Paco Valdez
You cross the tracks and dismount, tying Betty to a scraggly, semi-distant tree. You return to your position behind one of the wild bushes and spot Gus and Annie in position as well.
In the distance you hear the thunder of the train making its way down the tracks. The ground begins to shake as it comes nearer. You watch as the black hunk of steel grows larger and comes ever closer.
You feel your senses heighten, adrenaline in your veins. It won't be long before you must act.
As the thundering mass rumbles near, you glance across the tracks at you companions. A moment of shock hits you when you see a half-score group of men creeping up behind them. There are marks on their hands, and though you can't make out what they are, you are certain that they are little black V's.
You try to call out to them as you draw your gun. But they cannot hear you over the roar of the locomotive.
You take a step out from behind the bushes and prepare to cross the tracks to help your friends, but the train comes rushing by, blocking you from meeting them.
You watch them between cars in horror as the Vigilantes beat on them before silencing them forever. Gus and Annie try to put up a fight, but manage to do very little. Ten on two are far from fair odds.
Once they have killed your companions, the men just sort of stand there staring back at you through the on-rushing cars. To say that their blank gazes unnerve you would be a gross understatement.
You have your gun ready for when the train has passed. The sliver of hope that you cling so desperately to will be dependant on instinctual responses and keeping a cool head.
As the last few cars speed past you, you pull the hammer of your pistol back and tense your muscles in preparation. The caboose goes by at last and you fire off three shots while diving into a roll to land behind a small cluster of bushes.
Across from you, two of the Vigilantes fall to their backs on the hard ground. A seemingly endless barrage of bullets comes in at you, whistling by your ears, grazing your shoulders, arms, and legs.
When the gunfire ends, you duck your head out a bit while staying crouched down, and fire off three more shots. Though you are able to drop another two men, the return fire comes more quickly this time. You find yourself taking refuge once more in the meager protection of the cluster of shrubbery.
You find yourself more than just grazed by the bullets this time as one buries itself into your left arm and another opens a deep gash in your side, the bullet chipping your rib before ricocheting away.
Grimacing in pain, you do your best to reload with the numbness in your arm spreading down to your fingers.
You anticipate that the bullets will stop and step out from your bushes just as the barrage of thunder ends. You fire with uncanny speed and accuracy, as they quickly raise their barrels once more in your direction.
They fire upon you as one, even as they fall individually one after the other. Once you have dropped the forth man, a bullet rips through your stomach and explodes out of your back. The force of the bullet drops you back a step, but you maintain your focus and unleash your last two bullets, hitting the last two men standing opposite you. One of them fires as they fall dying to the ground, the slug buries into your leg, embedded in the bone.
Clutching your stomach, you drop to one knee. Blood flows through your fingers like some morbid river of death. The echoes of the gunshots become more distant, your own grunts of pain dim out. The bright sun grows dark and you find that you are crashing face first to the ground, powerless to stop yourself.
Everything goes distant, your emotions, your feelings, your vision and hearing. Random memories flash briefly before your eyes.
Then there is nothing.
In the distance you hear the thunder of the train making its way down the tracks. The ground begins to shake as it comes nearer. You watch as the black hunk of steel grows larger and comes ever closer.
You feel your senses heighten, adrenaline in your veins. It won't be long before you must act.
As the thundering mass rumbles near, you glance across the tracks at you companions. A moment of shock hits you when you see a half-score group of men creeping up behind them. There are marks on their hands, and though you can't make out what they are, you are certain that they are little black V's.
You try to call out to them as you draw your gun. But they cannot hear you over the roar of the locomotive.
You take a step out from behind the bushes and prepare to cross the tracks to help your friends, but the train comes rushing by, blocking you from meeting them.
You watch them between cars in horror as the Vigilantes beat on them before silencing them forever. Gus and Annie try to put up a fight, but manage to do very little. Ten on two are far from fair odds.
Once they have killed your companions, the men just sort of stand there staring back at you through the on-rushing cars. To say that their blank gazes unnerve you would be a gross understatement.
You have your gun ready for when the train has passed. The sliver of hope that you cling so desperately to will be dependant on instinctual responses and keeping a cool head.
As the last few cars speed past you, you pull the hammer of your pistol back and tense your muscles in preparation. The caboose goes by at last and you fire off three shots while diving into a roll to land behind a small cluster of bushes.
Across from you, two of the Vigilantes fall to their backs on the hard ground. A seemingly endless barrage of bullets comes in at you, whistling by your ears, grazing your shoulders, arms, and legs.
When the gunfire ends, you duck your head out a bit while staying crouched down, and fire off three more shots. Though you are able to drop another two men, the return fire comes more quickly this time. You find yourself taking refuge once more in the meager protection of the cluster of shrubbery.
You find yourself more than just grazed by the bullets this time as one buries itself into your left arm and another opens a deep gash in your side, the bullet chipping your rib before ricocheting away.
Grimacing in pain, you do your best to reload with the numbness in your arm spreading down to your fingers.
You anticipate that the bullets will stop and step out from your bushes just as the barrage of thunder ends. You fire with uncanny speed and accuracy, as they quickly raise their barrels once more in your direction.
They fire upon you as one, even as they fall individually one after the other. Once you have dropped the forth man, a bullet rips through your stomach and explodes out of your back. The force of the bullet drops you back a step, but you maintain your focus and unleash your last two bullets, hitting the last two men standing opposite you. One of them fires as they fall dying to the ground, the slug buries into your leg, embedded in the bone.
Clutching your stomach, you drop to one knee. Blood flows through your fingers like some morbid river of death. The echoes of the gunshots become more distant, your own grunts of pain dim out. The bright sun grows dark and you find that you are crashing face first to the ground, powerless to stop yourself.
Everything goes distant, your emotions, your feelings, your vision and hearing. Random memories flash briefly before your eyes.
Then there is nothing.
