There were more of them than he’d imagined. Ten or more, closing in from all sides.
Why weren’t they shooting?
Hickok swiveled the Colts, going dead center on one of the figures. The Pythons cracked and bucked in his unsteady hands.
Another opponent bit the dust.
Why weren’t they returning his fire?
Hickok turned, wobbly, and fired his right Python.
Yet another form screamed and fell.
What was going on? Why didn’t they fight back?
Hickok’s ears detected a slight rustling behind him, and he tried to swing around to confront the source.
He never made it.
The gunman felt a hard object slam into his head, and he was knocked forward onto his hands and knees. He wheezed as he struggled to stand, but before he could rise someone leaped onto his back and strong hands gripped his blonde locks and yanked.
Hickok grunted as his head was snapped backwards.
What were they trying to do? Break his neck?
Something soft and reeking of an obnoxious odor was pressed over the gunman’s nostrils and mouth.
What the-!
Hickok knew they were expecting him to try and stand, to toss the attacker from his back. Instead, he did the opposite, allowing his body to pitch forward, hoping the unexpected motion would dislodge or disorient the person on his back.
He was right.
The man on the gunman’s back lost his hold and toppled to the left.
Hickok rolled to the right, extending his Colts.
There was more shouting in the weird lingo.
A bulky form reared above the Warrior.
Hickok let the vermin have it. Both Pythons from point-blank range.
The blurry figure was hurtled backward by the impact.
Hickok rose to his knees, relieved because his vision was beginning to return.
They converged on the gunman in a rushing mass, piling on him from everywhere. Powerful hands grabbed his arms and legs. Someone had him by the hair again.
Hickok was knocked onto his back. A knee rammed into his stomach.
Fingers were tugging on the Colts, striving to strip them from his hands.
The obnoxious odor penetrated his nostrils as the soft material was again pressed over his mouth and nose.
What were they doing?
Hickok thrashed and heaved for all he was worth, knowing he was dead if he didn’t break free.
There were simply too many of them.
The gunman’s last thoughts were of his wife and son.
Chapter Eight
“On your feet. It’s time to leave.”
“You’ll never make it.”
“You let me worry about that,” Blade said. He gazed out the window at the night sky. Darkness had enveloped the city long ago. Lacking public utilities, St. Louis was plunged into an inky abyss. The towering skyscrapers seemed like brooding monoliths. Streets and alleys resembled lighter ribbons in a tapestry of black fabric. All outside activity ceased as residents took to their dwellings, families to their homes and singles, for the most part, to their apartments. After he had questioned Mel, Blade had learned more concerning the Leather Knights and their domination of St. Louis. Because structurally sound houses were at a premium, the Knights had ruled only families could reside in individual homes. The single men and women tended to live in clusters, in apartment buildings relatively unscathed by the ravages of time and the elements.
Blade glanced down at the woman. “Take me directly to the library where they are holding my friend. One false move and I’ll slit your throat.”
“You sure have a way with the ladies,” Melissa quipped.
Blade stepped away from the window and motioned with the Commando. “Let’s go.”
Melissa slowly stood, her legs cramped from her prolonged sitting.
“Do the Knights patrol the streets at night?” Blade asked.
“Yeah,” Mel replied. “But the patrols are few and far between.”
“I would think you’d want to insure the Reds don’t sneak into the city after dark,” Blade said. “You must have a lot of patrols.”
Mel snickered. “After dark? Are you nuts? The… things… come out after dark. The Reds aren’t any more likely than we are to run around at night. It’s bad enough having to look out for the mutants in the daytime. At night it’s worse because you can’t see them coming.”
“Haven’t you cleared them out of the city?” Blade inquired.
“We’ve tried,” Mel answered. “But it’s not that easy. The giant rats are impossible to control. There are too many of them. Some of the things, like Slither and Grotto, are too big to handle. And although we can keep many of the monsters out during the day, some of them sneak back into the city at night looking for food. Most people stay inside at night with their doors locked. And one of the first rules you learn as a child is this: never go outside at night alone.” She paused. “No, you don’t have to worry about running into anybody this late at night.”
“Good. Then we should reach the library without any problem,” Blade said.
“Yeah,” Mel cracked. “Unless we run into one of the… things.”
“I’ll protect you,” Blade assured her.
“I hope so,” Melissa stated. “Being eaten alive by one of those ugly suckers isn’t high on my list of things to do.”
Blade nodded toward the doorway. “Walk slowly. And remember what I told you. Don’t try anything funny.”
Mel moved to the doorway, stopped, peered into the hallway, then walked from the room.
Blade stayed glued to her heels.
They descended the stairs to the ground floor and reached the front door.
Melissa hesitated, her right hand on the doorknob.
“Let’s go,” Blade goaded her.
Mel took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.
The night air was cool and crisp.
Blade followed the Leather Knight as she hurried down the cement steps to the street and took a left. She kept to the middle of the streets as she proceeded into the murky bowels of St. Louis, constantly scanning the surrounding buildings for any hint of movement or the slightest sound. He lost track of the route they took. The few remaining street signs were vague markers impossible to read in the eerie gloom. Ominous rustling noises and scratching sounds emanated from gutted structures and darker alleys.
Melissa drew up short as a loud hissing issued from the mouth of a gaping alley.
Blade prodded her with the Commando barrel. “Keep going.”
“I don’t like this,” Melissa muttered nervously. “I don’t like this one bit!”
Blade nudged her again. “I’m right behind you.”
Mel glanced over her left shoulder. “I hope Terza feeds you to Grotto!” she snapped. She resumed their journey.
Blade stared into the impenetrable alley as he passed, but he couldn’t see a thing.
The sooner they reached the library, the better!
Mel increased her pace, evidently equally anxious to reach their destination.
Headlights appeared at the far end of the street they were on.
Blade gripped Melissa’s right shoulder and shoved her toward the left sidewalk. “Take cover!” he ordered.
Melissa blinked.
Blade pushed her, causing her to stumble and almost fall. “Take cover!” he repeated, his tone a threatening growl.
Melissa crossed to the sidewalk and crouched in a dim doorway.
Blade joined her, flattening his powerful frame against the right jamb.
“Don’t make a sound!” he warned her.
Blade ran his finger along the Commando trigger.
It was a Leather Knight patrol, five riders moving at a leisurely pace, packed close together, every one of them armed to the teeth.
Blade watched Melissa, wondering if she would betray him.
The patrol passed without incident.
&n
bsp; Blade waited until the five bikers were out of sight to the west. “Thanks for not giving me away,” he said.
Melissa rose. “Don’t thank me,” she said angrily. “I just didn’t want to get caught in a crossfire.”
Blade stepped into the street. “Okay. Lead out.”
Mel frowned and took to the street again.
Blade’s mind drifted. Even after he freed Rikki, he was still facing a major problem—namely, how to raise the SEAL to an upright position. If the transport weren’t flat on its side, he might be able to use leverage by inserting a huge board or limb between the SEAL and the ground. But as it was, leverage was impractical. Then how could they manage it? Without the vehicle, none of the Warriors would be able to return to the Home. The distance was too great and the dangers insurmountable.
There must be a way!
Melissa led the Warrior ever inward, block after circuitous block. The gigantic skyscrapers blotted out the stars overhead. Instead of being freshly invigorating, the night air became dank and foul. The residents of St. Louis were not meticulous about their personal or civic hygiene; piles of rotting garbage and rodent-infested trash filled most of the alleys.
Just when Blade began to doubt the Leather Knight was really leading him to the library, she stopped and coughed.
“There it is,” Mel said, pointing across the street.
Blade could distinguish a huge building about 20 yards off, utterly devoid of life and light. “There aren’t any guards,” he whispered suspiciously.
“Why should there be?” Mel countered. “Who’d want to break into the library? There’s nothing there but a few moldy books.”
“But what about keeping your prisoners from breaking out?” Blade asked.
Melissa laughed. “No way.”
“You’re that confident?”
“No one busts out,” Mel assured him.
“You don’t know Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” Blade said.
Melissa took a step away. “Well, you won’t be needing me any longer.”
Blade covered her with the Commando. “Yes, I will.”
“But I brought you here like you wanted,” she protested.
“Now you’ll take me to where they’re holding my friend,” Blade told her.
“And what if I don’t?” Mel challenged him. “What are you gonna do. Shoot me? The noise will attract the others.”
Blade patted his left Bowie. “I could always use this,” he said. “Or this,” he added, touching Rikki’s katana.
Melissa got the message. She turned and headed for the library, moving cautiously, manifestly nervous.
Blade sensed something was wrong. She had been antsy on the way here, true, but not like this. She was acting… different. Had she lied? Were there guards posted outside the library? Was she attempting to lead him into an ambush? Was it likely to—
A machine gun opened up from the direction of the library.
“No!” Melissa screamed, throwing her arms up. “It’s me! Mel! Don’t shoot!”
Her cry came too late.
The street around them was struck by a zigzag pattern of slugs.
Blade heard Mel grunt as she was hit. She doubled over and fell forward, and in that instant he spotted the flash of the gunner hiding at the top of the library steps.
So! She had tried to trap him!
Blade was caught in the open. If he endeavored to reach cover, the guard would have ample opportunity to fill him with lead. In the microsecond it took him to perceive the threat and evaluate his position, Blade decided on the timeworn course of action prove in innumerable conflicts: the best defense is invariably a good offense. He charged the library, weaving back and forth, firing from the hip, going for the gunflash on the library steps.
A bullet nicked his left thigh.
Blade executed a diving leap for the tarmac, scraping his elbows and the katana’s scabbard as he rolled to the left and came up on his knees, the Commando pointed at the library stairs. He fired a burst in a sweeping arc.
Someone shrieked, and a moment later a woman toppled from the deeper shadows at the top of the steps and tumbled to the sidewalk.
Damn!
They’d probably aroused every Leather Knight in St. Louis!
Blade rose and ran to the prone form on the sidewalk. The woman had been shot in the chest and was oozing blood from a cavity where her right breast had once been. He turned and raced up the stairs to the glass doors.
Please let them be open!
He gripped one of the handles and yanked, and was rewarded by the door flinging outward.
The interior of the library was, if anything, even darker than the outside.
Where the hell would Rikki be?
Blade ran down a wide corridor, his footsteps creating a hollow echo as he pounded from door to door, his boots smacking on the tiles, searching for his fellow Warrior. Four doors opened into stark offices. The fifth revealed a massive chamber filled with bookshelves. Most of the shelves were empty.
Where could he be? Had Melissa lied about Rikki being here? He didn’t have much time! The other Knights were certain to investigate the gunfire and discover Melissa and the dead guard.
Where?
Blade reached a stairwell and, on a hunch, darted into it and began descending to the lower levels of the library. If the Leather Knights had converted a portion of the library into a dungeon or jail, logic dictated the holding cells might be located in the basement.
If the library even had a basement!
Blade reached a landing and paused, listening.
The night was deathly quiet.
Strange.
They should have found the bodies by now. Why wasn’t there an uproar, or at least the sounds of pursuit?
Very strange.
Blade opened the landing door and found himself in a dingy hallway. It branched to the left and the right.
Terrific!
Which branch should he take?
Blade opted for the right branch and jogged along the hallway until he reached a closed door. He grabbed the doorknob, tensed, and pushed the door open.
Another damn office!
Annoyed, Blade continued his hunt. He ran another 15 yards and spied a door to his left. The doors, constructed of wood and painted or stained a pale yellow, stood out against the gloomy hallway walls.
Here goes nothing!
Blade shoved the door open.
Bingo!
This room gave every indication of being a recent fabrication. The walls were made from brick, and the floor was barren dirt. A musty scent permeated the chamber. The room was circular, perhaps 30 feet in diameter. And secured to the far wall across from the doorway, their arms locked in chains, were a man and a woman.
Rikki and another.
Blade easily recognized his small companion, despite the lack of light.
“Rikki!” Blade called. “Are you all right?”
There was a muffled noise from the other side of the chamber.
Blade took a step forward. He could see Rikki and the woman thrashing, striving to slip free from their chains, and he could hear the chains clanking against the brick wall. There was black patches over Rikki’s and the woman’s mouths.
They were gagged!
“Hang on!” Blade yelled. “I’ll have you out of there in no time.”
The huge Warrior started toward the hapless pair. He reached the center of the room.
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was surging against his chains like a madman.
“Calm down!” Blade said. “I’m almost there! I’ll get you out.”
“No, you won’t,” said a harsh feminine voice from above.
Even as Blade glanced upward, something heavy fell onto his broad shoulders and covered his arms and torso, pinning his arms to his sides, rendering the Commando useless.
Light flooded the chamber.
A net! He was snared in a net!
Blade caught a glimpse of a balcony encircling the room, a balcony swarming wit
h Leather Knights. He strained his arms, attempting to loosen the net, to bring the Commando into play.
His effort was wasted.
Leather Knights, men and women, poured into the chamber through three recessed doorways. They rushed to the middle of the chamber and tackled the Warrior, tightening the net until movement was impossible.
Blade, mentally berating his stupidity, wound up flat on his back staring through the strands of the nylon net at a dozen hostile faces. Now he knew what Rikki had been trying to do: warn him about the trap.
The Leather Knights parted and a brunette bearing a scar under her right eye appeared, standing over the Warrior’s head. She was grinning in triumph. “Ain’t you the big one?” she asked playfully.
Blade refused to respond.
“The name is Terza,” she said. “And you must be the friend of Lex’s hunk! Am I right?”
Lex’s hunk?
Terza chuckled. “The strong, silent type, huh? Fine. There’s no need to talk right now. You’ll do enough talking later. I can promise you that!” She paused, then kicked the net with her right foot. “Not bad, eh? Jeff told us all about you. We knew you were coming in to save your buddy. Did you think we’d let you walk right in here and take him?”
Blade didn’t answer. He was feeling monumentally dumb.
“If so,” Terza continued, “you ain’t as bright as you look.” She laughed.
“Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll get down to cases in the morning.” She glanced at a man with a blue Mohawk. “Cardew, why don’t you tuck him in?”
“My pleasure.” Cardew replied.
Blade saw the biker named Cardew walk beyond his line of vision. What was the Knight planning to do?
“Nighty-night!” Cardew said, from just beyond Blade’s head.
What the—
Something crashed into Blade’s face, something hard, smashing his right cheek and jarring his jaw.
Blade heaved, his arms bulging, vainly attempting to remove the net.
“One more time,” Cardew stated.
The bastard must be using a club! Blade tried to roll to the left, away from Cardew’s blow.
They mustn’t knock him out! If they succeeded, they’d disarm him!
He’d be at their mercy! They’d be…
Capital Run Page 9
