First Strike

by Jack Higgins

  Blade nodded. "Joshua and the Elders!"

  "I wish there was a way to export fortune cookies to your Home," Athena wisecracked. "Your Family would eat them up. I'd make a ton of money."

  "No, you wouldn't," Blade told her.

  "Why not?" Athena asked.

  "My Family doesn't own any money," Blade informed her.

  Athena gazed at the Warrior's broad shoulders as he walked past a black cottonwood. "You're putting me on, right?"

  Blade's attention was riveted on Thunder. "I am serious. We believe money, or specifically the loveof money, only breeds evil. Our Founder advised us to avoid money at all costs."

  "But how do you obtain whatever you need? Does your wife make all your clothes? And what about your food?" Athena questioned.

  "We have a system set up where we can get anything we need," Blade detailed. "For instance, if a Family member needs new clothes, all they must do is go to the Weavers and request them. Or if food is needed, the Family Tillers will provide it. Don't misunderstand me. The Elders cultivate self-reliance in all Family members. We're taught how to sew our own clothes and grow our own food. But frequently our duties prevent us from attending to such affairs, and we can request them to be done for us."

  "Incredible," Athena said. "But such a system would not work in the outside world, in the real world. When you have a large population, you need a medium of exchange."

  "I agree," Blade said. "Fortunately, the Family is small enough, with less than a hundred members, that we can operate our Home on the simple principle of sharing."

  "No money," Athena marveled. "You don't know how lucky you are! Money can be a real pain in the ass.Californiahas its own mint, you know. Without money, the state's economy would grind to a halt."

  "We studied the history of money and the various economic systems in the Family school," Blade mentioned. "Money was responsible for a great deal of misery in the world. People would kill for it. Wealthy individuals were always plotting to gain more wealth. Whether the economic system was capitalistic of communistic or some phase in between, the leaders of any given country were invariably part of the affluent elite who manipulated their respective governments into taxing the lower financial classes into the poorhouse."

  "I don't know if it was as bad as all that," Athena commented. "Not all the prewar leaders were greedy for money or power. There were some honest, decent ones."

  "Very few," Blade said. "If there had been more honest, spiritual leaders, we would never have had World War Three."

  Athena smiled, delightfully surprised. She had expected the giant Warrior to be a typical muscle-head. Instead, he was articulate and intelligent, able to discourse on religion, politics, and economics knowledgeably. Here was a guy considered to be one of the deadliest men on the planet, and he was interested in ideals like truth, love, and faith. Would wonders never cease! Too bad he was married, because she definitely wanted to get to know him better.

  Blade abruptly stopped.

  Athena almost bumped into him. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

  "Thunder," he said.

  The Flathead was on his knees, inspecting a stretch of ground near a large log, his expression reflecting concern.

  Blade hastened to the Indian's side. "What is it?"

  "Trouble," Thunder responded. "There was a fight here."

  "Havoc?" Blade asked.

  Thunder's dark eyes surveyed the tracks and indistinct impressions. "He's been captured. See these marks here?" He pointed at a pair of shallow lengthy depressions in a few feet of dirt adjacent to the log.

  "Havoc was unconscious. Two of the mutants dragged him off in that direction." He nodded to the west.

  "One other mutant went along, leading them."

  "What about the other three mutants?" Blade inquired, glancing at his men. They were clustering around him, listening, their attention briefly diverted from the surrounding forest.

  "Most strange," Thunder remarked. "One went to the south, one to the north. I don't know about the third. He could be anywhere."

  "But why would they split up?" Blade asked, perplexed. Why would three of the Hatchlings take off on their own? What reason would they have for separating? Were the mutants hoping to throw off any pursuit? The Hatchlings must suspect Havoc was not alone. What would he do in a similar situation?

  Grab the prisoners and take off? Head for the Kingdom as fast as possible? But only three of the Hatchlings had gone west. Which meant the other three might have been deliberately left behind to distract any pursuers. Or attack them.

  No!

  In a flash of insight, Blade perceived his blunder. He saw his men gathered in a semicircle around him, Athena in the center, and not one of them was paying any attention to the wall of vegetation hemming them in. Not one of them was on vigilant guard.

  "Beats me why they split up," Thunder was saying, still on his knees, his back close to the log.

  "Take cover!" Blade commanded. "This could be a trap!" It was.

  One of the Hatchlings popped up from behind the log, Havoc's M-l 6 in two of its hands. The hybrid hissed as it swung the rifle like a club, crashing the stock into Thunder's head and sending the Flathead sprawling even as it shifted its grip and leveled the barrel at the Freedom Force. Blade was already galvanized into action, leaping and tackling Athena and bearing her to the ground underneath him.

  The Force members started to scatter. Grizzly was the quickest, bounding into the underbrush in two streaking strides in the time it took the Hatchling to aim the M-16. Boone was turning, making for cover. But Kraft and Spader reacted sluggishly, startled by the mutant's unexpected appearance. They were standing four feet apart.

  Blade saw the Hatchling cut loose with the M-16.

  Spader was stitched from his crotch to his face, his body jerking as the slugs hit home. Thump-thump-thump, with blood and flesh bursting out and spraying the ground to his rear. He gurgled and staggered as the mutant continued to pour rounds into him.

  Kraft finally came alive, but instead of fleeing he charged, taking three running steps and vaulting into the air, launching himself at the hybrid.

  The Hatchling swiveled the M-16 toward Kraft.

  Boone saved the Clansman's life. His M-16 in his left hand, in the act of racing for a nearby tree, his body twisted away from the mutant, he drew his right Hombre in midstride. His right hand streaked to the big revolver, his arm a blur as the Hombre cleared leather and boomed.

  The Hatchling about to shoot Kraft was struck in the right shoulder, the impact wrenching its bulky body sideways as it squeezed the trigger. The shots went wild.

  Before the Hatchling could recover, Kraft was on it. The Clansman plowed into the mutant and they toppled from view behind the log.

  Blade started to rise, his eyes on Spader. The Mole was flat on his back, riddled with holes, blood drenching his uniform, his eyes open.

  Boone was running back toward the log.

  Blade caught a movement out of the corner of his right eye and he pivoted. Another Hatchling, unarmed except for its talons, fangs, and prodigious strength, was coming at them from the south, closing on Boone Although their limbs lacked the dexterity of a human, the Hatchlings were capable of supernatural speed.

  Blade tried to bring his M-16 to bear.

  The second Hatchling slammed into Boone from the side, bowling the Cavalryman over. They went down in a jumble of arms and legs.

  Blade took a step toward them.

  "Look out!" Athena suddenly shouted. "Behind you!"

  Blade was jarred by a brutal attack from the rear. He felt a hurtling form ram into his legs and he was knocked off balance and fell forward, landing on his hands and knees, his M-16 clasped in his left hand, the third Hatchling on his back. Two hairy hands clamped on his neck, talons digging into his flesh, while two more swiped at his eyes.

  "Blade!" Athena screamed.

  Blade rolled to the right in an effort to dislodge the Hatchling. He ducked his head to thwart the t
alon swipes at his eyes.

  The hybrid increased the pressure on the Warrior's neck.

  Blade was on top now, the Hatchling pinned under his back. He tried to land a blow with his right elbow, but missed. Frustrated, envisioning the Hatchling tearing into him with those wicked fangs at any moment, he dropped the M-16 and went for his knives, drawing both Bowies as he rolled again, to the left this time, onto his side. He heaved himself erect, his leg muscles straining as the mutant clung to his neck. Once upright, he plunged his Bowies down and around, driving the gleaming blades to the rear, hoping he would connect.

  He did.

  The Hatchling screeched as the Bowies pierced its body, each knife imbedding to the hilt. Blade felt a sticky substance on his fingers, and then the mutant released his neck and pushed itself away from him, wresting loose from the impaling Bowies and falling to the ground. Blade spun, glimpsing Boone on his back with the second mutant on the Cavalryman's chest. And there was Grizzly, claws extended, going to Boone's rescue. Blade took all of this in in an instant, and then he was face-to-face with his own foe.

  The Hatchling glared up at the giant, its features distorted in bestial fury. A pale yellow fluid was pouring from the knife wounds in its side. It hissed and raked its talons at the human's genitals.

  Blade retreated a step, debating whether he could capture the creature alive, whether taking the mutant prisoner might yield useful information. Capturing one would not be easy. The Hatchlings weren't much over five feet in height, if that, but their bodies were very thickset and astonishingly powerful. Added to their brute force were their talons and their fangs. Taking one of them prisoner would be like trying to contain a rampaging, rabid beast; the rewards didn't justify the risks.

  The Hatchling pressed its assault, its talons lashing at the human before it. Unable to reach the giant's neck or face because of his height, the mutant was trying to disembowel its adversary or dismember him. Made retreated several yards before the mutant made a mistake, lunging too fast and too far, missing and exposing its head and throat for a fraction of a second. Which was more than enough time for Blade to angle his left Bowie in an underhand loop. He saw the point slice into the Hatchling's neck just under the chin, and he drove the Bowie all the way in and up, then promptly released the knife and stepped back.

  The Hatchling stiffened, hissing and snarling, futilely attempting to pull the Bowie free. Yellow blood spurted over its hands and chest. It glared at the giant as it slowly sank to its knees, wheezing. The mouth twisted wide, baring the fangs, and it pitched onto its face.

  Boone and Grizzly!

  Blade twisted, ready to go to their help, but his assistance wasn't required. Boone was still on the ground, his right Hombre in his hand, gawking at the battle royal a few feet off. Grizzly and the second Hatchling were going at it tooth and nail. The Hatchling was trying to match its talons against Grizzly's claws, giving stroke for stroke, slash for slash. Grizzly was bleeding from a dozen wounds, the Hatchling from even more.

  Blade was about to join in, to kill the Hatchling as quickly as possible, when the tide of battle abruptly shifted in Grizzly's favor. He saw the Hatchling trip.

  Grizzly pounced. His razor claws raked the hybrid once, twice, three times in all, directly across the Hatchling's face, turning the hybrid's countenance into serrated strips of gory flesh and hair. The Hatchling tried to flee, starting to turn, but Grizzly wasn't about to allow his opponent to escape. He took one stride and brought his claws up in a savage arc, burying them in the Hatchling's head, one hand on either side next to the ear.

  The Hatchling bubbled and thrashed, then collapsed.

  Blade glanced down at Athena Morris. She was sitting up, staring at the carnage in unrestrained horror. Grizzly contemptuously tossed the Hatchling aside. "Tough little bastard," he commented. Boone stood. "Thanks for lending a hand," he said to Grizzly. "It caught me off guard." Grizzly looked at Boone. "Not too surprising. Most human reflexes are as slow as sap."

  "Maybe one day I can repay the favor," Boone said.

  "Nothing ever catches me off guard," Grizzly stated. "But I appreciate the thought." Blade bent down, flipped over the dead Hatchling he'd slain, and yanked out his left Bowie. He wiped the blade clean on the mutant's body, then placed both Bowies in their sheaths. He saw Thunder prone on the earth near the log, and hurried to the Flathead's side. A check of Thunder's pulse confirmed the Indian was alive.

  "Is he all right?" Athena asked, rising.

  "I don't know," Blade said. He squatted on his knees and rested Thunder's head on his legs, then ran his fingers over the rear of Thunder's cranium. "There's some blood and a nasty bump." Boone came over and knelt alongside Spader.

  "Is he dead?" Athena queried.

  Boone, frowning, nodded. He reached out and closed Spader's eyelids. "I'm afraid so, ma'am. And the radio is shot to pieces."

  Athena glanced around. "Where's Kraft?"

  Blade gently eased Thunder to the ground, then stood to peer over the log. The last he'd seen, Kraft had disappeared behind the log fighting a Hatchling. But now there was no sign of either.

  "Is he there?" Boone questioned, standing and coining over.

  "He's gone," Blade said.

  Athena joined them by die log. "But where could he be?"

  Blade gazed into the forest beyond. "My hunch is the Hatchling captured him. I don't see any blood, so Kraft might still be alive."

  "Now they've got Havoc and Kraft," Boone commented acidly.

  Grizzly walked up. "Not only that, but the sons of bitches know we're coming. From here on out, they've got the advantage."

  Blade turned, scowling. Grizzly was right. The Hatchlings did have the edge now. And all because he'd been stupid and careless. He should have been more alert. So what if he had assumed the Hatchlings were a mile ahead of the Force? He'd moronically thrown caution to the wind and paid the price. How could he have allowed himself to be distracted by his conversation with Athena? If this was the best he could do, perhaps he should consider resigning as leader of the Freedom Force. He squatted, removing his canteen from his belt.

  "Do you want me to take off after them?" Grizzly asked.

  "No," Blade replied. "From here on out we'll stick together." He opened his canteen, then rolled Thunder over.

  "I can catch up with them," Grizzly said. "Why not let me go?"

  Blade looked up at the mutant. "Because I said so," he responded irritably. Grizzly shrugged. "This is your show," he remarked.

  Blade splashed some water on Thunder's face, but the Flathead wouldn't revive. He lightly slapped Thunder's chin, with the same result.

  "He could be hurt internally," Athena mentioned. "A concussion perhaps. Or worse." Blade sighed. This was just what he didn't need! He couldn't afford to waste precious time waiting for Thunder to revive. And he wouldn't desert the Flathead. So what should he do?

  "I can carry him," Grizzly offered.

  "No," Blade said. "He'd slow us down, and you'd be vulnerable with him in your arms." He pondered for a minute.

  Boone was reloading the spent round in his Hombre. "I'm glad you're the one making the decisions," he observed. "I wouldn't want to be in your boots."

  "Sometimes Idon't want to be in my boots," Blade said, rising. He reflected for a bit more. "Okay. Here's what well do. Athena, I want you to stay here with Thunder—"

  "Forget it," Athena said, cutting him off.

  "What?"

  "You heard me," Athena declared. "I like Thunder as much as you do, but I'm not staying behind. Not when we're so close. You need me."

  "We can get by without you," Blade told her.

  "Who do you think you're kidding?" Athena snapped. "The only reason you want me to stay here is because it'll keep me out of danger. You think you're doing the right thing, but you're not. Who else can lead you straight to the Kingdom? Who else knows the layout of the Kingdom like I do? Who else knows where the lookouts are posted?" She paused. "You need me, and you know it." Bla
de hesitated. Her knowledge of the Spider and the countryside was a definite asset, but he didn't want to see her harmed.

  "I'll stay," Boone volunteered.

  Blade glanced at Thunder. "I don't know…"

  "You do need Athena," Boone noted. "And Grizzly can hold his own against those Hatchlings. I'm the logical choice. Besides, Thunder and I have become friends. We have a lot in common-"

  "Okay," Blade said, relieved' to be off the hook. "You stay with Thunder. If he revives and he isn't seriously injured, come after us. Otherwise, stay here until we return."

  Boone motioned toward the trees. "Where can I go?"

  Blade capped his canteen and hooked it on his belt. He noticed Grizzly was staring at the Hatchling dispatched by his claws, grinning. "What are you so happy about?" he asked. Grizzly chuckled. "Did you see the way I carved that sucker up? I haven't had this much fun in ages!"

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ooooohhh! His aching noggin!

  Sergeant Havoc slowly regained consciousness. For a minute he

  experienced the illusion of being on a boat, of feeling the rise and fall of the craft on the swelling waves. And then he vividly recalled everything: following the hybrids, being played for a fool, and being captured. His eyes snapped open.

  "The human is awake," a Hatchling promptly declared. Havoc took his bearings: The Hatchlings had bound his hands and feet to a stout branch. Two of the Hybrids were carrying him, each bearing one end of the branch on their shoulder. His body dangled from the bough, swaying with every step the Hatchlings took. A throbbing pain engulfed his head. His temples were particularly sore. The front of his camouflage T-shirt had been cut to shreds. His arms sported crimson gashes, and his fatigue pants and legs had been ripped and slashed. All of his weapons were gone. So was his backpack.

  The two Hatchlings halted, and the one supporting the front end of the branch half turned and gazed at the soldier. "What is your name, human?"

  Havoc licked his dry lips before replying. "Up yours!" He was facing the direction of their travel, to the west, and he could see the hapless woman prisoner several yards away. Walking past her, toward him, was a third mutant. Probably the leader, he guessed.