The Hawk and The Chipmunk - Cover

The Hawk and The Chipmunk

Copyright© 2005 R. Michael Lowe aka The Scot

Chapter 11

Still sitting on the cave floor John carefully turned until his back was toward the mouth of the cave. Then shielding it as much as possible he lit the lighter just long enough to get his bearings. There were two fresh bottles of water, a bowl of stew, and some bread placed along the wall, and the items he’d found earlier were moved a foot or so further into the cave. Quickly extinguishing the light he carefully groped around for the bowl of stew and the bread. When his hand finally found the bowl he was amazed to find it still warm. Maria must’ve left it only a few minutes before he awakened. He ate until he was full, and drank one of the bottles of water. He could refill it himself, now he’d found the pool.

After sitting there for a while, he realized he was too awake to go back to sleep. Besides, his curiosity concerning this place was getting to him. Taking a couple of the candles, he followed the wall until it curved, feeling for the timbers that were at the beginning of the mine. When he reached that point he used the lighter to light one of the candles. From his earlier exploring he was sure he was now beyond where the light from the candle could be spotted by someone outside the cave.

He carefully worked his way further into the cave, taking the alternate fork away from the pool and the skeletal remains. At the next point of bracing John found an old torch hanging from the wall. The end seemed to be a hardened substance, but after a few moments of holding the candle to it the torch suddenly burst into flame. The light from the torch greatly exceeded that of the candle, so he blew out the candle to preserve it for later. Removing the torch from its holder he continued on. At each place of bracing there was another torch placed in a hole dug out of the wall. Their layout quickly pointed to the fact these torches could be used to light the entire tunnel. While he continued his explorations he came to several side tunnels, but, at this point, he ignored them. Instead, he wanted to stay focused on exploring the main tunnel which seemed to be slowly slanting downward. The thing that surprised him the most was the air didn’t appear to be musty and stale, but cool and fresh. There was just enough gentle breeze to cause the torch’s flame to dance some, even when he was standing still.

John wasn’t sure how far he’d walked, but his feet were killing him. Looking down at his feet he realized that he was still wearing the shoes he’d taken off Tom Jackson. Seeing another ceiling brace in the middle of a turn just ahead John walked over, sat down next to the column of wood, and leaned back against the wall. He propped the torch beside him while to remove the shoes and the multiple pairs of socks. While he rubbed his feet he thought about different options. The most obvious was to go barefoot, but he wasn’t comfortable with that. The second was to adjust how the shoes were to fit. After some thought, and wishing he’d brought the big knife, he pulled out the pocket knife he’d taken from the wreck, and started working to cut part of the upper area of the shoes away and to put in new lace holes so he could tie them up a lot tighter. It took him a few minutes, but he finally had them where they were a reasonable fit and didn’t slide about on him with just one pair of socks on.

He picked up the torch, and was about to get up when he noticed something unusual. There were several black powder kegs bound to the vertical brace opposite him. This brace was in the middle of the turn and the kegs were in a position where no one could’ve seen them when they came down the tunnel. Looking closer he saw a thin wire was stretched across the tunnel. After standing he removed an unlit torch that was above and to the side of the kegs, replacing it with the lit one he’d been carrying. Dropping to his knees he cut the binding of the top keg. He verified it wasn’t connected to the other kegs in any manner, and lifted it out of the way. He followed the same steps with the second keg, but the bottom one was different. A portion of the top was open, exposing the powder. Something that looked like the firing mechanism of an old flintlock was fastened to the inside of the keg right on top of the open powder. The wire that stretched across the tunnel led to this device. It looked like the trigger was wired down and the only thing preventing the hammer from falling was the tension of the wire. John was stunned. The cave / mine was booby-trapped! It appeared it had been booby-trapped for a long time. Remembering something he’d seen on an old TV show John carefully lifted the piece that would be struck by the flint. Now the thing shouldn’t fire, but he still held the hammer while he snapped the wire. He eased the hammer down, and took a deep breath before he let out a sigh.

There was no way he could’ve seen the wire if he hadn’t stopped, and sat down at that exact spot to do something about his shoes. A chill went down his spine when he thought about how lucky he was to not be buried under tons of rocks and dirt. This wasn’t the first lucky thing that had happened to him lately, and he wondered how long his luck would hold.

With fear and trepidation John prepared to continue his exploration. He reacquired the burning torch from above him, replacing it with the unlit one that had been there originally. Around a hundred feet further into the tunnel he came to a passageway on his left side. The passage was protected by iron bars framed into the entrance. Using the torch to look inside he saw a large room with what appeared to be more than a hundred skeletons spread in disarray.

Proceeding further he came to a large opening with several smaller ones branching out like the spokes of a wheel. There were metal and wooden boxes stacked all around the room, some as much as five feet high. Most of the metal ones were together and most appeared to be long narrow strong boxes.

The first room had a door hanging from an old brass hinge. The second hinge was missing, but it looked like leather had been used and it’d just rotted away. Inside there were the remains of a bed, a table with an old oil lamp, two chairs, and two old steamer trunks.

At the next room the old wooden door lay on the ground in front of the opening. John looked closely, and saw enough to confirm his earlier theory about the doors being attached to the door-frame by leather hinges that had pretty much rotted in two. Inside this room there were several frames that looked like bunk beds. There were pieces of rope either stretched across each frame or hanging from it. Within each bunk frame one or more skeletons rested on the rope web or on the floor beneath. It appeared they’d been killed in their sleep and later their flesh, clothes, the bedding, and, in some places, even the ropes had just rotted away. There were more pistols and the remains of holsters laying on the floor beneath some short spikes driven into the rock wall. The gun belts had probably been hanging on these spikes when the men were killed.

In another room, on the other side of the main room, were the skeletal remains of four more men. It was obvious these men hadn’t died in their sleep. There were bottles, shot glasses, and stacks of coins on the two tables, and one of the men had a gun in his hand; he also had a bullet hole in his skull. John’s initial theory was they were playing cards when someone came in the doorway and started shooting.

This was getting to John’s curiosity more and more by the minute, and he didn’t want to stop his plundering. At the same time he knew he was getting tired and he’d a relatively long walk back to the mouth of the cave. He thought seriously about just resting back here, but he was afraid Maria would either panic and come looking for him, or she’d assume he’d left and would no longer bring food and water. He could get water from the pool, but he’d no other source of food. Besides, she was a beautiful woman who’d risked a lot to care for him.

This thought caused him to think about Brenda for the first time in a while. Was she just a convenient ‘ship in the storm’ or did he really care about her? And if he did care, how could he reconcile that with Maria? Of course, he and Maria had never even kissed, much less anything else, nor had he fantasized about making love to her. The most important thing in his mind was she was a married woman, and though he wasn’t a very religious person the sanctity of marriage was one thing he’d been taught to respect from an early age.

By the time he came to the fork in the tunnel that led back to the pool John was pretty well exhausted. Uncertain what to do with the torch he finally placed it back in its original spot and let it burn. He lit the candle and continued until he came to the final turn. Here he blew out the candle and rested by leaning against the wall of the cave until his night vision was restored. He carefully moved forward the few feet into the turn, and suddenly enough moonlight was filtering through the tops of the trees outside to allow him to move fairly freely. He slumped down where he’d been sitting earlier, He drank some of the water, and finished the bread and the stew. His mind was so filled with his discoveries, as well as thoughts of Brenda and Maria, he wondered how he’d ever get back to sleep. In reality, that was a moot point, for the next thing John knew the morning light was streaming through the mouth of the cave.

He didn’t have any idea what time it was, but there was no sign Maria had been there. Going to the edge of the cave’s mouth John was able to see a beat-up old pickup parked next to Maria’s home. This probably belonged to Maria’s husband, which explained why she hadn’t brought him any food this morning. John looked harder at the truck, and saw the passenger’s side was seriously damaged. Virtually its entire length was mangled. He suspected it’d sideswiped a tree or something similar.

John sat back down, drank some more of the water, and began to look over the pistol he’d found the previous day. The pistol was pitted with rust in several places, but the cylinder still spun easily. Using his pocket knife he removed the caps (or nipples) from each cylinder, noticing three of them had been fired, and one cylinder didn’t have one. He pondered this for a few minutes while he worked the lead and powder from the two cylinders that were still loaded. About the time he finished he remembered something from an old western movie. It was about leaving the hammer on an empty cylinder to prevent accidental firing. This helped it all make sense. John knew very little about guns, but his intelligence and sense of logic helped him figure things out. He worked for the next hour, going over the mechanics of the pistol, including the loading lever for packing the ball into the cylinder. Using his lighter and a small amount of powder on the floor he confirmed the powder would still burn, but he also discovered the inside of the barrel was in bad shape with sizable areas of rust. As a result he was seriously concerned about firing anything through it. John finally sat the pistol aside. In the hands of a proper gunsmith it ‘d probably be worth something as an antique, but it was of no value to him at the moment. He wondered about the other guns he’d left in the back of the cave. Were they in any better shape? Uncertain what to do he checked on the truck. Since it was still there he figured Maria wouldn’t be around for a while. He also noticed the soft soil or thick dust just at the entrance.

Using a small stick he found just outside the cave mouth John wrote ‘Exploring, will be back’ in the dust. To make sure she saw it he placed the old gun from his new found ‘treasure’ next to his words. That way, if she did come, the items would attract her attention and she’d read the words. It was so simple he really didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

Taking a new candle and sticking the big knife under his belt at the small of his back John started back into the cave. When he made the turn he found he didn’t really need the candle, as there was still some flickering flame from the torch he’d used the previous night. He used it to light another, and then rapidly progressed to the main room he’d discovered the previous night. When he first arrived he checked the guns in the bunk room. They were better, but he still wasn’t sure. The guns in the room with the drinking card players weren’t even that good. He selected the best of the lot and sat it on the card table.

Deciding to plunder a little more he went to the stacks of boxes in the middle of the room and found a place where he could put the torch. He assumed the strong boxes contained gold or money, but right now he was looking for something more practical. So he went to the stacks of wooden boxes and used the big knife to pry the top off one of the longer ones. It contained two rows of six lever action rifles. They looked similar to the Winchester rifle he’d seen in movies, but there was no wooden piece on the barrel. Also, the main part where the hammer and trigger were appeared to be brass. He was also puzzled because there was no place on the side to load bullets into the thing. The rifles appeared to be brand new and were covered by some sort of waxy coating to protect them. Picking up one of the rifles he worked the lever. Studying the rifle for a few minutes he figured how he could load a single shell into the breach, but he still had no idea of how to load the magazine the rifle obviously had. Checking the rifle out further he learned the barrel was full of some greasy substance. Though better than rust, he didn’t think it a good idea to fire a shell through it. Looking again in the box that held the rifles he noticed some long, round wooden rods that were just a little longer than the barrel. One end was a little thicker than the other, so he pushed that end first down the barrel. It fit loosely, but still a glob of the grease was shoved into the area where the bullet entered the barrel. John used his pocket knife to remove the grease and then he attempted to look down the barrel. It was clear, but the grease covered any rifling. The rod wasn’t thick enough. John pondered this for a moment. He questioned himself, What could add to the thickness of the wood, yet not scratch the barrel? Hell, dad had a cleaning kit, why didn’t I pay attention. Wait a minute, I remember, he used a piece of cloth that he shoved down the barrel. Using the pocket knife he cut a section off the bottom of his t-shirt and placed it over the wooden rod. Seeing that this time the rod fit much tighter he pushed it on to the end. The grease that came out this time was all over the piece of cloth. When he checked the barrel this time it was completely clean and he’d no problem seeing the rifle’s grooves. He sat the now ready rifle next to the pistol he’d chosen.

A smaller box to the side had ‘Henry 44RF’ stamped on the box. When he opened it he found it contained numerous smaller wooden boxes full of brass bullets. He suspected they fit the rifle, but he wasn’t sure. When he tried loading it manually the bullet fit like a glove. There were other boxes of cartridges marked 45-70, but the shell inside was obviously too big for the rifle. Since these seem to be the only bullets he could find it was obvious he was right about the 44RF being the right one. Therefore, he sat the box of bullets next to the rifle.

He opened a larger box next, and found something he wouldn’t have expected. He had no doubt of what it was, as the round, multi-barreled device could only be a Gatling gun. Underneath the frame that held the strange gun was a frame that held a collapsible tripod and another frame that held the crank. Finally, on each end of the box there was a frame that held long metal boxlike tubes John decided must be magazines for the gun. It was an awesome find, but of little value to him at this point. At least, not unless he was attacked by the Navajo nation.

Getting tired John grabbed the rifle, the box of bullets, and the pistol he’d set aside earlier and headed back to the entrance of the cave. When he arrived he sat down to rest and drank some water. Looking around he realized it was getting dark and there was still nothing there from Maria. He was beginning to get worried about her.

He didn’t have enough light to completely rework the pistol, but he did put new caps on the loaded cylinders. He seriously doubted it’d fire in its present condition, but he’d at least have it as a threat. He placed it in his belt in front, placed the big knife in the small of his back, and cocked the lever of the rifle. He placed one shell in the opening to the barrel (breach) and pulled the lever back in place. He noticed when it closed the hammer was still pulled back in the cocked position. Unable to find any safety on the rifle he decided he needed to let the hammer down. He was so nervous the hammer almost slipped off his thumb when he pulled the trigger.

More scared than he’d ever been in his life John took another drink of water from the plastic bottle and slipped out of the cave. He hoped this was all for naught, but he’d an uneasy feeling about the welfare of this Apache angel that had helped restore a total stranger.

He worked his way carefully from the cave area, trying to make sure that he was unseen, and the cave remained hidden. He circled around the little rounded house of sticks, hides, mud and grass, and finally came to the door, which was nothing more than a blanket hung from the top frame. For several minutes he stood outside the door listening to a male voice inside ranting about his slut wife and how he was going to break her spirit, or kill her.

John carefully used the rifle to slightly pull the blanket back so he could look inside. A naked Maria lay spread eagle on what functioned as a bed. She was tied to its four corners. Some piece of cloth was shoved in her mouth as a gag; John was willing to bet it was her panties. Her face had been beaten so badly she looked like someone who’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Her left eye was almost completely swollen shut and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her nose and her vagina. There were bloody welts across her upper body, especially on her breasts. The guy had a large knife in his hand and was making cuts across the inside of her thighs, rubbing salt into each one before he made another. This was one sick puppy, and John didn’t know whether to throw up first, or shoot the guy and then throw up.

Stepping inside the Hogan John leveled the rifle at the man and cocked the hammer. The sound was distinct and all activity stopped as the man whirled around to face John. In a harsh cold voice John said, “That will be quite enough.”

Still holding the knife Robert asked, “Who the hell are you?”

“I guess you might say, at the moment, I’m your wife’s savior.”

Robert screamed, “You’ve no right to interfere. She’s my wife, my woman!”

“No woman deserves what you’ve done to Maria.”

“Oh. So you’re Maria’s lover?”

“Maria and I’ve never even kissed. She helped me after I fell and hurt myself, but she was always faithful to you.”

“Bullshit! She just like her momma whore that caused my parents to get busted. She spread legs for anyone.”

“Well, she didn’t for me, and I haven’t seen anyone else here since you drove out of here days ago.”

“Buddies all say she puts out anytime they ask.”

John laughed at Robert, and said, “Then it sounds like you need some new buddies. Where I come from friends don’t do that to a friend’s women, even if it was true. Now, carefully set the knife down and back over to the corner.”

Robert did as John directed, backing up several steps before setting the knife on the table. He then backed away a few more steps. John switched the rifle to his left hand, placing the stock against his leg. He pulled the big knife from the small of his back and moved up to where he could cut the rope that held her in place.

At this point John made his first mistake. For a brief second he took his eyes off Robert to make sure he didn’t accidentally cut Maria instead of the rope. In the blink of an eye Robert launched himself at John, grabbing the knife as he went by the table. John caught the movement and fired, but Robert was moving low, like a defensive back in football about to stop a running back coming his way. The bullet went high and before John could do anything Robert stabbed at John’s heart. The big wide blade hit John’s rib and slid to the side rather than going into his heart where it was aimed. John, on the other hand, instinctively brought his knife around in front of him and drove it right into the soft area just below Robert’s ribs. They were both hurt, but John’s biggest danger was loss of blood. John shoved Robert to the floor and pulled the pistol from his belt. He tried several times to pull the trigger, but nothing happened.

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