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But while the Armorer was stumbling slowly across the terrain, the man on the
narrow ledge moved swiftly and was sure of foot. He seemed to pay no attention
to the storm raging around him, nor to the blasterfire that echoed and
ricocheted around the enclave.
He was single-minded about his target.
As the man drew level with J.B., Ryan raised the Steyr and tried to draw a
bead on the Armorer's ragged pursuer.
It was then that he felt the cold metal on his neck, a round, hollow shape
pressing into the carotid artery. Not enough pressure to hurt, just hard
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enough to know that it was there.
He smelled the stale breath before the whispered words echoed in his ear.
"I wish you no harm as yet, my friend, but if you don't drop your blaster,
then your blood will fertilize this tainted earth for no avail."
"DARK NIGHT," J.B. muttered under his breath as he stumbled yet again on the
treacherous floor of the enclave. Trying to reach the head of the small valley
was an option that now seemed like no option at all. His spectacles were
covered with dust, and his eyes stung. He held the Uzi across his chest as he
ran, ready to spin the blaster in any direction should the need arise.
But what direction? The storm was making everything a disorienting experience.
So far he had been able to make out Murphy's sec men in the fog of dust and
grit.
He had a bearing for where Ryan was holed up at the head of the small valley,
and he made for it. Millie should be somewhere behind him, and he had heard
Dean call out at some point. The youngster was like his father keen to take
responsibility for his companions, expecting the same of them in return.
A shower of pebbles and earth from above and to his right snapped J.B. back
from the reverie into which he had unwittingly fallen a sign, perhaps, of
fatigue.
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The Armorer spun to his right, pulling the Uzi into position and squinting
into the storm. He would fire if he was certain, but he didn't want to chill
Dean or Jak by accident, and that was exactly the sort of move they might
pull.
J.B. had expected to see either of those two, or more likely one of Murphy's
sec men whom he could chill in an instant. The very last thing he had expected
was what appeared to be a flying bundle of rags that leaped from off the
seemingly sheer face of the valley and hurtled toward him with a shrill scream
that cut through the whirling howl of the dust-storm wind.
It was impossible and had to have been a trick of his reflexes blunted by the
storm and shock, but it seemed as though the bundle of rags increased its
velocity through the air in order to beat him to the punch.
The Uzi was level with the flying figure as it cannoned into him, an arm
knocking the blaster to one side. J.B.'s finger flexed instinctively on the
blaster's trigger, sending a hail of fire to bite ineffectively into the side
of the enclave.
The Armorer didn't notice the waste of precious ammo. He was far too busy
trying to fight off the flying bundle, which became a whirling dervish of
muscle as it hit him, slamming him to the ground so that his spine jarred and
the breath was squeezed from painfully constricted lungs. J.B. felt as though
he had to have lost a couple of ribs, the pain was so sharp as he tried to
draw breath.
The ragged bundle was now on top of him, pinioning him to the earth. The
strips of old clothing were wrapped around the figure in such a way as to
obscure its true size. It could have been a small man, or a fat-bellied giant.
Certainly the impact on
J.B. had made him sure it was the latter at first, but now he wasn't as sure.
As the figure lay across him, and the shock of the impact died down to a
throbbing throughout his body, J.B.'s instincts kicked in.
The figure wasn't much taller than he was. Their faces were level, and he
could feel the other's feet on his own as the attacker lay on top of him. The
weight of the attacker wasn't crushing him now that they were hand-to-hand, so
he guessed that his assailant was probably about the same build and weight as
himself.
The rags were layered and swathed around the figure's head and face so that
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nds%2051%20-%20Rat%20King.html the eyes were showing. They glittered with
determination and not a little madness as they bored into J.B. And yet there
was something in them&
It wasn't a total surprise for J.B. when the voice that emerged from the
swaddling was female.
"If you value your life, at least for the short time to come, then you will
not resist me."
The voice was sibilant, hissing with a cleft-palate lisp that made it sound
even more threatening than the circumstances dictated.
The eyes and voice had momentarily hypnotized the Armorer to the extent that
he didn't, for a second, feel her hands as they darted across his body. His
knife was unsheathed with a practiced ease, and the Smith & Wesson M-4000 was
slipped from its secure moorings. The pockets of ammo that were located all
over his body were also probed.
"You will come with me now, away from this hole and into the valley. It is&
milder& there. We wish to talk with you."
J.B. found himself nodding agreement with the biting voice even though all his
instincts were telling him to fight back, his muscles refused to respond,
almost paralyzed by the hypnotic tones. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]