James Axler Deathlands 008 Ice and Fire

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Lot of you got pump actions. Best thing for a stickie. Wait for them to get
close, then take their heads off.
Any questions?"
A skinny, middle-aged man raised a tentative hand.
"Yeah?"
"I have a question, Mr. Cawdor."
"Fire it."
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Deathlands - Ice and Fire
"What do we do if we get grabbed by one of them stickies?"
"Pray. No more questions? Then let's go and do it."
"TEN MINUTES to go. Could do with Layton and his plane, Baron."
"Might it not warn them?"
Ryan nodded. "Could be. From the note, we should be virtually on top of them
by now."
Edgar Brennan looked exhausted. He wasn't dressed for a cross-country trek.
His shoes had lost their polish and his pants their crease. The laundered
shirt was stained around the back and chest, the collar ragged and limp. He'd
torn off the paisley cravat and held it in his hand, using it to mop at his
brow.
"Want me to go ahead and scout with one of the brothers?" Riddler asked
eagerly.
"Word is there's a lot of stickies there. Couple of scouts'd whet their
appetite for the rest of us. No."
The Last Hero didn't argue, grinning cheerfully at Ryan.
John Dern sidled up to the front, clutching his carbine. "Could find a good
spot and pick off the evil devils from safety with this?" he suggested. "Be
happy to do it."
"Good combat blaster. Not the best for wiping out a triple-dozen stickies.
They'd walk over you. We go in together, fast and blasting."
"LOOKS LIKE IT. Sounds like it."
Ryan held up his hand to stop the straggling file of men. He'd heard the
familiar, guttural grunting noise that the suckered muties usually made,
coming from just over the next ridge. He dropped to hands and knees and
crawled swiftly forward, followed by Jak.
Cautiously Ryan eased himself to the crest of the hill. Squinting over the
top, he saw a steep-sided valley that was honeycombed with shallow caves.
Gathered together in the middle were a group of stickies. It looked as though
Layton Brennan's rough count had been about right.
"Thirty-five or so," he whispered.
The boy was licking his pale lips, his scarlet eyes glittering with the
anticipation of the firefight to come.
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Deathlands - Ice and Fire
"How long?" he asked.
Ryan glanced at his chron. "Three minutes. Wonder if the others got here yet.
Can't see any sign of them on the far Yeah. There."
He spotted the flash of sunlight off metal. A line of heads appeared on the
far ridge, all looking down at the stickies. Ryan knew that J.B. wasn't in
command of the other raiding party. The Armorer would never have been stupid
enough to risk being spotted before the attack began.
"Fireblast! Best go now, or they'll see us and we'll lose the surprise."
He turned and beckoned to Riddler. The fat biker crouched and waddled to join
them. "What the fuck's up?"
"We gotta go now. Stupes there are going to blow the whole attack."
He suddenly heard an outburst of shrill squealing from the far side of the
ridge.
"Too late." Ryan shouted the command. "Come on! Now! Let's go!"
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE STICKIES HAD initiated the attack, taking the impetus from the men of
Snakefish. Most of the muties rushed toward Zombie's group, ululating and
waving their suckered fingers. Some turned back as they saw Ryan leading his
twenty or so men over the rim of the hill and down into the valley.
"Let 'em get close!" Ryan yelled.
The muties had a slight numerical disadvantage, but they made up for that by
their unbridled ferocity.
Other than the night assault at the feeding, few of the men from the ville had
ever seen a stickie and many were almost paralyzed with terror at the hideous
sight of gibbering death running at them.
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Deathlands - Ice and Fire
Some turned and fled in panic.
Almost all of them died early.
The skinny man who'd asked the question about what to do if he got grabbed by
a stickie got his answer with horrific speed.
He stumbled blindly into the embrace of two of the scuttling muties. One was a
female, with pendulous breasts, who used her suckered hand to tear away the
man's clothes, leaving bleeding weals on his pale flesh. Her other hand
clutched at his groin, the tiny disks clamping to his shrunken genitals. With
a slobbering whoop of delight, the creature exerted all her power,
emasculating the screaming man and flourishing the severed flesh and sinew
above her head before lifting them greedily to her mouth. Her companion had
already buried its face in the side of the man's neck, near the throbbing
temptation of the carotid artery.
Death was mercifully rapid. Scatterguns boomed all around, interspersed with
the lighter, thinner sound of the .32 which were the common handblasters of
the ville.
If Ryan's original plan had been followed by the group containing Zombie and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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