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galloping hooves, and he knew they were after him again. No way could he
outrun a horse, even with the load of dead bodies each was carrying.
Turning in midstep, J.B. dashed for the nearest embankment and started to
scramble up the side of the riverbed. The soil broke loose under his hands,
and he kept sliding back down. But he was still making headway. Less than a
yard to go, then he slid back two feet. Throwing himself for the edge so
tantalizingly close, J.B. grabbed hold of the grassy top when a flurry of
blasterfire rang out, and he braced for the arrival of the hot pain.
Then the blasters roared again, and he realized those weren't flintlocks
shooting.
Glancing over a shoulder, J.B. saw the rest of the companions charging up the
riverbed in the old bulldozer, Ryan in the shovel and steadily triggering the
Steyr.
Another gray rider fell, and the last one turned to flee when Doc unleashed
the
LeMat. The handcannon boomed like doomsday in the confines of the riverbed,
and the rider flew out of the saddle to land on the ground in a crumpled heap
with most of his skull blown away.
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"Get those horses!" J.B. shouted, then released his grip and slid down the
embankment on the seat of his pants.
As Ryan turned off the dozer, several of the companions started to walk toward
the horses, talking softly and making clucking noises with their tongues. The
beasts were skittish, but obviously well-trained as they didn't bolt. Soon the
five horses were gathered by the reins and brought back to the dozer.
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"Whoa, there. Easy does it," Krysty said in a soothing voice, tethering the
reins to one of the hydraulic lifters of the dozer. The animals sniffed
curiously at the huge machine, but didn't shy away. Then she noticed the heavy
scarring on their flanks, not from spurs, but whips. The horses had been
beaten into submission like any human slave, the will to rebel crushed
completely. They wouldn't have dared to run away. Fear ruled their hearts.
"We're going to need those animals to get Ann," J.B. said, limping over to the
dozer. His clothes were torn and bloody in spots, his hands turning purple
from the tight ropes cutting off the circulation.
"We know," Jak said, producing a blade. Carefully, he cut away the remnants of
rope from the man's wrists.
"Thanks," J.B. said, rubbing his sore wrists. There were chafe marks on top of
his old scars. It wasn't the first time he'd been bound by rope.
"They came in through the windows. Almost got me and Mildred, too," Dean
stated. "I think they knew it was the baron's home."
"Want a drink?" Krysty offered.
"Dark night, yes!"
The canteen was passed over and the Armorer drank greedily, the excess running
down his cheeks. Then he poured some into his palms and washed the dirt off
his face.
"Better," he said, returning the canteen. Then he hawked and spit, and bloody
saliva hit the ground. Damn, busted a tooth. "Got my hat?"
"In the dozer. What happened?" Mildred asked, checking his face and ribs.
There didn't seem to be any serious damage, just a lot of fresh bruises
forming. The wiry little man was as tough as old boot leather.
Briefly, J.B. explained while reclaiming his dropped blaster. The Uzi was
dusty
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but undamaged. Ryan passed over a box of 9 mm rounds, and the man reloaded the
30-round clip. All of the Armorer's spare clips and ammo were now with the
gray men. Plus his munitions bag.
A few yards away, Doc went to one of the corpses and pulled off a gray mask.
The face underneath seemed perfectly normal, no obvious mutations or
differences. How odd. One at a time, he went through their clothing and found
several flintlocks, plus several pounds of black powder and lead shot. He
filled his ammo pouch and left the rest. As far as the old man was concerned,
the abundance of black powder for his Civil War blaster was the only good
thing about these wretched islands.
"Five horses, seven people," Ryan said, checking the cinches on the saddles.
"Going to be slow traveling. But we've got no choice. Ann helped me escape. We
have to at least try to get her free."
"Agreed."
Stroking the neck of a horse, Krysty looked up the riverbed. "They'll know
we're coming."
"But not when," Ryan said. "We'll use that."
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"We had best tend our mounts before departing," Doc rumbled in his deep voice.
"They have been used most strenuously for quite a while."
While Dean climbed the bank and got some green grass for the animals, the
companions let the horses drink from cupped hands, but not too much. They
didn't want to slow them down. When the grass arrived, the poor things ate as
if ravenous. Afterward, Mildred went to the clear stream, intending to refill
the canteens, but upon testing the water she found it was heavily polluted.
Totally undrinkable.
"You okay to ride?" Krysty asked in concern. "Took quite a beating."
J.B. slapped the clip into the rapidfire and worked the bolt, chambering a
round.
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"Try and stop me."
"The dozer works," Dean offered, "and we have juice. Found a cache in one of
the cargo containers."
"Too slow, and they'd hear us coming for miles," Ryan stated. "Besides, we
used most of the juice getting here. Had it in high gear all the way. Damn
near blew the engine."
"Correction," Mildred replied, looking at the growing puddle of fluids on the
ground. "We did blow the engine. Looks like a cracked block."
"Aced," Jak agreed.
"Then we ride," Ryan said, stepping into the stirrup of a big stallion and
hoisting himself into the saddle. The animal was larger than a normal horse,
like those back at Front Royal. Its rib cage was noticeably wider, its legs
longer. It probably could run forever without getting tired. With practiced
hands, he patted its muscular neck and scratched behind the ears. The horse
snuffled with pleasure in response. Even as a kid, Ryan had always liked
horses, and any animal worth its brass responded to kindness better than the
whip. The gray men were triple stupe.
"Just like the Carolinas," Dean said, climbing into the saddle behind Jak.
"Wish we had the Leviathan," Mildred said, as J.B. offered her a hand, and she
awkwardly climbed onto the beast right behind him.
"When find, what do with girl?" Jak asked, adjusting the reins. He was
pleasantly surprised to find the horse was bridle wise and well tempered.
"Could make litter and drag behind."
"Ann will ride on her own horse," Ryan said, gently kicking his heels into the
stallion's flank. "There'll be plenty of extra mounts by then."
The companions started off in single file, staying very close to the left bank
to hide their approach from any scouts in the northern trees. The majority of
the
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