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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_64_-_Bloodfire2
Then the rest of the control room crew came out the doorway and splashed into
the fight, hammering the bugs in a cacophony of firepower.
Jessica cried out and fell backward into the salt mud, a millipede clinging to
her boot, the pincers sawing away. Kate slashed out with her bowie knife and
cut off a dozen of the creature's legs. Hissing in pain, it stopped attacking
Jessica and turned to snap at the Trader. Shoving her blaster into its mouth,
she squeezed off a burst and the bug erupted from within, guts flying
everywhere.
As the fighting slowed, the people turned to inspect the transport, firing a
round here and there, extracting millipedes from inside the barrels of the 40
mm gren launchers, an exhaust pipe and an unmanned machine gun blister. As a
bug hit the water, the nearest person would stomp on it with a boot in the
middle of the body where the pincers couldn't reach, and somebody else would
blow off its head. Once the tactic was worked out, the slaughter continued
relentlessly until there were no more of the monsters to find.
"That should be the last of them," Kate said, removing a spent clip from her
blaster and pocketing the empty to slide in a fresh clip. "Anybody hurt?"
A few folks had gotten bitten, or scorched from a muzzle flash of a friendly
blaster held just a touch too close to unprotected skin. But the damage was
minor, and when Jinx came out of the war wag carrying a bag of medicine, he
seemed pleased.
"With all that firepower going off, I expected a lot more damage than these
scratches," the healer said, walking among the crew. "Nothing important here.
All right, everybody get inside. I'll want good light to clean those bites."
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As the people sloshed back into the vehicle, Kate stayed in the mud, with the
hot barrel of her rapidfire resting on a gore splattered shoulder.
"Okay, Roberto, let's get some dry land underfoot," she directed. "Roll her
out, nice and slow. We're still checking for passengers."
The big man nodded and climbed inside. Soon the engine rumbled into life and
the wag started forward at a stately crawl. Walking alongside the transport,
the
Trader watched the machine and the waters underneath just to make sure they
had cleaned off every last mutie. For a moment, she thought one had escaped
detection, but it was only a hollow body, the guts blown out by a large
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caliber round. Good enough. As the war wag drove onto the dry sand, the woman
relaxed and joined the group of soaked people panting in a huddle.
"Are you& " a man asked reverently, clutching a bundle to his chest, "are you
the Trader?"
Nearby, a young woman kept a skinny arm around a small boy who alternated
between looking at the bald man and the bloody woman with the blaster. There
was some fear in his young face, but also a trace of defiance. These were
ville people, not runaway slaves. Too bad. She always gave slaves preferential
treatment.
"I'm the Trader," Kate stated, looking over the motley group. "Where the hell
are you folks from? There's nothing closer than Rockpoint that I know about."
"That is our ville, my lady. Or rather, it was," the bald man said. He quickly
added, "Thank you for saving us."
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Kate waved a hand to cut that short. "Just call me Trader."
"Of course."
"And tell me about this water," Kate said, jerking a thumb at the muddy field.
"Was there an earthquake? Some sort of river washing in from the mountains, or
what?"
"No, my& Trader. There was an outlander," the man said hurriedly, rushing the
words. "A man called Ryan Cawdor. He and some coldhearts snuck into our ville
and started a riot. Chilled everybody they could and stole a bunch of horses."
According to the ancient laws of Texas, that was a hanging offense. Horses
were infinitely more valuable than wags. They ate wild grass and reproduced
themselves. No wag had ever learned that trick.
"Ryan Cawdor," Roberto said in a flat, emotionless voice from the open doorway
of the wag. "The name is familiar. And you say he has turned into a
coldheart."
The bald man nodded vigorously. ""Yes! He "
"That's a triple damn lie!" a new voice shouted angrily.
Lifting the blaster off her shoulder, Kate watched as this new person shoved
his way through the other people. He was heavily muscled, missing a couple of
fingers on the left hand, and his left eye was marled white, with a long scar
going from his forehead, across the dead orb and down to his dimpled chin.
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"No, it is not!" the bald man retorted, starting to reach under his clothing.
Moving with astonishing speed, the newcomer punched the first man straight in
the face. Teeth went flying, and the bald man staggered from the blow, but
came back in a crouch and whipped out a blaster. But it was aimed at Kate, not
the one-
eyed man!
"Look out!" the mother cried, shoving the boy behind her for safety.
That was when the sky seemed to shatter as a dozen .50-cals from the war wags
and cargo vans all spoke at once, the combined rounds almost blowing the man
to pieces. As he spun wildly, his blaster discharged, the slug smacking into
the sand between Kate's boots. The tattered body was shaking as the woman
lowered her rapidfire and put a single round into the back of the dying man's
head. He twitched as it hit, then went still, the sands slowly turning red
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