It was Bob’s face, twisted in torment, that alerted Bang to the guy with the knife. As if forced to act in slow motion, Bang turned to the right and saw the blade coming toward his middle. The man had hold of his shirt already and meant to skewer him upon the knife.
With a kick to the face, Bang shoved the man away from him just in time to pull his rifle up and shot him straight in the chest. That’s when time did the opposite of slow motion and it seemed everything sped up at once.
He found himself upon his horse, shoved against the others. He pulled back and realized there were men with guns pouring out of vehicles and coming toward them, shooting as they ran.
A bullet just grazed his side, he assumed—that or a very, large fast bee. Then he saw Bob ahead fighting three men, and they were trying to tear him off his horse.
Someone should help him, was Bang’s first thought. And then he found himself slapping the side of his horse as he ran into battle, rifle aimed, and fired at his only clear shot. He jerked Bob back up by the arm just in time for Bob to grab his knife and the head of one of his tormentors. When Bang looked back, a crimson tide had stained the horse Bob sat upon.
The cluster was so tight Bang could not get a clear shot at the enemy and didn’t want to accidentally shoot one of their own. But that clearly wasn’t a problem for the enemy, as someone on the outside of the battle was shooting at random and when one horse fell, it took down several others.
Someone yelled his name then and when Bang turned, this time he wasn’t fast enough and watched as a long blade pierced his thigh. Time slowed again. But the man’s eyes were startled when Bang raised his bow just high enough and threw an arrow into his throat.
Only after that did Bang allow himself to yell out in pain as he pulled the knife out. And because the blood was too thick on his hands, he had to wipe it away on his pants and grasped the hilt again, this time with a tighter hold. And he used it on the next man that came at him and then the one after that. He got off the horse as the crowd thinned, and he hobbled on one foot. He looked for Bob and saw him nearby, pulling a friend from the ground and helping him to stand.
Bob caught his eye and nodded.
Then a few of the men in black robes ran for their vehicles and he found himself standing there watching them run.
Bob leapt upon his horse again and ran after them, catching one, but a few others were going to escape.
Bang jumped back on the Cayuse pony and set him on a swift collision course for the other men. He passed the first one and went for the next. But the man sensed him coming and swung his rifle up and fired, hitting Bang’s horse in the neck, sending rider and horse to the ground.
It felt as if a horse had just landed on his chest, and Bang lay there staring up at the blue sky. A bird flew overhead. He could suddenly no longer hear the gunfire. Now there was only ringing in his ears. Maybe they’ve stopped, he thought. Why would they stop?
Bang tried to look up and saw the man in the black robes walk toward him.
The horse still lay across Bang’s middle. His warm fur was soft against Bang’s hand. His chest rose and fell. Bang struggled to pull air into his own lungs from the weight of the horse.
The man in the black robes walked closer still.
Bang’s hands searched for a weapon but found nothing within reach.
He looked up at the man again, only a few feet away, and that was when Bang realized he must be dead already.
Because Graham suddenly appeared behind the man and shot him dead.