Deathlands 077: Cannibal Moon by James Axler

Author:James Axler
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 0373625871
Publisher: Gold Eagle
Published: 2007-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Mildred looked at Jak. Although she couldn’t read his eyes, she could read the tendons jumping like cables in his neck and forearms. The wild child didn’t like being tied up, and he purely hated cannies. The blood on his scalp had clotted into a dark mass.

“Hurt?” she asked him softly.

The albino shook his head.

Muffled blasterfire continued to roll from the direction of the cave.

“Ryan’s still alive,” Mildred told him. “He has to be.”

The head cannie waved his Galil in the air. “Let’s get out of here,” he ordered his packmates.

Some of the flesheaters slipped their arms through the loops of the tow ropes and headed off into the forest at a trot, dragging the bodies by the ankles, face up, heads bouncing on the ground, arms trailing limply behind.

The other cannies shoved the survivors into a single-file line and herded them forward with rifle butts. Walking was difficult with the short traces on their ankles.

It surprised Mildred that the bastards wouldn’t help their brethren finish the job in the cave. Perhaps they figured that chilling was in the bag, too. Perhaps they were following an already agreed-on plan to split up. Or perhaps they were skipping out with the goods while they still could, in anticipation of a furious Cajun counterattack?

After they had traveled a hundred yards or so, the cannies doing the towing lighted a dozen lanterns. Rings of white light danced and spun through the trees ahead. The cannies were less worried about being seen than in moving as fast as possible.

Even with the lanterns, finding their way through the woods was problematic. Mildred puzzled over this until she walked past a luminous, pale green glow stick on the ground. When she looked over her shoulder she expected one of the cannies behind to pick up the light stick and erase the trail. When that didn’t happen, Mildred felt a faint spark of hope. The trail markers were being left behind for the cave cannies; without the markers, they wouldn’t be able to find their way back to the swamp, let alone the road. If the cave cannies lost the fight, those markers would lead the Cajuns and the companions right to them.

When the cannies reached the swamp, the draggers hauled the bodies in behind them. They actually made better time because the corpses floated and there was less resistance. The dozen captives and their captors plunged into the lukewarm, stagnant water, following the bobbing lanterns. Walking was difficult because they couldn’t raise their feet very far with just a couple feet of rope between their ankles. The cannies in the lead followed a trail marked by widely spaced light sticks tied to the mangroves.

They hadn’t gone very far when Junior Tibideau sloshed up beside Mildred. “Smell that blood in the water, Lambchop?” he asked. “Feeling peckish?”

“Cut my hands free and I’ll show you,” she said.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Not until the oozies come on strong. Then I’m going to turn you loose on your friend White Meat, here.

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