The Next Move

With astonishing rapidity, the command ran from the French as they followed the Apache. Reinvigorated, with a new sense of purpose, and now with seven new members to get shot full of holes (including a free-lance gunslinger artist, a mysterious Czech known only as "Marmota"), Dundee's expedition was ready to annihilate Charriba and put an end to this story. The ever-fluid body of battle-hardened individuals was now eagerly awaiting their next encounter with Charriba.

* * *

After a day of hard riding, Dundee and his men finally encamped in a clearing in the midst of a small mountain range. They found another mocking Apache trail marker in their path, and a pile of rocks, leaves, garbage, and other crap. Contemplating the message, Dundee and some of his officers, Tim, Potts, Michelle, Cullen, Harriman, Joe, and J.F. Stubb began discussing battle strategy.

"How long ago?" Dundee asked, pondering the cryptic message.

"Oh, about four, five hours ago," Potts answered. "Charriba says, you're to make your peace with your Christian god, as you are about to join him."

"Half the men in this command are agnostics, atheists, or other faiths," Dundee spat. "But go ahead."

"We must have hurt the old man at the river more than we figured," Potts continued. "I know we pulled on his arm pretty tightly, but I didn't think we'd broken it."

"Look here," Michelle said as she pointed at a piece of trampled paper covered in mud. "This, Major," she said, pkcing it up, "is a fast food wrapper."

Dundee picked up it and examined it. "Taco Bell," he read. "And a Gordita, to boot."

"They are getting desperate, then," Joe nodded solemnly.

"Well, sooner or later, he'll hit us again in a canyon, or the middle of a river, at night, or dawn..." Dundee rambled.

"When are we going to STOP fighting this Indian on his own terms?" Tim said decisively.

Dundee looked solidly at him. "Right now! From this point on, we tuck our tail between our legs and run for home - straight to the Rio Grande."

"You'd let Charriba escape?" Joe asked incredulously.

"Let's just say I'm giving him... equal opportunity, Lieutenant," Dundee replied enigmatically.

"Dammit Major!" Harriman shouted. "Just when I was getting use to the... climate down here!"

"I want to kill me some more Mexicans," Stubb belched.

"We're fighting APACHES, bone-head!" Cullen shouted at him.

Michelle interrupted. "Major, if we're going to do that, we have to make it look good. First swing wide, then head for the river. But we've really got to move."

"And if we don't," Potts continued, "they'll be waiting for us, just like he is now.

"All right," Dundee said, saddle up and prepare to move out. He picked up the Apache lanch and thrust it into the ground as his colleagues dispersed.

"Go cut him down, Jed," Dundee said, picking up a knife for Potts.

Potts refused. "YOU cut him down, Major," he insisted. "I think he's earned it."

"I'LL cut him down!" Dave said, grimacing evilly.

Dundee shuddered and clambered up a nearby Joshua tree, where the bloody corpse of Ben, his mouth stuffed full of stale Nachos, was crucified to the branches. Dundee began climbing the tree and tried to cut it down. Below, Dave began to go after him, to "help", but Potts knocked him out cold with his shotgun.

"He was a good trooper after all," Tim said thoughtfully.

"Loyal - not 'good'," Michelle rejoindered.

The expedition mobilized, and within minutes they were ready to move out. As they departed from their camp in the mountains, Charriba and his men appeared, watching them intently. What were these white men up to? he wondered. He reared his horse and the Indians disappeared back over the horizon.