The Outrider; Volume Three: Chapter 11

 

Floyd saw them, too. Radleps, radiation lepers, Leatherman's most feared, most hated, and toughest killers were flooding onto the asphalt battlefield. Floyd and Bonner instantly had the same thought: these were the guys that the Devils had been waiting for. It was some kind of link up between Berger's -best and Leatherman's meanest. Neither the Lash Leader nor the Outrider bothered right then to figure out why they were joining forces but suddenly the battle that looked like it was going their way had changed

Bonner ran a practiced eye over the 'leps that were swarming onto the drive-in court and knew instantly that there were easily a hundred of the killing monsters. It was odds that they couldn't fight. Floyd was no coward but he knew when it was time to go. He kicked the engine to life and screamed for the Lash to follow. The midgets were getting pasted by the sudden influx masked slaughterers.

"Bonner," yelled Floyd.

"I know," responded the Outrider. He wouldn't run to save his skin. But if he stayed he would die and that would be the end of the slaves. He sprinted¦ for his car.

"Means! Let's go."

But the Means were gone. Cowering in the shelter of the car was Emily, scared beyond words.

"Where are they?" yelled Bonner.

Emily, her blue eyes streaming with tears, couldn't find her voice.

Bonner turned from her and surveyed the battle field.

Bobby had reached the gun and picking it up had dashed towards his mother only to find his path cut off by the column of Radleps that had come rushing onto the field. He had lived enough life in the past few days to know an enemy when he saw one. The automatic in his hand had spat lead without his thinking about it. He missed the nearest 'lep, but the hot slug found the fuel tank of the bike clutched between the monster's scaly legs. It blew and threw a burning Radlep from the bike.

The thing hit the ground, his body aflame. The pain seared through him but it didn't distract him enough to prevent him from leveling his rifle at Bobby's frail body. The radleps had a rule: Kill the man who brought you down. Bobby fired again into the mass of flaming flesh and tore away a good-sized piece of the radlep's cheek. But still it wasn't enough to take out the horribly dying killing machine.

Bobby's mind seemed to have switched off and his reflexes took over. He gently squeezed the trigger, just the way Bonner had taught him those thousand years ago. He had drawn a bead on the crackling flesh and he knew just where the bullet would hit the burning tough man. But there was no blast and kick from the heavy revolver. He had used all the ammunition that remained in the discarded gun.

The Radlep had him. Or so he thought. Just as he pulled the trigger a Mean Brother landed on the Radlep's back. Both huge feet pounded onto the burning carcass, and the Mean did a little dance there, as if trying to beat out the flames. But he wasn't saving the 'lep from a fiery death. He was pounding the man's spine into the gravel. The flames singed the hair as thick as fur on the man mountain's legs. But he didn't stop there. He reached down and grasped the 'lep by the neck and pulled back. curving the broken body into a warped arc. He felt the satisfying snap and collapse of the backbone.

For good measure the Mean picked up the fire-ravaged corpse and threw it back to the ground. It was dead. It had never fired a shot at the kid. The Mean was pleased with his work. 'Leps were particularly hated by the Mean Brothers.

The other Mean had scooped Bobby in his strong arms and ran with him back to Bonner's car.

"Where's the other one?" bellowed Bonner. The Mean Brother tossed Bobby into the back of the car.

"Where's your brother?" demanded Bonner.

The Mean looked over his shoulder and looked back at the swirling mass of Radleps. His brother was somewhere in the middle of that. He started back towards the battle. But Bonner knew better.

He grabbed the remaining Mean Brother by the arm. "No, Meanie, please . . ."

The Mean Brother shook himself loose. If his brother was in there he was going to get him. He shook himself free from Bonner's grasp,

A 'lep came racing down on them. Bonner blasted him off his cycle with the shotgun that lay on the seat next to him. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned back to the Mean.

"Don't go. Don't go. I'm telling you . . ." Bonner drew a deep breath. "Meanie, you owe me ..."

The Mean Brother looked over his shoulder again, his big features creased by the agony of his decision. He owed the man. He had sworn to himself that he would always follow him. His brother would be pissed if he knew; ... He climbed into the car and Bonner slammed it into gear.

A Radlep pursued them across the tarmac, hunched low over the fuel tank of his bike. He fired over the handlebars and the slug buried itself in the retreating dash of Bonner's machine. Bonner glanced at the Mean by his side. The big silent man was watching the 'lep behind him like a cat watching a bird. Bonner could tell what the Mean Brother was thinking: one more, let him get close enough, one more . . .

Bonner stood on his brakes and the 'lep couldn't stop fast enough to prevent a collision. His bike slammed into the rear of Bonner's car and the 'lep flew over his handlebars landing heavily inside the machine.

The Mean Brother and a 'lep take up a lot of room in a small area like that so it seemed to the two kids and to Bonner as if the air was suddenly filled with the flailing limbs of the scarred killer and the hairy giant.

The 'lep that had suddenly dropped in for a visit had a reputation for extraordinary strength in his outfit. What he didn't know was that no matter how I strong he was he would never match the blind killing fury of a Mean Brother who has just lost his partner. The Mean Brother was in no mood to play games. He grabbed the 'lep in a lock so tight that three men couldn't have broken it. With his free hand he reached for Bonner's blades. The Outrider shifted slightly in the seat to allow the huge man access. Almost reverently the Mean slid the knife from the holster. He raised it high and it seemed to flash in the morning air. Then it plunged deep into the 'lep's body. It sliced neatly into the 'lep's bony back, severing a host of veins and arteries. Blood welled into the 'lep's lungs and filled his throat. The Mean tightened his grasp on the living corpse's throat and closed it. The blood had nowhere to go save backwards. It filled the 'lep's stomach and then forced itself into his intestines. The 'lep was now a struggling bag of blood. Blood filled his sinuses and poured out of his nose. The knifeblade wiggled in his back.

Then the Mean tossed him over the side, extracting the blade as he tossed him out on the road. The release of the pressure on his neck caused the blood to rush every direction it could.

Emily looked back to see the Tep retching and coughing an ever-widening pool of gore around his broken body. He thrashed a second or two in the huge lake of his own blood, his broken body frantically searching for a way to staunch the flow of his life's fluid. His clothes grew heavy with his blood. He flopped a second or two more, like a fish out of water, then slopped back down into the pool, his body stained from head to toe with bright red blood. He would bleed for an hour after his soul had arrived in hell.

The battle had been costly for both sides. The Devils never knew what hit them. They had taken casualties that amounted to forty out of their entire force and the Lash had hurt the Radleps bad, too.

But where there had once been two dozen midgets there were now only sixteen. And, of course, the Mean Brother was gone. Bonner and the Lash had headed as far out of Radlep range as they could get. By nightfall Bonner was sure that they weren't being followed any more and his weary, mauled force stopped for the night.

The Lash bedded down and Floyd went among them to see how they had fared. The little men ate what they could then dropped off to sleep. The battle had drained them. But before they slept they told Floyd what he knew they would say. They wanted revenge. They wanted to take those 'leps and they wanted Farkas. They wanted blood.

Before he slept Floyd spoke to Bonner. "They're mad," he said.

"Look," said Bonner, "I'm sorry. I didn't figure we'd run into 'leps like that."

"The hell with that, Bonner," said Floyd. "Who coulda figured we'd find a bunch of 'leps a way out here? Hey, that was just bad luck." "The Lash took a lot of bring downs," said Bonner. I "They knew the odds, man, it happens. It ain't the 'first time we lost riders, ya know."

"I know."

I' "You gotta figure it was a helluva fight though, man. We nearly skinned them fuckin' Devils. I bet there ain't six without a scratch. That ain't bad, two to one, you know what I mean?" I "I know," said Bonner again.

"An lemme tell you something else, those boys of mine, they want to try again. They want to kill like I never seen 'em before. So if you think this ride is over, you are one crazy fucking tall person." 

"Count me in," said Bonner. 

"What? You think I counted you out?" 

"Nope."

"I'll tell you, Bonner man, there's so much hate out there"—he gestured towards the sleeping mounds ¦ of Lashmen—"man, they are so mad, you could get a tan off 'em."

Bobby felt bad. He crept over to the remaining Mean Brother and tried to say what was on his mind. "I'm sorry . . ." The kid was close to tears. "I'm sorry ... If I hadn't run off, well, your brother would be here now. ..."

The Mean shrugged. He was doing what he was told, he tried to say. Bonner said take care of the kids and so he took care of them. He did what he had to do. No hard feelings, kid. The Mean reached out with a hairy arm and draped it over Bobby's shoulders. If he's dead, he died the way he wanted to. ...

But it didn't make Bobby feel any better.

And it didn't help the Mean Brother any. He hoped his brother was alive, but he doubted it. A Mean Brother went down swinging against his enemies—he didn't surrender. The Mean waited until everyone was asleep, then he wandered away from the camp a ways. Then, sure that no one could see him, he allowed big, salty tears to stain his dirty face. Then, staring at the moon he swore revenge.

 

 

Web Site Contents (Unless Mentioned Otherwise) ©2012 By Atlan Formularies, Post Office Box 95, Alpena, Arkansas 72611-0095
Phone: 870-437-2999 - Fax: Out of Order -  Email: Addresses

Back ] Home ] Up ] Next ]