though he never would say why. We just ride up this here fucking slope and then around that big old house. Then right through a wooden gate on the other side. It’s just a simple cart track, but it’s just as smooth and easy a ride as you could ask for. Straight down through a fog bank and then right back out onto that godforsaken plain, that easy.” Jamie explained with a grin.

  Cesar had to turn away from the gunfighter at that moment, his fists clenching uncontrollably down at his sides. The anger boiled deep in his gut, the feeling wasn’t new or even that unusual for Cesar, but the inability to simply kill whoever had crossed him was. Jamie was the one that had met this Paradox, Cesar needed him to make this deal work, but after that, the biker promised himself, he would make Jamie pay for this day.

  Cesar took a calming breath and asked, “So you have been just sitting here waiting for what? My men to fail so you can ride in and save the fucking day?”

  Jamie shrugged nonchalantly, “Well, when you put it like that, yeah, I guess so.”

  Cesar turned to stare back at the young gunfighter his hands were steady now, and for a brief moment, Jamie wondered if perhaps he had pushed the game a bit too far. He decided it was time to make his move.

  “Well Cesar, if you can round up three or four of your boys that still have running motorbikes, I feel like taking a little ride,” Jamie said sitting up taller in the saddle and straightening his hat.

  “And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” came Cesar’s reply.

  “Let’s just say I’m going to head them off at the pass,” Jamie said with a grin.

  Cort and the other riders held the third wall for the moment at least. Their pistols were empty, and the cavalryman held no illusion that their attackers would allow them the time to see their bullets to reappear. Luckily for the riders, it seemed that the bikers that had guns were likewise empty or perhaps hadn’t managed to survive the climb. The fight had devolved into a nasty hand to hand fray with bikers rushing up the steep slope and trying and scramble over the wall in twos and threes. It was all Cort and Oliver could do to hold them off, continually rushing back and forth along the length of the wall to slash out at their attackers as they could. Danny and Father Callahan did what they could to help, keeping up a constant barrage of stones hurling down at their attackers.

  “Leftenant!” Oliver shouted between slashes,“ this position is growing more precarious by the minute!”

  “I can fuck
ing see that!” Cort replied and then severed a biker’s arm with vicious reverse stroke.

  Below them, nearly a dozen bikers had gathered at the second wall. They stared up at the riders, anger and hunger burning plainly in their eyes. Cort immediately recognized what was about to happen. When the group figured they had the strength, they would rush the slope as a whole and simply overwhelm them. It was a simple plan, but undoubtedly effective.

  “Lieutenant!” Danny screamed to Cort’s left.

  The cavalryman was immediately in motion. A single biker it seemed had crawled up the slope on his belly and then surprised Danny and the Priest. The mud-covered man now straddled the holy man and was trying to drive a rusty shiv into his neck. Father Callahan fought back desperately trying to hold the dirty blade at bay, while Danny punched and kicked at the attacker feebly.

  As the men struggled violently, Cort knew he couldn’t risk a strike. Instead, he reached out and grabbed a handful of the biker’s long greasy hair and with it yanked the man’s head back viciously. He then drove the tip of his saber through the man’s exposed throat. The Biker let out a last gurgling breath as black blood fountained out of his neck to cover both of the riders. Cort let go, and the biker slumped forward to slide off of his blade. Father Callahan pushed the corpse off of him and then struggled free of the dead man’s embrace.

  “Thank you, Cort,” the priest managed to choke out as he wiped the dark blood from his face.

  “Get Shinji over here, have him drain this guy, we need him back in the fight!” the Cavalryman commanded.

  The Mongolian lay at the foot of the wall a dozen feet away, he looked pale and though both his left arm and leg were tied tight with tourniquets blood was still pooling in the mud around him. Danny nodded and moved to fetch the warrior when a roar from below stopped the young man in his tracks. Below them over a dozen bikers charged and swarmed up the narrow slope as one.