David Robbins - Yellowstone Run

“Eventually everyone became as you are,” Blade stated. “A bearish mutation.”

Yeddt nodded.

“Why didn’t the survivalists just move out of the valley? They might have been able to reverse the effects.”

“Some tried. But when they left the valley, they were killed by people who feared them for no other reason than their appearance. The rest realized they could never leave. They weren’t about to abandon the children already born. And they couldn’t mingle with their former fellow humans. So they stayed and multiplied.”

“And decided to call themselves the Breed?”

“Yes. They considered themselves a breed apart from humans. The name fits, don’t you think?”

Blade nodded.

“Over the years the Breed have grown in numbers, and now we fill our valley. Our leader, Longat, decided to send an expedition into the outside world, to test the humans, to see if we can spread outward and control more territory.”

“But why do you hate humans so much? You were humans once.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Yeddt declared with surprising strength. “My great-great-grandparents were humans. But I was born as you see me now. I was born special. One of the Breed.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you hate us.”

Yeddt leaned toward the giant, malice radiating from his feral eyes.

“Because your kind hates us! Humans despise our kind. They kill us every chance they get. The inhabitants of the town twenty miles from our valley once sent an armed posse to wipe us out.” He smiled. “We taught them a lesson!”

“What did you do?” Blade asked.

The creature smacked its lips. “Yummy.”

Blade glanced at Achilles, then at the mutation. “Are you telling me you ate them?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!”

“The Breed are cannibals?” Blade declared, aghast at the prospect.

“Cannibals are those who eat their own kind,” Yeddt stated arrogantly. “Humans aren’t our kind.”

“But surely the Breed don’t eat humans?”

“And why not? Human meat is the tastiest there is, even better than buffalo steak.”

“You’re disgusting!” Achilles interjected.

“Are we, swine? Let me give you some advice. You take what you can get in this life, and only the strong survive. About sixty years ago the worst winter in Idaho history had the Breed boxed in. Twenty-foot drifts blocked the passes to the lowlands. The game was scarce and hard to catch, so the Breed turned to another food source to stay alive.”

“They took to eating humans,” Blade said distastefully.

Yeddt grinned and nodded. “There were a lot of humans living in the mountains surrounding our valley back then. This was before we declared war on humanity. That winter, when there was no other food to be had, the Breed turned to the only other source of nourishment available.”

Blade thought of Hickok, Geronimo, and the others. “Do the Breed still eat humans?”

“What a dumb question. Of course.”

“Are our friends still alive? Have they been eaten?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“What about the woman you captured?” Achilles queried.

“Which one?”

“The Breed captured more than one?” Achilles responded puzzled.

“They must have Milly Odum,” Blade conjectured.

Achilles took a step nearer the mutation. “Where are they?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“We need to know,” Blade said.

“Tough.”

“Do you want your torment to end or not?” Blade asked.

Yeddt stared at the giant. “You promised.”

“Only if you answered all of my questions.”

“I can’t tell you were they’re at.”

“Then do the next best thing. Tell me the direction the Breed are taking? Tell me where they’re heading?”

“I can’t.”

“Then suffer.”

Yeddt hissed. “I should have known you wouldn’t keep your word. All humans are alike!”

“In one respect you’re right,” Blade stated. “We stick together when the going gets rough. For the last time, which way are the Breed heading?”

“Go play with yourself.”

Blade had anticipated such a reply and he instantaneously reacted, surging forward and arcing his right Bowie down and in, lancing the tip into Yeddt’s groin.

The mutation screamed and tried to cover its genitals while sliding backwards.

Jerking the knife out, Blade wagged the weapon in front of the creature’s nose, splattering blood on its face. “I won’t ask you again. If you don’t answer, I guarantee you that your suffering will just be beginning. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

“You son of a bitch!” Yeddt cried, hands over his groin, blood dripping between his legs, a scarlet stain discoloring his loincloth.

“I gave you your chance,” Blade said, and made a movement as it to stab the creature again.

“Hold it!” Yeddt declared.

“I’m listening.”

A low whine issued from Yeddt’s throat. He stared at his loincloth and shuddered. “You’d make a good Breed.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“All right, I’ll tell you where they’re headed. Not that the information will do you any good. Even you can’t prevail against Longat and the others.”

“Where?” Blade demanded harshly.

Yeddt told them.

“Thanks,” Blade said. He stood, slipped the Bowies into their sheaths, and looked at Achilles. “I’d like to borrow your Bullpup for a minute.”

“Be my guest,” the novice responded, and banded the weapon over.

Blaze gazed at the mutation. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

Yeddt obeyed.

“Wider.”

The mutation opened its mouth as wide as it could.

Without displaying a flicker of emotion, Blade inserted the shotgun barrel between the creature’s lips and squeezed the trigger.

Hickok sprang erect, as did the rest of his companions, and took a stride toward the leader of the Breed. “Get your paws off her!” he snapped.

“What do you mean by breakfast?” Priscilla queried, watching the pair of bearish mutations start to convey Milly Odum to the center of the clearing.

“Surely a smart human like you can figure it out,” Longat replied, and turned.

Eagle Feather’s features registered profound shock. He ran up behind Longat, grabbed the creature by the left shoulder, and spun the genetic deviate around. “You didn’t!”

Umgat’s visage became a mask of sheer hatred. “You dare lay a hand on me, you human scum!” he bellowed, and raised the tomahawk overhead.

With a swift bound Hickok launched himself into the air and tackled Eagle Feather, looping his arms around the Flathead’s waist and bearing both of them to the ground before the mutation could strike. He let go and rolled to his feet.

Over a dozen of the Breed converged on the captives, surrounding the humans to prevent them from interfering.

Glowering, Longat slowly lowered the tomahawk. “You were lucky this time,” he said to the Flathead. “I don’t want to waste food. But well take you next.” He wheeled and stalked off.

“What does he mean by food?” Priscilla inquired of no one in particular. “He can’t mean what I think he means.”

“He does,” Hickok confirmed, and offered his hand to Eagle Feather.

“You saved my life,” the Flathead said, and allowed the gunfighter to pull him up.

“Think nothin’ of it.”

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“Why?”

Eagle Feather gazed toward the middle of the clearing, where the rest of the Breed were forming a circle around Milly Odum. “Because now I know what happened to my family. I wish I was dead.”

“Would your loved ones want you to give up without a fight?” Hickok asked, noticing the sorrow etching lines in the Flathead’s face.