Endworld - Atlanta Run Part 13

"Pay close attention," Locklin said. "You may learn something."

The two on point tramped eastward without betraying their knowledge of the ambushers, hardly paying any attention to the stand of trees.

Scarlet, a lean man with brown hair, and Jane, a woman with sandy tresses, came abreast of the stand, then pa.s.sed it.

Rikki evaluated the ambushers as professionals. Whoever was concealed in the brush was letting the point pair pa.s.s, waiting for the main column to get closer. A routine tactical ploy. He felt uncomfortable as he drew nearer, knowing a rifle sight might be trained on his body.

"Get ready," Locklin whispered.

The column reached a point approximately 20 yards from the stand.

They were crossing a strip of high weeds.

Rikki detected a faint click.

"Now!" Locklin bellowed, and every Freedom Fighter dove for the dirt.

And not a split second too soon.The metallic chatter of automatic gunfire erupted from the trees, creating an instant din as the ambushers all fired simultaneously. Four men in dark blue uniforms materialized, spraying the weeds ineffectually.

On their sides below the hail of gunfire, the Freedom Fighters were quickly notching arrows. They stayed down until the ambushers momentarily ceased firing for a lack of targets, and then half of the band sprang erect and loosened a volley of glimmering shafts while the remainder slid into the undergrowth and vanished.

Rikki popped up in time to see a pair of the men in blue fall, one screeching with an arrow through his throat, the second with a shaft jutting from his chest. The Warrior cut loose with an indiscriminate burst at the stand and was rewarded by the sight of a trooper pitching from the branch of a tree. He ducked low again as the ambushers resumed their withering fire. Around him the Freedom Fighters were doing likewise.

Locklin was smiling, actually enjoying himself. He looked at Rikki and winked.

The man in black could guess Locklin's strategy. The rest of the band was circling around the ambushers, coming at the troops from the rear. If the Freedom Fighters were adept at stealth, the battle would be over within a minute unless the ambushers had a surprise of their own.

They did.

Rikki saw Locklin's eyes widen as the rebel leader stared skyward, and the Warrior swiveled his gaze in the same direction. His abdominal muscles inadvertently tightened.

A plane was making a strafing run toward them!

Chapter Ten.

Blade's plan, formulated on the spur of the moment, was elementary and direct: overpower the patrol, grab Glisson, and head for the hills or somesemblance thereof. By taking the initiative when they were 35 yards from the Euthanasia Directorate, out in the open and not hemmed in, he maximized the advantage of his superior size and reach. His attack was totally unexpected. Captain Yost and two of the troopers were flattened by roundhouse haymakers before the trio still standing awoke to the fact they were under a.s.sault. The shortest of the three grabbed for the blackjack in its holster on his right hip, only to find himself toppling over after the giant delivered an excruciating kick to his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es.

"Get him!" hissed the heaviest of the two patrolmen left. He whipped his blackjack from its holster and swung at the giant's chin, but failed to connect. The standard police blackjack was seven inches in length, consisting of a circular metal k.n.o.b attached to a flexible handle, encased in brown leather. In the hands of an expert, the weapon could incapacitate or kill, and the trooper was adept at its use. He closed in, aiming another blow at the Warrior, foolishly expecting to end the fray quickly.

The second trooper drew his blackjack and waited for an opening.

With pantherish speed and grace, Blade side stepped the policeman and used the edge of his right hand to crush his foe's throat. The man gagged and stumbled, his knees buckling, his arms waving wildly. Blade wrenched the blackjack free and turned to confront the final trooper.

Voicing an inarticulate cry of rage, the last policeman lunged.

Blade used his left forearm to block a descending swipe of the trooper's blackjack, then countered with a brutal smash to the man's nose. The cartilage crushed and blood spurted, and with a whine of despair the man threw himself backwards. Blade brought the blackjack up from his right knee, the metal ball smacking into the trooper's chin and crunching his teeth together.

The policeman tottered and went down.

Every pedestrian within 50 yards was immobile, watching the tableau in horrified astonishment.

Time to hit the road.

Blade glanced to the right and the left, and it was his turn to feel astonished as he saw that Glisson was gone. He glimpsed the tatteredtramp hastening away to the east, weaving through the throng, and he sprinted in pursuit.

The transfixed citizens galvanized into frightened activity, scurrying from the giant's path.

Annoyed at Glisson's departure. Blade quickened his pace behind the hobo. From the direction of Glisson's travel, Blade deduced that the old-timer was heading for the gate they'd entered, possibly hoping to get out of Atlanta before being apprehended by another police patrol. Blade increased his pace again as he spotted Glisson's head and shoulders.

The oldster was moving at a spry clip. He looked over his left shoulder once, his face a mask of fear as he saw the giant. At the next intersection he took a left into a narrow street, sticking to the sidewalk.

Blade was gaining. The farther they went, the fewer people they encountered who had witnessed the fight with the police. Many of the amblers stared at him as he pa.s.sed, but not one tried to interfere. He saw Glisson take a right and pounded after him. The old-timer was moving faster than Blade would have thought Glisson was capable of.

The pedestrians on the packed sidewalk were inadvertently slowing the Warrior, compelling him to proceed prudently to avoid a collision.

Glisson wasn't so careful.

The hobo looked back once more, and that act proved his undoing. He crashed into a woman in a brown jumpsuit and they both took a tumble.

Blade reached them before either could rise. He grabbed Glisson by the scruff of the collar and hauled the man erect.

"Let go of me!" Glisson snapped, thras.h.i.+ng.

"Calm down," Blade urged.

"Let go, d.a.m.n you! I want to get out of here!"

"You don't stand a chance by yourself," Blade noted. "I can help you."

"Why should you help me?" Glisson demanded doubtfully."I don't want to see an innocent person die," Blade said.

Glisson quit resisting. "Maybe we can help each other."

Blade released his grip. He noticed the woman on the sidewalk, gawking at them in amazement. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Let me help you," Blade offered, extending his right hand.

She shook her head and stood, backpedaling before he could touch her.

"No! I'm fine! Really!" She spun and fled into the crowd.

"The people here are sheep," Glisson remarked distastefully.

Blade took the old-timer's left arm and propelled him forward. "We must get out of Atlanta," he said.

Glisson snorted. "Tell me about it."

"You know the city much better than I do," Blade commented. "How can we escape? Over the wall?"

"Don't be an idiot," Glisson responded. "The outer wall is twenty feet high and manned by armed guards."

"How else then?"

"We could bluff our way through one of the gates," Glisson proposed.

"Sounds risky to me," Blade said.

"And staying here isn't?" Glisson countered. "They're going to gas me in a Sleeper Chamber if I don't think of a way out."

Blade stared at the crowd, thinking. The police would be expecting them to try such a gambit, and the number of gate guards would likely be increased. Perhaps a wiser course would be to do something completely unforeseen, an act so off the wall that the authorities would never antic.i.p.ate it. What would be the very last thing the police would expect?

"Do you have a better idea?" Glisson asked."Yes," Blade answered as inspiration dawned.

"What?"

"We go to the Civil Directorate."

Glisson halted so quickly, he almost tripped over his own feet. "What?"

"We were heading for the Civil Directorate, right?" Blade said. "Let's go there."

The old-timer's lips twitched as he studied the giant from head to toe.

"Funny. You don't look like a congenital moron."

"I'm serious," Blade stressed.

"That's what scares me," Glisson said. "I'm trapped in Atlanta with an imbecile."

"Listen to me. Where is the last place they would expect us to go?"

"To the nearest Storm Police station to give ourselves up," Glisson replied.

"They would never expect us to go to the Civil Directorate," Blade stated. "They'll be on our trail, and they'll be searching everywhere except there."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Would you expect us to go to the Civil Directorate if you were them?"

Blade inquired.

"No," Glisson admitted. "I'd credit us with more intelligence than that."

"Let me ask you a question," Blade said. "You've been here many times.

When the police took you to the Visitors Bureau at the Civil Directorate, did they take you inside?"

"No," Glisson answered. "They always took me right up to the door, then took off. So what?"

"So if we show up at the Civil Directorate, requesting the services of anEscort, we won't be arousing any suspicion," Blade said.

"What if we're spotted by a patrol?"

"We could be spotted any time," Blade noted. "It's a risk we'll have to take."

"And why bother to ask for an Escort?" Glisson queried.

"I still need to find someone."

"Even with the Storm Police on our tail?"

Blade nodded. "So what do you say? Are you with me?"

"What choice do I have?" Glisson retorted.

"Can you get us to the Civil Directorate without using the main streets?" Blade asked.

Glisson grinned. "I know this part of the city well. I can do it."

"Then let's go," Blade announced.

The old-timer resumed walking. "I knew I shouldn't have come back here," he mumbled.

"Then why did you?"

"I haven't eaten a square meal in a week," Glisson said. "I'm too old for the life on the road. Scrounging up food and other necessities is harder every year." He paused. "In the past, I could count on two days of squares and a new set of threads if I came to Atlanta. I didn't know the d.a.m.n Peers had changed their indigent policy."

"Why do you live on the road? Why don't you settle down?" Blade suggested.

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks," Glisson responded with a smile. "I've lived on the road since I was knee high to a gra.s.shopper."

"Isn't it dangerous, what with all the mutants and scavengers?""Yeah, it's dangerous," Glisson replied. "But the danger is part of the allure. When you're on the road, you never know what's over the next hill or around the next curve. Every day brings something new, something different." He paused and chuckled. "And my elephant gun does an excellent job of dissuading the mutants and scavengers."

"You have an elephant gun?"

"An old Marlin 45-70. Ammo is scarce, but when it comes to stopping power, there isn't a gun like it," Glisson said with pride.

"Where is your 45-70?" Blade asked.

"I hid it in a waterproof sack near the road about three-quarters of a mile from the city wall," Glisson detailed. "I don't want these p.r.i.c.ks to confiscate it on some pretext."