Gerald N. Lund 4-In-1 Fiction eBook Bundle

by Gerald N. Lund

  He nodded as he rubbed his cheek. “Are you all right? That’s the question.”

  Her hand shot to the bandage at the base of her skull. “Yes. I’m fine.” She whirled around and threw her arms around Clayne’s neck. “I’m fine!” she whispered, burying her head against his chest.

  “Okay, Eric,” Clayne said, his voice husky. “You can add four black folk to your little slave rebellion.” He stuck out his hand.

  Eric gripped it firmly. “It’s a growing company,” he said, “and you’re getting in on the ground floor.” Then he became businesslike. “Okay, Adrienne. Pack a few essentials. Warm clothing primarily. Remember we have to carry everything on horses once we hit the mountains. Clayne, bring your weapon and good hiking boots. Let’s take your stun gun and your squad car. Any other vehicles may be stopped in the curfew.”

  “I’ve got a deer rifle and a hunting pistol.”

  “Bring them. Any ammunition too. Hurry, we’ve got another stop to make.”

  Clayne’s bushy eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

  “Yes. We’ve got one more person to persuade to join us.”

  With a sigh, Nicole set the book down and turned off the light over her bed. Sleep would probably still elude her, but…

  She sat up suddenly as a soft rap on the screen was followed by an urgent whisper. “Nicole!”

  She snatched her robe from the chair where she had thrown it and was at the window in three quick steps. “Eric? Is that you?”

  She put her face next to the screen and saw his, split with a wide grin. “Hi, Nicky,” he said softly.

  “What are you doing here? We thought you’d left the city.”

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course. Come around to the back door. I’ll get dressed and be there in a moment.”

  She dressed swiftly, leaving the lights out, then moved through the house and unlocked the back door. Eric pulled open the screen and entered, a very happy Cricket at his side. As she pushed the door shut again and locked it, Eric clunked a set of heavy bolt cutters on the kitchen table.

  “One of these days I’m going to come calling on you properly, ring the doorbell, come in the front door—the whole works.”

  “Why’re you here? It’s so dangerous. What if they’re watching me?”

  “They’re not. I’ve spent the last half hour checking very carefully. Hey, what happened?” He gently touched the small strip of adhesive tape on her forehead.

  “Oh, that. I got hit by a falling ladder.”

  “You what?”

  “It was nothing really. Tuesday one of the custodians was changing a fluorescent tube over my monitoring station. He lost his balance, and he and the ladder fell on top of me.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. It knocked me out for a few minutes, but other than a bad headache, a small cut on my back, and a few bruises, I’m fine.” She looked up at him and smiled. “After a mother grizzly bear, a man with a ladder is hardly worth talking about.”

  “Good.”

  He picked up the bolt cutters. “Hold out your arm.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nicky, we’re leaving tonight. You’re coming with us. It’s getting too dangerous.”

  “But—you said you needed me in Central Control. Hasn’t the information I’ve been sending you been valuable?”

  “Extremely so. But we’re pulling out now. The lives of too many people are at stake, yours included.”

  As he stepped toward her, raising the cutters, she grabbed his arm. “Now more than ever you need someone in Central Control. Isn’t that true?”

  “No. We need you with—”

  “It is true. I’m terrified every moment, but if that’s where you need me, that’s where I’ll stay.”

  Eric stared at her for a long moment, set the cutters on a chair, and took her by the shoulders. “Nicky, I wish there was time to say all this just right, but there’s not. So here it is, straight out. I want you to come with me. I don’t care how much we need you in Central Control—I can’t leave you there any longer. I won’t risk losing you. Do you understand that?”

  Nicole’s lips parted softly as she looked up into his face, wanting so much to believe what she thought she was hearing. “Eric, I—”

  He shook his head, then put his arms around her and gently pulled her to him. “I’m saying I want you with me. Okay? I want to sit with you in the mountains again, talk about trivial things, throw pebbles in the river. I don’t want to take any chances of that not happening.”

  She tipped her head back and looked up into his face. “I’d like that too, Eric. Very much.”

  A sudden urgent knock behind them spun Eric around and brought a sharp bark from Cricket. He unlocked the door and yanked it open, and Clayne Robertson thrust his head in.

  “Eric, we’ve got to get out of here. They’re coming!”

  “What?”

  “The radio’s gone wild. They know you’re here. Every available unit is on its way here right now. Let’s go!”

  Nicole stood rooted in place. “Clayne?” she cried in shocked surprise.

  “Give me your arm,” Eric commanded, snatching up the cutters. He inserted the jaws over the band, ignoring the sudden warning buzz, and snapped through the band, then whirled to Clayne. “Give me yours. We’d better cut you loose now too.” Again there was a sharp snap, and Eric thrust the cutters at Clayne. “Cut Adrienne and the kids. Hurry!”

  “Adrienne?” Nicole asked, still half stupefied by the sight of Clayne.

  “Yes.” Eric grabbed her elbow and propelled her toward the door. “Clayne and his family are going with us. They’re out in the alley.”

  “But my clothes and things—”

  “Go!” he thundered.

  By the time they darted out through the garage and into the alley behind Nicole’s home, Clayne was leaning through the window of the squad car and cutting Adrienne’s band. The crackling of the radio shattered the quiet. As he pulled back out, Adrienne leaned forward, her face twisted with fear. “They’re coming Code Three, but with no sirens,” she said.

  “They want to catch you by surprise.” Clayne’s expression was grim.

  Eric opened the back door of the car. “Nicky, get in and help Adrienne cut the kids loose. Cricket, you get in there with them.” Without waiting for compliance, he darted around to the back of the car, where Clayne had left the trunk open. He snatched up the deer rifle and a box of shells, slammed the trunk lid shut, tore the top of the box off with a savage jerk, and began jamming shells into the magazine.

  “Listen, Clayne. The people who will get you out are at 536 Fairfax Avenue. They’re expecting us. I’ll try and keep these guys busy long enough for you to get clear.”

  Nicole’s head popped out of the back window. “Eric, you can’t stay!”

  He ignored her. “Go to 536 Fairfax and tell them what happened. Now get out of here!”

  Clayne hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded and moved swiftly to his door. “Good luck,” he called softly. The door slammed, and the car shot forward in a spray of gravel. Eric caught a glimpse of Nicole’s face, white and torn with fear, and then they were gone.

  “All right, Major,” he muttered, “one surprise deserves another.” He broke into a run toward the front of the house. Less than a minute later, he saw the flash of headlights, and then the first car rocketed around the corner onto Nicole’s street, tires squealing in protest. The round plastic top and orange and blue markings were unmistakable.

  One quick breath, half out slowly, squeeze the trigger.

  The windshield of the car shattered with an explosive spray of glass, and the car careened wildly to the right, hit the curb, bounced upward, then plowed into a chain-link fence with a shriek of metal on metal.

  The second car, hard on the tail of the leader, slammed on its brakes when the first car veered off, then skidded broadside, rubber shrieking. Eric dropped the muzzle slightly and sent his second shot sla
mming into the front tire. It was like kicking one leg out from under a three-legged stool. The car flipped over, bounded hard on its side, then seemed to float momentarily before it slammed down on its bubble top and came to a shuddering halt in the middle of the street.

  Eric heard the screech of brakes, car doors slamming, and the excited yells of men. Lights flicked on up and down the streets, and he prayed that none of the people would come out to see what was happening.

  He scooped up the box of shells, crossed the sidewalk in two quick leaps, and vaulted the fence around Nicole’s house. As he hit the grass, he gave a sharp cry of pain, and his left leg buckled under him. Nearly two weeks had passed since the grizzly’s claws had laid him open, and the surface cuts were all but healed, but his leg was still too weak to take that kind of punishment. Biting back the pain, he pulled himself up, blasted off a quick round, then headed for the back alley in a lurching, hobbling run.

  The alley that ran down the center of Nicole’s block had no lights, and Eric welcomed the darkness. As he cut around her garage, he turned left, hugging the deeper shadows of a high wooden fence. But before he had gone ten steps, the sharp sound of shoes running on gravel spun him around. Two dark, barely discernible figures were running hard down the alley toward him. He swung the rifle up and pulled the trigger even as it cleared his hip. With a startled cry, the two figures split, each diving for a different side of the alley. Before Eric could lever another shell into the chamber, he saw the first dark shape rise, and then a blast of air smashed past his head, sharply enough to feel like a slap against his cheek.

  Directly across from Eric’s position, a high grapestake fence ran the length of the lot, coming to an end in a gate next to the garage. Taking a deep breath, he raised the rifle and snapped off a shot up the alley, then hobbled across to the gate—but not quickly enough. The stun gun blasted out with its highly concentrated and focused ultrasonic sound waves, catching him shoulder high. Had he been facing his attackers directly, he would have been knocked unconscious, but since he was moving sideways across the alley he took the main force of the shot in his upper arm and shoulder. Even then it slammed him backwards, spinning him into the fence. His head cracked against the wood, and his hands jerked out wildly, grasping for support. He was dimly aware that the rifle had been torn loose from his grip and clattered to the ground. He felt his legs buckle, and with a soft moan he went down. Through the daze he tried to push himself up, groping desperately for his rifle. But the footsteps came pounding up, and with one swift kick, the rifle was sent skidding away from his reach.

  “Well, well!” Travis’s voice was shrill with triumph. “Look who we have here!”

  Chapter 32

  “It’s not like you to leave your back unguarded, Eric,” Travis said as he jammed the muzzle of the stun gun into Eric’s ribs and searched him quickly. “Where’s Nicole?”

  Eric got up on all fours, then staggered to his feet, as dazed by the bitterness of defeat as by the stunning blast he had taken. Travis grabbed him by the arm and shook him savagely. “Where’s Nicole?” he shouted.

  “I don’t know. She left.”

  “I know that. With Clayne. Where are they? Where were they going?”

  Again Eric shook his head. Travis slapped him hard across the face, the blow cracking sharply in the narrow alleyway. “Where are they?” he thundered.

  Eric looked at Travis as a trickle of blood oozed from a split lip. “They took the dog for a walk.”

  Travis’s eyes narrowed into slits, and he thrust his stun gun at the second man and said, “Hold this.” When he turned back, his fist was cocked, pointed at Eric’s face.

  Eric tried to roll away from the blow, but it slammed him against the fence with stunning force. Travis grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up roughly, his fist raised again. “Let me ask that question one more time, Eric. Where’s Nicole?”

  “I’m right here, Travis.”

  Travis and the sergeant whirled as Nicole stepped into the alley behind them, a stun gun raised and pointing at them. Her first shot took the sergeant squarely in the solar plexus. His hands flew up into the air, and both stun guns went flying. Travis lunged to the left, diving for the corner of the nearest garage, but Nicole had squeezed the trigger even as he jumped. The blow caught him in midair, flinging him clear of the garage. He bounced once on the gravel, then slid to a halt on his back.

  “Nicole?” Eric cried, unable to believe his eyes.

  She ran past him, kicked the stun guns away, and looked quickly at the two still figures lying in the alley. Satisfied, she whirled back to Eric and put her arm around his waist. “Come on, we’ve got to hurry. There’ll be others.”

  Half running, half stumbling, she got Eric through the gate and shut it behind her. He stopped, dragging her to a halt. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, still half in shock, swiping at the blood on his mouth. “You’re supposed to be with Clayne. Where is he?”

  “Gone,” she said. “Now let’s go!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward again. “We’ve got to get across the next street before they start fanning out to cover our escape.” She dragged him along with her, past the dark shape of a house, then along a length of hedge lining a driveway out to the curb.

  “Can you run?” she asked, peering up and down the empty street.

  Eric’s head was clearing fast, and he nodded. “More or less. Let’s go.”

  They leaped up, and Nicole supported him as he half ran, half hobbled across the street and into the deep shadows of a large willow tree. Suddenly the sweep of headlights filled the street as a Guardian squad car swung around the corner and moved toward them.

  “Quick,” Eric whispered urgently, giving her a shove toward the house, “into the bushes.”

  Nicole burrowed into a lilac bush while Eric made a leaping dive into a thick tangle of pfitzers, ignoring the fiery clutch of the needles. The squad car went by swiftly, its electric engine a low hum, and Eric breathed a sigh of relief. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he whispered, rolling out from under his cover.

  “Wait!” Nicole cried. “He’s turning around.”

  At that instant the front door of the house opened almost directly over where Eric was crouching, and a dark figure stepped out. “Quickly!” a deep voice commanded. “Come inside.”

  “Come on, Nicky,” Eric said, grabbing her by the hand and virtually hurtling through the open doorway, pulling her with him.

  The door slammed shut, and a hand touched Eric’s shoulder. “Follow me. Hurry!”

  All the lights in the house were out, and Eric held Nicole’s hand tight as they followed the man through the living room and down a hallway. Then he gave a startled grunt as the man stopped so quickly that he bumped into his back.

  “Wait a moment.” A small lamp flicked on, causing Eric to blink sharply. A tall, lean man bent over a telephone, his back to them. Nicole stared at Eric for a moment, then raised the stun gun.

  “Jeff, this is Don Anderson. I…yes, yes. I heard it. It’s the rebels. I have two of them in my house. I…yes, of course I mean it. I have them right here. Can you take them and send them on? There are Guardians all over the neighborhood.”

  Nicole dropped the muzzle of her weapon, a great wash of relief flooding over her as she squeezed Eric’s hand.

  “Good,” Anderson said quickly. “We’ll come through the garage.” He hung up the phone and turned around. “All right, let’s go.”

  “Thank you for what you’re doing,” Eric said fervently.

  The man waved that away and then clicked off the light. “Let’s go.”

  For the next hour, that was the pattern—one neighbor passing them through his house and on to the next. Sometimes they skirted as many as three or four houses, sometimes they crossed the alleys straight across, but steadily they moved farther away from Nicole’s neighborhood. Each time there was a quick handshake, a fleeting touch on the arm, and a solemn wish for luck. If any of the people—som
etimes a single man, often a couple, once an elderly widow—were thinking of the consequences of their actions, they gave no sign. They were grim-faced and talked little, sometimes moaning in pain as their fear triggered bursts from the implantations, but no one hesitated or seemed regretful.

  Eric had lost count of how many homes and yards they had transversed when one of their hosts—a man in his early forties, with two wide-eyed teen-aged boys—stopped them just as they were about to leave his garage. “Wait,” he said. “I have an idea.” He spun around and went back into the house, leaving his sons posted in the alley to watch.

  Eric sank down on the cement and leaned against the car parked in the garage. For a moment Nicole stared at him in the darkness; then she joined him. It was too dark to see her face, but he could hear the anxiety in her voice when she spoke.

  “How’s your leg?”

  “Sore,” he admitted, massaging it gently, “but at least it’s functioning. I’ll be okay. How’re you doing?”

  “Marvelous, considering. I can’t believe these people.”

  “Neither can I. Aren’t they something?”

  “That’s not what I mean. How can they help us without triggering the implantation more violently than they do? Some seem hardly bothered by it at all. This is treason, a capital crime, and yet it seems to have no effect on them.”

  Eric nodded. “That’s the one flaw in the Major’s design. Something inside a man has an inherent sense of right and wrong. It doesn’t matter what the Major says—these people know that helping us is not wrong. It’s a capital offense only by executive fiat. Therefore, they get little or no pain response. If they were doing more than that, they’d probably have more trouble, but just to help us on our way…”

  For a moment they were both quiet; then Eric spoke again. “When I see Clayne, I’m going to kick him in the shins for letting you go. However, I’ll file a complaint later.”

  “He didn’t let me go,” she corrected. “When he wouldn’t stop, I grabbed his stun gun and threatened to use it if he didn’t let me out. I don’t think I really scared him, but I did convince him you needed help.” She paused. “Are they going to make it?”