Chapter 8 - The Shadow from the Dust
THUD.
The expected gunshot never came. Instead, a massive, dust-covered silhouette erupted from the brush behind Julian at the top of the gulch bank.
Frank materialized like an ancient, vengeful spirit born from the storm itself. His vest was shredded, his face coated in blood and soot, but his movement was unstoppable. He slammed his body into Julian’s side with the force of a speeding vehicle, tackling the younger man off the ten-foot ledge.
The two men tumbled down the steep shale incline in a cloud of dust and rocks, crashing violently into the dry creek bed below.
Julian lost his grip on the silenced pistol; the weapon skittered across the sand, disappearing into a deep crevice between two boulders.
Frank bounced up instantly, despite his massive size, catching Julian by the throat as the younger man tried to scramble back to his feet. Frank lifted Julian off the ground with a single arm, slamming him back-first against the concrete frame of the mine portal.
"I told you," Frank growled, his voice a terrifying, blood-choked rasp, "to get back in your truck."
Julian choked, his face turning purple as Frank’s scarred fingers dug into his windpipe. But even as he suffocated, Julian’s amber eyes remained terrifyingly calm. With a lightning-fast motion, Julian reached into his boot, pulled out a narrow, six-inch titanium trench knife, and drove the blade deep into Frank’s left shoulder.
Frank roared in pain, but he didn't release his grip on Julian’s throat. Instead, he drove his own right fist—his swollen, bone-shattering knuckles—directly into Julian’s face.
CRACK.
The impact shattered Julian’s jaw, sending blood spraying across the concrete archway. Julian’s eyes rolled back, his body going limp as his knees buckled into the sand.
Frank released his hold. Julian collapsed into an unconscious heap at the mouth of the tunnel, his handsome face ruined, his titanium knife still buried to the hilt in Frank’s shoulder.
Frank stood over him, heaving short, ragged gasps, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. Blood soaked rapidly through his canvas vest, dark and heavy.
"Frank!" Martha screamed, rushing forward, her hands hovering helplessly over his wound. "Oh God, Frank!"
"It... it missed the artery," Frank grunted, his face pale beneath the grime, his teeth red with his own blood. He didn't pull the knife out; he knew better than to remove the only plug keeping him from bleeding out in seconds. "Get... get inside the tunnel. Now."
Lily ran to Frank's side, wrapping her arms around his waist, sobbing uncontrollably. "Mr. Frank, please don't die! Please!"
Frank looked down at the child, his expression softening into a look of profound, paternal tenderness. He reached out with his good hand, gently wiping a smudge of dirt from her scratched cheek.
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"I ain't dying today, Lily," Frank whispered softly. "We've got a train bed to catch."
He stepped over Julian’s unconscious body, leading Martha and Lily into the pitch-black mouth of the Apache Mine as the dust storm swallowed the entrance behind them.
