Once Again the Same

Once Again the Same

With a crouching stalk, the large south-western mountain lion padded stealthily down the trail. She was trailing a human on the path below, an Indian woman. Large for her species, the mountain lion's shoulder and back muscles rippled with every step.

In the desert twilight, a group of men, among them illegal aliens, as well as indiscernible terrorists among them, were huddled in a camp. They were expecting more to join them. In the distance though, they heard border patrol helicopters approaching along the ridge a few miles away. Quickly they got up and hurried down the nearest trail. They came to a cross roads of trails. Suddenly in the dim light a pretty young Indian woman was beckoning them to choose the trail below the knoll where she was. Grinning with a show of machismo, they hurriedly went down that trail. After all, what pretty woman would not want to help such handsome men? The trail led them to a narrow canyon path covered with undergrowth. The nearest helicopter passed them by.

In the helicopter, one of the officers saw the young woman walking down the trail. Carefully he noted the observed position. The pilot asked, "What'd you see?"

"Nothing."

The tail of the mountain lion had a nervous twitch. With piercing eyes it watched the young woman. It's ears pricked and turned picking up every sound on the trail. Very quietly it crept forward toward the young woman. Suddenly both ears and eyes turned up the trail. The powerful animal backed quietly deeper into the shadows.

Dropping back, one of the aliens quietly separated from the group, and slid away in the darkness. A large powerful man, he climbed the rock and found his way to the trail where the young woman had been. In the darkness he made his way down the trail. Up ahead he thought he saw the woman, and hurried some more. Getting closer, he paused and took off his bandana to use as a gag. Closer, and closer, he came. When he was close enough, and on quiet dirt, he burst into a run and leapt into the air at the woman.

In mid air, and a matter of inches from the woman, the lion came out of the darkness like a missile, with claws and fangs out, and intercepted the man in mid flight. With a snapped neck he fell at the feet of the woman. She reached over and patted the lion, and gave it a sort of hug.

On a frosty New Mexico morning with the cold air nipping at you, you can't forget Winter time is still asserting its power even as allowing the Spring Sun to break over the horizon with a tenacious greeting. Perhaps the frosty mountain air wouldn't have had such a nip if he hadn't ridden all night and no doubt was low on core body temp, not to mention the fatigue factor of 26 to 28 hours on the road. Still, the sun's greeting was a welcome sight and the old shovelhead had an almost forgotten playfulness to it. As the suspension was a little more firm, throttle frisky, and the engine downright throaty, the bike commanded the curves going up into the hills.

It was time to find a place to make camp and get some rest. Tucson, his bike, and he pulled into a small town for gas. The bike had gained the idle best described as a rolling Indian war-drum beat, probably caused by the temperature stresses in the ignition system, cam and valve train, and worn points. Night River as he was known, noticed a man with piercing eyes, who looked upon him as an omen. The old man then looked over at another across the gathering who looked to the hills, to the skies, and finally to a powerful eagle soaring overhead. As a shaman might, he looked back at the chief and discreetly gave a wise nod. The townfolk who were up came out and admired his bike. It had a beautiful, romantic desert scene painted on the gas tank, with a moon lit sky, tall cactus plants, and the skylights of Tucson, AZ in the background. They loved the chrome pieces that shown through the road grime. They fairly gawked at the bike. In his younger years Night River would have taken all the compliments lock stock and barrel and would have been amazed that at last he found a town friendly to bikers, and charmed with his intellect and humor.

Night River chatted with the town folk who seemed overly friendly to a drifter-biker. He enjoyed the conversation and the friendliness even if there was an element of strife or perhaps desperation. Night River sensed danger somehow, and that he should move on. There was a gut feeling not to stop here. Yet with sheer will power he decided to stay in the town, find a place to make camp to get some badly needed sleep. Finally he asked about the country side, and where he might go that would be okay.

Many of the townfolk were Native American and knew the country side well. They knew the ways of the desert. A shaman of sorts sauntered through the crowd and came close enough to evaluate Night River then went away. A few minutes later in a ceremonious way, the town chief came up, with eyes penetrating years of life and lore, and grandly gave directions to a great place by the river, easy enough to get in and out of on the large motorcycle.

Somewhat baffled, but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Night River rode on up the dirt road that turned into a path leading to a river embankment with shady trees. His gut feeling that something was awry would not leave, yet by every appearance this was a beautiful storybook spring day.

Glancing ahead down the path at first, then concentrating on negotiating some ruts, and looking forward again, Night River carefully made his way. Then he looked up and saw a young woman off to the side looking at him as his back tire was trying to go out sideways. When he looked again she was already gone. This whole experience was taking on the characteristics of a beautiful dream, actually more like a hallucination.

Finally arriving at the river bank, Night River found a place to make camp. Without even making a meal, he pitched his tent, unrolled the sleeping bag, secured his bike and crawled in. More like passing out than going to sleep, he slept soundly for several hours. He awoke to song birds, and some noise in camp. With a start he checked his weapon, and peered out the tent flap.

The same young woman he had seen was tending camp, and had made a small fire. Making sure he was fully awake, Night River looked around to see who else was there. She was the only one. "Hello," not knowing what else to say.

She said her name, as translated was Desert Petal. "It is ok to help with the camp?"

"Well yes, Desert Petal, but I am not prepared to pay for it."

"That is ok, you are on our reservation."

"I didn't know this was the reservation. Do I need to leave?"

"Oh, no. You are our guest. Also, you are a good omen."

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know, I just saw how the chief looked."

"Well, I'm flattered. I promise to leave just as soon as I'm rested a little more."

"No, no. Please don't leave. Not yet."

"What good can I do here?"

"I don't know yet, but please, please don't leave."

For the first time Night River looked in her eyes and took in her countenance. She was beautiful, and he noticed she was wearing a beautiful Indian dress and moccasins. Her eyes both pleaded, and yet had a deep commanding, yet tempting beauty.

"Well I don't know what I can do ..."

"Just stay for a while. Please."

She handed him some coffee, and fry bread. "What brings this man here to the desert on a motorcycle? Where is your family?" She saw by the look on his face she was breaking through.

"My family was killed, but my friends and I caught the killers."

"Where are your friends?"

"My best riding buddy, and our group had just buried my family and were coming back from the funeral when we found out the killers were part of a drug cartel who was now after us and all of our families. To make a long story short, we clashed after the police refused to do anything. We think the cops there, were infiltrated. It was a deadly battle, all my biker friends were killed, but we saved our neighbors in the county from the drug cartel. I was the only survivor, on our side, but I think the kingpin is still loose."

"And you think he is here?"

"Not that I know of. I am just passing through until I can pick up his trail."

Silence.

"And you have had many more battles?"

"Yes, beginning with Vietnam."

"And yet you are still alone?"

"Again."

"Out numbered again and again?"

"Yes. What makes you think so?"

"It is written in the heavens."

Silence.

"Well, tell me about yourself. Brighten my day."

Desert Petal drew a little closer, and began. "I lived in a small village near here. It was a happy place even though it was a poor community. Little by little, we were infiltrated by the lure of drugs from down south. Eventually there were many drug dealers and coyotes, and they began to have turf wars. Soon things got out of hand and one day some of the cartel took refuge in our village. They took over the village, raping our young women, and killing our men. Finally a big gun battle broke out with weapons so big they echoed booms up and down the valley like big thunder. Our whole village was snuffed like a candle."

"And you?"

"I had gone foraging at the edge of the village. When I heard the gun fire, I hid in the den of a mountain lion."

"And the mountain lion didn't attack?"

"You would have to know ..." Her voice trailed off.

Desert Petal drew closer, and Night River put his arms around her.

After a while they retreated to his tent, and the day became a dream indeed.

At dusk, they came out together. Desert Petal said, "I have something to show you. Come with me."

Night River said, "What about my bike?"

She let out several sharp, screeching whistles, and a group of half breed coyotes, half wolves came up. "Hold your hand out."

Each animal in turn came up and sniffed the hand, and looked at the new stranger. Each in turn, Desert Petal said, "Friend," to show them Night River was a friend to her and them. She then walked them in a circle around the camp, then Tuscon, and finally again said to the group, "Friend, stay." They retreated to the shadows and she beckoned for him to follow. Two followed and the rest stayed to watch camp.

They went down some darkened trails. In some places she had to help him find the way.

"You Could Track a Sand Flea in a Desert"

Officer Rio picked his way silently through the desert night.

Desert Petal led the way to a clearing and with a finger to the lips, "Shhh!" She pulled him into the brush where she motioned him to crouch. Looking intently into the darkness, she drew them both deeper into the shadows.

Looking at his GPS tracking device with a glow display, Rio identified the trail with satisfaction. Stealthily he came up the trail like a moon shadow.

Desert Petal whispered into his ear, "Stay here while I take a quick look." She then merged onto the trail and looked around.

Up ahead, Rio saw the woman in a wisp of moonlight. She disappeared from view again, but now he knew she was there.

Desert Petal momentarily came back into the shadows like a brisk premonition in the night.

With a sense of victory welling up, Rio swelled ahead almost tasting the fragrance of the young woman already. Something caught his eye on the side of the trail. Instantaneously he picked up on a strange trail, even in the darkness. He tracked it into the underbrush where he found a body. Quickly he figured it was the kill of a mountain lion. The body belonged to an immigrant, unknown to him it was the one who had jumped Desert Petal.

Suddenly, a group of men jumped him from the shadows. Apparently he had stumbled upon a secret camp or camp trail. They grabbed him, and though he was trained in martial arts, he was no match for their combined strength.

"Rio!" they exclaimed. A bright flashlight shown into his eyes. By the sound of their voices it was the alien group he had been working for as an infiltration agent in the Border Patrol. "What are you doing here?"

"Got lost." He stammered.

"Lost? You could track a sand flea in the desert! What do you mean lost?"

Then they shined lights on the dead body. "So, you are a double agent, eh? You killed our compadre'"

It was no use, he knew the body had been dead for at least a day, but they would not buy that.

"You! YOU! You killed our pardner, no, NO! You MURDERED him! In cold blood!" The talk was highly emotional and charged. The rage escalated. "You might as well take the blood from our veins!" One of them feigned cutting his veins in demonstration with a large knife. In the flash of a second, the knife was embedded in Rio.

From the shadows they watched.

Dark River heard a finite ping on the GPS.

Quietly, Desert Petal led them away and up an animal path. After a while they crouched and then crept to the edge of a hidden canyon. There below they saw a mass of illegal aliens and foreigners. Just before turning away, Dark River saw the unmistakable figure of the man who had killed so many of his family and friends.

With difficulty, Desert Petal persuaded Dark River to come away. They took a path leading to the village. Suddenly Desert Petal stopped, and examined the trail. She whispered, "There is a small group just ahead, and a larger mixed group ahead of them. These are the ones who are committing murder and rape."

Continuing along the trail they both slowed sensing danger. The brush was too quiet. Suddenly from large rocks on both sides of the trail, they were jumped. One man jumped on Desert Petal and two on Dark River. In one swift motion Dark River moved aside and took the man who jumped Desert Petal. The man's body was limp before it hit the ground. One of the other men had raised a knife high before jumping down intending to stab Dark River in the head or neck. Since Dark River was no longer there the knife sank into his partner, who had leapt forward with a long knife to stab Dark River deep up the gut. Instead the two partners just stabbed each other, and stared with surprise into each other's eyes. They both slumped to the ground, eyes wide, still gripping the knives, and fell face to face. He threw the bodies in a heap into the underbrush.

Two of the coyote/wolves were at the edge of the shadows with Desert Petal. She patted them, and motioned to Dark River she would be ok.

Swiftly and quietly Dark River made his way up the trail until he caught up with the larger group. To his surprise he saw about a dozen men, half of which were Border Patrol agents. They were already at the outskirts of the village. What kind of mission were these Border Patrols on, mixing with illegals, he wondered. Soon he saw as they approached the nearest house. Through an open window he could see there was a woman who appeared to be alone.

As they were breaking their way into the front door, Dark River silently took out the last one. Now as the rest were inside, the only way out for them was the front door, and he was there blocking the way. Noisily the first ones, started attacking the woman. They did not hear several others go down with hardly a sound. Five or six more turned around and saw Dark River and started to attack, but to little avail. Now the first ones heard the commotion and turned to see. The Indian woman, now with torn clothes, freed herself from their grasp. She was just beyond quick reach for a hostage, but it was too late anyway, for Dark River was already on them. They were no match.

Silently Dark River stacked their bodies off to the side of the clearing, nodded at the woman and left.

By the time he got back to camp there was a fire going and the coyote/wolves were sitting on their haunches at the edge of the clearing. Near the fire was the body of a freshly killed deer. Desert Petal was there, and said, "The deer is a gift. They want you to share with them. They won't eat until you have some."

Strong Medicine

Dark River cut off the hind quarters and put them on a spit over the fire Desert Petal had already started. The animals started to eat. "One of those aliens was the one who killed your friends wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"I saw it written on your face. You must eat well before battle."

"What makes you think I will go to battle?"

"The warrior has become an aura around you."

Grandly, several Indian men walked into camp. They brought with them a gift. It was a set of bow and arrows. One of them who appeared to be a leader said, "You have strong medicine, this is a gift from our village to you."

Desert Petal said, "It is a medicine bow. It has great power. Offer them food in thanks. Don't worry, there will be plenty more food."

It was starting to get dark. As they ate, more villagers showed up and brought more food. Some brought drums. It was memorable to see their faces as the fire started to throw shadows. By and by the faces of more villagers and some of them women began to show up. They all helped with and partook of the food.

Dark River looked around for Desert Petal and she was sitting at the edge of the clearing near the shadows beyond. As he looked he saw she had company, a large mountain lion. He had started toward her but then hesitated. She beckoned him to come on to her. As he got closer to her he could hear the purr of the large cat. It sounded like a powerful motor. She introduced him to the cat, and she said "friend" and then touched Tuscon parked next to them and she said, "friend."

Desert Petal said, "You will need to do a war dance and enact motions of your last fight, and then your next one."

At the urging of the villagers, Dark River began to circle the camp fire. At first he did a walk, then did partial crouching motions followed by increasing the pace and finally a sidestep with a pounce. He then made tracking and following motions followed by a silent kill, and then a series of attack moves. He paused and took more food. One of the elders handed him the gift bow, "Great power for strong medicine."

The drums began, at first just one. "Pom, pom-pom-pom" (then a quick strong roll,) followed again by "Pom, pom-pom-pom."

Dark River started anew with fighting steps, indeed war steps. As he moved about the fire, going in a circle yet facing to the right then left, then back stepping into a complete turn as he continued, all the while discovering the bow intuitively inspired steps of its own. His dance livened, and then it felt as if it took a life of its own. He felt the breeze of the desert night air. He felt the rush of the air, and as he looked at nearby tree branches while his hair flew in the wind, he noticed the tree branches were not moving. Hairs on his arms raised. He felt goose bumps. He raised the bow and feigned shooting, feigned a crouch and a draw. Finally the dance took on the effects of going in for the kill. It was a tremendous display and when the last enemy fell to the ground the imaginary battle was over.

Now more of them got up and joined in with him. Between bouts of feasting they danced nearly all night it seemed.

During the food breaks, Dark River began to notice other drums in the distance, and then the far distance. The villages were talking to each other.

"War drums," an elder said.

The dancing progressed, that is, the medicine bow seemed to come more alive, and he felt more invigorated.

After the night was over, many of the villagers slept in the clearing on blankets or whatever they brought. He and Desert Petal retired to the tent. It felt so good to be with an attractive woman like her. He felt whole, invigorated, ... in love.

The next morning when they awoke, the day was nearly half past. Desert Petal spoke almost as in third person, "Desert Petal came to his home and they made wonderful love. The sun came up and made the day beautiful. The trees stood strong, the river flowed happily and greeted Desert Petal. Dark River came about and the birds sang many songs."