When they collapsed, I snatched one of their knives from the earth and slit their throats for good measure.
“You bastards!” I screamed, waving the bloody pelts. “You fucking bastards! You’re destroying people I love.”
A Kiowa came up from behind and grabbed my shoulder.
I jammed my elbow in his face, then slammed a roundhouse kick to his gut.
He stumbled backward, then managed to find his balance. His face turned ugly as he sprinted toward me.
I shot him in the face without mercy, obliterating his hideous sneer.Eight bullets left.I didn’t care if I used them all.
Thunder continued to assault the sky, but the sound came farther away, and the lightning didn’t strike for several seconds. Yet the rain continued unabated, hammering the ground, the teepees, and the many bodies who had been struck down and lay dying or dead.
The fury of war flooded my bloodstream. I’d witnessed this same rage in Roman when he returned to the tent at night after participating in a blood bath at the emperor’s orders.
With a shout, I raced toward a warrior on horseback who’d just split open a woman’s head with his tomahawk. I wiped away the rain from my eyes, took aim, and shot him through the belly.
His horse reared and fell backward right on someone’s teepee, crushing it and the man who had been riding atop his back. Once the animal scrambled to its feet, it galloped away, leaving the warrior mangled and screaming on the ground.
Should I waste another bullet on this man?I stood over him, my gun aimed at his forehead.
He sobbed and writhed, shouting something in his native tongue. His legs and arms were bent at strange angles.
I gazed at the gusher of blood pouring from his abdomen. No, I wouldn’t waste more ammunition on this guy—he would be dead in seconds.
No more screams came from the villagers. Kiowa raced about on foot, tearing open the door flaps of the teepees, searching for more people to slaughter.
Emily, I hope you managed to get to safety.
I would die if I came upon her lifeless body.
I followed a warrior as he disappeared into a dwelling. I found him removing his breeches, about to violate the occupant of the teepee with her children huddled at the side of the wall.
I shot his brains out.
The children screamed.
Then, I turned to the shaking woman. “Take your children and run! Run as far as you can!”
She called to them in Sioux, taking two of them by the hand. They all raced outside and fled. If they lived, they’d never be able to erase the horror they’d just seen.
I kicked the warrior I had just killed.
“That’s for trying to rape a woman.” I kicked him several more times. “And that’s for trying to do it in front of her children!”
I was out of my mind with grief and rage.
When I emerged from the teepee, the only sound was the pounding rain, with occasional sobbing or despair. I turned in a circle, looking for more warriors or their victims.
Horse hooves clattered in the distance as the Kiowa retreated. They’d accomplished their madness, leaving most of the tribe dead.
I felt numb inside, horrified by the day’s events.
I crumpled to the ground, heartbroken. My mind flooded with images too horrible to unsee and too awful to dwell upon. I hung my head in my hands and wept. Then, I affixed my gun to its sheath on my thigh and pushed to stand with the weariness of a thousand-year-old woman.
“Please, God, Wakan Tanka, or whoever’s listening—please let Roman be all right.”
A chilling voice answered me, sucking the air from my lungs.
