Jaspre Bark - Dawn Over Doomsday

The detonation wire was connected to the explosives, reeled out to a safe distance then hooked up to the detonator. Ahiga himself did the honours.

The noise was deafening. The ground shook and a wall of heat came off the inferno that engulfed the tower, stinging Ahiga's eyes and nose.

The tower came crashing down on the sacred earth. The blackened steel of the structure seemed to scream as it buckled and fell apart. Flaming girders, rivets and chunks of molten metal rained down, scattering impromptu funeral pyres across the cemetery.

A cheer went up from the braves, it was an awesome sight. They had laid the white man's schemes low. The tower had been like a giant middle finger raised to the Native Americans. A huge metal dick showing the white man's power, and they had just chopped it down, unmanning the whole Neo-Clergy.

The braves separated the men folk and forced them at gunpoint to pick their way through the flaming ruins of the tower and drag the corpses out. Acting on Ahiga's orders, Hastiin filled a blood stained quiver with arrows that he pulled from the dead bodies.

Then he led the crowd down the mound, following the traditional path. The survivors of the attack were forced at gunpoint to mourn the death of their villainous scheme, and mourn it Native American style.

"You should be pleased old man," said Ahiga to the chief.

The weakling just sighed and looked solemn. This was how Elders exerted their power over the younger braves. The sombre silences, the shunning and withdrawal of approval. It wasn't going to work on Ahiga though. "You had the white man camped out on your most sacred site, trampling on your traditions and your territory. I just got rid of him for you. I've given you back that land."

"I heard the explosion," said the chief. "What kind of a state have you left the land in? Do you honestly think we will ever be able to use it again to honour our dead?"

"That is the white man's doing. Not mine. At least now you have the chance to rebuild."

The chief gave him a sad look, full of the pain of betrayal. Ahiga knew the old man was holding back what he wanted to say, but his look was far more eloquent. Ahiga could feel the anger building inside him. He choked back the bile that was rising in his throat and marched out of the chief's quarters.

He would have started to beat on the old man if he hadn't. He'd seen that self same look only once before in his life and he did not want to be reminded.

It had come from those beautiful brown eyes as he squeezed the trigger. They were the only eyes he had ever loved and he had stolen the light from them forever. He had done it out of fear. Not the fear of knowing it was kill or be killed but the fear of being revealed in front of the gang. The fear of being thought less than a man. What ate him up inside was that he hadn't felt like a proper man since.

Ahiga heard footsteps approach. The tread was familiar, without turning round he knew they were Hastiin's. The brave stopped a respectful distance from Ahiga and waited without a sound.

After a time Ahiga collected himself and said: "Is it done?"

"I placed the quiver and the detonator inside the meeting hall as you instructed. Even a half-assed search will turn them up, but they'll stay hidden unless someone thinks to look."

"Speak of this to anyone and you're a dead man. You know that don't you?"

"Of course," said Hastiin. "I believe in the UTN. I believe in Hiamovi and what you're doing to bring our people together. I'm honoured to be a part of it."

"Good. When the time comes, I'll see you right by this."

"I appreciate that," said Hastiin. "But just being a part of something bigger than myself – something that matters – that's enough of a reward."

"Leave me now," said Ahiga and Hastiin went.

Everything was now set in motion. An old Greek pimp had once told Ahiga that when the gods want to punish us they give us exactly what we want. The saying had always stuck with Ahiga. Fitch and Golding were going to get what they wanted. It was going to punish them more than they could possibly expect.

It was getting near dawn and Fitch was pissed. He'd been driving up and down the road bordering the reservation since he'd heard the explosion. He had no idea what kind of stunt that sick faggot Ahiga had pulled, but he was going to make him pay when he found out.

"Where are these stinking Bible bashers?" he said. "Can't that freaking Injun get 'em to the borders of his own reservation?"

"T'aint his reservation," said Golding, who was riding shotgun in the jeep. "These are Cheyenne. He's a Navajo. He told me that."

"Whatever. They're all redskins. Should've killed 'em back when we had the chance."

"Have to make do with happy clappers for the time being."

"Yeah, freaking Christians. Them I'll kill for free. Bug the fucking shit outta me."

"Don't let Colt catch you saying that. He's real big into his religious shit."

"I know. That's his problem. Christianity, that's what we push to the masses. T'aint what we swallow. First rule of dealing: don't get high on your own supply. We start believing in all this turn the other cheek, peace on earth bullshit and we're fucked."

"Naw. Colt's more of your eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth kinda Christian. Strictly old school, old testament. He told me that."

A horn blared behind them, from one of the two troop carriers following them. Fitch checked his mirror. The driver of the last vehicle was leaning out the window waving for them to go back.

Fitch pulled a U-turn and swore as he hit a pothole. He drove past the troop carriers, executing three point turns. Up ahead, on the right hand side of the road, about a hundred or so volunteers were coming out of a small copse of Ponderosa Pines.

"Goddamn it," said Fitch. "He hasn't killed a one of them. First the explosion now this, what the fuck is that cock sucking Injun playing at?"

"Wait," said Golding. "I see a few bodies. Our boys though, worse luck."

"You didn't expect he'd let them live did ya?"

"S'pose not."

Fitch pulled up and jumped out. The other two vehicles were just pulling up when the volunteers spotted them. The troops climbed out of the carriers. Thirty men armed to the teeth.

The whole crowd ran towards them with their arms out. Some of them bawled tears of joy. Fitch thought they might fall down and kiss his feet. They swarmed round him, the women tugging at his clothes while their scrawny ass kids screamed. Everyone was talking at once. Fitch pulled out his pistol and fired it into the air.

"Alright," he hollered. "That's enough, I can't make out a word you're saying. You," Fitch said pointing to a tall, thin man who had hold of a corpse by the ankles. "What the fuck was that explosion we heard?"

"That was the tower," said the man. "The Indians blew it up. Had dynamite and everything." The man tilted his head at the corpse he was carrying. "Killed this one and nine others."

"Anyone else dead?" said Fitch. "Apart from our men?"

"Couple I think. Few of us are wounded too. Do you have a first aid kit with you?"

"Oh we got just what you need. Don't you worry 'bout that none."

The troops formed themselves into a line spanning the road, guns at the ready.

"How bad's the damage to the tower?" Fitch said. "There any chance of repairing it?"

The man shook his head. "We'll have to start again from scratch. The whole thing's destroyed. Set light to our things too. All we got is the clothes on our back."

"You won't need nothing where you're going," said Golding.

The volunteers started to look nervous. A few of them began backing up the road or slinking into the trees. "You guys are here to help us aren't you?" said the tall man. "We're gonna finish off the work on the tower ain't we? So the Prophet can get his word out."