D. Thomas - Backlash

The battle of the rock piles began. Two of Pierre’s men immediately rushed towards Lewis, firing wildly as they ran. Lewis pulled the first loaded shovel blade from his pack, grabbing it by the tip. Swinging the blade through the air, he brought it down hard on the top of one of the rocks in front of him. The unstable dynamite inside the shovel exploded on contact, sending a deadly shower of rocks forward as the blade kicked back, nearly breaking Lewis’s wrist before he could let go.

The impact with the rock created the equivalent of a massive shotgun blast, the small rock fragments acting like giant BBs as they spread out, creating a swath of destruction. The approaching gunmen were immediately cut down by the rock storm, both sustaining multiple fatal wounds. The final two members of Pierre’s crew watched in shock, unable to comprehend the strange heavy artillery Lewis seemed to possess.

Lewis peered over the rocks to survey the damage, instantly drawing fire from one of the gunmen providing cover for his companion who was rapidly circling around to Lewis’s left. These two seemed more experienced and disciplined than the rest of the crew, and they would be very difficult to beat if they worked together. The gunmen were yelling back and forth in a foreign language, maybe Russian, as they took turns firing in Lewis’s direction, the steady gunfire keeping him pinned down.

Two experienced soldiers versus two customized shovels didn’t seem like a fair fight. Letting the attackers get set up wasn’t going to improve his odds, so Lewis decided to act immediately. The moment the gunfire paused, Lewis threw one of the explosive blades in a high arching toss, aiming for the guy who was circling to his left. A booming explosion followed by a loud yelp told Lewis his toss was on the mark.

Unfortunately, a renewed round of yelling also revealed both attackers were still alive. Lewis could not understand the words being said but he suspected that the discussion centered on the makeshift weapon that had taken the man’s left pinky off. Surely they were figuring out their quarry was not as well armed as they may have expected.

Picking up the pace of the rhythmic gunfire, the assailants took turns firing, covering for each other as they moved forward. Lewis was crouched in a ball, forcing his body into the small shelter provided by the rocks. Time was running out. He clutched the last remaining shovel to his chest, trying to come up with a plan to take out both men with the final weapon. His only real option seemed to be to wait until his attackers were close before detonating the explosives, hoping to take out everyone and, at least, save Gonzalez and Samantha. The gunmen were almost upon him when a shout drew their attention back towards the remains of the cabin.

Gonzalez had climbed out of the shaft and was now running towards the river, yelling as she ran. The ploy worked. Both gunmen spun towards the noise, tracking the source with their rifles. Lewis lunged at the closest man, who was the one down to a single pinky. Swinging the blade as he moved forward, Lewis aimed directly at the assassin’s heavily-scarred face. The gunman caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, quickly sidestepping the blow while knocking the shovel blade to the ground. Lewis was amazed when the blade landed without exploding, having fallen into a small patch of soft sand. Seizing the window of opportunity provided by Lewis’s shock, the brute launched a quick counterattack with the butt of his rifle. Lewis regained his senses in time to spin his head away, just enough to turn what would have been a direct hit into a glancing blow off the left side of his head. He swung his arm up in a defensive motion, knocking the rifle away as both men tumbled to the ground in a heap of kicks and punches.

The other gunman had remained focused on Gonzalez’s bolting figure. He fired a short three-round burst, knocking the beautiful cave diver to the ground in a heap. Before the final bullet casing even hit the ground, the gray-haired gunman was spinning back towards where his nine-fingered friend and Lewis were wrestling on the ground. He smiled an evil grin when he saw his friend had gained the upper hand and was now on top of the man who had caused them so much trouble.

Lewis was able to land a hard punch to his assailant’s temple that would have rendered a weaker man unconscious. This was clearly not the man’s first skirmish as he instantly recovered, swiftly pulling a knife from a sheath on his chest. He swung the knife in a powerful arc towards Lewis’s face. Lewis detected the motion in time to reach up, grabbing the man’s arm with his right hand while shoving hard with his left. This resulted in a twisting motion that spun his attacker sideways. In one smooth motion, Lewis rolled with the man, spinning the knife-bearing arm around and plunging the blade into the commando’s chest, killing him on the spot. Knowing the man’s partner was still behind him, Lewis immediately withdrew the blade and stood, spinning around as he rose.

He was too late. The growling figure was less than fifteen feet away, gun barrel trained on Lewis’s skull. The gunman uttered a few unintelligible words in his native language before saying in accented English, “Drop it.” He gestured towards the knife in Lewis’s right hand. Fifteen feet was too far. Lewis would be cut down before he made it even half way, yet he knew he was dead if he didn’t do something.

That’s when he spotted the shovel blade he had dropped earlier. It was lying only two feet to his right, but it was facing the wrong way. The loaded end was nearly up against a boulder, pointing directly away from the man Lewis assumed to be the leader of Pierre’s military force. Lewis raised his hands in defeat, letting the knife dangle between his fingers. “You win,” he said, giving the knife a gentle toss to the side. Lewis’s only remaining weapon tumbled downward, landing directly on the loaded shovel blade. The impact caused the dynamite to explode as before but this time, the large rock up against the would-be muzzle prevented the ammunition from coming out. Instead, the blade rocketed forward, directly towards the startled gunman.

Gunfire erupted from the leader’s rifle. Lewis was struck first in the leg then twice in the shoulder as the gunman squeezed the trigger for the last time before the rocket-propelled shovel blade severed his grimacing head from the rest of his body. Samantha screamed from the top of the mine shaft when she saw Lewis crumple to the ground as well.

Racing to his side, she found that Lewis was still alive but losing blood rapidly. He was working to wrap the tattered remains of his shirt around his leg wound, which looked to be the source of most of the blood loss. “I’ll be okay,” he said when he saw the worried expression on her face. “Flag down that boat,” he said, pointing to a jet boat rounding the bend, heading upriver.

As Samantha raced to stop the boat, Lewis hobbled over to where Gonzalez lay. When he got closer, he saw that she was still breathing. His heart skipped a beat and he nearly forgot his own wounds as he quickly knelt beside her, carefully rolling her onto her back. She had been hit only once, in the right shoulder, and her forehead had a nasty gash from falling on the rocks. Lewis scooped her in his arms and headed to the waiting boat, anxious to get away from this place.

It turned out the boat had been chartered by a group of doctors on a weekend fishing trip. “This is your lucky day,” one of them said as he and his colleagues checked over the wounds.

“If this was a lucky one, I’m asking for a refund on my rabbit’s foot,” Lewis said as he looked to Gonzalez and Samantha seated beside him. Gonzalez reached out and squeezed his hand. They all laughed a painful but much needed laugh as the boat raced back down the river towards civilization.