“Gladly.”
Priscilla made a hissing noise. “You two are so exasperating! Here we are in the clutches of a pack of freaks, and all you two can do is bicker.”
“If you have a plan, I’d love to hear it,” Hickok said.
“Yeah,” Geronimo chimed in. “We’re all ears.”
“I don’t have one at the moment.”
“I figured as much,” Hickok stated. “When you do then you can criticize us.”
“You’re impossible!” Priscilla declared.
“That’s what my missus keeps sayin’,” Hickok observed. He surveyed the clearing, noting sentries had been posted at 20-foot intervals around the perimeter. Although he wanted to escape just as badly as Priscilla, what else could he do? For the time being he was stuck where they were.
“I’ll just have to wait for Achilles to come and save us,” Priscilla said.
“You’re partial to that whippersnapper, aren’t you?” Hickok said.
“None of your damn business.”
“Yep. You are.”
“Are you a mind reader?” Priscilla asked sarcastically.
“Nope. But I do know that when a woman acts contrary, she usually is hidin’ something.”
“My. I never would have guessed you’re a student a human nature.”
“And I don’t know why you’re pickin’ on me when there are heaps of real lowlifes you can vent your spleen on.”
Priscilla opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind and averted her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m terrified of what will happen to us. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
“That’s okay. I’m married.”
“So?”
“So I’m used to havin’ a female dump on me all the time.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I am?” Hickok responded, and beamed. “Thanks.” He glanced at Geronimo. “I bet nobody ever pays you compliments like that.”
“You’ve got me there.”
Eagle Feather suddenly sat up, scowling. “This is insane! Here we are, about to die, and you act as if you don’t have a care in the world!”
“Calm down,” Hickok advised. “Gettin’ all bent all of shape won’t help us a bit. Why do you think we’re makin’ light of the situation? Because we’re crazy? We do it to keep our sanity intact, to get a handle on things until we can make our break. If you brood on it, you’ll go to pieces.”
“Warriors must take courses in combat psychology taught by an experienced Elder,” Geronimo disclosed. “We’re trained to control our reactions to brutality and danger by trying to take everything in stride.
We’re affected by all of this, just like you, only we learned a long time ago to take what comes as calmly as possible. Humor is just one of the tools we use. Otherwise, we couldn’t stand the strain.”
“I could never be a Warrior,” Eagle Feather said.
“You never know until you try,” Hickok said, He saw a trio of familiar figures coming toward them. “Uh-oh. Here comes Gruesome again.”
Longat and the two creatures with him approached to within a yard of the prisoners, then halted.
“Forget something?” Hickok quipped.
“No,” Longat replied, and nodded at the pair beside him. They immediately walked to Milly Odum and roughly hauled her to her feet.
“What are you planning to do with her?” Priscilla asked. “Leave her alone!”
“Yeah!” Hickok stated. “What’s she to you?”
A scornful smile creased Longat’s countenance. “Breakfast.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blade felt strong hands clamp on his shoulders as a heavy body struck him squarely in the chest, and the next instant he was flying from the saddle with the creature on top of him. He twisted to the right as he fell, hoping to dislodge his hairy attacker. They both crashed onto the rocky ground with a bone-jarring impact.
The thing snarled and lunged at the Warrior’s throat.
A repulsive image of hair and teeth and hate-filled eyes loomed inches from Blade’s face. Sharp nails bit into his neck, and before they could rip his throat apart he grabbed the creature’s wrists and strained, pulling its hands loose.
The booming of Achilles’ Bullpup reverberated in the stony defile.
Blade heaved, shoving the mutation from him, and swept to his feet. A hasty glance showed three of the creatures converging on Achilles, but there was nothing he could do to assist the novice. The thing that had pounced on him was erect, and there were two others charging him, their clawed fingers extended to tear into him.
Damn.
He’d waltzed right into their trap.
Although the Henry was slung over his left arm and the Commando over his right, and even though he had the Pythons jammed under his belt. Blade’s hands flashed to the weapons he preferred the most, the knives he had wielded ever since he was old enough to hold them. The Bowies speared up and out just as the first creature leaped at him.
The mutation threw back its head and vented a strident screech as the blades sank to their hilts in its chest.
Blade wrenched the Bowies downward, slicing the creature open all the way to the abdomen. Then he wrenched the knives sideways, tugged them out, and spun.
Too late.
One of the Bear People closed in from either side. Each took hold of a brawny arm and held fast, apparently intending to capture the Warrior alive.
Blade whipped his body forward, causing the creatures to lose their balance, and quickly, savagely reversed direction. His tactic succeeded.
The two mutations lost their footing and stumbled, their grips slackening.
With a herculean effort, every muscle of his arms and shoulders bulging, Blade tore his arms from their grasp, causing the Henry to fall to the ground in the process.
His respite was short-lived.
The thing on the right swiped its claws at the giant’s eyes.
Ducking, Blade narrowly missed having his pupils punctured. He pivoted and lanced the Bowies into the creature’s exposed jugular, and he blinked when blood sprayed onto his forehead and cheeks. To nail the mutation on the right he’d been forced to turn his back on the one on the left, and now a grimy arm encircled his neck from the rear and squeezed.
Blade released the Bowies and tottered backwards as intense pressure, threatened to crush his trachea. He frantically drove his right elbow around in a tight arc and connected with the creature’s ribs, but the pressure only increased. He reached up, seized the arm squeezing him, and executed a flawless jujitsu throw, dropping onto his right knee and flipping the mutation onto the ground. The Commando clattered at his feet.
He had no time to grab it.
The creature he’d stabbed in the throat had pulled the knives free. A crimson spray gushing from his neck, the thing hissed, raised the Bowies overhead for a downward thrust, and sprang.
In a lightning insight. Blade perceived that he’d discovered the key to defeating his foes. They were fierce brutes who relied on their strength and speed; they knew nothing of the martial arts. To win, he had to take the offensive and employ every martial skill he knew. No sooner did the thought flicker through his mind than he placed his palms on the ground and performed a full circle sweep, his left leg rigid. He caught the creature behind the knees and the thing slammed onto its back.
But the other two were already up.
Blade straightened, staring in astonishment at the mutation he’d gutted. Intestines and gore were oozing from the cuts, and still the thing was coming at him.
What did it take to kill them?
The Warrior went for the weakest creature first, for the one with the intestines hanging out. He leaped into the air and delivered a spinning back kick. His foot struck the mutation in the head and bowled the creature over.