Endworld - Atlanta Run Part 14

Blade followed the old-timer into an alley. Glisson conducted him on a circuitous route down little-used streets. "We should find jumpsuits to wear," the Warrior mentioned after ten minutes.

Glisson glanced at the giant. "I can rustle one up for me, but they don't make jumpsuits your size. King Kong doesn't live here."

"King Kong?"

"I'll explain later."

They approached the third monolith from the west, emerging from an alley onto a street swarming with pedestrian and vehicle traffic.

"This was once called Spring Street," Glisson remarked. "Now it's known as Civil Street." He pointed to the southeast. "The road we came into Atlanta on was Const.i.tution Boulevard." He nodded at the stretch of land occupied by the seven monoliths. "This was the State Capitol area before the war. Do you see that expressway on the far side of the Directorates?"

Blade nodded.

"Well, just beyond it a great American was buried," Glisson revealed.

"He was a black man who tried to improve the social conditions for hisrace. Martin Luther King, Jr. Do you know what his gravesite is now?"

"No," Blade said.

"A city dump." Glisson sighed sadly. "All the old ways are gone with the wind. The Peers don't want the people of Atlanta to be aware of prewar conditions, to realize the freedom Americans once enjoyed. h.e.l.l. They've even altered the textbooks the kids study in school. I saw one once. It was pitiful. This one went on and on about the official doctrine of the Peers, something called humanism."

"It figures," Blade commented.

"We can cross there," Glisson said, indicating a nearby intersection.

They walked to the corner and waited with about ten others for a traffic light to change.

"Look," Glisson whispered, staring at the curb on the opposite side of the street.

Blade gazed in that direction and discovered a Storm Policeman who was also waiting to cross. They would pa.s.s each other on the crosswalk.

"He'll spot us for sure," Glisson said nervously.

"We can't turn back now," Blade responded.

"He'll blow the whistle on us."

The light had not changed yet.

"It's only been twenty minutes or so since we made our break," Blade noted. "I doubt they've had the time to spread our descriptions to every trooper in the city."

"I hope you're right," Glisson said.

The light changed and a WALK sign lit up.

"Let's go," Blade stated. "And try not to act jittery."

"Tell that to my bladder."The groups of pedestrians on the curbs started across the street.

Blade stepped from the curb, his head held high, projecting a carefree air, purposely refraining from staring at the Storm Policeman. He held the blackjack in his right hand, tucked against his fatigue pants.

The trooper was coming straight at them.

Blade pretended to scan the far sidewalk, his eyes flicking over the Storm Policeman and a.s.sessing the man's disposition. The trooper appeared to be wrapped up in his own thoughts, oblivious to those around him.

They were ten feet apart.

Glisson b.u.mped into the Warrior's left arm. He had scooted to Blade's left side to partially screen himself with the giant's body, and he was walking as close to Blade as he could get.

They were seven feet apart.

The Storm Policeman looked up and noticed the Warrior. His brown eyes narrowed as he examined Blade's features, and then he s.h.i.+fted his gaze to Glisson.

Five feet apart.

If the pores on Blade's skin had been large enough, Glisson would have crawled inside. He saw the trooper halt, and he gripped Blade's arm in desperation.

Blade felt the tramp's fingernails digging into his skin. He disregarded the pain and looked at the trooper.

Just as the Storm Policeman motioned with his right arm. "Hey, you!"

Chapter Eleven.

Hickok's breath whooshed from his lungs as the incredibly powerful creature plowed into him, wrapped its spidery arms about his chest, and bore him to the hard ground. Putrid breath a.s.sailed the gunman's nostrils, and beady, malevolent eyes glared into his.

"Hickok!" Chast.i.ty screamed, checking her flight and whirling.

"Run!" the gunfighter bellowed, squirming in the mutant's grasp. His arms were pinned to his sides and he couldn't raise his Pythons.

The beast snarled and bared his fangs.

"Eat this, sucker!" Hickok declared, and angled the Colt barrels inward until they were flush with the creature's ribs. He squeezed both triggers.

m.u.f.fled by the mutant's hair and flesh, the Pythons blasted, their twin slugs penetrating the beast and searing the creature with overwhelming agony. It relinquished its hold and rolled to the left, roaring mightily.

Hickok rose to his knees, ready to add more shots if necessary, but the thing was still rolling. Suddenly it leaped up and darted into the undergrowth.

"Hickok!" Chast.i.ty cried.

"Stay put!" Hickok ordered, slowly standing. Where the d.i.c.kens did the brute go? He backed toward the girl, surveying the vegetation. A puddle of red liquid drew his attention. Blood. The creature was undeniably hurt, seriously injured. Would the genetic deviate go off to lick its wounds, or would it hover and await an opportunity to pounce?

"There!" Chast.i.ty shouted.

"Where?" the Warrior asked, glancing at her.

"There," she repeated, pointing to their right. "I saw something move."

Hickok scrutinized the wall of vegetation enclosing the clearing. "I don't see anything."

"I saw it," Chast.i.ty insisted.The gunman edged to the pit rim, Chast.i.ty by his right side.

"What do we do?" she inquired.

"We stay here for the time being."

"Why?"

"That critter can't take us by surprise here," Hickok informed her.

"We'll sit tight and see if it skedaddles."

"Skedaddles? Is that bad or good?"

"We'll sit tight and see if it leaves," Hickok clarified.

From the forest to their right, concealed in the prolific greenery, the mutant growled.

"I'm scared," Chast.i.ty said.

"I won't let it get you," Hickok promised.

Chast.i.ty hugged his right leg. "Think there could be more?"

The gunman pursed his lips. He hadn't given the matter any brainwork.

"I don't think so," he said to a.s.sure her.

Another growl punctuated his statement.

"Do you think it got Rikki?" Chast.i.ty inquired.

"I doubt it," Hickok replied. "Mutants don't like stringy meat."

"Is that a joke?"

"Keep quiet," Hickok directed her.

There was the crackle of brush and the rustling of leaves as the creature moved about, changing position.

"What's it doing?" Chast.i.ty asked.

"I don't know," Hickok confessed, trying to come up with a solution totheir dilemma. He didn't like the idea of being stuck in the clearing when Blade and Rikki needed his help. But if he tried to lead Chast.i.ty through the forest, the beast would undoubtedly attack. A ruse was called for, a foxy scheme to outwit the critter.

But what?

"Maybe we can hide in the hole?" Chast.i.ty suggested.

"Don't be..." Hickok said, starting to admonish her. Then he cut himself off, looking into the pit.

Hold the fort.

The pit was ten feet deep, circular, with sheer sides to prevent any hapless captive from clambering to freedom. Which was all well and good.

But how did those doing the capturing haul their prisoners from the hole?

Did they use a rope? Not likely, because the nearest tree capable of supporting a long, st.u.r.dy rope was 20 yards off. They would need to lug a lot of rope with them and a.s.sist their captive in exiting the trap.

No.

There had to be another way.

The gunfighter edged around the rim, his keen eyes inspecting the vegetation at the perimeter of the clearing.

Chast.i.ty hung onto his leg and shuffled with him.

"You can leave go of me," Hickok said softly.

"No way."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"No."

"I can't walk with you clingin' to me," Hickok observed.

"I won't let go," Chast.i.ty declared.

"Suit yourself," Hickok said. "But if that varmint comes after us again, Ican't fight it very well with you slowin' me down."

Chast.i.ty stared up at him, indecision etched on her countenance.

"And there's something else you'd best keep in mind," Hickok told her.

"What?"

"If I tinkle my pants, it'll run all over your hands."

Chast.i.ty released his leg and scrunched up her nose. "You wouldn't tinkle your pants," she said.

"I certainly hope not," Hickok stated. "My missus would clobber me."

He stepped nearer to the foliage on the far side. Maybe he was wrong.