David Robbins - Capital Run

Terza’s hands drifted to her Comanches. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

Erika retreated a step. “Now you hold on—”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Terza asked in a menacing tone.

Erika paled. “No. No! Of course I ain’t! I didn’t mean nothin’ by it! Honest!”

Terza scanned the room. “Anybody else got anything they’d like to say?”

None of the Knights responded.

“Keep poundin’!” Terza shouted at the stud with the board, who had stopped while Erika and Terza were arguing.

“One big, happy family,” Blade said.

Terza turned and faced him. “Another word out of you, asshole, and I won’t wait for Grotto! I’ll do the job myself!”

“Big talk when you’re armed and I’m not,” Blade boldly replied.

Terza took a step toward the Warrior, the right Comanche easing upward.

A sibilant hissing filled the room, the same hissing sound they had heard earlier in the day.

“I hope the damn thing shows up this time,” Erika muttered.

The damn thing did.

Blade had seen many mutants over the years. Deformed and demented, they came in all shapes and sizes. Often they beggared description. There were the mutates themselves—former reptiles, amphibians, and mammals, transformed into ravenous, pus-covered horrors. There were the insects and their close kin, subject to rare strains of deviate giantism, thought to be a genetic imbalance caused by one of the chemical-warfare weapons employed during the Big Blast, or a combination of the chemicals and the massive radiation. There were numerous other… things… as well.

This was one of them.

A red snout appeared, visible in the subterranean entrance to the pit.

“Grotto!” Erika said, sounding relieved.

Blade tensed, enthralled and repulsed simultaneously.

The red snout was at least four feet wide and two feet high. Slowly, the creature creeped into the pit. Its eyes and head seemed to fill the entrance, its eyes a luminous brown, wide and unblinking, while its head was a grotesque, bloated caricature of a beast vaguely reptilian or amphibious by nature. More of the mutant emerged. Its skin was a bright red, crisscrossed with black stripes. The stocky legs were short in relation to the rest of the body, and its clawed feet were webbed. The body was bulky, bulging with raw power. Its thick tail was equally as long as the head and body combined. Tiny holes just behind the eyes served as ears, and its mouth was a thin slit from ear to ear. The monstrosity entered the pit and stopped, hissing, while a putrid stench hovered in the air.

Blade estimated the creature was close to ten feet in height and about seven feet wide. The mouth was large enough to swallow him in two bites.

Terza, Erika, Cardew, and some of the other Leather Knights were poised at the edge of the pit, admiring their “pet.” Every Knight in the room was gaping at it.

Blade was completely, momentarily, forgotten.

Blade saw his opening, and he took it. Warrior training encompassed years of intense instruction in the many facets of combat and war. One aspect was deliberately stressed by the Elders responsible for teaching the Warriors the tricks of their trade. As one Elder put it: “In a fight, in any life-or-death situation, victory is frequently predicted on recognizing the enemy’s weaknesses, on using your foes mistakes against them. All they have to do is lower their guard for a split-second, and their defeat is assured if you take advantage of their mistake. Always remember: if someone is trying to kill you or any other Family member, your primary responsibility is to your Family and yourself. Do whatever is necessary to win. You won’t get a second chance.”

So coordinated was Blade, so instantaneous his reflexes, that he was in motion even as he perceived his advantage. He took four steps and reached Terza and Erika. The two Knights, concentrating on the hideous Grotto, were unaware of his presence until a steely hand pounded each of them on the back and they were propelled over the edge of the pit, Erika screaming in terror.

Blade whirled, his granite fist crashing into Cardew’s right cheek.

The stud tottered backward and collapsed.

Petrified shrieks were coming from the pit as Blade spun and attacked a nearby sister.

The other Leather Knights began to react. Initially stunned by the sight of Terza and Erika falling into the pit, they recovered and attacked the giant Warrior. One of the studs went to use his rifle, but rejected the idea when he saw how close his target was to several of his friends.

Blade slugged the sister in the abdomen, and kneed her in the face when she doubled over.

Spouting blood from her pulverized nose, the sister catapulted backward.

Blade was tackled by a stud. He felt arms encircle his legs, and he was borne to the ground by the impact. He desperately threw his body to the left to avoid being knocked into the pit, and he succeeded in digging his elbows and forearms into the very edge before arresting his momentum.

Hovering on the brink of the hole, he glanced down.

A pair of slim legs protruded from the corners of Grotto’s gaping maw, and rivulets of blood poured over its lower jaw.

Terza?

Blade couldn’t waste time speculating on the identity of the deceased.

The stud holding his legs was striving to push him over the edge. Blade glanced over his right shoulder, noting his opponent’s head was just below his buttocks, and he twisted, rolling to the left, throwing his entire weight into the movement.

The stud’s grip slipped, and he lunged for the Warrior’s waist.

Blade reached back and down with his right hand, his calloused fingers grasping the stud’s long black hair and yanking the Knight’s head upward.

The stud cried out as his neck was wrenched. He felt as if his neck were being torn from his shoulders. Cursing, he pummeled the iron arm clutching his hair, to no avail.

Blade heaved, drawing the stud higher until they were eye to eye.

The Knight attempted to punch Blade in the face.

Blade sneered as he rose to his knees. He placed his left hand under the stud’s chin, braced his coiled arms, and savagely snapped his hands to the right.

Several of the stud’s vertebrae fractured with an audible crack.

Two other Knights, both sisters, pounced on the Warrior, one from the left, the other from the right, clasping his wrists and trying to force him into the pit.

Blade flexed his arms and strained, throwing his arms forward and tossing the sisters over the lip of the pit. They screeched as they fell.

Pandemonium was rampant in the room. Some of the Leather Knights were converging on their prisoner. Others were bolting for the door. A few were perched on the rim of the pit, guns at the ready, watching Grotto. As Blade rose to his feet, the pandemonium was compounded by three developments. Grotto clawed at the pit, scrambling to climb to the top.

The mutant raised its bloated head and voiced a thunderous roar, shaking the walls and causing dirt to crumble from the sides of the pit. Three of the sisters reached the door and frantically threw it open. Almost immediately, a diminutive figure in black scooted into the room, a flashing sword in his hands, and with three glimmering strokes he dispatched the trio.

It was Rikki!

Blade started toward his fellow Warrior, but a stud came at him, a knife in the Knight’s right hand.

Grotto was in a frenzy, hissing and roaring as it attempted to reach the pit rim. Its rear legs dug into the side, spraying dirt in every direction. It gave a stupendous heave and its front legs obtained a purchase on the pit edge, not more than eight feet from the Warrior.

Blade, concentrating on his adversary with the knife, failed to see Grotto’s achievement. He dodged a wild swing of the knife and retreated a step, moving three feet nearer to the creature’s salivating jaws.