He was going to fall!
The copter was 60 feet up and still rising.
Hickok’s left arm slipped free, and for a few precarious seconds he dangled from his right arm, envisioning what it would be like to be splattered all over the landscape below.
Sturdy hands clasped the gunfighter’s right wrist, and he was unceremoniously lifted into the cargo bay, scraping his shins as he was hauled onto his back.
Two soldiers straddled him. One of them, the one he’d seen in the doorway earlier, was holding an AK-47 pointed at the gunman’s chest.
Hickok almost went for his Pythons. But they were under the uniform shirt and their barrels were wedged under his belt. He knew the trooper would blast him before he could whip the Colts clear.
The one with the AK-47 said some words to the Warrior in what Hickok assumed was Russian.
Hickok grinned.
The trooper repeated his sentence.
Hickok grinned wider.
The soldier leaned over and pressed the barrel of the AK-47 against the gunman’s nose. “I will use English,” the trooper stated. “I think I know who you are, and if you so much as twitch one of your little muscles, I will blow your nose off!”
Chapter Nineteen
Blade was beginning to think Grotto would never appear.
Hours had passed. Six more Leather Knights had joined the others already in the room. They took turns pounding the board against the side of the pit. Twice Blade had tried to initiate a conversation, but each time Terza had ordered him to shut his mouth. She became testier as the hours lengthened, pacing the lip of the pit, her hands entwined in the small of her back.
“Maybe Grotto ain’t gonna show,” Cardew said, voicing the thought most of the assembled Knights entertained.
“He’ll show!” Terza barked.
“He’s taken a long time before,” Erika interjected.
“Probably because he was far off in the sewers. But the damn thing has never taken this long.”
“He’ll show!” Terza repeated.
“What’s the big deal?” Erika demanded. “So what if we don’t feed this bastard to Grotto today? There’s always tomorrow.”
Terza ceased her nervous pacing and glared at Krika. “We’re not leaving this room until Grotto shows.”
“But why?” Erika insisted. “We’re getting hungry. Why don’t we call it quits for today?”
Terza’s hands drifted to her Comanches. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
Erika retreated a step. “Now you hold on—”
“Are you telling me what to do?” Terza asked in a menacing tone.
Erika paled. “No. No! Of course I ain’t! I didn’t mean nothin’ by it! Honest!”
Terza scanned the room. “Anybody else got anything they’d like to say?”
None of the Knights responded.
“Keep poundin’!” Terza shouted at the stud with the board, who had stopped while Erika and Terza were arguing.
“One big, happy family,” Blade said.
Terza turned and faced him. “Another word out of you, asshole, and I won’t wait for Grotto! I’ll do the job myself!”
“Big talk when you’re armed and I’m not,” Blade boldly replied.
Terza took a step toward the Warrior, the right Comanche easing upward.
A sibilant hissing filled the room, the same hissing sound they had heard earlier in the day.
“I hope the damn thing shows up this time,” Erika muttered.
The damn thing did.
Blade had seen many mutants over the years. Deformed and demented, they came in all shapes and sizes. Often they beggared description. There were the mutates themselves—former reptiles, amphibians, and mammals, transformed into ravenous, pus-covered horrors. There were the insects and their close kin, subject to rare strains of deviate giantism, thought to be a genetic imbalance caused by one of the chemical-warfare weapons employed during the Big Blast, or a combination of the chemicals and the massive radiation. There were numerous other… things… as well.
This was one of them.
A red snout appeared, visible in the subterranean entrance to the pit.
“Grotto!” Erika said, sounding relieved.
Blade tensed, enthralled and repulsed simultaneously.
The red snout was at least four feet wide and two feet high. Slowly, the creature creeped into the pit. Its eyes and head seemed to fill the entrance, its eyes a luminous brown, wide and unblinking, while its head was a grotesque, bloated caricature of a beast vaguely reptilian or amphibious by nature. More of the mutant emerged. Its skin was a bright red, crisscrossed with black stripes. The stocky legs were short in relation to the rest of the body, and its clawed feet were webbed. The body was bulky, bulging with raw power. Its thick tail was equally as long as the head and body combined. Tiny holes just behind the eyes served as ears, and its mouth was a thin slit from ear to ear. The monstrosity entered the pit and stopped, hissing, while a putrid stench hovered in the air.
Blade estimated the creature was close to ten feet in height and about seven feet wide. The mouth was large enough to swallow him in two bites.
Terza, Erika, Cardew, and some of the other Leather Knights were poised at the edge of the pit, admiring their “pet.” Every Knight in the room was gaping at it.
Blade was completely, momentarily, forgotten.
Blade saw his opening, and he took it. Warrior training encompassed years of intense instruction in the many facets of combat and war. One aspect was deliberately stressed by the Elders responsible for teaching the Warriors the tricks of their trade. As one Elder put it: “In a fight, in any life-or-death situation, victory is frequently predicted on recognizing the enemy’s weaknesses, on using your foes mistakes against them. All they have to do is lower their guard for a split-second, and their defeat is assured if you take advantage of their mistake. Always remember: if someone is trying to kill you or any other Family member, your primary responsibility is to your Family and yourself. Do whatever is necessary to win. You won’t get a second chance.”
So coordinated was Blade, so instantaneous his reflexes, that he was in motion even as he perceived his advantage. He took four steps and reached Terza and Erika. The two Knights, concentrating on the hideous Grotto, were unaware of his presence until a steely hand pounded each of them on the back and they were propelled over the edge of the pit, Erika screaming in terror.
Blade whirled, his granite fist crashing into Cardew’s right cheek.
The stud tottered backward and collapsed.
Petrified shrieks were coming from the pit as Blade spun and attacked a nearby sister.
The other Leather Knights began to react. Initially stunned by the sight of Terza and Erika falling into the pit, they recovered and attacked the giant Warrior. One of the studs went to use his rifle, but rejected the idea when he saw how close his target was to several of his friends.
Blade slugged the sister in the abdomen, and kneed her in the face when she doubled over.
Spouting blood from her pulverized nose, the sister catapulted backward.
Blade was tackled by a stud. He felt arms encircle his legs, and he was borne to the ground by the impact. He desperately threw his body to the left to avoid being knocked into the pit, and he succeeded in digging his elbows and forearms into the very edge before arresting his momentum.
Hovering on the brink of the hole, he glanced down.
A pair of slim legs protruded from the corners of Grotto’s gaping maw, and rivulets of blood poured over its lower jaw.
Terza?
Blade couldn’t waste time speculating on the identity of the deceased.
The stud holding his legs was striving to push him over the edge. Blade glanced over his right shoulder, noting his opponent’s head was just below his buttocks, and he twisted, rolling to the left, throwing his entire weight into the movement.