Axler, James - Deathlands 17 by Axler James

Author:Axler, James
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Twenty-Four

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The cry of shock tore through the mansion, jerking everyone awake.

As the door swung open, Dean was already grinning over his shoulder at Abe. So he first glimpsed the crouching mutie out of the corner of his eye, bathed in the spilled moonlight.

The creature was hunched over, holding a long thin-bladed knife, point up. Its lipless mouth was open in a soundless snarl of bloody hatred, its pinpoint eyes glaring at the boy. It wore an assortment of torn rags and furs, and its head was totally bald, pitted with suppurating sores.

The knife lunged toward the boy's throat, held in a gloved fist.

Dean's bizarre upbringing had developed his reflexes so that he could almost match a striking rattler.

He slammed the door as hard as he could, catching the mutie's forearms. There was a crack of splintered bone and the knife dropped to the floor of the hall, where Abe stopped and picked it up.

As the hand was pulled away, Dean pushed the door closed again, jerking the two bolts across to hold it shut.

The whole incident took about five seconds from opening the door to clattering home the iron bolts again.

By the time that Dean turned away toward the living room, his father was already standing there, his powerful blaster in his hand. J.B. was at his shoulder, Krysty close behind the Armorer.

"Muties," Abe said. "Just seen one. Kid broke its arm. Must be others."

It was a fair judgment from an experienced fighting man. Muties didn't go around on their own. They lived and raided in groups, anywhere from a half dozen to a half hundred.

"I'll take the top floor." J.B. headed toward the stairs. "Watch all sides." Mildred appeared. "Come on with me," he said.

Doc and Michael came into the hall together, the young man slowly knotting the cord around his waist.

"Are we under attack, my dear friend?"

"Yeah. Stay here and watch that front door, Doc. Anything moves, wipe it away with your cannon.

Michael, keep out of the way."

They all heard the sound of breaking glass and ripped wood from somewhere at the back of the house.

Doc shook his head. "What a deal of sprick-sprackery noise."

Abe stayed with the old man while Dean joined Krysty and his father, racing along the narrow passage toward the kitchen quarters of the house, past the row of silent bells that hung on the wall, each one still bearing the faded label of a room in the mansion.

Ryan was conscious of a dim hubbub of shouting and yelping from outside the house. He guessed that Dean had discovered the muties' attack only moments before they had been about to launch it. But those moments had given an edge to the defenders.

Now each of the three groups faced different problems.

J.B. HAD HIS Smith amp; Wesson M-4000 cradled in his arms, the heavy 12-gauge cocked and ready.

As he darted along the corridor on the second floor, past the row of silent rooms, his eye was caught by a glimmer of movement.

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