Paco Valdez
FB
You decide that if the old man says it's safe, then it must be safe. He's survived this long, hasn't he? Even so, you keep your ears trained outside the cave for more noise, but hear nothing.
Some time passes, you're not sure how much, but you awaken to the sound of something sticking into a body, like a knife gutting a deer. You wake with a start to see one of the natives pulling a bloody hunting knife out of the old man's belly. It's not nearly as safe here as the old man let on.
You stumble to your feet and pull out your pistol, but the Indian is upon you too fast. He tackles you to the ground, knocking the gun from your hand in the process. He tries to strike you with his knife, but you slam his hand against the stone wall and he drops the knife after you hear the crunch of the bones in his hand.
His broken bones don't seem to affect him, you soon realise as his head comes crashing in, striking your nose and shattering the cartillage. Blood pours out of your nostrils and down your face, a thick warm liquid that smells of iron.
His head comes in again, but you shove his shoulders to one side and dodge to the other; his face rushes past you into the stone wall behind you. He takes a few dazed steps back and you take the opportunity to bash him in the face a few times with your unforgiving knuckles.
It isn't long before the young man is a bloody mess, staring up at you with eyes that plead for mercy. You end his pain quickly, shoving his blade up under his ribs to penetrate his heart.
You look around the cave and wonder if continuing on is even a good idea considering the presence of natives and their justifiable distaste for white men treading upon their land.
You decide that if the old man says it's safe, then it must be safe. He's survived this long, hasn't he? Even so, you keep your ears trained outside the cave for more noise, but hear nothing.
Some time passes, you're not sure how much, but you awaken to the sound of something sticking into a body, like a knife gutting a deer. You wake with a start to see one of the natives pulling a bloody hunting knife out of the old man's belly. It's not nearly as safe here as the old man let on.
You stumble to your feet and pull out your pistol, but the Indian is upon you too fast. He tackles you to the ground, knocking the gun from your hand in the process. He tries to strike you with his knife, but you slam his hand against the stone wall and he drops the knife after you hear the crunch of the bones in his hand.
His broken bones don't seem to affect him, you soon realise as his head comes crashing in, striking your nose and shattering the cartillage. Blood pours out of your nostrils and down your face, a thick warm liquid that smells of iron.
His head comes in again, but you shove his shoulders to one side and dodge to the other; his face rushes past you into the stone wall behind you. He takes a few dazed steps back and you take the opportunity to bash him in the face a few times with your unforgiving knuckles.
It isn't long before the young man is a bloody mess, staring up at you with eyes that plead for mercy. You end his pain quickly, shoving his blade up under his ribs to penetrate his heart.
You look around the cave and wonder if continuing on is even a good idea considering the presence of natives and their justifiable distaste for white men treading upon their land.