The third mutation charged as the giant landed.
Blade barely had time to react. The thing rammed him in the stomach and looped its arms around his waist, upending him, and he rolled with the momentum, falling onto his buttocks and arching his back while driving his left knee into the creature’s midriff. He succeeded in tossing his bestial adversary over his head, then rolled to the left and rose, drawing the Pythons.
So much for the martial arts.
The things could fight all day, if need be, even when severely injured.
He needed to end the battle, and end it now.
At point-blank range Blade shot the one creature he hadn’t knifed in the head, then whirled and planted two slugs in the brain of the brute with the ravaged throat.
Leaving Gutsy.
Blade pointed both barrels at the mutation as it stood unsteadily.
“Don’t make me shoot,” he warned.
The thing glanced at the Warrior and grinned, a chilling gesture of defiance. “Screw you, human!”
For a moment Blade was stupefied. He’d never anticipated that the thing could Talk! Stunned, he was sluggish to respond when the creature roared and shuffled toward him. It almost reached him before he squeezed the trigger on the right Colt, intentionally aiming low.
Growling and lashing out with its tapered nails, the mutation collapsed when the slug tore through its left knee. It fell onto its left side, its inner organs still seeping from the gaping slashes.
“Drop the guns, human!”
Blade whirled at the command, the Pythons level in his hand.
Two of the three Bear People who had attacked Achilles were dead, their craniums blown to bits by the Bullpup. The Mossberg lay on the ground between the pair.
The third creature had its left arm encircling Achilles’ neck. In its right hand, the barrel touching the novice’s temple, was the Taurus. “I won’t tell you again!” the mutation snapped. “Just because we seldom use human weapons, don’t think I can’t use this.” He gouged the Taurus into Achilles.
“Now drop those damn guns or your friend is wolf bait.”
Blade hesitated. If he possessed Hickok’s skill, he’d be tempted to shoot the bear-man before it knew what happened. But his expertise, the skill to which he had devoted almost all of his life, lay in the consummate use of edged weapons. Frowning, he started to lower the Colts.
Achilles appeared to be in a bind. With the mutation holding him from behind, there didn’t seem to be much he could do. His left hand gripped the arm that held him. He could feel the Taurus digging into his skin, and he saw Blade reluctantly comply. His right hand disappeared under the folds of his red cloak.
“That’s it,” the creature said, watching the Pythons droop toward the ground. “Smart move, for a human.”
“What are you?” Blade asked, hoping to distract the mutation. He’d seen Achilles’ right hand vanish and he guessed what would happen next.
“My name is Nuprix. I belong to the Breed.”
“Strange name,” Blade commented, stalling, continuing to slowly lower the Pythons to the ground instead of simply dropping them.
The creature watched the Colts, concentrating on the revolvers to the exclusion of all else. “Most of the Breed stopped using typical human names decades ago.”
“Why’s that?”
“Just put those damn guns down and shut up!” Nuprix barked.
Blade squatted and eased the revolvers to within six inches of the dirt.
He surmised that Achilles would make a move soon, that the novice hadn’t budged a muscle to give the mutation the false impression of having given up. His conjecture proved accurate.
The Amazon suddenly flashed out from under the red cloak as Achilles swept the big knife up and angled the gleaming blade straight back above his head. The tip sliced into the creature’s right cheek, then penetrated its right eye, puncturing the orb and sinking deep.
Nuprix bellowed and staggered to the left, releasing Achilles and tearing loose from the imbedded knife. The mutation clutched at its ruined eye, then howled and pointed the Taurus at the blond man.
Blade elevated the Pythons and snapped off two hasty shots. The bullets hit Nuprix in the chest and rocked the creature on its heels. Quickly Blade aimed carefully, sighting on the thing’s forehead, and squeezed both triggers.
Straightening, Blade glanced at Achilles. “Nice move. I couldn’t have done better myself.”
“Thanks,” Achilles responded, and glanced past the head Warrior.
“Look out!”
Blade whirled, astounded to discover the last mutation three feet away, persistently striving to reach him with its nails. Despite being shot in the left knee, and despite the fact its intestines were dangling from its ruptured abdomen, the thing had risen on its right leg and was shuffling forward. “Stop!” Blade commanded.
The creature snarled and lunged.
Taking a stride backwards to evade the mutation’s nails. Blade pointed the left Python at the mutation’s right knee and fired.
Again the bearish figure crumpled, gritting its teeth against the pain, and glared up at the giant. “Finish me!”
“Not yet,” Blade said.
The creature motioned at its split abdominal wall. “Damn you, human!
Look at me! Do the honorable deed and finish me off!”
“What would you know about honor?”
“Up yours.”
Blade cautiously skirted the mutation, tucked the Colts under his belt once more, and swiftly reclaimed his Bowies, wiping the blades clean on his fatigue pants. He returned to the creature. “So you want me to put you out of your misery?”
“That’s the general idea, bastard.”
“I’ll do it if you’ll answer a few questions.”
“Get stuffed,” the thing said, and grunted in agony.
“Suit yourself, stupid,” Blade said, baiting the Breed.
Achilles came over, the Amazon back in its sheath, the Bullpup in his hands.
A groan issued from the mutation’s lips and it doubled over, racked by torment.
“If you want to suffer, that’s fine with me,” Blade said. “But what harm could a few questions do?”
The thing glanced up, crimson spittle flecking its mouth. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s your name?”
“Yeddt.”
“Why did you attack us?”
“Longat gave us orders to watch our back trail, and to capture any scuzzy humans who showed up.”
“Longat is the leader of the Breed?”
“Yes,” Yeddt stated. He closed his eyes and inhaled raggedly.
Blade squatted, his Bowies held at the ready. “Tell me about the Breed. Why do you call yourself by that name? Where are you from?”
Yeddt said nothing.
“Come on,” Blade prompted. “If you want to linger in misery for hours, that’s your business. I’ll only finish you if you cooperate.” He paused, striving to come up with a persuasive argument. “I certainly couldn’t use any information you supply against your people, could I?”
The mutation opened its eyes and stared at the Warrior. “No, I guess not.”
“Then answer my questions and end your torture.”
Yeddt licked his lips and coughed. “I don’t have much choice. All right.
But I won’t tell you the exact location of our base of operations no matter what.”
“Fair enough.”
“It all started about a decade after the war,” Yeddt revealed, speaking softly, blood trickling from the right corner of his mouth. “During World War Three a bunch of survivalists hid out in the mountains, in a secluded valley where there was plenty of game and a large lake. The survivalists built cabins and lived off the land, and they stayed there after the war was over because there was nothing to return to.”
Blade listened attentively, breathing shallowly, almost nauseated by the sickening odor arising from the mutation’s intestines and abdominal cavity.