David Robbins - Yellowstone Run

Eagle Feather appeared not to hear the question. He looked blankly down at the grass. “My wife and sons are gone,” he said softly, shinned.

“And what a horrible way to go.”

“Don’t you want to get revenge?” Hickok commented.

Again the Flathead did not respond. “Those I loved most have been taken from me! Murdered by these monsters!”

Geronimo placed his bound hands on Eagle Feather’s right shoulder. “I know how rough this is for you. We’re here if you need us.”

“I’m too late,” Eagle Feather said numbly, “Too late.”

“What are they doing to Milly?” Priscilla interjected.

The petrified woman was standing with her arms hanging limp and utter helplessness reflected in her expression, gaping at the ring of hostile creatures surrounding her. Her lower lip trembled and her fingers twitched.

“We’ve got to help her!” Priscilla declared.

Hickok scanned the 14 mutations enclosing them. “How?”

“I don’t know. But there must be something we can do.”

One of the Breed laughed. “There’s nothing you can do, human. Watch closely, because it will be your turn before you know it.”

His stomach tightening into a knot, Hickok saw Longat weave through the pack of abominations and walk directly up to Odum. The woman gazed fearfully into the mutation’s eyes.

“Oh God. No!” Priscilla said. “Please no!”

Four of the Breed detached themselves from the main group and hurried into the forest, returning within a minute bearing limbs and sticks which they carried to the middle and deposited near Longat and Odum. They made another trip to gather wood, and came back with even more.

“That should be enough,” Longat told them, and nodded at the pair who usually attended him.

The duo seized Odum by the arms and held her fast.

“Brothers and sisters of the Breed,” Longat said, raising his arms and beaming, “The time has come for us to feed again. Because we’ve been fortunate enough to obtain a supply of our favorite delicacy, we’ll enjoy a feast and remain here until noon. But before we fill our bellies, I must address you on an important issue.”

“How soon before we return to our valley?” a husky mate interrupted.

“We’ll be home in two weeks,” Longat stated. “We’ve seen enough of the outside world to know that the humans will pose no serious threat to our plans to expand the territory under our control. We’ll start slowly at first and subjugate those towns nearest to our valley. In ten years we should control all of the former state of Idaho.”

Hickok couldn’t resist the opportunity to taunt the mutation. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “You’re out of your gourd, jerk-face. There aren’t enough of your bozos to lake over a whole blamed state.”

Longat stared balefully at the Warrior. “There will be once we convert half of the humans we capture.”

“Convert them to what? Your slaves?”

“No, you pathetic imbecile. We have the means of transforming humans into the genetically superior species we are.”

The revelation jolted Hickok. For a few seconds be believed that Longat might be lying to get his goat, until he saw the leader’s smug countenance.

“That’s impossible,” he blurted out.

“You wish it was impossible. But we can transform hundreds, even thousands of lowly humans given time and their unwitting cooperating.”

“How?”

“We have a way.”

“You’ll never get the time you need,” Hickok said. “The Federation will send in an army to eliminate every last one of you.”

“We know about the Federation. And we know the Federation can’t destroy us without first locating our home, which they’ll never do. There’s no way the Federation army can cover every square inch of the Pacific Northwest.”

“The Federation will stop you crumbs,” Hickok stated, hoping he projected more confidence than he felt.

Longat gave a contemptuous wave of his hand, dismissing the statement as irrelevant, and faced his followers. “You’ve heard this human babble, and you all know how insignificant humans are in the grand scheme of things. Back in the early days, when the Breed initially appeared, there were those of our ancestors who viewed the transformation as a curse. They were still new to their condition and foolishly persisted in regarding humans as the acme of development on his planet.” He paused and smirked. “But we know better now. We know that humans are a blight, a demented species who nearly obliterated all life on Earth. They have no natural right to rule this world. They lost any claim to ascendancy by conclusively demonstrating their inherent insanity.”

“Humans suck!” one of the creatures yelled.

“Death to all human scum!” chimed in another.

“No, not to all of them,” Longat corrected him. “We’ll cultivate some of the humans as a food source, but our primary priority must be to increase our own ranks, to render us invincible. That is the reason I’ve proposed using the lake water to transmute large numbers of humans. Between natural reproduction of our species and the transformation process, we can triple our population in a single generation. In two generations the Breed will number over one hundred thousand and the humans will crumble before our combined might.”

Lake water? What did lake water have to do with the transformation?

Hickok wondered. He stared at Milly Odum, at her terrified face, his heart going out to her, wishing he could save her from her impending fate. But what could he do with his wrists tied? He glanced down at his hands, furious at his vincibility.

“Long live the Breed!” Longat cried.

From the throats of every creature came the same cry, repeated in unison several times. “Long live the Breed! Long live the Breed! Long live the Breed!”

Hickok looked at the mutation standing in front of him and smiled sweetly. “I hope you all keel over by tomorrow.”

“And now to enjoy our feast!” Longat declared, turning to Odum.

“Prepare her!”

The duo who always attended the leader stepped in close and snatched at the woman’s clothes, easily tearing the fabric with their nails, laughing evilly as they stripped her naked.

Odum screeched and vainly tried to cover herself with her hands, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.

Many of the Breed cackled at her discomfiture.

Geronimo, scowling, looked at the gunfighter. “We can’t just stand here and let them kill her.”

“I know, pard.”

“Then when?”

“Now,” Hickok said, and leaped at the nearest mutation, his hands clenched together, sweeping his arms up and then lashing out at the creature’s head.

Geronimo jumped at another bear-man.

For a few moments the Warriors had the advantage of surprise and the mutations briefly gave way.

Hickok smashed his knuckles into the mouth of the closest creature, knocking it backwards, and then swung at the mutation on his right, clipping the thing on the side of the head and knocking it down.

Geronimo succeeded in battering two of the bear-men to the ground and managed to take four swift strides in the direction of Milly Odum.

The remaining guards pounced en masse, swarming over the Warriors and overwhelming them by sheer force of numbers.

Heavy fists thudded into Hickok’s face and stomach, and he doubled over. He beat at the Breed ineffectually. There were simply too many.

Hands roughly seized his arms and one of the bear-men applied a headlock. He glimpsed Geronimo being similarly subdued and ceased to resist. The things were holding him in viselike grips and he couldn’t move his arms or legs.

“Be still, human!” a burly brute hissed, and slapped the gunman across the mouth.