“How many miles do you jog every day?”
“Five miles every other day.”
“After we return to the Home, start a new exercise regimen and include doing ten miles every day.”
Achilles glanced at the giant. “Every day?”
“Until you can comfortably keep up with me, yes.”
“How do Hickok and Geronimo do it?”
“They have a secret.”
“What is it?” Achilles inquired eagerly.
“They usually ask me to take little steps.”
For a moment Achilles couldn’t decide if the top Warrior was serious, then he voiced a hearty laugh. “No one at the Home could ever hope to match you on a long run.”
“Yama and Rikki-Tikki-Tavi consistently tie with me,” Blade mentioned. “And on short sprints, Rikki is even faster.”
“I had no idea. What’s the secret of their success?”
“They’ve developed their bodies to where they can perform at their maximum level,” Blade said. “Although they’re quite different in stature, they’re both solid muscle.”
“So is Samson,” Achilles noted.
“But Samson has never had to lift a weight or exercise strenuously in his life. His physique matured naturally.”
“Is he as fast as you are?”
“No, but he’s equally as strong.”
“I doubt that.”
“Size alone is no prerequisite for the possession of great strength,” Blade said. “Look at Rikki.”
“I still can’t accept that any of the other Warriors are as strong as you.”
“Trust me. I’ve seen Samson in action. When he calls on the Lord for strength, none of us can rival him.”
“Do you really believe that Nazarite mumbo jumbo?”
“Samson does. And whether you prefer to think that his immense power is psychologically triggered or stems from the Spirit, the fact remains that when Samson prays to the Lord, his strength is increased a hundredfold.”
Achilles gazed at the river ahead. The surface of the water reflected the pale moonlight and resembled a wide ribbon of glass. A thought occurred to him and he almost stopped in surprise. “Wait a minute!” he blurted.
“What’s wrong?” Blade asked, running effortlessly.
“Why are we doing all this talking? Shouldn’t we approach the fire stealthily? Whatever attacked that poor woman will hear us.”
“Good.”
“Did I miss something here?”
“I want them to hear us,” Blade stated. “I want them to come after us.”
“I definitely missed something.”
Blade grinned. The fact that Achilles possessed a sense of humor indicated the novice wasn’t quite as egotistical as he seemed. “Think, Achilles. Think. Why did we travel all the way to Yellowstone?”
“To exterminate the mutations responsible for the raids on the Flatheads.”
“Exactly. And we can’t exterminate them if we can’t find them. In which case we do the next best thing. We let them find us. If they’re out there somewhere, they’ll hear us and try to take us down.”
“In other words, you’re deliberately setting us up as bait?”
“Bingo.”
“My apologies. I should have realized. Normally my deductive reasoning is superb.”
“Not to mention your modesty,” Blade said. He came to a halt 20 yards from the river and scrutinized the opposite shore. The thicket where the grizzly had been concealed presented a foreboding aspect, visible as a dark wall of inky vegetation. “We’ll cross here and work our way southward along the other bank.”
“Do you want me to jump up and down every few feet to attract attention?”
Blade smiled. “That won’t be necessary,” he replied, and walked to the edge of the water. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Achilles assured him. He picked up the trailing edge of his red cloak, draping the lower half over his left arm.
“Ready when you are.”
Unslinging the Commando, Blade held the weapon at chest height and proceeded into the frigid water. He advanced gingerly, feeling his way with his feet, hoping to avoid slipping on a rock. Ten feet from the bank he abruptly halted.
A rustling noise arose in the thicket, a loud crackling of branches and swishing of leaves.
Blade pointed the Commando at the obscure mass of dense brush.
“What if it’s a grizzly?” Achilles whispered.
“Don’t miss.”
The rustling suddenly ceased.
“Stay frosty,” Blade advised, and took two strides. The next sounds he heard brought a tingle to his spine, and he spun and stared to the west.
There had been two shots.
Two shots blending almost as one.
“Hickok!” Blade exclaimed, and surged toward the west bank, stepping past Achilles, and even as he moved there were two more shots. “Let’s go!”
Achilles started to follow when he detected movement on the east shore in the vicinity of the thicket. He hesitated, and a half-dozen shadowy figures materialized near the river.
The six creatures plunged into the water.
A hasty glance confirmed that Blade was almost to the shore. The giant seemed to have forgotten all else in his desire to reach the hill. Achilles looked at the things splashing toward him. He cooly leveled the Bullpup, aimed at the creature in the lead, and fired.
The blast knocked the figure into the river.
Grinning, Achilles backpedaled. Whatever they were, the creatures could be killed. His elation lasted all of five seconds, however.
The thing he had shot rose out of the water and resumed its pursuit.
Achilles moved faster. He shot another of the creatures and saw it go down, only to stand erect moments later. What in the world were they? He wondered, and bumped into the bank. A heavy hand fell on his right shoulder. Startled, he looked up.
“This is no time to go swimming with the natives,” Blade said, and helped the younger man clamber onto the bank.
“They’re still coming!” Achilles declared, his eyes on the six charging things.
“Let them,” Blade said, and gave the novice a shove westward. “Run as you’ve never run before,” he ordered, and took off, gratified when Achilles came alongside him on the right.
Two more shots sounded from the hill.
“Hickok and Geronimo must be holding their own,” Achilles remarked breathlessly.
Blade didn’t bother to respond. He conserved his energy, staring at the circle of light crowning the prominence, dreading that he had committed a monumental blunder by dividing his forces.
A large, vague shape suddenly came into view on the left, angling to intercept them.
“Blade!” Achilles cried in warning.
“I see it,” the giant replied, and aimed the Commando on the run. He squeezed the trigger, shooting by instinct, and his aim turned out to be unerring.
The thing clutched at its torso and toppled.
Blade faced front, his legs pounding, his heart doing the same. What if he was too late? What if the mutations had killed his friends and the others? What if his blunder wound up costing lives, the lives of the two best friends he had?
“On the right!” Achilles shouted.
Blade glanced to the north and spotted two more of their assailants loping toward them. “Waste them!” he barked, and fired the Commando at the same instant Achilles cut loose with the Bullpup.
One of the creatures fell, but the second bounded closer.
Aiming carefully, Blade fired at the thing’s head.
The other figure dropped.
Blade raced onward, scanning the field for more .creatures. He gazed over his right shoulder and saw the mutation he’d just shot stand and sprint after them. Talk about tough! He looked at the hill and poured on the speed.