Rebels in a Lost Cause (story)

           We had been dispatched by the confederate army to go into the Indian Territory and negotiate an alliance against the yankees. This would most assuredly turn the war in our favor.

           After weeks of riding long and hard in the hot summer's heat, we had stripped ourselves of our shirts, letting the warm sun tan our bodies.

           We finally met with our Indian contact, who arranged for a meeting between us and the chiefs down by the dry riverbed. Little did we know that the Yankee Cavalry had gotten to the tribe before we did.

           We knew trouble was brewing when instead of seeing the indian chiefs approaching, we saw a war party. We grabbed our guns ran for cover. I leapt behind a boulder as the arrows began flying.

           You ran for a downed log, but were struck in the back of the knee with an arrow. After falling to the ground you turn and begin firing. The mounted indian that had been chasing you took the bullet with a thud in his chest, killing him instantly and sending him falling backwards with his arms spread out.

           I began firing, killing two more of the savages. Two more galloped towards you. You easily shoot the first one dead, but before you cold get a clear shot the second one had leapt from his horse and was on top of you.

           You wrestle with the smooth-skin warrior armed with a rock blade. He is no match for you as you pummel him and ram his own blade into his cute little navel. Another indian is already there, ready to strike, but I kill him with several bullets to the back. His his bare torso twists and turns and his blood sprays down upon you as he falls dead.

           I grab you and help you to the log. The coast seemed clear, but we both knew this was just the advance party. Now, every indian in the area knew our location and we were in for one hell of a fight.

           After moments of calm, we heard federal cavalry bugle-calls and the main party of indians advanced on foot. You are laying down, firing over the downed tree, while I stand, getting clear shots at our attackers. After a couple of hours, we are running low on ammunition. Any native who attempted to run on our position is now laying dead in a pool of blood. But there is still no sign of the yankees.

           Many natives are still concealed behind the rocks and trees and take occasional arrow shots at us, but we give them little or no time to take good aim, so many of the arrows embed themselves into the log protecting us.

           The endless summer heat causes sweat to pour down over our bare muscular bodies, causing our bodies to shimmer in the afternoon sun. I stand at your side behind a tree, sheltering me from the natives. Your back is against the downed log as you sit facing backwards, guarding us from anyone attacking from behind.

           Soon enough, as the indians bring on another wave of attacks from the front, you spy the cavalry approaching behind us in the distance. Lucky for us, the trees still provide us with ample protection from their guns and they are slowed down by having to cross the river.

           As I defend us from the indians attacking from the front, you begin picking off the cavalry one-by-one as they slowly attempt to make their way across the river. We are starting to run low an ammunition, so we make sure that each shot counts.

           Most of the indians are hunkered down behind boulders and trees, fearful of sticking their heads out. While you have taken out most of the cavalry. A few, have managed to swim ashore, but no one has made it on horseback. Not to mention the ones who did make it to shore only survived drowning by removing their boots. So, the were slow and barefoot- - easy targets for your deadly aim.

           It is now several hours later, as we look for routes of escape, we can see there are none. We know we are surrounded and this is the end, but we are not going down without a fight. We thought about running out and dying in a hail of bullets and arrows, but that would just make it too easy on those yankees and treacherous natives. We would inflict much more damage in our current position. They would have to come for us.

           And it wasn't long before they did. Several members of the cavalry who had made it ashore commenced an assault. You quickly kill six and reload. A couple indians get excited when the hear the yankees attacking us and run from their positions, only to be shot down by my deadly aim. You take out six more yanks and start to reload.

           You see a yankee charging me from behind with his bayonet at the ready. You try to warn me to, but it is too late. My eyes widen and my back arches backwards as the soldier rams his bayonet deep into my lower back. I let out a hollar as the blade sticks out through my navel.

           My arms fall to my sides and one of my guns falls next to you. I am temporarily stunned by the thrust into my back, granting the indians a chance to exact their revenge. Two arrows plow deep into my gut and a third one strikes just above my navel.

           My face reddens and I let out a gasping “huggghhh!” The yankee rips his bayonet out of my back. I stumble forwards, clutching my abs as two more arrows are flung at me, piercing me in the chest. I spew out a mouthful of blood and a third arrow nails me in the center of the chest with a deadening thud. It shakes twice as my heart spasms out it final shutter and my limp dead body drops down onto you.

           You quickly roll me off of you and aim one of the guns I dropped a the man who attacked me from behind. He is standing over you. His eyes widened as he is staring down the barrel of the gun. You look him straight in the eye, “Goodbye, mother fucker.” and pull the trigger.

           A clicking noise lets you know that gun is out of ammo. His face turns from fear and shock to anger and rage. “Oh shit!” was the only thing you were able to get out before he rams his blade downward straight into your gut.

           You gasp out a loud “huuuaarrgghh” as he pressed all of his weight on his weapon, completely impaling you with the full length of the bayonet. Your chest raises up and your head forward as you stare into his hate-filled eyes. Each time you try to take a breath, he presses down again. You grasp onto the blade, trying to hold it in place.

           He places his barefoot on your muscular pec and rips it out. “Looks like you guys were too slow.” He rams the bayonet straight down into the center of your chest. You instantly hear yourself gasp out a final breath.  You feel your warm blood flowing out of your lips and onto your chest as your world fades black.