Lake water? What did lake water have to do with the transformation?
Hickok wondered. He stared at Milly Odum, at her terrified face, his heart going out to her, wishing he could save her from her impending fate. But what could he do with his wrists tied? He glanced down at his hands, furious at his vincibility.
“Long live the Breed!” Longat cried.
From the throats of every creature came the same cry, repeated in unison several times. “Long live the Breed! Long live the Breed! Long live the Breed!”
Hickok looked at the mutation standing in front of him and smiled sweetly. “I hope you all keel over by tomorrow.”
“And now to enjoy our feast!” Longat declared, turning to Odum.
“Prepare her!”
The duo who always attended the leader stepped in close and snatched at the woman’s clothes, easily tearing the fabric with their nails, laughing evilly as they stripped her naked.
Odum screeched and vainly tried to cover herself with her hands, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.
Many of the Breed cackled at her discomfiture.
Geronimo, scowling, looked at the gunfighter. “We can’t just stand here and let them kill her.”
“I know, pard.”
“Then when?”
“Now,” Hickok said, and leaped at the nearest mutation, his hands clenched together, sweeping his arms up and then lashing out at the creature’s head.
Geronimo jumped at another bear-man.
For a few moments the Warriors had the advantage of surprise and the mutations briefly gave way.
Hickok smashed his knuckles into the mouth of the closest creature, knocking it backwards, and then swung at the mutation on his right, clipping the thing on the side of the head and knocking it down.
Geronimo succeeded in battering two of the bear-men to the ground and managed to take four swift strides in the direction of Milly Odum.
The remaining guards pounced en masse, swarming over the Warriors and overwhelming them by sheer force of numbers.
Heavy fists thudded into Hickok’s face and stomach, and he doubled over. He beat at the Breed ineffectually. There were simply too many.
Hands roughly seized his arms and one of the bear-men applied a headlock. He glimpsed Geronimo being similarly subdued and ceased to resist. The things were holding him in viselike grips and he couldn’t move his arms or legs.
“Be still, human!” a burly brute hissed, and slapped the gunman across the mouth.
The salty taste of blood touched Hickok’s tongue, and he glared at the creature that had struck him. “You’ll get yours, sucker!”
“Fat chance.”
Hickok twisted his bead to see the middle of the clearing, Longat and the majority of the Breed had been intently watching the one-sided struggle. Now Longat chuckled and nodded at the duo.
“Hold her arms!”
Milly screamed and attempted to pull free as the hairy beast men took hold of her, each one clasping a wrist and extending her arm to its limit.
“Leave her alone!” Priscilla shouted, tears in her own eyes, her slim hands molded into fists.
Longat ignored the distraction. He hefted the tomahawk and stepped in front of the helpless prisoner. “Have you any last words, woman?”
Milly’s eyes were as wide as they could be. Her mouth moved but no words came out.
“Articulate bitch, aren’t you?” Longat quipped.
Hickok vented a growling noise every bit as bestial as the bear-men could make. A burning rage flared in every cell of his being. Never had he felt so frustrated! He glanced at Eagle Feather, who was standing a few feet away, seemingly in a daze, then back at the tableau in the center of the clearing.
Longat was smiling broadly. “Let us proceed,” he said, and nodded again.
The two creatures grasping Odum’s arms suddenly surged in opposite directions, every muscle on their bodies rippling, as they pulled with all their might.
Milly lifted her face to the sky and gave voice to a plaintive wail.
Hickok gritted his teeth in impotent fury. He saw the duo strain, exerting their enormous strength, and he saw Milly Odum shriek in abject fear, and then her arms parted from her shoulders with a sickening ripping sound, tendrils of flesh hanging from the ragged sockets, blood spurting from each cavity.
Milly’s eyelids fluttered and she started to collapse.
Gleaming in the sunlight, the tomahawk whipped in an arc as Longat buried the edge in her forehead, cleaving her skull nearly in half, exposing her brain. He laughed as he wrenched the weapon loose.
Dead on her feet, Milly Odum’s body sank slowly to the ground.
The duo waved the severed arms they had held in the air, beaming happily.
Hickok felt flushed. He wanted to pound every last one of the Breed into a pulp. A bitter bile rose in his mouth and he swallowed it. A frenzied cry to his left drew his attention to Priscilla.
The Mormon woman had taken all she could stand. Her self-control snapped and she threw herself recklessly at a nearby bear-man, striking at its face, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Startled, the mutation defended itself instinctively, lashing out with a mallet like hand. His blow caught Priscilla on the tip of her chin and snapped her head back with an audible crack.
“No!” Hickok yelled, striving to break free, Priscilla Wendling straightened, her forehead knit in bewilderment.
She endeavored to speak, but her head sagged to the right at an unnatural angle and she abruptly pitched forward.
“No! No!” Hickok shouted, tugging and thrashing.
Priscilla lay on the grass, her head tilted crazily upward, her lifeless eyes fixed on eternity.
Hickok went slack, staring at her in shock.
“Let me through!”
The creatures parted at the command and Longat walked up to the Mormon woman and halted. The bloody tomahawk was in his right hand.
He frowned and looked around. “Who did this?”
“I did,” replied the mutation responsible. “I’m sorry,” he added sheepishly.
“You idiot, Komsey!” Longat barked. “You know that wasting meat is strictly forbidden.”
“She took me by surprise,” Komsey responded. “I didn’t mean to hit her so hard.”
Longat sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “Well, it’s no use crying over spilt blood. And we’re not going to let her go to waste. Get the fire going. We’ll eat both of them.” He smiled. “There’s nothing like a hearty meal and a full stomach after a hard night’s work.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hickok hardly noticed the passage of time. He walked along morosely, his shoulders slumped, thinking of Priscilla Wendling and Milly Odum. He reviewed the tragedy over and over, replaying the events in his mind’s eye to see if there wasn’t something he could have done to prevent their deaths. But no matter how he considered the episode, he perceived there was no way he could have saved either woman. Still, guilt gnawed at his soul.
The gunfighter marched westward along winding valleys, over hills and mountains, constantly prodded by his captors to move faster. Geronimo tramped behind him, while Eagle Feather came last.
The realization that his wife and sons had been killed shattered the Flathead. Eagle Feather walked in a state of perpetual shock, his head bowed, rarely blinking, oblivious to the curses and shoves of the Breed.
Fatigue began to take its toll on Hickok. His leg muscles were aching terribly by nightfall. He’d anticipated the creatures would stop for the night, but they kept going, their animalistic physiques endowed with exceptional stamina.