Hive Invasion (14 page)

Putting on a burst of speed, Ryan grabbed for the top of the tailgate, getting his fingers on it just as the truck shifted gears and surged ahead, pulling him off his feet!

Chapter Nineteen

As he held on by one hand, Ryan’s combat boots bounced and dragged against the hardpan as the truck accelerated even faster into the scrubby plains. The two blown tires didn’t seem to be slowing it all that much.

Gritting his teeth, Ryan reached up with his other arm, which still throbbed unmercifully from his still-healing burrower injury. Shooting with it hadn’t been bad, but lifting it over his head was another story. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed onto the side of the truck bed and pulled himself up to fall inside it. Even as he hit, Ryan rolled forward, aware that the people inside probably knew someone had caught up with them.

Sure enough, a head emerged from the passenger-side window again. It was the woman, her face covered in blood, and she was pointing a blaster at Ryan, who ducked out of the way. The next thing he heard was footsteps right overhead. Glancing up, he saw the woman standing on the roof of the truck cab, the muzzle of her blaster tracking toward him.

Ryan grabbed her feet and yanked them toward him as the weapon fired close enough for him to feel the brief blast of flame on his scalp. The woman slammed down hard enough on the passenger compartment to leave a large dent in the metal. Still holding on to her, Ryan stepped backward, dragging her off the cab. She managed to get an arm underneath to break her fall, but her blaster pitched from her hand and fell into a corner of the truck bed.

Even seriously injured and flat on her back, the woman was dangerous. She wrenched a foot out of his grasp and immediately pistoned it back into his stomach. The air whooshed out of Ryan’s lungs, leaving him stunned just long enough so that he was unable to block a second kick that tore her other foot from his grasp and sent him staggering back toward the tailgate. He stopped only when the back of his knees hit the metal, and for a moment he teetered on the edge, a hairbreadth away from falling out of the truck.

Regaining his balance, Ryan sucked in a breath and stepped forward to find himself facing the woman, who was now standing up. Although the bullet had plowed through her skull and a good portion of her brain, she was still moving as if she hadn’t been injured at all. Even in the bed of the fast-moving truck, she easily kept her balance as she watched him.

Ryan’s hand shot to the butt of his SIG Sauer and pulled it from his hip holster. But even as he brought it up, she leaped forward, a hard hand gripping his wrist and wrenching the weapon away from him. Clenching her other hand into a fist, she launched it at his jaw, but Ryan grabbed that one in his other hand.

For a moment, he strained against her, their muscles flexing as each combatant tried to get an advantage on the other. Ryan was shocked at the woman’s strength, especially since she was several inches shorter than him, and at least sixty pounds lighter. Her grip, however, was crushing, and trying to move her was like pushing against a granite wall.

The truck hit a patch of rougher terrain, the jouncing bed making it more difficult to keep their balance. Even so, she brought up a leg and tried to kick Ryan in the crotch, using their locked arms as brace points to help keep her balance. Ryan saw the move coming, however, and twisted his hips to take the blow on his thigh. He kept turning, using her force against her and pulling her off balance. While she staggered to try to stay on her feet, he pulled her all the way around and let go of her wrist while twisting his other wrist out of her grasp, intending to let her go flying into the tailgate and out of the truck as he almost had a few seconds ago.

At least that was what was supposed to happen.

Unfortunately, he didn’t break her hold on his wrist. Instead, she leaped into the air and drove her elbow down toward his face. Ryan saw it in time to duck his head and take the blow on the top of his skull. Even so, he saw a bright white flash for a moment, and he countered by driving his free hand into her nose, crushing it. The blow snapped her head back and made her entire body recoil, but she still didn’t let go of his blaster arm.

Now they had switched places, with Ryan facing away from the cab. He shoved her toward the tailgate, the punch stunning her enough so that he could use his superior weight to force her back. He had just gotten her up to it when the truck swerved violently to the right, catching them by surprise and knocking both Ryan and the woman off their feet.

He fell into the side of the bed, painfully banging his elbow and ribs. She slid into the side with her head and shoulder, but again, didn’t seem affected by it at all. Ryan grabbed his blaster arm with his other hand to try to force it over to her head. He had moved it about six inches when the truck swerved to the left, making them slide across the cargo area to slam into the other side.

Ryan pulled his arm close to him, bringing her with it. At the same time, he arched forward to slam his forehead into her face, pulping her already broken nose even more. Her head snapped back again, then she brought it forward to smash her forehead into
his
face.

Pain exploded on his cheekbone, and the world turned to red and white stars for a moment. Furious, Ryan blinked away the tears caused by the shot and moved his head out of the way just in time to avoid another forehead butt.

“That’s
it!
” Tossing his blaster to his left hand, he jammed it into her rib cage and fired repeatedly. The cluster of bullets plowed through her body, shattering her sternum and sending jagged fragments of bone through her chest cavity to shred her heart and lungs. And all this on top of the damage the bullets themselves caused, which included tearing out her spinal column, as well.

And
still
the woman didn’t stop coming after Ryan. Bleeding profusely and with her legs now useless, she nonetheless tried to climb on him, her still-powerful arms and hands clawing at his face or throat. Her movements took on a frenzied quality, as if the thing inside her knew it was in trouble.

“Dammit, bitch, get...the fuck...away from me!” Ryan dropped his empty blaster and shoved her off him. Standing up, he grabbed her by the throat and leg and picked her up off the bed, holding her far enough away to avoid her other flailing arm. He started hoisting her up to pitch her over the side when the truck lurched again, tipping him off balance and sending him crashing on his butt, only this time with her on top of him.

Feeling fingers scrabbling at his throat, Ryan threw up a forearm to block them while reaching for the panga at his hip. Drawing it, he got his leg between her and him and pushed her away. She rolled to the front of the bed and turned over, then began crawling back toward him, dragging her useless legs behind her.

“That’s right.... Come here,” Ryan said, rising in a crouch and waiting for her. When she was close enough, he stood, planted a foot on her back and crushed her to the truck bed. She tried to lever herself up, but Ryan brought the panga down in a savage blow that laid her neck open and severed her jugular vein. Dark blood dribbled out as he pulled the blade free and brought it down, removing the woman’s head from her body. It rolled into a corner, covered with dirt and blood, while the body spasmed under his foot.

Ryan watched the stump of the neck carefully, and when the disgusting slug-creature came out, he was ready. He chopped it into two with a single blow of his panga, wincing at the psychic scream of pain that pierced his skull. Just to make sure the thing was dead, he chopped each half into two pieces, as well. He was satisfied only when all the pieces stopped moving.

Dropping to his knees, he sat back on his haunches and took several deep breaths, not caring that all he could smell was blood, sweat and dirt. Just about every part of him hurt from the knocking around he had taken in the past few minutes.

Glancing at the cab, he noticed that the truck was slowing. Ryan looked around for his blaster and found it in another corner of the cargo bed, spattered with blood. He searched through his pockets for a full mag but came up empty.

By now the truck had come to a full stop. Ryan kept his bloody panga close while searching for the woman’s Beretta. He found it in another corner of the bed, picked it up and checked the chamber. It had a round in it. Picking up his panga, Ryan got up and trudged to the front left corner of the bed, ready for the truck to take off again at any moment.

As he did, he noticed the driver’s window was starred, as if a bullet had passed through it. He reached out to tap on the glass, and the whole thing shattered into hundreds of tiny fragments, which spilled to the ground. A faint tendril of smoke wafted out from inside. The truck had been turned off, and only the ticking of its cooling engine could be heard in the silent night.

“Ricky?” Ryan asked. “You in there?”

“Yes. Ryan? Is that you?”

“Yeah.” Still holding both of his weapons, Ryan threw his leg over the side and slowly, painfully climbed to the ground. “Are you okay?”

“I...think so.”

Stepping to the driver’s door, Ryan reached for the handle with his blaster hand. He pulled it open and covered the very dead driver with the Beretta.

Still belted into his seat, his head tipped back, the man looked as if he had been mauled by a bear or some other wild animal. His entire chest was covered in blood, with a drying pool of it puddled in his crotch. The cause was obvious—his throat had been messily torn open, the resulting large hole spilling his life’s fluid everywhere.

Beside him crouched Ricky, breathing heavily while he worked on something in his lap. With a pleased grunt, he lifted his hands and removed the cut zip tie that had bound his hands, massaging life back into his white, swollen fingers. He stared at Ryan with wide eyes, looking much like the animal that had killed the man. The lower half of his face and his shirt were both covered with blood, so much of it that Ryan had no trouble figuring out exactly how the teen had opened up the man’s throat.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Ricky nodded at the driver’s corpse. “Better than him.” He grinned, revealing bloodstained teeth, then suddenly whirled, leaned over the passenger-side door and threw up.

“At least you had the presence of mind to do that outside,” Ryan said when he had finished. “Come on, let’s get this guy out of here and head back to the ville.” He sheathed his panga and moved to unbuckle the man from the driver’s seat when he heard a strange, rattling hiss from the dead body.

Ryan threw himself backward just as a slug creature burst from the corpse’s ruined throat and lunged at his mouth. Having missed with its initial attack, the creature hung half in, half out of the dead man’s neck, writhing around as its antennae tried to home in on its next target.

“Bastard!” Ryan drew the flensing knife from where it was sheathed at the back of his neck and stabbed the creature through its middle, pinning it to the chest of the body. The slug squealed and struggled, then went limp as it oozed black ichor down the front of the body to mix with the drying blood.

“Ricky, get his seat belt off.”

The kid did so, and Ryan hauled the body out and dumped it on the grass chest up. Drawing his panga, he retrieved his flensing knife, cleaned it and put it away. Then he hacked the slug into four pieces with his panga for good measure.

Once that was done, he went to the back and dumped the headless body of the woman out of the bed, kicking her head out, as well. He then got down and climbed into the driver’s seat, wincing at the sticky wetness he had to sit on. “Let’s head back.”

Ricky nodded, still staring at him with wide eyes. “Thanks for coming after me.”

Ryan grunted as he familiarized himself with the truck’s controls. “Sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you with these bastards.”

Chapter Twenty

Several hours later, Ryan stood on the second-floor balcony of the motel, watching as the members of the Silvertide collective finished their preparations to leave the ville and keep heading west.

He and Ricky had returned to find the people already packing up their wagons. J.B. and the others had apparently informed them of what had happened, and the good folk had taken it upon themselves to pack up and get the hell out of Dodge. Even the large water machine had been moved off the roof, aided by the use of an ingenious block-and-tackle system that enabled three men to move it with ease. It rested on a wagon now, covered by a thick tarp.

Ryan and Ricky had gotten a chance to clean up using a couple of buckets of water, and Mildred had set Ricky’s nose, which he said hurt like hell. His face around his eyes was turning several shades of black and blue, his voice had a muffled, clogged aspect to it and he had a pounding headache from the shot he’d taken to the chops, but he was otherwise all right.

However, Ricky wasn’t sure what had been worse—getting treated by Mildred, or getting grilled by her about the attackers and having to repeat everything he had gone through at least twice, not to mention answering her follow-up questions. By the time she was finished with him, Ricky swore he had at least two kinds of headache, and not just from his broken nose either.

Other than being sore all over, Ryan was also okay. When he’d returned, J.B. hadn’t said a word, just shook his head. Ryan figured they’d be having a conversation about their enemy soon enough. Meanwhile, Mildred was concerned about the blow on his cheekbone, which was turning a brilliant shade of purple, but gentle probing revealed nothing had been broken. “Doubtless your hard head saved you again,” she muttered.

“You don’t see me complaining,” he’d replied, then winced as she started to apply alcohol to his various scrapes and cuts.

Tully had also been recovered safely, and the third kidnapping victim, one of her cousins, had been recovered safe and sound from the rear passenger area of the truck. Except for a bump on the head and a splitting headache, he’d come to without any other problems.

There had been one spare tire on the truck, which Ryan and J.B. had used to replace the more chewed-up tire on the front driver’s side. The rear one, although run flat, they thought would be a loss until Elder Bough had put a few of the scavvies on the job. Within an hour, they’d presented Ryan with the patched and filled tire. It was much heavier now, as it had been filled with sand to retain its shape. It had taken both of them to mount it again, but once on, it did its job pretty well. Perhaps not as responsive as the air-filled ones, but given that the vehicle was drivable, they certainly weren’t going to complain.

J.B. had been particularly impressed with the truck. “The good news is that we don’t need any gas for it,” he said while showing it to Ryan. “See these?” He tapped the hood and top of the cab, both of which were covered in what looked like hundreds of small plastic squares embedded under a layer of clear Plexiglas.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “What are they, solar panels?”

If J.B. was disappointed that Ryan had guessed the answer, he didn’t show it. “That’s right. Even the dent in the side only knocked out a couple of them. They charge up the electric engine quick and store it in batteries under the seats and cargo bed. Even at night, these things have a range of about two hundred miles. It’s exactly what we need to get around out here.”

The truck was the fastest thing they had, next to the windriders. The rest of the convoy consisted of oxen-drawn wagons, complete with canvas covers over the back, that looked straight out of the nineteenth century. The only difference was the rubber tires instead of wooden ones. Doc had even commented with pleasant surprise when he’d first seen them. “Upon my soul, these look familiar. Mayhap I could spell someone once we are under way, as I did know my way around a pair of reins back in the day.” Fortunately, everyone else was too busy tending to tasks to ask him what he meant by that.

Spotting the elders clustered around the lead wagon, Ryan and the rest of his group headed down to let them know what would happen from this point on. Startled stares greeted his battered appearance, but Ryan ignored that and got straight to business.

“All right, since everyone is ready, we’ll head out now and put as much distance between us and the ville as possible. We’ll stop around midday for a couple of hours to eat and rest—no sense traveling during the hottest part of the day—and then push on again until dark.”

He turned to Tully and Latham. “The windriders will be about a half mile out from the main convoy at all times. Stay within sight of us, and we’ll do the same. Either of you see anything odd, you come back and report it, got that? No investigation, no heading over just to get a closer look, just come on back. Once you report what you saw, J.B. and I will make the call as to what, if anything, we do about it.”

He glanced at Ricky and Jak, both of whom were outfitted in a similar fully covering outfit of the windrider pilots. Each young man also carried an M4 carbine. “Since we may encounter more of those body-snatchers at some point, armed riders will go with each of you.”

He eyed Ricky. “You sure you’re up for this after last night?”

The Puerto Rican nodded. “Yes, Ryan, I’m fine.”

“All right.”

Ryan looked at the Latham. “Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“Ryan!” the teenager protested. “I’m fine. Really!”

“So you say. Even so, I’ll feel better if he watches out for you, that’s all.” Ryan looked at everyone. “J.B. and I will take the truck for the first day. Elder Bough, I’d like to have Krysty ride with you. Mildred, you and Doc will be in the last wagon.” He made sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing, “That warning I gave the scouts goes the same for everyone else. If you see anything, sing out and pass the message up the train to us. We’ll decide what to do about it. Above all, do not leave the train, no matter what. I do not care if you see your great-aunt Matilda standing out on the plains waving at you, no one leaves the train. Splitting up will most likely be the death of you and us. Doc? Doc!”

Ryan was about to snap his fingers in front of the old man, who, although he appeared to have been listening, had a peculiar, far-off expression on his face, as if he had been daydreaming. But at his raised voice, Doc blinked and looked at him with utmost attention.

“Eh, what, Ryan? Yes, I was paying attention, Mildred and I are to join those at the rear of the wagon train and watch for hostile Native Ameri...I mean, danger,” he amended upon receiving an elbow in the ribs from Mildred. “I stand ready to do my part, of course.”

His brow furrowed, Ryan stared at him for a few seconds before continuing. “Okay. Are there any questions?”

Everyone looked around at one another, but no one spoke. Then Elder Bough stepped forward. “Elders, let us pray.”

The five leaders bowed their heads, and Bough uttered a brief prayer for swift and peaceful travel through these lands. Even Ryan nodded and said “amen” with the others once he finished.

“Okay, let’s move out,” Ryan said. As the others scattered to their positions, he stopped Mildred and Krysty. “I need a word with both of you.”

“Sure, Ryan, what’s up?” Mildred asked.

“In your opinion, Mildred, has Doc been acting...well, odder than usual?”

The healer mulled his question over for a few seconds. “You do realize the term ‘odder than usual’ is always relative when referring to him, right?”

Ryan’s smile at her answer was brief. “Yeah, but on the whole, we usually know what to expect from him. Over the past day or so I’ve been less and less sure.”

“Well, along with the rest of us, he’s been through a lot,” Krysty pointed out. “There was the whole bug battle—”

“Culminating in you, Jak and him reenacting the Last Stand at the Alamo,” Mildred said, frowning at their confused stares. “It’s a historical thing.... I’ll explain it later.”

“And then we got little sleep, ran away from the rest of those bugs the rest of the night and walked around under the hot sun for a day before almost getting buried alive in a sandstorm.” Krysty glanced at the gaunt old man walking jauntily away with his swordstick. “Frankly, I’m surprised he’s doing as well as he is.”

Mildred shrugged. “On the whole, I agree with Krysty. We all took a beating these past couple of days. You know that sometimes Doc just takes longer to recover than the rest of us. I think this is one of those times, that’s all.”

“All right.” Ryan had also been watching the silver-haired man head down the line of a dozen wagons to the rearmost one. “With J.B. and me in the truck and Ricky and Jak scouting, that leaves you three—” he nodded at the two women “—which sort of means you two will be overseeing the train if there’s trouble. Keep an eye on Doc while you’re doing that?”

“As usual.” Mildred rolled her eyes. “I’m going to need you to spell me at some point, Krysty. I like the old guy well enough, but some days...”

“You take the morning, I’ll take the afternoon,” the flame-haired woman replied. “We’ll handle him, just like always.”

“Yeah.” Mildred cast a wistful glance at the truck. “I better get back there before he gets into some kind of trouble.” She headed toward where Doc was, leaving Krysty and Ryan alone, more or less, in the throng of quickly packing scavvies.

Krysty slipped her arms around him. “I definitely like you better after you’ve cleaned up, lover.”

Ryan grinned. “What, are you saying I wasn’t appealing covered in blood, dirt and slime?”

“Not in the least. By the way, I may have to babysit Doc during the day, but I’m still all yours at night.”

“What the hell are we waiting for, then?” Ryan asked. “Let’s get going!”

* * *

T
HE
FIRST
HALF
of the day passed uneventfully. The land was still, with the hot sun rising to blaze overhead. There was no wind, and only a few wispy clouds in the magenta sky. Even the large birds, which J.B. had warned Ryan about, weren’t out hunting that day, although they kept a wary eye overhead, just in case. The air was filled with the creak of harness and tack, and an occasional low bellow from an ox as they plodded relentlessly forward, hauling the wagons behind them.

In the newly cleaned truck, Ryan and J.B. rode outrider around the train, each watching all around for any sign of trouble.

J.B. broke the silence in the second hour of their patrol. “Least with all this flat land out here, it’d be really hard for anyone to sneak up on you.”

“Yeah,” Ryan murmured. “Unless there’s more of those blasted burrow-bugs around.”

“True.” J.B. glanced behind them at the wagon train slowly trailing the truck. “That plan of yours to find the redoubt.”

Ryan didn’t pause in his methodical sweep of the desolate landscape. “Yeah?”

“I figure it relied on having these kidnappers make a successful hit, and then following them back to wherever they’re holed up.” J.B. looked sidelong at him. “That about right?”

Ryan rubbed his chin. “That was the size of it.”

“Any reason why we didn’t follow through with it last night?”

“Because we weren’t ready,” Ryan replied. “You know as well as I do that something like that takes time to set up proper.”

“I’m well aware of the logistics,” J.B. replied. “That the only reason?”

Ryan grunted. “Only one that counts.”

His oldest friend turned to look back out at the scrub prairie surrounding them. “You’re a good tactician, Ryan. Always have been. Good at adapting to things on the fly, too. Hell, been lots of times where you and I’ve always been on the same page regarding a scenario with hardly a word exchanged, even when it went to hell.”

“So what about it?” Ryan’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the other man’s point. “Fireblast, J.B., you got something you want to say, just spit it out.”

J.B. paused for a few seconds, as if weighing his next words carefully. “It just seems that you might have been more inclined to run with the plan when it was just the collective members that got grabbed.” He turned back to regard Ryan soberly. “But Ricky getting snatched changed the whole thing, didn’t it?”

“Don’t forget our intel was shit, too. Until last night we didn’t know how they were getting their victims away from the ville either. We wouldn’t have been able to follow them fast enough to do anything.”

“Tires leave tracks, even out here,” J.B. replied quietly. “But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Well, shit—course it matters!” Ryan replied. “You’ve gotten a close-up look at what happens when one of those things gets inside someone. Is that what you want for Ricky? Or Doc? Or Mildred?”

“Course not,” J.B. replied. “I don’t want that happening to anyone, least of all anyone I care about. Look, I’m not saying you made the wrong choice. I’d probably have done the same thing, too. Just worried that we may have lost a decent chance to locate their base.”

“And you think that’s worth risking Ricky’s life for?” Ryan asked.

“Nope. I’d prefer to figure out a way to find them without risking anybody.” J.B. sucked air through his teeth. “But I also don’t think we should be so dismissive about these people that we’re supposed to be trying to help either.”

Ryan felt the beginnings of that slow burn of anger he usually got when he thought someone was talking down to him, but he also knew J.B. was the last person who would do that. He took a breath as well, letting it hiss out his nose as he thought. “I don’t think I was exactly dismissive about them. I mean, we got them all back, didn’t we?”

“Yup, and a good thing, too. But let’s face it. If it had been Ricky who had gotten away clean on the roof, you and I would have probably been less concerned about who got taken and more concerned about tracking the takers back to where they live.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ryan said. “The way Jak was itching to jump out there and start blasting away made me wonder who he was more worried about.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he was all for saving Ricky, too,” J.B. said. “Still, didn’t you wonder how they happened to be out there in the first place?”