1947

The wooden handle plunges into the detonator.   Nothing happens.

The director shouts, “Cut!”  Richard shouts louder, “No, again!”

The actors rein their horses in the riverbed.   Are the cameras still rolling?  Should they ride?

“Cut!”  “No, again, AGAIN!”

The TNT sparks this time and the temporary dam explodes.   The water floods the channel, catching the two dozen riders unprepared.  They wash downstream, towards the already completed concrete walls of the LA River.

Lotus grips her prayer book.  She closes her eyes and imagines the worst.  Hooves struggle for purchase in the muddy river bottom, only to find hard cement.  Limbs become tangled and break.  Riders submerge and drown.  Carcasses of man and beast bash against the unforgiving walls and wash inland past city buildings.

She opens her eyes and it’s all true.  A boot breaks the surface.  A thin stream of diluted blood.

She tosses the damn book into the river. Followed by the tiny crucifix that Sister gave her on her deathbed.

“Roll!  Roll!  Roll!” cries the man she should have killed already.

The Story So Far