LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

hurry to get away from the storm and in the confusion of carrying those incapacitated by the storm’s sudden violence, none could say if they had arrived at this point from a straight line or if they had veered into this area from one of the tunnels leading off what appeared to be the central corridor. Whatever, it seemed that all the tunnels in the cave led into darkness with no outside light source to guide them. Yet they couldn’t be that deep or have come that far.

      Another problem was the height of the cave. Nowhere had they been in a position where they could stand straight. At some point, Jak had been able to avoid stooping but even he was now inclined forward. And as he was just under five feet in height, it gave them some idea of how low the caves were. Bent forward, calf and thigh muscles aching under the strain, all were aware that they were in the worst position to defend themselves from attack. Whatever lived in these caves and had left these remains, they could be pretty sure it was on all fours.

      “Why won’t it show itself?” Doc whispered.

      “Mebbe there’s only one of it and it knows it’s outnumbered here. Mebbe it doesn’t want to fight in the place it keeps its kill. Mebbe a lot of things. The only thing I know for sure is this is too confined a space to fight and we should get the hell out without disturbing it, if possible.”

      “Too late for that,” Jak said with a shake of his white mane, ghostly in the beam of the flash. “Can hear something move…” He paused, furrowing his brow as he tried to listen. The others didn’t dare breathe. Jak chewed on his scarred lip. “Too many cave, too many tunnels. Sound getting messed up.” He looked Ryan in the eye. “More than one, though.”

      “We move now,” Ryan snapped. “Keep going straight back, keep close, go single file.”

      “Ryan, we got a problem,” J.B. said softly. The Armorer had been quiet since they had stopped and only spoke now because he had to. “I’m still fucked by that crack on the skull. I don’t trust myself to cover your asses.”

      Ryan’s jaw set. Without J.B. at the back, there was a chance that an attack from behind could take them out. His best option was to put Jak there, but he had wanted the albino at the front, using his keen senses to detect any danger that may be ahead.

      “Jak, take the back for me. J.B., go in the middle in case you need help. I’ll take the front. Someone give me one of the strong flashlights.” Krysty didn’t hesitate to hand over hers.

      Proceeding with caution, Ryan began to lead them back—hopefully—the way they had come. He scanned the floor of the cave for any sign of footprints, but the earth was too thin, too easily disturbed to keep much shape. Their progress was slowed, too, by the necessity of checking every branching tunnel leading off their path. The darkness could hide any number of secrets and he used the flash to either illuminate the enemy or scare it away.

      The sounds that Jak had been able to pick up faintly were now growing. The honeycomb effect of the caves meant that it was impossible to detect direction in the overlapping acoustics that threw echoes around them. The only thing for sure was that the creatures were getting closer—for that amount of sound could only be put down to more than one creature.

      “Triple red, people,” Ryan breathed, drawing his panga from its sheath on his thigh. He had that familiar churning of the gut, that instinct that told him the enemy was about to attack. The only problem was from where…?

      Behind him, Doc had his sword blade ready, and J.B.—despite his unsteadiness—had unsheathed his Tekna knife. The only blasters were those held by Krysty and Mildred, who didn’t carry blades.

      At the rear, Jak was ready with his knives, casting glances behind him. He had taken Mildred’s flashlight to illuminate the rear, leaving her with Ryan’s dimmed flash to aid them in the middle of the group. He was sure that the flash was catching something as they turned corners—the sudden gleam of a watching eye, but always just out of reach.

      He killed the light and counted five, listening to the lowing cries of whatever tracked them. He could smell them now and smell their readiness for attack.

      Suddenly, he hit the switch on the flash, and the tunnel behind them was illuminated. This time there was no mistaking what was at their rear.

      “Ryan!” Jak yelled.

      The one-eyed warrior whirled in the enclosed space and as he did so his flashlight caught more of the creatures coming at them from one of the side tunnels. The pack had been smart enough to split into two to attack. He hoped that they wouldn’t be any smarter than that in battle.

      The only good thing about the attack happening at this moment was that they were between cave branches. There had been a tunnel ahead of Ryan, and a couple of tunnels some thirty yards to their rear, but at each side was solid rock. They had to deal with attackers coming from only two directions, but the downside was that they were now trapped in a pincer movement.

      “What are they?” Mildred breathed. It was a rhetorical question and she knew that no one would have the time to answer. It was nothing more than an exclamation of surprise.

      For the creatures that attacked them from two directions were nothing more than dogs, animals whose ancestors had been domestic pets and had perhaps strayed from villes nearby and become lost in the wastelands above, seeking shelter beneath. Part of her brain—that part not switched automatically into combat mode—could see that the pack was a mongrel mix. All looked rabid, sores and welts littering their bodies. They had suffered from pack inbreeding and being rad-blasted, some of them had only one eye, some bulbous growths on their heads, others moving fast but with an awkward, almost lame gait.

      One thing they all had in common was their teeth: jaws that were strong with sharp teeth that glinted yellow. Their low cries increased in pitch and volume to excited howls of anticipation for the battle and fresh meat.

      Given that they were moving in packs from two directions, a load from J.B.’s M-4000 and the shot chamber of the LeMat would have decimated their ranks and made the fight easier. But the dogs moved too fast, closed too quickly. How many of them there were it was difficult to tell, but they closed with a speed that meant there was no time to draw and fire.

      The dogs were on them in a blur of fur and muscle, flashing teeth and tearing cloth. The carious breath of the creatures was enough to make any of the companions want to vomit, but they had to choke it down: heaving would have been effort wasted, would have given the creatures that fraction of a second needed to get the first snap of the jaws, tearing at their flesh and scenting blood, spreading disease into any wounds.

      The flashlights hit the floor, the beams low and casting shadows up the rock wall, making it dark above a height of three feet and difficult for the companions to see what was happening. They would have to fight according to touch, smell and hearing alone. It wasn’t the first time they’d been in a situation like this.

      Jak’s knives moved in a whirl as he ducked the snapping creatures, the razor-sharp metal tearing through fur and flesh into muscle, jarring against bone. Whimpers and squeals of pain mixed in with the frenzied howling as some of the dogs went down, injured or dying. The scent of blood filled the air, driving the surviving dogs on. But some turned on the injured and vulnerable, their feeding frenzy enough to make them turn on their own.

      Ryan’s panga sliced through the air, one pass of the blade hitting a dog in an artery, the hot blood spraying across his face, making his eye sting as it hit, filling his mouth and nose so that he had to spit it out, spluttering as it blocked his breath. But he didn’t stop cleaving the air.

      Some dogs were getting through between the two point men. Doc thrust at them with the blade, the tightness of their confined space stopping him from using the blade as he would have wished; a sweep of the blade was as likely to strike Mildred or Krysty as it was a dog. At Doc’s back, J.B. was shaking his fogged head to clear it, using the Tekna knife to slice at the attacking creatures with short jabs and thrusts, keeping them at bay.

      Which left Mildred and Krysty to pick their targets with care. The men had tried to protect the two women, as they had no blades. Blasterfire was something that all of the companions wished to

Скачать книгу