Up atop Angel Cave there is a stone with a groove carved in the top east to west. The bullets that would soon leave from this perch would travel a similar route, as Graham settled his gun. Looking down, near the crashed bus, he eyed a perfect spot to ambush the raiding party. A monument of patience, Joshua waited. The air was dry, and a subtle breeze whistled in the clearings amongst the rocks. A box of .44 calibre ammunition and a few hand grenades left much desired when one greets an invasion, but, Graham knew better than most how little God played with dice.

Once, during a hunting trip, Joshua tagged along, learning some of the cultural aspect of the tribe. Up a formation of rock, they'd run into a plateau, where a herd of bighorners made camp amongst the plentiful banana yucca that grew like grass up here. As the group attempted to surround the beast, it flew into a rage, charging at members of the group. In an attempt to steady the situation, the hunt leader, using a war club modified with long whip-like tassels, roped the beast's front legs together. The animal promptly fell. The group closed in on it and wrapped all its legs, which was no easy feat. It was a strong bighorner. It kicked and flailed wildly. As the hunt leader pulled a knife and went for the kill blow, the beast let loose a wild convulsion, pulling in the Dead Horses who were trying to hold it still. In doing so, the hunt leader missed the bull's head and stabbed a fellow tribesman in the forearm. It was a bloody mess, the stabbed man still has trouble moving his wrist, and prefers to tie it to a stick to keep it from moving involuntarily. Just went to show that even in a battle between man and bighorner, there is no predetermined victor.

The first legionnaire's head appeared over the rocks, soon a group twenty-plus strong marched down the trail. Graham wiped the sleep from his eyes, the sun had barely risen yet. As the group disappeared again behind a small cliff, Joshua reached for his bag. Gripping two of the three hand grenades, he pulled the pins, waited a couple seconds, and bowled them simultaneously off the edge of the cliff.

"Grena-"

Two explosions in quick succession either silenced or completely drowned out the shouting of the soldiers. Blood painted the wall where Graham anticipated they would return to view. He steadied the carbine.

"Move for the cars!" A voice started from behind the rocks.

A soldier bolted from the clearing in the rock. He was quick, that much was certain, but not unexpected when you serve an army that favors melee combat. Joshua exhaled slowly, squeezing the trigger gently. The weapon recoiled heavily as a bullet left the barrel. Blood sprayed as it contacted the top of the warriors skull. Following him were three more, all soaked in their comrades blood, and terrified, but not without conviction. They made for the vehicles. Graham fired a second round, hitting the one in front. As he fell, the second one ran into him, stumbling. The third jumped like his life depended on it, clearing the two on the ground, but not ready for the dip in the earth, he too ended up rolling in the dust. The second kicked wildly at the dead body encumbering him, clawing at the grass and dirt, he screamed like a madman. Graham fired again, missing the second man, and hitting the body that covered him. Blood ran from the body, and the living soldier freed himself. He was barely to his feet before Graham fired again, sighing as he did so. Unable to go for a headshot, Joshua was forced to immobilize the soldier by picking his kneecap. The man's leg nearly snapped in half as the bullet hit. It bent awkwardly as he hit the ground. He loosed his last cry, as Joshua fired a round into the top of his head. The third runner had twisted his ankle, and had made it behind the car, Joshua could hear his breathing. Graham pulled the pin on his last grenade and hurled it at the car. He could not have asked for a finer throw. He stood and walked over to the cliff where he threw his grenades, at least 15 men lay dead or mortally wounded. Joshua counted 4 survivors. He topped up his carbine for good measure, and fired at one of the wounded. At such close range, the bullet passed through like a hot knife through butter. One of the remainders had enough vigor left to roll away, screaming as he did. Joshua marvelled at how a man clings to his last inch of life. He cocked the lever and put a round in the man's lower back. He quickly finished the other two. He descended the cliff and walked over to the last survivor. With grenade shrapnel in all up his left side, and a bullet hole in his back, Joshua imagined the man had lived finer days, and many of them. He clung to his middle aged life. Joshua put the barrel within an inch of the man's eye. The soldier smiled.

"If you're going to kill me, you'd just as soon do it."

"I was thinking something a little less merciful, the barrel of this gun ought to be hotter than a New Canaan sun, now I don't like the smell of burning eyeballs, but as the old saying goes, breakfast is served." Graham neared the barrel, the man winced.

"You could do that, yeah. But from one dead man to the next, I'd appreciate it if you just killed me."

Joshua grinned, even in the deepest reaches of hell there lived a few decent folk, after all.

"Very well, old man, be at peace."

Joshua fired.

He turned and started back towards the Dead Horses camp, hoping he hadn't missed lunch.