“I gathered as much,” Blade mentioned. “But why are you still packing those Lasers? I thought you’d prefer your Colts over anything.”
“I do, pard,” Hickok confirmed. “But I’m not no idiot. I tried usin’ my Pythons on one of those silver coyotes before, and even head-shootin’ the mangy cuss didn’t seem to faze him much. But these popguns,” he said, wagging the Gaskells, “do the trick real well. Near as I can figure, those androids are almost invulnerable. You can stop one if you bust its legs or crack its skull wide open, but a bullet doesn’t do much damage unless you hit the right spot. These Lasers, on the other hand, seem to fry their brains, or whatever they’ve got in their noggins. I’ll stick with these popguns until we split this place.”
“I may have found something that will help us,” Blade divulged, moving aside so the gunman could see the contents of the metal box.
Hickok stepped up to the box, whistling in appreciation. “Will you look at all those! And it isn’t even my birthday!”
Blade knelt and placed the Gaskells by his side. He removed one of the grenades. “Now the odds are more even.”
“Yep. All we have to do is find Lynx, Gremlin, and Ferret, then fight our way out of the city past hordes of androids and troopers, and travel hundred and hundreds of miles over hostile territory until we reach the Home,” Hickok quipped. “We could do it in our sleep.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Blade said, cramming grenades into his pants pockets.
“About what?” Hickok asked, resting his Gaskells on the floor and following Blade’s example.
“About getting to our Home,” Blade said.
“What about it?”
“It won’t be as difficult to reach as you think,” Blade stated.
“How do you figure?” Hickok inquired.
“The Civilized Zone is our ally, right?” Blade mentioned.
“Yep. So?”
“And which former States are now included in the Civilized Zone’s territory?” Blade prompted.
Hickok pondered for a moment. “Let me see. Wyoming. Kansas and Nebraska. Colorado, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and part of Arizona,” he added.
“You missed one.” Blade said.
“Oh. Yeah.” And Hickok suddenly grinned. “Northern Texas!”
“That’s right,” Blade affirmed. “And if Androxia was once called Houston, then we know we’re in southern Texas. So reaching freedom isn’t a matter of traveling over a thousand miles through enemy country. All we have to do is head north and find the Civilized Zone’s lines, and I’m positive they’ll help us reach the Home. At the most, we should only have several hundred miles to travel.”
“We can do it,” Hickok asserted. “But first we’ve got to find those three feebleminded mutants.”
Blade, his pockets laden with hand grenades, rose. “I hope we can.” He scooped up the Lasers.
Hickok picked up his Gaskells and stood. “I’m not leavin’ without those misfits, pard.”
“We may not have any option,” Blade said somberly. “Androxia is immense, and we don’t have the foggiest idea where to begin looking for them.”
Hickok shook his head. “I’m not leavin’ without ’em.”
Their budding argument was terminated by the sound of a voice in the corridor.
“Go from room to room! Check each one!”
The two Warriors sidled to the doorway. Blade peeked out, then drew his head back.
“What have we got?” Hickok asked.
“Superiors and troopers,” Blade stated. “To the left, coming this way, going door to door.”
“Then we skedaddle to the right,” Hickok suggested.
Blade nodded. “But first we need a distraction.” He eased the Gaskells under his belt, then extracted a grenade from his right front pocket. “This should do the trick.”
They waited, listening, gauging the approach of their pursuers. They could hear boots pounding, doors slamming closed, and muted conversations.
Hickok was grinning in anticipation.
Blade fingered the grenade, his thumb touching the pin.
“You four!” bellowed someone in the corridor. “Check the Weapons Room!”
Blade darted into the corridor, pulling the pin.
Ten yards distant were four troopers, two mutants and two humans, and looming to their rear was a Superior. Visible behind the Superior were additional troopers and several more androids.
Blade tossed the grenade overhand, lobbing it over the heads of the startled quartet of troopers, tossing the grenade at the Superior.
The Superior and the four troopers all saw the Warrior emerge from the Weapons Room, and the Superior was opening his mouth to shout a command when the hand grenade detonated a centimeter from his face.
Blade was already diving for the floor.
The entire hallway shook with the thunderous explosion. The overhead lights flickered, several blinking out.
Blade felt wet drops splatter his arms, and then debris and dust and body parts were raining down, pelting him. A severed thumb struck him on the left cheek and dropped to the floor. He heaved erect, drawing his Gaskell Lasers.
Hickok burst from the Weapons Room, Gaskells in hand, moving between Blade and their foes. “Go!” he cried. “I’ll cover you!”
Blade turned and ran toward the far end of the corridor.
Hickok backpedaled, probing the dust cloud for movement.
A bloody trooper, doubled over, coughing, stumbled into sight.
Hickok shot him through the head.
A Superior appeared. The android spotted the Warrior and raised the Laser in its right hand.
Hickok took the android out with two shots through the cranium. He glanced over his right shoulder.
Blade was still sprinting for the door at the end of the hall.
Hickok continued to retreat.
A grainy gray cloud filled the other half of the corridor. Orders were being shouted, and one of the maimed troopers was screaming in agony.
Hickok halted, detecting shadowy motion in the cloud.
Two troopers rushed into view, their steel batons upraised.
Hickok killed them both, then wheeled and raced after Blade, who was waiting for him next to the door. The gunman weaved as he jogged, repeatedly looking over his shoulder, wary of being blasted in the back.
“Come on!” Blade goaded him.
Hickok covered the final 15 yards in a mad dash.
“I don’t think I’m the only one who should go on a diet,” Blade cracked as the gunman reached his side.
“Very funny,” Hickok muttered, huffing.
Blade shoved the door open, and together they exited the corridor.
“Another stairwell!” Hickok exclaimed.
Blade bounded up the steps, keeping near the inner railing.
“Wait for me!” Hickok said, struggling to match his lanky stride to Blade’s giant gait.
Blade slowed so the gunman could catch up.
“Where are we headin’?” Hickok asked. “The lobby again?”
“No,” Blade said. “There has to be another way out of here, a side door nobody uses.”
A beam of light abruptly struck the railing next to Blade’s right hand, and an acute burning sensation lanced his whole arm as he was peppered with scorching metal. He twisted, looking upward.
A Superior and two troopers were on the landing above, the landing at lobby level, evidently posted as guards in the east stairwell. The android was sighting for another shot with his Gaskell Laser.
Blade threw himself to the left as another shaft of deadly light hissed over his head.
Hickok crouched, firing his Lasers three times, each shot on target. The first bored through the Superior’s forehead. The second caught one of the troopers in the mouth. And the third seared into the last trooper’s right eye and out his left car. All three dropped from sight.