The tiger circled its prey. Silently stalking out of sight of the predator. Unwitting, unknowing, the two hyenas were tormenting their catch, but the Tiger was coming for them.

The sun got low in the sky, and shadows on the hills grew long. Daryl and David sat nervously waiting.

“You think she’s even here?” David asked.

“How the hell should I know? Are you sure you saw someone at all?” Daryl asked, spitting tobacco juice onto the ground to keep a scorpion at bay that had been stalking his boot.

“I saw her, dammit! I know what I saw!” David scolded. “I didn’t tie myself up, you idiot!”

“Mr. Temple, we should just go.” Daryl said. “This ain’t worth it.”

“You’re a coward! It’s just a woman!”

“A woman who took out two other men, and you--” Daryl started. He shook his head. “No, this isn’t worth it. This was just supposed to be some easy money for me. I am not risking my life anymore.”

“What are you going to do? Just walk out of here? Do you think after you roughed up her girlfriend, she’s just going to allow you to go strolling out of here?” David asked bluntly.

“No. I wouldn’t.” Daryl said. “Guess that little lady is our best bet.” He said indicating Drelica. So far no one had gotten killed; but he had a feeling that was about to change.

Mark sat in the foxhole listening for any sound of movement from up above. He sat with Drelica’s side arm in his lap, sweating from the pain where Torrid poked him, beating himself up for his own stupidity. It was time to swing into action and help is comrades. He tucked the firearm in his belt and crept out of the dugout up the creek bed to the rope ladder that Torrid had left in place.

Meanwhile Torrid sat concealed mere feet from her quarry, awaiting the right moment to strike. She had to be cautious and deliberate, there was no margin for error. She knew the men were scared, and desperate now. This was a bad situation all around. The smell of greed, and fear were thick on the wind. Even now, with the odds stacked against them, they were driven by their hunger for gold. They would kill for it. And most likely die for it. Gold fever was deadly.

Torrid loaded a dart into her blow gun. She would hit Daryl in the leg. He was the better marksman of the two she wagered. David Temple was a city boy with no real survival or marksmanship experience. He was just a greedy blood sucker.

She took her aim, and prepared to project the dart when suddenly a shape moved across the rear of the camp. Fuck. It was Mark.
“GODDAMMIT!” she muttered under her breath. “What is that idiot doing?”

Mark approached Drelica silently. He held his finger to his lips indicating for her to be quiet.

She nodded. He began to undo her restraints.

Torrid watched as she put her knife between her teeth and removed her throwing stars from her ankle pouch. She would have to disarm the men so they could not shoot Mark. She admired the boy’s courage, but hated the sudden change of plan. She moved into position just as Mark freed Drelica and helped her down off the rock.

Daryl turned at the sound of the shuffling and as he raised his rifle toward Mark and Drelica, he was startled by the sound of metal clashing against metal and sparks exploding in his hands. He dropped his gun and looked around panicked.

“What the fuck?!”

Torrid moved lightening fast, she closed the distance between her and Daryl like a predator stalking an antelope. His eyes widened as he saw her closing in, too late to move before she stuck him. Jumping spinning back kick to his jaw, layed him out cold on the desert floor.

Torrid landed in cat stance, poised to take on David Temple. David panicked and pointed his gun at Torrid.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” he said, afraid.

“If you think you can hit me be before I kill you--” Torrid said coldly, “Pull the trigger.”

David trembled, and squeezed on the trigger. The hammer pulled back, and Torrid poised herself in attack position. The tension was as thick as tar. Drelica was voiceless to scream, but Mark was not...

“STOP!” Mark said, breaking the stand off, and both parties relaxing.

“David, don’t you move!” Mark ordered, showing his sidearm.
Torrid took a step toward David, when Mark suddenly pointed the pistol at her and cocked it, “You either, Torrid.”

Torrid stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “Why not me, Mark?” She purred dangerously.

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt!” He said.

“Mark, what are you doing?” Drelica said. Torrid took a step toward Mark.

Mark suddenly grabbed her in an arm lock and pointed the gun at her head. “Torrid--stop!”

Torrid stopped again.

“I don’t want to hurt her, but if you don’t stop moving, I will!” Mark said, fear in his voice. “David, come over here and take Dr. Truman.”

David rushed over to Mark and grabbed Drelica by the arm, and covered her with his own pistol. “About fucking time you showed up!” He hissed at Mark. “Now where’s my fucking cross?”

“I knew it!” Torrid said.

Mark shrugged. Drelica’s jaw dropped at the realization that she had been played not only by David Temple but by Mark Stephens too.

“You fuckers!” She spat. “You won‘t get away with this!”

“Hate to break it to ya Doc, but we already have. While you were wacking off in your tent, I was out with the boys digging up the old Indian burial ground where the cross of Coronado was hidden.” Mark gloated.

“You won’t get out of here with that cross, boy.” Torrid said, menacingly. “I won’t allow that.”

“No offense to your butchness or whatever, Torrid, but..I don’t see how you’re gonna stop me.” Mark mocked as he and David chuckled.

Before Mark’s smile could fade, Torrid had him by the throat. She grabbed the pressure points on either side of his airway, forcing his head back, and him to his knees in a kneeling position. David loosened his grip on Drelica who stomped his foot and punched him in the groin as hard as she could, slipping free of his grip. He spun and fired his gun at her, chasing her footsteps with bullets.

Torrid shoved Mark down and dove at David, who turned toward her and fired the last few rounds into her. She collided with him and the two crashed to the ground. Bloody, she struggled with him, and they wrestled for domination of the gun. David ripped it out of Torrid’s grip, her hands slick with her own blood, and as he crashed it into her head, she went limp.

Drelica screamed, but kept running til she made it to her jeep and found her first aide kit.

David and Mark were heading for her. She dodged them like a quarterback, weaving between them and around the wreckage of the campsite. She jumped over a pile of camping gear and gained a few feet heading back to Torrid, who lay unmoving on the ground. Her heart pounding.

Oh God don’t let me be too late! She prayed as she slid home to Torrid’s side. She ripped open Torrid’s shirt and packed her wounds with gauze and patched them with medical tape to stop the bleeding. She moved fast, but not fast enough to escape Daryl and David. She felt them pulling at her as she worked, felt them hitting and slapping her, but the pain or sound did not register, only Torrid’s wounds registered. She couldn’t bear to lose Torrid, she just found her, she just loved her. They won’t take you away from me! She screamed in her mind, before the blackness overcame her, and she collapsed next to Torrid.

Mark stood over Drelica’s limp form, wiping her blood off of the butt of his gun. He was out of breath, he was bleeding from scratches she had delivered to his face in the struggle. He was scared to death he had killed her. He bent down and pressed his fingers to her neck. Thank God. A pulse.

“She’s alive.” He said, relieved.

“Not for long.” David Temple said coldly. “Dig a hole.”

“No way, man.” Mark said, backing away from David. “I ain’t no killer.”

“Mark, if she gets out of here alive, we’ll both go to prison. Now I don’t know about you, but that’s not on my to do list. Dig a fucking hole!” He shouted.

Mark hung his head. He picked up the shovel and scanned the area for an unlikely grave for his former boss and her heroic lover. Reluctantly he chose a place surrounded by large rock formations, and began to dig. When he finished he walked slowly back to the camp where David Temple sat in his camp chair looking at charts and research materials that belonged to Drelica; resting his feet on her unconscious body.

“Jesus Mark, did you lose yourself in the part?” David teased.

“I don’t follow.” Mark said coldly.

“Well...you actually did some work here. There’s a major find not far from here. Did you know?”

“Yeah--” Mark said, ashamed. “I knew. I kind of hoped everyone could get what they were looking for here.”

“We could have.” David said, “If she’d been more reasonable. If my buyers weren’t so impatient. If the moon were indeed made of cheese--but, Mark, it isn’t.”

Just then Torrid began to move and moan, she coughed and rolled over. David stood up and approached her slowly, and cautiously. He looked down at her as she lay there slowly dying.

“I put three bullets in her, and she’s still kicking.” He mused pulling out a sidearm. “Maybe she needs a few more.”

“David,” Mark said, hoping to distract him from Torrid and the temptation to shoot her. “It’s time--you want your cross?”

David looked up, and holstered his weapon. “Good boy, Mark! Let’s have it!”

Mark turned to walk toward the gully where he had hidden the cross in the back of the dugout. But he stopped in his tracks when he heard David let out a blood curdling scream, and turned to see Torrid’s knife sticking out of David’s leg. Torrid gripped the handle of her survival knife, and pulled herself up, causing more screams to wretch themselves from David Temple.

She stood up and pulled the knife out, as she did, he went limp and white and fell to the ground writhing in agony.

David’s screams tore Drelica from her blackness and she shot awake at the horrid sound. She was fuzzy around the edges but she could make out the form of Torrid, standing up with a blade in her hand walking toward Mark who stood trembling in his tracks. She slapped herself to regain her wits and stumbled upright on her feet. She raced to Torrid’s side.

“Torrid! Torrid, don’t kill him--please!” She pleaded.

Mark stepped backwards away from Torrid, and as he did he fell over his own shovel. He scrambled backwards crawling like a crab, muttering whines for mercy and meaningless apologies.

Torrid stopped when she stood over him. In her hand she gripped her blade, red with David’s blood, and her own. Her wounds were still bleeding. She reached down and gripped his hair with the other hand, pulling him up onto his knees by his golden locks. His green eyes teared up, and he was in this instant a scared little boy.

“Where is it?” Torrid growled.

“I-in the foxhole, “ Mark stammered.

“Give me a reason not to kill you.”

“I-I--saved you! I distracted David! I knew he’d kill you. Please! I’m not a killer! I don’t want to die!” Mark broke down.

“You are a fool.” Torrid said, releasing his hair. She turned to Drelica, as she fished a card out of her pocket.

“Dre-” She said, with a failing voice. “Call this number--get us --help.” Her speech was breaking up. She was getting weak. But before she could rest, she had one thing left to do.

She tied David and Mark up. Daryl’s head injury prevented him from being a threat, and Drelica had administered first aid to all wounded parties, beginning with Torrid. She called the number and when the woman answered she gave their map coordinates to her, and was told to sit tight.

Torrid emerged from the gully’s edge with an object wrapped in burlap.

David Temple’s eyes widened as he saw what Torrid had.

“Let me see it!” He ordered. “After all of this, I want to see it!”

Torrid scowled at him. She thought on it for a moment, then shook her head. No. She walked passed him, ignoring his insults and slurs. She sat in his camp chair and grabbed a bottle of water out of his cooler. She took a long slow sip of it, and then let out a gasp of refreshment.

“God, Torrid,” what are we going to do about all of this? What are we going to do with them?” Drelica asked, sitting next to her on the cooler.

“We’ll take them to the authorities. I am pressing charges: assault, extortion, attempted murder, theft, and ...oh yeah...tresspassing.”

“Tresspassing?” Drelica queried.

“Yeah--this is my land. Remember when I said I had some acrage up here?” She asked.

Drelica nodded, her jaw dropping open with the realization.

“Yeah, this is my land.” Torrid said.

Drelica shook her head. Absorbing all of this was going to take some effort. Her life had been strange, but this was graduating to down right bizarre!

The silence of the desert was interrupted by the sound of a chopper approaching from the southeast. Drelica squinted to see the aircraft coming over the ridge.

“That’d be our taxi,” Torrid said.

Drelica watched the chopper land, and she helped Torrid stand up and walked her over to the cargo hatch which was open. She handed Torrid the parcel containing the cross of Coronado. And she climbed in beside her.

The pilot went to shut the cargo door, but Drelica held up her hand, “What about them?” she asked, indicating David, Mark and Daryl.

“Their ride is on it’s way.” She said, closing the door. Drelica sat back and strapped Torrid into the seat, and herself. As the chopper lifted off, Drelica got a bird’s eye view of her perfect dig site. She could see a cloud of dust in the distance, and counted two police vehicles and on EMT suv. She stopped worrying about Mark and company, and wasn’t looking forward to sorting that mess out.

Drelica turned to Torrid. She was worried for her painted Amazon, but ever greatful that Torrid came to her rescue. She smiled at Torrid, her eyes glazing over with tears of relief.

“Drelica,” Torrid said weakly.

“What is it? Are you okay, babe?” Drelica asked concerned. Torrid was pale and weak from her blood loss.

“I need a vacation.” Torrid answered.