novelSusiti Chapter 51: A Chaotic Southern California
Chapter 51: A Chaotic Southern California
"The Indians have rioted, gentlemen! Those who want to live, shoot back!"
The surviving policeman roared, drew his revolver, and frantically pulled the trigger at the charging cavalry.
The roar startled many panicked white ranchers. Their survival instincts and anger overwhelmed their fear, and they drew their guns, running and firing as they searched for cover.
The Indians, who had already rushed to within fifty yards, also pulled out their revolvers, and the two sides fiercely exchanged fire.
Amidst a hail of bullets and billowing smoke.
Many white men fell to the ground, and many of the Indian riders at the forefront were shot and fell from their horses.
But it was their sacrifice that led the vast majority of the Native American cavalry to storm the courthouse.
The Native Americans roared as they dismounted, discarding their empty rifles or revolvers, and pulled out all sorts of weapons, beginning the bloodiest hand-to-hand combat.
The leading Native American warrior, wielding two swords, moved with ghostly speed toward the still-living white man.
The white man's revolver clicked and clattered, clearly having just emptied. Seeing the Native American warrior charging, he dropped the revolver, pulled a dagger from his boot, and charged forward!
clang!
The Indian warrior parried the opponent's dagger with his left hand, and with a light slash of his right hand, the white man's neck was split open, and blood spurted out.
The white man futilely covered his neck, making hoarse sounds, and soon fell silent.
He kept moving, his twin swords flashing, creating a chilling display of blade light.
The white men who tried to stop him were no match for him. With a flash of blade, they were either ripped open in the chest and abdomen or had blood gushing from their throats, and fell to the ground screaming in agony.
boom!
A farmer hiding behind a carriage on the side seized the opportunity to fire a shot, attempting to kill him.
The Indian warrior ducked sharply, the bullet grazing his scalp. He twisted and swung, sending a hunting knife flying through the air!
"ah!!!"
The farmer's arm, which was holding the gun, was severed at the elbow by a spinning hunting knife. The severed arm and the gun fell to the ground together, accompanied by a bloodcurdling scream like a pig being slaughtered.
Before the screams had even subsided, the Indian warrior had already charged at the white man like a cheetah, and with his remaining hunting knife, he slashed horizontally, decapitating the white man!
At this moment, the rest of the Native American warriors also arrived in droves.
Knives, spears, hand axes, blowguns—all sorts of weapons were used. In close combat, these white men were like lambs to the slaughter, unable to mount any decent counterattacks.
Soon, there were no more white people living in the area.
Blood flowed continuously along the road, eventually forming pools of blood in low-lying areas.
The lead Native American exhaled a breath of stale air and said, "According to the previous plan, split into three groups. Red Cloud, take your men to clear the courthouse. Black Stone, take your men to the prison. The rest of you will treat the wounded and rescue our compatriots with me!"
"Hurry before the white people in Los Angeles gather!"
The Indian warriors acted swiftly. Some stormed into the courthouse, where sporadic gunfire, screams, and cries soon rang out; others broke down the prison doors and rushed into the dimly lit cells.
The Indian leader took a few steps forward, cut the ropes binding the fallen war eagle, and said something when he saw its face.
"It's you? How come you got caught by white people again?"
Upon hearing the familiar tribal language, Zhan Ying raised his eyes and met his gaze with a hint of confusion.
"Forgot?"
He smiled slightly and said, "May the breath of Ketchna protect you, brother of Hopa Valley. I am Chongyue, the one we met at the sawmill."
Warhawk was stunned.
He remembered the Native Americans who had killed all the white people at the sawmill and saved them twenty days before sunrise and sunset.
"Where are your people?" Chongyue's gaze swept over the other rescued Native Americans, and he asked, "You weren't the only unlucky one to be captured this time, were you?"
Warhawk gritted his teeth, tears silently streaming down his face, his voice hoarse: "Gone, all gone. Uncle Gray Wolf, Little Deer, Bear Claw, Morning Star... they, they've all returned to the embrace of the god Kchina."
Chongyue was silent for a moment: "I'm sorry, brother."
He handed his blood-stained, chipped hunting knife to Zhan Ying.
"Want revenge? Want white people to pay for their crimes? Then grab your knives and come with us."
"Many of us here lost our tribes, our homes, and our families because of the massacre by the white people. But now, we have put aside the past differences and formed a new tribe, a tribe solely for revenge."
Zhan Ying reached for the knife, his eyes hardening, and asked, "Uncle Chong Yue, what's the name of your tribe?"
Chongyue said, "Revenge!"
Soon, the twenty-seven Indian prisoners who survived the chaos were freed from their bonds. Those who could ride horses led a horse whose owner had died, while those who could not ride were led by warriors to ride together.
Several Indian warriors who were seriously wounded in the battle were carefully placed on horseback by their comrades and secured with strips of cloth.
Soon after, Hongyun and Heishi's teams also broke out of the court and prison respectively, adding new blood to their ranks.
No sound came from inside the building.
"We're retreating!" Chongyue gave a brief order.
The advance team, composed of rescued people, wounded soldiers, and some soldiers, took the lead and sped off into the wilderness outside Los Angeles.
Immediately afterwards, Shigeaki, who was in charge of covering the rear, and the other soldiers mounted their horses, intentionally controlling their speed while firing in all directions to suppress the white men who rushed over after hearing the gunfire.
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
News of the Native American uprising soon spread throughout Los Angeles.
The deaths of 76 people, all of whom were white men with legitimate livelihoods, represent a horrific attack for San Francisco, a city with a population of just over 5,000.
After the initial shock and fear, white people in and around Los Angeles gathered together, picked up rifles and revolvers, and formed dozens of armed patrols of varying sizes.
They began searching every possible hiding place in the Los Angeles Basin and the surrounding mountains, vowing to find the audacious Native American militia and execute them in the most brutal way as a warning to others.
But before they could reap any rewards, even more shocking news came from all over Southern California:
An armed attack occurred outside the San Diego County courthouse, where Native Americans killed eleven white people present, freed prisoners, and then disappeared.
The San Bernardino County Sheriff's Office and temporary detention center were attacked, resulting in eight deaths and the abduction of all Native American prisoners.
In addition, Santa Barbara County, Tuleri County...
Nearly at the same time, county courthouses near Los Angeles were attacked by Native American mobs, and the attack patterns were even the same.
Telegrams from various counties poured into Sacramento, all with the same message: an Indian uprising had broken out, local law enforcement was unable to handle it, and they requested the state government to immediately send militia or federal troops to assist them!
Meanwhile, Chongyue and his group had quietly arrived at a valley surrounded by mountains along the mountain path.