Capelli had accepted that reality, and was thinking about Susan, when he heard a deep-throated blam, blam, blam, as someone fired a burst from what sounded like a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR). That was followed by sustained fire and the sound of Mike Unver’s voice. “Take that, you scabrous bastards! May all of you rot in hell.”
At that point Capelli stood, weapon in hand, to discover that all of the remaining Hybrids were down. Bodies were sprawled every which way just short of his position. Unver had a big grin on his face as he exited the farmhouse.
“I thought I sent you home,” Capelli said levelly.
“You did,” the older man answered. “And I was halfway there when I realized that you are totally full of shit. So I came back.”
Capelli grinned. “Thanks, Mike.”
Unver nodded. “You’re welcome, Joe. You were hit. How bad is it?”
Capelli returned the pistol to its holster so he could undo his combat vest and pull his shirt aside. The wound hurt, and his side was sticky with blood, but the hole had already begun to close. “Damn,” Unver said in wonderment. “You heal fast.”
“Yeah,” Capelli said, as he refastened his clothing. “There’s nothing like government health care.”
Rowdy was miraculously unhurt. He paused to lift a leg over a dead Ravager, and both men laughed.
“Come on,” Capelli said. “If the hive-mind was angry before, it’s really pissed now. Let’s get out of here.”
The next half-hour or so passed without incident as the barely felt sun rose higher in the sky and the threesome continued to travel east. The momentary calm was a good thing, unless it meant that the stinks had given up. But they had nothing to fear; a Chimeran shuttle rumbled over their heads but then disappeared over the next rise. “They’re trying to cut us off,” Capelli said, as they paused to rest. “How much do you want to bet that stinks are closing in from the west as well?”
“I’d put money on it,” Unver agreed. “If I had any… What do we do now?”
“We’re still a good five or six miles out from Tunnel-Through,” Capelli replied. “So we need to get closer. Let’s move forward and see if we can slip between the stinks. If that doesn’t work, maybe we can circle around them.”
“It sounds like a plan,” Unver said. His voice was steady, but Capelli could see the fear in his eyes. Fear and determination.
Capelli nodded. “Let’s go.”
Seven men were crammed into Judge Ramsey’s office. A couple of them were seated, but most had been forced to stand. A large hand-drawn map had been fastened to the wall behind Ramsey’s cluttered desk. All of the local settlements were identified by name as well as the estimated population.
Ramsey, who was just about to call the meeting to order, was a happy man. And he had every reason to be, because while the attack on Tunnel-Through had resulted in casualties, his forces had been victorious. And, based on information obtained from the prisoners they had taken, Ramsey felt sure that the so-called alliance had been crushed. A theory borne out by the fact that the attackers were all running for home—if their various burrows could be called homes.
But more than that, the failed assault on Tunnel-Through had boosted morale. Suddenly, having been threatened from the outside, the citizens of Tunnel-Through were united in a way that they hadn’t been before. And that meant his position was secure.
Still, Ramsey knew that the history books were filled with examples of rulers who had underestimated their opponents, and had been severely punished for it. So he would not allow his enemies to plot against him—he intended to root them out. Starting with the town of Haven, which, according to Mel Tilson, was where the resistance effort had begun.
They were about to begin their meeting when the door opened and a trail-weary regulator was shown in. The man’s hair was plastered to his head and he was in need of a shave. He held a Stetson hat in both hands and rotated it jerkily as Hunter introduced him.
“This is Rick Toby, Judge… He’s been on picket duty west of here.” Then, turning to Toby, Hunter said, “Tell Judge Ramsey what you saw. And don’t leave nothin’ out.”
Ramsey listened with a growing sense of alarm as Toby described how he had seen a man and a dog fleeing from a large group of Chimera. Then, according to the regulator, the man had started a fire to slow the stinks down, and even managed to kill a few.
Toby wasn’t sure what had occurred afterward, because after seeing such a large force of Chimera making a beeline for Tunnel-Through, he thought it was his duty to rush back and deliver a warning.
“And you were correct,” Ramsey said approvingly. “Thank you.”
As Toby was shown out of the office, Ramsey was left with more questions than answers. Who was the man with the dog? Why were the Chimera chasing them? For the same reason they would chase any human? Or had the man done something to aggravate them? And what if the fugitive managed to survive a bit longer? Would the stinks stumble across Tunnel-Through? Suddenly, Ramsey had something more than revenge to worry about. And that was survival. His survival. Which, according to Ramsey’s perspective, was the most important thing in the world.
Being very much aware of how visible the dog would be if he broke the skyline, Capelli kept a firm grip on Rowdy’s collar, as he and his companion neared the top of the rise. “Stay,” Capelli said emphatically, and he pushed Rowdy down. The mix made a whining noise in the back of his throat but obeyed nevertheless.
With Rowdy taken care of, Capelli elbowed his way to the top of the slope where Unver was waiting.
“You aren’t going to like this,” the schoolteacher said, as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
And Capelli saw that the other man was correct. The drop ship had landed, the cargo-bay door was open, and a dozen Hybrids were on the ground. Then something unexpected appeared.
The Attack Drone was identical to those Capelli had seen in the past, except for one thing: This unit was carrying a rider! As were the two machines that followed it out of the cargo compartment and into the bright sunlight.
Such a thing wasn’t unheard of. In fact, Capelli knew that a Sentinel named Hawthorn had successfully ridden a Drone. But such occurrences were very rare. And the stink–machine combination was potentially quite dangerous.
“They’re coming this way,” Unver warned, and it was true. The Chimera had formed a skirmish line that consisted of alternating Hybrids and piloted Drones.
Capelli had a sudden thought and rolled over in order to look west. He was pleased to see that there weren’t any stinks coming from that direction. Not yet, anyway.
“Okay,” Capelli said as he turned back. “Here’s what I want you to do. Once the stinks are in range, kill a couple of them. But don’t waste any bullets on the Drones. Their shields will protect the pilots. Then I want you to stand up, let the bastards see you, and run west. There’s an old combine a couple of hundred yards to the west. Take cover behind that.”
“Yeah?” Unver said suspiciously. “And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to lie here, let the stinks pass by me, and shoot them in the back.”
Unver grinned. “I like it. But you’d better find some cover. Start looking. I’ll handle the rest.”
And the teacher was as good as his word. While Capelli worked his way sideways, careful to keep Rowdy in close, Unver opened fire with the BAR. The M1918A2 was firing armor-piercing .30-06 rounds, which produced an ominous roar as Capelli settled in below some bushes and pulled the dog in next to him. The firing stopped as Unver got up, paused to make sure the stinks had seen him, and turned west as projectiles kicked up dirt along the crest of the hill. Then he was gone and hidden from their sight.