Sins of Honor by Sins Of Honor

Author:Sins Of Honor
Language: eng
Format: epub

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” Doc replied, reining his horse to a cantor. Yanking open a canvas pouch on his gunbelt, the man poured a line of black powder across the snow, then raced to rejoin the others.

“That didn’t take long,” J.B. stated, glancing sideways.

“There was only a pound remaining,” Doc replied, bent low over the neck of his horse. “I have little use for black powder anymore, aside from discouraging dogs!”

“Mildred, got any pepper?” Ryan asked, not bothering to look backward.

“If there was, I would have added it to the black powder!” Mildred told him, clutching her medical kit.

“I have a gren,” Ricky offered, patting a lumpy pocket.

“Save it!” Krysty commanded, her hair tightly coiling almost to her scalp.

Crossing an open field, Ryan waited until they were across to stop. Aiming the Steyr for the opposite side, he scanned for any glimpse of the sec men or wolves. But there was only the deep silence of the forest, the rustling of the tall pine trees and the soft clatter of some bamboo.

Then a sharp two-tone whistle made Ryan turn around fast and race back. Everybody else was gone aside from J.B. The man jerked his head toward a circular opening in a tall thicket of thorny bushes, then rode his horse inside.

A bear tunnel? Ryan thought, following his friend. Whatever had made the tunnel was exceptionally large, much bigger than any grizzly bear he had ever encountered.

“Big griz,” Jak muttered, the reins tight in his one hand, the M-16 in his other.

“We can handle a bear,” Ricky said, the strap of the DeLisle carbine wrapped around his arm to keep it from falling.

“Mebbe, mebbe not,” J.B. said, slowing. “But I got something that should ace those wolves.”

“Do it!” Ryan commanded, listening to the howls and engines get steadily closer.

“Jak, give me an anchor!” J.B. snapped, slowing his horses

Twisting in the saddle, Jak produced a knife and threw. The blade slammed deep into an exposed root, slightly quivering.

Hopping off his horse, J.B. wrapped a length of fuse to the knife, then stretched it across the tunnel and wrapped it around the base of a dead rosebush. Producing a gren, he yanked out the pin, and carefully wrapped the end of the fuse around the arming lever. Tucking the primed gren into the fork of the rosebush, he hastily climbed back on his horse and raced away.

“Willy peter?” Ryan asked hopefully. The fireball produced by a white-phosphorous grenade would block the bear cave for ten minutes, giving the companions more than enough time to get far enough away.

“Plas-ex,” J.B. replied. “Not even shrapnel, but the blast will have those bikes eating sky!”

Ducking under a low-hanging branch, Doc muttered something in a foreign language.

“I don’t think Jesus will really help us murder people!” Mildred shot back, hugging the medical bag tight to her chest.

“Which is why I asked for help from the unforgiving universe,” Doc retorted smugly, “and not its divine maker.”

Crouching to avoid any branches, the companions sped through the tunnel in somber contemplation.

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