Houston Run, page 9
part #12 of Endworld Series
“Is that how you found Barney so fast?” Ferret asked.
“The computer registered Barney’s deviation from his assigned work area the second he departed with you,” the deep voice said.
There was the sound of a single person moving away.
Hickok nudged Blade. “Should we try and free ’em?” he whispered.
Blade shook his head. He leaned next to the gunman’s left ear. “No. We don’t know how many are with them. That one doing all the talking sounded like one of those silver jokers. We’ll wait.”
Hickok nodded.
More talking arose in the corridor.
“Lynx! Lynx! Snap out of it!” Ferret said.
“He’s in bad shape, yes?” Gremlin mentioned.
“I just hope he comes around like that big bastard said he would,” Ferret declared.
Silence.
Blade waited, straining for the faintest sound. Finally, the man with the deep voice returned.
“Most peculiar,” he stated. “The duty guard is in a cell not far ahead.
You four! Check Cell forty-four immediately.”
Boots pounded on the floor. Within ten seconds, someone was shouting from the direction of Cell 44. “He’s in here, RH-10! He’s been attacked!”
“Is he alive?” RH-10 asked. “Yes, sir! But he’s unconscious!”
“Revive him!” RH-10 ordered. His voice lowered. “There must have been an escape. We didn’t pass anyone on the west stairwell, so the escapee might be using the east one. You six! Take the east stairwell to the ground floor. Detain anyone not in uniform.”
“Yes, sir!” someone responded, and boots tramped off to do his bidding.
“You two will remain here. I must return to the guard station and activate the alarm,” RH-10 said. He walked off.
Blade’s mind was racing. If he’d understood RH-10’s directions, then Hickok and he were in a cell on the north side of the hallway. To the left was east, to the right west. RH-10, obviously one of the silver men, was heading for the west end of the corridor, where the guard station was apparently located. Six other men were on their way to the stairwell at the east end. Four more were in Cell 44. And only two were guarding Lynx and others.
“Should we try and free ’em now?” Hickok questioned softly.
Blade thoughtfully chewed on his lower lip. There were only two avenues of escape from the cell block, the two stairwells. The silver man was at the west end, the six others on the east side.
Even if Lynx, Ferret and Gremlin could be freed, how could the five of them manage to use the stairwells unseen? The answer was simple: they couldn’t. He glanced at Hickok and shook his head.
Minutes elapsed.
Someone in the corridor coughed.
The next moment the entire corridor was rocked by the blaring wail of klaxons.
Blade’s frustration was mounting. They had been so close to freedom!
And now they were trapped inside the prison, while their enemies were scouring every nook and cranny to find them. He felt cornered and helpless, and the short hairs on the nape of his neck were tingling. Out of the frying pan, into the fire!
Chapter Nine
Gremlin placed his hands over his sensitive ears and grimaced in discomfort. “The sirens are too loud, yes? They hurt Gremlin’s ears!”
Ferret, standing two feet away, supporting Lynx, his left arm draped around Lynx’s waist, his right bracing Lynx’s chest, nodded.
Two of the men in black were four feet off to the west, their hands on their batons, alertly watching the three mutants.
RH-10 hurried toward them from the guard station at the west end of the corridor. “Security will lock every exit from the building,” he announced. “Blade will not escape.”
“Blade?” Ferret said in surprise.
“The cell chart indicates Blade was being detained in Cell Forty-four,” RH-10 said. “Somehow, he must have neutralized the stasis field. Most exceptional. No one has ever done that before.”
“You’ll never catch Blade,” Ferret said.
“He was captured once,” RH-10 noted. “We will apprehend him again.”
“Blade doesn’t make the same mistake twice,” Ferret said, baiting the silver figure.
“We shall see,” RH-10 commented. “In the meantime, we must confine the three of you.” He lifted his right arm and motioned with his whip at the closed door. “Place the one called Lynx in there,” he directed the two men in black.
The pair moved to the front of the cell door. One of them pressed the black button in the wall, and the door slid aside.
For a second, the tableau was frozen, the two men in black gaping in amazement at the two Warriors in the cell.
Hickok reacted first, charging forward and ramming into one of the men, slamming his foe into the far wall.
Blade surged from the cell, his huge right fist crashing into the other man in black, crushing the hapless man’s nose and sending him toppling to the side.
RH-10, five feet away, lunged forward, bringing his right arm up.
Blade saw the peculiar whip in the silver giant’s hand, and he wasn’t about to give his adversary time to employ the weapon. He took one stride and vaulted into the air, executing a flying kick, his left leg striking the giant’s right hand and deflecting the whip, even as he swept his left fist in a vicious arc, his knuckles smashing into RH-10’s mouth and pulverizing the giant’s lips.
RH-10 tried to step backwards, to give himself more room to bring his whip to bear.
Blade closed in, pressing his advantage. His right moccasin flicked up and out, connecting with RH-10’s left kneecap. There was a loud snap, and RH-10 staggered.
So! The bastards weren’t invulnerable!
Blade kicked again, going for RH-10’s right knee, and something cracked as he landed his blow.
RH-10 tottered, struggling to stay erect.
Blade gripped RH-10’s silver collar, and with every muscle on his immensely powerful frame straining to the limit, he lifted the silver giant from the floor, then whipped RH-10 to the right, ramming the silver man’s head into the wall.
RH-10 felt some of his fluid splatter over his eyes as his forehead caved in from the brutal impact. He tried to claw at the Warrior’s face.
Blade swung the silver giant a second time, pounding RH-10’s forehead into the wall again.
RH-10 stiffened. His hands drooped to his sides, and the metallic whip fell to the floor.
Blade shoved the silver giant backwards, releasing his hold.
RH-10 stumbled for a few feet, then attempted to straighten. His legs buckled, and he pitched backwards, crashing onto his broad back.
Blade whirled.
Hickok had already disposed of the other man in black. Ferret was still supporting Lynx, and Gremlin’s mouth looked like it wanted to sag to his navel.
“This way!” Blade directed, motioning to the west. “Make for the stairwell.”
Ferret started to comply. He paused and nodded at the whip. “You might want to bring that. It may come in handy.”
Blade stooped and retrieved the metallic whip. The 15-inch handle felt warm to the touch. He noticed a pair of red buttons, wondering about their purpose.
Hickok hurried past Blade. “I wish we had some iron,” he said. “This baton is for sissies.”
Gremlin was gawking at the fallen silver giant.
“Move it!” Blade ordered.
Gremlin hastened after Ferret and Hickok. “You did it, yes!” he said to Blade. “You defeated a Superior, yes!”
“A Superior?” Blade repeated quizzically.
“You didn’t know, no?” Gremlin said. “They are called Superiors, yes.”
“You can tell me about it later,” Blade stated. “Catch up with the others.”
Ferret, Lynx, and Hickok were already 15 yards away.
Gremlin nodded and jogged to the west.
“Hey! You!” shouted a belligerent voice from the east.
Blade turned.
Five figures in black uniforms were clustered in front of Cell 44. One of them was woozy, leaning against the wall. The other four had drawn their batons.
“Don’t move!” one of them, a squat, frog-like mutant with green skin and bulging eyes, yelled.
Blade glanced over his right shoulder. His friends had a long way to go before they reached the door at the west end of the corridor. He had to prevent the men in black from getting past him!
“Don’t move!” the frog-man cried, and four of them charged toward the Warrior.
Blade waited for them in the center of the hall. What were they? he speculated. Storm troopers? Security police? He flicked his right wrist, uncoiling the metallic whip to its full ten-foot length.
And a strange thing happened.
The four troopers checked their advance, slowing to a cautious shuffle, their eyes riveted on the metallic whip.
What was this?
Blade glanced at the whip handle. Why would four professional military types be afraid of a mere whip? A whip could lacerate the flesh, might even take out an eye or lash off an ear, but a blow from a whip was rarely fatal. From an ordinary whip, anyway. But what if the whip in his hand wasn’t ordinary? His thumb closed on the first red button, and the whip abruptly crackled and sparkled, writhing like a thing alive. Now he knew!
The whip was electrified!
The four in uniform halted. Twenty feet separated them from the hulking Warrior.
Blade grinned. If the troopers were deathly afraid of the whip, he could use their fear to gain the upper hand. He remembered an ancient axiom: a good offense is always the best defense. With that in mind, he attacked.
The four troopers bumped into one another as they attempted to flee, to avoid the path of the swinging whip.
Blade swung the whip from side to side, from one wall to the other, as he bore down on the four troopers. One of them, the frog-man, tripped and sprawled onto his stomach. Blade slashed the tip of the whip toward the mutant.
The frog-man was almost to his feet when the whip landed between his shoulder blades. There was a brilliant flash, and the frog-man reacted as if he’d been blasted from a canyon. His body soared over eight feet and collided with another of the troopers, knocking the man to the floor. The mutant smacked onto his abdomen, then was motionless.
Blade pressed his initiative, closing in.
The trooper the frog-man had bowled over frantically scrambled erect.
Blade arced the whip in a looping motion, and the metallic lash coiled around the trooper’s neck.
The trooper screamed as his body twitched spasmodically. His arms flapped wildly, and he inadvertently touched the steel baton in his right hand against the whip. There was a loud retort, a burst of white light, and the trooper reeled a few feet, then dropped.
Blade paused.
The other two men in black were fleeing for their lives to the east. They passed the trooper leaning against the wall near Cell 44, and he joined their pell-mell flight.
Blade let them go. Chasing them would be a waste of energy. He needed to reach the west stairwell as promptly as he could. The whip emitted a sinister sizzling sound. He pressed the first red button and the sizzling ceased.
“Blade! Come on, pard!” Hickok yelled to his rear.
Blade looked to the west. Hickok, Ferret, Lynx, and Gremlin were standing next to the door at the end of the hallway. He turned to race after them, then hesitated, curious. He quickly knelt alongside the last trooper he’d downed and felt for a pulse.
The trooper was dead.
Blade rose and raced toward his companions. The whip was lethal!
Little wonder the four troopers had balked at confronting him. Their steel batons were not very effective against an electrified whip. Why, he asked himself, didn’t the troopers pack guns? He thanked the Spirit they didn’t!
Otherwise, escaping from the prison would be next to impossible.
Hickok was motioning for Blade to hurry.
Blade increased his pace, and reached the door without further mishap.
“Took you long enough,” Hickok greeted him. “Maybe you should consider going on a diet.”
Blade disregarded the gunfighter and glaced at Ferret. “How’s Lynx?”
“Still out of it,” Ferret replied. “But he should come around soon.”
“Let’s hope so,” Blade commented, reaching for the door handle.
Gremlin pointed at another door, one to the left marked GUARD STATION 30. “Should we check in there, yes?”
“No,” Blade said. “There’s no time. The ones who got away will be back with help.” He suddenly realized the klaxons weren’t wailing anymore.
When had they stopped?
“You want me to take the point?” Hickok queried.
“I will,” Blade said. “You bring up the rear. And yell if you see any sign of pursuit.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer a chorus of ‘Home on the Range’?” Hickok asked.
“A yell will do,” Blade told him, and opened the stairwell door. The stairs were painted red, and they only went in one direction: up. Which meant, Blade reasoned, they were on the lowerest underground level. He headed up the stairs, two at a stride.
“Slow down!” Ferret said. “I can’t keep up with you and carry Lynx at the same time.”
Blade slackened his speed. He reached a landing and stopped, waiting for the others to reach him, his eyes on the closed stairwell door.
Ferret, with Gremlin assisting, lugged Lynx onto the landing. “Did you know we’re six floors underground?” he asked Blade.
“Are you sure?” Blade responded.
“Positive,” Ferret asserted. “I counted them on the way down. Am I right, Gremlin?”
“Ferret is right, yes,” Gremlin confirmed.
“They have elevators in this building,” Ferret went on. “But near as I could tell, the elevators don’t descend below ground level. Must be a security precaution.”
Hickok reached the landing. “Leave it to you yokels to take time to gossip when we’re close to buyin’ the farm.”
“Let’s keep going,” Blade said, resuming his climb. Two more landings were attained without any sign of the enemy. He halted, not wanting to outdistance his friends.
“Lynx is regaining consciousness,” Ferret announced when they joined the chief Warrior.
Lynx was moaning, his head lolling, and his mouth was twitching.
“Let me know if he wakes up,” Blade directed, continuing his ascent. He kept climbing until he found a door labeled LOBBY.
Ferret and Gremlin, with Lynx held between them, reached the landing seconds later. “Is this the ground floor?” Ferret queried hopefully.
Blade pointed at the door. “I think so.”
Hickok dashed up to the landing. “Company is coming,” he declared.
Blade crossed to the edge of the landing and peered over the railing.
Black forms were visible at the very bottom of the stairwell, climbing upward.
“We can’t wait for Lynx to snap out of it,” Blade said to Ferret.
“Gremlin and you will have to carry him. Stay close to Hickok and me. The first exit door we see, we’re out of here.”
“The Superior said all exits would be locked, yes,” Gremlin reminded them.
“What the blazes is a Superior?” Hickok asked.
Blade moved to the stairwell door. “Later. Stick with me and don’t be bashful about using that baton.”
Hickok grinned. “Since when have I ever been bashful?”
Blade took a deep breath, then opened the lobby door, prepared for the worst. He found it.
The lobby was packed with troopers. Dozens of them, milling about, conversing, evidently awaiting instructions. Directly opposite the stairwell door were six glass doors leading to the outside. A trooper was stationed in front of each one.
Blade frowned. He glanced to the right, spying a row of elevators lining the east wall. To the left was a counter with more troopers behind it, some doing paperwork, others talking.
“Hey! Look!” one of the troopers in the center of the lobby shouted.
“The stairwell!”
All eyes swiveled toward the stairwell door.
“Damn!” Blade fumed, and burst from the stairwell, activating the whip. He plunged into the mass of troopers, swinging the whip like a madman, cracking it left and right, sparks flying as the whip crackled and sizzled.
Bedlam ensued. Crammed close together, the troopers were unable to fan out, unable to avoid the terrible whip. Some of them screeched as their bodies were jolted by a blow from the lash. Others endeavored to bring their batons into action, without success.
Blade whirled in one direction, then another, his right arm constantly in motion, knowing he couldn’t afford to slacken his pace for an instant.
The muscles in his right arm bulged as he flicked the whip every which way. To the right, and he slashed a trooper’s neck open and sent the trooper hurtling into those nearby. To the left, and he seared a trooper’s eyes as the whip danced across the trooper’s face. The trooper was flung backwards, plowing into others, upending them in a tangle of limbs.
The men in black parted, clearing a narrow path in front of the maniac with the whip.
Blade was half the distance to the glass doors when a new threat presented itself.
One of the silver giants appeared, and he was wielding a whip of his own.
Blade saw the silver figure emerge from the pack, and he dodged to the left as the silver giant’s whip hissed toward him.
The Superior missed by a fraction. Blade brought his whip up and around, charging forward as he did, and a fantastic flash of light seemed to fill the lobby as the silver giant was struck in the chest.
The Superior tottered, shaking his head in a vain attempt to unscramble his thoughts.
Blade let the silver giant have a second taste of the lash.
The Superior was hit on the nose, and his head rocked backwards as his huge bulk was thrown to the floor. He thrashed and backed, his legs quivering, smoke filtering from his dilated nostrils. His whip clattered from his grasp.
Hickok materialized from nowhere, diving across the floor, sliding up to the quaking silver giant and scooping the Superior’s whip from the floor by the handle. He leaped to his feet, stroking the whip at their foes, using the weapon as he’d seen Blade do, beaming. “Come and get it, you mangy coyotes!” he shouted.
