The Five Dollar Mail (Book 1: The Green & Book 2: Lynch's Boys)

169: Berserker

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Jesse by Diego Candia. All graphics by me.

The icy water hit Jesse like a hard kick from a horse. It closed over his head, over his flailing arms, filling his clothes and his mouth and his nose as he scraped his hands across the rock-strewn bottom of the shallow pool. His chest convulsed with the shock, and he swallowed a mouthful of water as he gasped, choking. Ack! Cold!

Galloway fell on top of him, trying to grab him. Jesse kicked out frantically, his lungs on fire as he forced his head above water, coughing violently. The extreme cold had him in its brutal grip and he couldn't get control of the desperate convulsions in his lungs, couldn't force himself to hold his breath, couldn't even clamp his jaw shut.

He could hear Galloway gasping and cursing, and wondered briefly if the man was as incapacitated as he was. His head went under again and he shoved himself back upwards in a blind, animal panic. He couldn't stop gasping for air, and he knew instinctively that in his current state of cold shock, he'd drown within seconds if he let Galloway hold him under.

The shifting rock debris beneath him bit into his hands and elbows as he rolled over, kicking out with his legs and throwing Galloway backwards with a loud splash. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath of air, relieved to get some measure of control over his involuntarily gasping as he tried to scramble away across the rolling rocks beneath him.

The sound of their splashing and struggling and shouting echoed around the sparkling stone chamber, barely audible over the sound of the water sluicing through the pool, past the rocks, and over the side into the empty air beyond. Galloway's fingers closed around Jesse's ankle, jerking him backwards. Jesse twisted, kicking out again, his numbing fingers closing on one of the slippery rocks beneath him. He hauled it upwards, feeling his aching muscles protest, blocking the blow as Galloway swung a pistol butt towards his face.

He cried out as the metal grip connected with his fingers, skipping across the surface of the stone. Pain exploded up his arm. I dunno if I can win this...still stiff from my hands being tied...and it's so damn cold! I need that gun... He shoved the rock hard towards Galloway's face, feeling a satisfying snap as Galloway's' tooth chipped beneath it.

Galloway yelped, reeling, as Jesse threw a quick jab to his chin. He went down, Jesse grabbing at his pistol.

Jesse felt Galloway's fingers close around his wrist as the bigger man flailed backwards, dragging Jesse with him. I'm too slow right now...feel like I'm moving through a wall of mud. He was just too cold, too tired, too hungry. The water closed over his head again, but this time, at least, it didn't take his breath away. He shoved himself up on his free elbow, this waterlogged leather coat pulling at him like a hungry siren. Galloway scrambled on top of him, throwing him down onto his back in the water, shoving his head under again.

He could hear the man's voice through the water, angry and indistinct as fingers closed around his throat.

Jesse grabbed another rock of the bottom and aimed it about where he figured Galloway's head should be, feeling his heart start to throb in his ears. The fingers around his throat loosened and he raised his head, dragging in a ragged lungful of air.

"... trash piece of shit, I'm gonna beat you worse than you've ever..." Blood was streaking down Galloway's chin, and his skin was pale, almost gray in the shifting light. Jesse came up with his elbow, throwing Galloway off balance with a blow to the side of the head and making another dive for the pistol.

One of us ain't walking away from this. Jesse had been in some serious fights in life. He'd been in fistfights with friends and foes alike. He'd been thrown in jail on more than one occasion for fighting in the saloon and street. It was different this time. This time, he was fighting for his life and he knew it. And this of all times was the occasion his body was evidently deciding to betray him by succumbing to exhaustion and cold. Galloway shoved his head under again and he struggled free, trying to roll away, his mouth filling with water as he broke Galloway's grip on him with his arms. I should have had him too messed up to keep going by now. I ain't got much left in me...this ain't good. And he's completely lost his mind...

He'd never been one to walk away from a fight. His temper very frequently made him foolish. But if he could have, he would have walked away from this one.

He would have run away from this one.

He scrambled to get his legs under him, sputtering and managing to fumble himself onto his knees. Galloway, chanting an almost incoherent stream profanity, insults, and threats, had flipped the pistol around in his grip so that his finger was on the trigger, his face an inhuman mask of rage. He threw himself at Jesse, wrapping one arm hard around his his neck, crushing Jesse's neck into his shoulder and jamming the barrel of the gun hard into his midsection under his ribs. Ohshitohshit! Jesse twisted desperately in the man's grip, feeling the hard icy metal pressing into his stomach, knowing a gutshot was about the worse way for anyone to go. He snapped his arm up against Galloway's wrist as hard as he could as the roar of the gunshot and whine of the ricochet filled his ears and the cavern and the world. A gout of water rose up in a stinging column less than an inch from his leg.

The two of them toppled onto their sides in the pool, and Jesse was stunned to discover that he hadn't been shot. He was also stunned to discover that a Colt would actually fire after being submerged. He pulled a knee up as hard as he could, driving it into Galloway's heaving chest and throwing him off. He rolled hard into the gushing current further into the pool, letting it drag him away as he half crawled, half swam out of Galloway's grasp, making a frantic dive towards the rocks at the sunlit mouth of the cave.

Galloway was on him like an enraged mountain lion, tackling him. He grabbed onto Galloway's wrist again, trying to wrest the gun from his grip, as the man backhanded his knuckles hard into Jesse's jaw, ducking him again before yanking him upwards, and jamming the pistol back into his belly. Jesse twisted again, a wordless cry of fear and desperation in his throat as he felt the pistol cock and felt the hammer click against metal as Galloway pulled the trigger.

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