The park and the surrounding streets were impenetrable in the darkness.
“When they first came in,” Geronimo stated, “I could still see pretty well. There were four Watchers for each jeep, and two more in the cab of the truck. With two dead, that leaves at least sixteen, plus however many were in the back of the truck. Two of the jeeps have machine guns mounted on them. Any idea what type of rifles they’re carrying?”
“Think so.” Hickok nodded. “They’re packing M-16’s. We’ve got two in our armory, and I’ve fired them a couple of times.”
“I wonder what they’re up to,” Geronimo said. “They’re so quiet down there. I spotted one a bit ago and tried to get him, but I think I missed.
These guys are professionals.”
“They probably won’t try anything tonight,” Hickok thoughtfully speculated. “They know this area, and particularly this building, very well.
After all, they’ve been using it for who knows how long. A concerted rush on the front door, the only means of entry, would be certain suicide.
Especially in the dark.” Hickok paused. “I think they’ll wait for daylight, then make their move.”
“What’s to stop them from tossing a grenade in here in the middle of the night?” Geronimo questioned.
“Plenty. These guys might believe we have some of their friends as prisoners. They must also think their supplies are stashed upstairs. How could they possibly know we’ve moved all their gear? They can’t. No, I doubt they’ll try anything until morning.”
A loud animal roar suddenly rent the night.
“What the blazes…” Hickok muttered.
“It came from the park,” Geronimo guessed. “Maybe it’s a mutate! It could do our job for us.”
“Where’s the screaming and the gunfire?” Hickok asked doubtfully.
“Don’t think so. Don’t like it either.”
“I wish we knew how Blade is doing,” Geronimo said, glancing down at the transport. “Why did he run out there anyway? I was on my way up here, and I heard the shooting begin. By the time I reached this spot, Blade was getting into the SEAL. Why?”
“He forgot to lock it,” Hickok explained.
“Well,” Geronimo reflected aloud, “he should be safe as long as he stays put. Think he’ll try to sneak back in here tonight?”
“If he’s able.”
“What’s that mean?” Geronimo asked.
“I think he was hit,” Hickok stated.
“You sure?”
Hickok nodded. “Almost positive. Saw him react like he was struck in the side.”
“And we can’t see inside,” Geronimo remarked.
“Sure can’t, pard,” Hickok said.
“So we have no way of knowing what condition he’s in,” Geronimo reasoned.
“Sure don’t,” Hickok agreed.
“For all we know,” Geronimo stated apprehensively, “he could be dead.”
“Damn!” was Hickok’s only response.
Chapter Thirteen
He was fortunate he wasn’t dead, Blade mentally told himself as he gingerly felt his right side, immediately below his rib cage, to ascertain the extent of the damage inflicted by the slug. There appeared to be a long furrow, maybe a quarter inch deep, along his side. There was bleeding, but the wound didn’t demand prompt treatment. Besides, he had other priorities to consider.
What should he do now?
The bulletproof transport would shield him, but how long could he afford to remain inside the SEAL? The Watchers were undoubtedly concocting their plans for an assault on the building, most likely at dawn.
How many were there? What was their firepower? He needed some answers.
What would the Watchers expect him to do? Make a mad dash for the building? Or sit it out in the SEAL? They would have snipers posted to cover the building side of the transport, to cut him down if he did try to get back. But would they have the park side of the SEAL covered?
Blade grinned.
Why should they? The last thing they would anticipate would be for him to attempt to reach the park. They were in the park. They knew he knew he was outnumbered. One man, if he was endowed with any brains, wouldn’t conceive of attacking their superior force. It would be the least likely move for anyone with common sense to make.
So he would do it.
Later.
Blade scanned the area. He could distinguish trees and bushes in the park, thanks to the light from the jeep. Were they intending to keep the headlights trained on the SEAL all night? It would make his task considerably more difficult. If only…
The headlights flicked off.
Blade reacted instantly, silently unlocking the door on the park side and rolling onto the ground. He reached up and quietly closed the door, depressing the latch, insuring the SEAL was locked this time.
He would have just seconds to attain the cover of the park, the seconds it would require for any of the Watchers looking at the SEAL when the headlights went out to adjust to the abrupt darkness around the transport.
Move!
Blade ran, his body hunched over, making for the nearest vegetation.
One thing bothered him, though. What had made that terrific roar he heard earlier? A mutate? What if he blundered across it in the gloom of night?
Ten yards remained.
If he reached the trees, he would search for any hidden Watchers and slit their throats, reduce the odds before morning.
Five yards.
Almost there! Thank the Spirit!
The bushes to his left parted, and a tall Watcher, his M-16 cradled in his arms, stepped from concealment. “I tell you,” he whispered to someone else, “I think I saw something near it right after the captain killed the lights.”
“Get back in here!” the other person hissed.
“I need to be sure,” the Watcher countered, taking a step. “I can’t see clearly from in…” He stopped, his senses registering another presence. He began to bring the M-16 around.
Blade spun and let loose with the Commando. The heavy bullets caught the Watcher in the chest and lifted him off of his feet, sending him sprawling in a mangled heap.
Damn!
Just what he needed!
Blade sprinted the few yards to the trees and dove into the undergrowth. Gunfire crackled from different directions, snapping nearby branches and twigs and striking several trees.
Blade stayed prone, waiting for the firing to cease.
Doubledamn!
A Watcher, the companion of the one he shot, came into view, his M-16 on automatic, deliberately spraying the area, meticulously moving the rifle from left to right, covering every inch.
Stupid move!
Blade twisted and fired, ripping the Watcher from his crotch to his brain, flinging him against a tree.
Move! Move! Move!
Blade scrambled forward, knowing most of the Watchers would converge on this spot. He plowed under an overhanging plant and paused.
Which way?
Did it matter?
Yes.
He turned to the left, making for the parked jeeps and the truck. If the Watchers concentrated on the spot he just left, they might leave their vehicles unattended.
The soil was loose under his elbows and knees, dampening any noise he made. The air near the ground was cool, refreshing his sweaty brow.
A single shot sounded from the direction of the building his friends were in.
Hickok’s Henry.
Blade grinned. Hickok wouldn’t shoot unless he had a target. In all the years Blade had known him, Hickok had never missed. So there were five less Watchers to contend with.
This is almost too easy, Blade told himself.
The Watchers, apparently angered at Hickok’s shot, opened up on the building with a deafening crescendo of gunfire.
Good. There was no way they could hear him now.