The next part, as usual breaks into fragments. Snapshots of images, smells, and sound. Random thoughts like advertisements from another planet flash in my brain. Lightening strikes of words, shaped like thoughts, and just as quickly gone.
My world,during this, becomes layers, and I respond with out thinking, fear, or pain. All I feel is joy and it is good. So very good.
A horse, its neck arched, snorting and eyes rolling, as it slowly drops to its forelegs. My rifle is empty. I reach back and drop it in its sheath and draw both my guns. I feel fluid, my leg is working, I am me again. It has been so long.
A round smacks me in the chest. Handgun from the feel. Hoser isn't bad but I'm better. A face screaming in rage at me. He is wearing war paint, how unoriginal, he dies.
I keep moving. I'm going downhill. I'm flying. One of the formerly mounted guys is standing behind a down horse. His? I keep coming. I don't pull the triggers. His nerve breaks. He fires but he misses. I launch into the air using a down horse as my launchpad. Something, gear? The horse? The angle isn't what I had ran in my head but I don't care. It doesn't matter and he knows it. I see it in his eyes just before I impact. He knows. I am death and I won't stop coming. He is down. I smell his stink, see his eyes widen, then I begin beating his face to a pulp with one Ruger while keeping the other ready. I don't have any more time for him. I jam the barrel in his eye and pull the trigger and roll off of him.
One of them is left and I want him. No one escapes. I hear "No mercy" in a voice from a world gone and I scream my rage at what was taken. I keep rolling. No reason why, I just do, it was the right thing to do. The sand, and the guy who I just provided an eyeopener twitched with the multiple rounds of a machine pistol running full tilt. Somebody had just spent a months pay at least.
The timing was unfortunate for me. Both Rugers were empty. I still had the Navy Colt but I noticed the lance I had seen early was less than a foot away and I grabbed it. The burst had died off far to soon, a jam, and I heard him say something that probably translated to "Motherfucker!" I stood up. He was about 20 paces away.
I grinned at him. He didn't grin back.
I hurl the lance at him. Much to my amazement, and from the look on his face, his,it punches solidly into his chest. I watched as he reached out, wrapped his hands around it, trying to pull it out was my guess, and drops to his knees. I shot him in the head with the Colt anyway. Fuck 'em. Always better to make sure they're dead then to assume it.
I look around. A chunk of falls and lies burning in the sand. Most of the hogan is gone. I hear at least two horses crying. I begin reloading while I move backward out of the firelight. Never assume its over and never stand in the spotlight. I'll move again as soon as I reload, wait a few in another spot, and then begin walking the perimeter slowly. Just to make sure. Then I'll have to kill the injured horses. I'm not looking forward to it.