David L. Robbins - Endworld 27 by Chicago Run

Author:Chicago Run
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

An arrow thudded into a tree trunk on Blade’s right as he let the Commando rip and swung the barrel in an arc. He heard Geronimo’s FNC chatter simultaneously.

Two of the charging figures were lifted from their feet and flung to the grass. The other two were unfazed, firing arrows as rapidly as they could notch the shafts to their bowstrings.

Blade heard an arrow buzz past his left ear and his lips compressed in anger. Not again, you sons of bitches! He tracked them with the barrel, and had the gratification of seeing both men go down, one convulsing and screaming.

The FNC ceased firing and Geronimo declared, “All down on this side.”

Twisting, Blade probed the murky shadows for more bowmen. He distinguished the ominous black outline of the house approximately one hundred yards distant.

“Why were they using bows?” Geronimo whispered. “Anyone who wants a gun can usually find one in the Outlands if they’re willing to pay the price.”

“If more show up we’ll ask them to use howitzers.” Blade said sarcastically. He rose and cautiously advanced toward the last pair he’d downed.

Geronimo kept pace on the right. “Why are you in such a bad mood?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Call me immature, but when someone shoots an arrow through me I tend to get a little ticked off.”

They fell silent, and were soon standing over one of their dead foes.

“Ugly sucker,” Geronimo commented.

Blade absently nodded.

The man was about six feet in height and quite lean and bony, his unkempt black hair down past his shoulders. A bushy beard rimmed his chin. He wore tattered jeans and crudely made sandals, nothing else. His skin was grimy, caked with dirt in spots; it appeared he hadn’t taken a bath since birth. A deer-hide quiver hung on his back, and lying at his side was a stout longbow.

“All he needs is a loincloth and I’d take him for a caveman,” Geronimo said.

They stepped to another body and found a man of similar height, weight, and general characteristics. Even the faces resembled one another.

Blade bent over for a closer inspection. There were enough similarities to lead him to suspect that the pair had been related, possibly even brothers.

“I hope Nathan didn’t run into these guys,” Geronimo said, scanning the forest.

“If he did, they might have taken him to the house,” Blade said, and made toward it. In the back of his mind he doubted the gunfighter had been taken unawares by the bloodthirsty band. For one thing, Hickok’s reflexes were the best of all the Warriors; at the slightest hint of a threat he could draw and fire faster than any human alive. For another, the gunfighter, like many of his combat-seasoned peers, had developed an uncanny sixth sense about dangerous situations. Catching him by surprise had rarely been done.

They crept to within 20 yards of the house without mishap. No more of the odoriferous bowmen appeared.

Blade halted in the shelter of a tree and studied the dwelling. There were no lights on within.

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