The loud whump of something landing on the roof sent Debbi sliding to the floor, back set firmly against the wood, the rifle pointed up.
She could hear the nails of the thing cracking through the logs of the roof as if they were made of balsa. She fired at its position. Gaping holes appeared above her as her shots tore through the ceiling.
There was no scream of agony, no heavy thud from a body dropping.
Only silence.
Damn it, Debbi cursed silently, her breath expelling in an adrenaline-powered rush. She scrambled to her feet and darted across the cabin floor, nearly falling over one of the dead miners. Never stay in the same location. They'll draw a bead on you. She hit the doorjamb with a shoulder and a grunt.
Then she listened, trying to pinpoint the creature's location. It probably hadn't gone far. There was still fresh meat from its kill inside and a tasty, live snack waiting to be dessert.
The back wall exploded in a wave of splinters and logs. With a shout, she ducked and fired, ignoring the splinters that sliced her neck and hands. A large blunt object struck her upper left chest and drove the breath from her lungs and her to the ground. She fought back to her knees, sucking in sweet air through the pulsing pain.
Something huge and black with teeth gleaming stared at her from outside the new hole in the wall. She fired at it and it barely moved. It only screamed into the maw of the cabin. Its fetid breath swept over Debbi. She gagged. The stench of decay brought back her nightmares in a rush. The smell automatically triggered the fear within her to swell out of her tenuous control.
Long arms reached inside and gnarled hands with claws as long as Debbi's hands clamped on the sides of the hole in the wall. It began to drag itself inside.
Debbi waited no longer, forcing herself to act. She fired repeatedly at the creature and back-pedaled out the door. Her only hope lay in the speeder several yards away. She couldn't see the creature any longer, but she could hear it. She could scarcely tell the difference between the sound of it destroying the cabin as it forced its entrance and the primal scream that erupted from its throat.
She broke and ran, legs pumping, her heart barely able to keep up.
The speeder slowly loomed into view in the dusky air. Her long legs stretched out like a sprinter, she ate up ground, but it wasn't enough. A scream exploded from her mouth as the creature skidded to a stop between her and her speeder. It was massive and stooped, but its speed was undeniable. She slipped on the loose shale as she swiftly changed direction, firing her weapon from under her arm as she spun around. She got one clean hit and a possible second. The creature staggered, but she didn't break speed to scrutinize her victory.
She could hear it behind her, scrambling to gain its footing as it began its pursuit. The only option left was the thick hedgerow. She dove into the thinnest part, using her arms and rifle to bear the impact. A hundred thorns grabbed at her and her brain immediately flashed that it was nothing like what the claws on that monster would feel like. She rolled twice. A branch tore the miner's rifle from her hands but she didn't care.
Keep going!
She struggled up from her knees and pushed her way through to the next row. Emerging on the opposite side, she fell into the ditch between the hedges, sliding down on her left hip. She raised her head. The underbrush in front of her was slightly broken and she saw a scrap of cloth hanging from a thorn.
The third miner came this way.
She drew her sidearm and entered the next high thicket, slowly making her way through the grasping branches that tore at her own clothes, using the heavy pistol to fend off knife-sharp, four-inch thorns.
Suddenly the thicket vanished. She found herself on a rough, recently broken path that had been made by something large smashing the hearty thorn bushes to the ground.
A soft, muffled sobbing reached her ears. She quickened her steps and saw the third miner curled in a fetal position in the midst of the matted underbrush. His face bloody, his body torn. He also had a rifle with one of the bizarre attachments; it lay on the ground beside him. Somehow he had managed to elude the creature.
She knelt and reached out a hand to his shoulder. "H-hey, mister. You okay?"
The man screamed and rolled away from her. He scrambled to his knees and backed away frantically until he came up against the surrounding thorns. His eyes were bloodshot and wide. His lips continued to mutter incessantly, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, his head rocking back and forth.
"I'm a Colonial Ranger." Debbi attempted to calm him. "I'm here to help. Are you okay?"
The man gave a strangled sob and hugged his knees. Debbi realized that she wasn't going to get much out of him. She stood. Getting him to safety was her first priority. She picked up his discarded weapon.
Then Debbi heard the sound of the large animal, breathing hard, with rough, leathery skin muscling its way through the thorns. The miner heard it too and began screaming in a distraught voice.
"Shut up!" Debbi hissed.
His loud cries stopped in a strangled gasp.
"We're dead!" he whispered wildly to her. "We're dead!"
Debbi tried to listen for the direction of the noise. The surrounding growth was higher than her head; she couldn't see more than a foot or two into the thicket. The rustling came from deep in the brush. She looped the rifle over her shoulder and grabbed the prospector by the arm, yanking him to his feet. She began backing down the crushed path in the direction of the cabin and her speeder. As she played her weapon along the dark hedgerow, she pulled the miner with her. She felt him trembling almost as bad as she was.
The vanishing daylight wriggled through the deep thicket. With every step, Debbi saw movement around her. The sounds of snapping foliage were coming closer. She imagined a herd of clawed things, scuttling through the hedgerows on all sides, preparing to leap from the mottled background.
Debbi and the miner emerged from the thicket at the rear of the cabin. She pushed the miner ahead, backing away from the thicket, her eyes never leaving the dark brush.
She barked orders in a quick hard tone. "There's a speeder bike in front of the cabin. Go! I'll cover you."
"No!" He fell back in terror, his bloodshot eyes locked on the cabin. He twisted out of her grasp and mechanically veered toward the hedges.
"Don't be a fool!" she shouted.
The miner reached the boundary of the thorns. She heard a loud crashing. The miner heard it too and spun around with a scream. Two long, bony arms thrust their way through the knife-sharp growth and plunged yellow claws into the miner. His scream turned into a shriek.
Debbi whirled, steadied, and fired twice at a large shape half obscured in the brush. With a simple tug, the creature pulled the hapless prospector into the darkness with it. The man's frenzied howling lasted only a split second and then it was silenced. Blood sprayed from the bushes.
Debbi fired into the growth, praying that she was hitting something.
The light had faded fast in the mountain valley. It was a bad time of day for a gunfight with something weird and quick. She eyed the hedge where the creature vanished, but saw nothing.
She backed away, expecting the creature to burst forth and attack. But it didn't. What the hell was it waiting for?
Suddenly the thing shot up from behind some rocks nearly fifty yards away and arced through the air. It landed hard on the roof of the cabin and crouched down spider-like, the dead miner dangling from one long-fingered hand.
Debbi raced to the speeder a few yards away. She dropped down next to the bike and raised her gun. She aimed at the black shape on the roof and squeezed off two shots. Both hit. She huffed with triumph.
The thing barely flinched. It arched its back slightly and dug its free hand into the roof. Hundred pound logs flew aside like sticks and the thing dropped out of sight into the cabin. Debbi couldn't believe it; numerous hits with her Dragoon, a weapon that would stop a man in full body armor, and that thing was still moving.
It was time to g
o.
She manhandled the bike upright and straddled it. Her foot fumbled for the starter and she fired it up. She wheeled it around, placing her back to the cabin. Then Debbi pointed her weapon back over her shoulder and fired blind twice. She gunned the throttle and the speeder fishtailed. She risked a glance back.
The front of the cabin exploded outward. The creature roared out amidst a rain of shattered logs and loped up the trail after Debbi. She turned forward, crouched low, and held on. The bike's front edge glanced off a rock and teetered. Debbi wrenched her shoulder to counterbalance and keep it upright.
The rock-strewn trail roared under her in the deepening twilight. The bike shuddered and bucked. She could feel the creature pounding close behind her. She swerved around the tree that nearly unhorsed her coming in. The ground evened out and she drove the engine hard, eating up the miles.
It was nearly fifteen minutes of breakneck speeding before she dared a second glance back. She saw nothing. She eased down on the throttle. Her arms and legs were drained, and she finally noticed her heart pounding in her ears.
Debbi slumped over the handlebars, weak and shaky, her breath a pathetic gulping sound. She mopped her damp brow with the sleeve of her shirt. She straightened and willed the tremors to cease. She wasn't prepared for the near hysterical laugh that erupted suddenly from her dry lips.
She had escaped! Her old fears tried to rise up and drag her down, but she beat them back.
Pulling out her canteen, Debbi took a long, cool draught of water, wishing it were something a hell of a lot stronger.
She shook her head and let out another loud, frenzied laugh. She yelled and spun the speeder. As she pointed the bike home to Temptation, she knew she had a couple of hours to ride through dangerous territory at night. All she could think about, however, was that she finally had her own story of Life and Death on Banshee to share with the other Rangers at Mo's Saloon.
Chapter 2
Debbi was relieved to see the inviting watchtower lights of Temptation after the long ride in the darkness. She roared through the gate to surprisingly lively salutes and waves from the Night Watch and she braked outside the Ranger headquarters.
She dismounted the bike and stretched. She pulled off her goggles and shook out her long red hair. The front doors swung open and an excited face greeted her. It was attached to a lanky, young man with tousled brown hair and a perpetual smirk.
"Hey ya, Ringo," Debbi said. "Ross inside?"
"Dallas! You're back! And just in time too!" He jumped off the wooden sidewalk and motioned her to follow him. "Come on!"
She obliged. "What's up?" It was then she heard the commotion down the street. It came from the saloon. From the sound of it, a dust-up was in full swing. She could hear the glass breaking and angry shouts from inside Mo's. She blew out a long sympathetic sigh. Ross wasn't going to like this.
As if on cue, her boss came striding down the boardwalk on the opposite side of the street. He wore his trademark cowboy hat and his long, black duster swirled behind him. Dave Ross was tall, dark, and substantial. He looked significant whether he was drinking, sleeping, or staring down a gun at a criminal. It was the middle of the night and he was fully dressed and wide-awake. He was always wide-awake. Debbi had never seen him sleep, or even rest for that matter.
Ross beelined for the saloon. Debbi and Ringo fell in behind him. He didn't even give them notice—just hit the saloon doors with an angry fist. They flew open before him. Debbi and Ringo immediately flanked his sides, stopping just inside the doorway as he strode in fearlessly. Ross halted a few feet in front of them, glaring around at the pandemonium. Apparently, no one noticed his entrance. If they had, they would have halted in their tracks.
A man went flying from a well-aimed blow and landed at Ross's feet in a heap, smelling of liquor and cheap hair tonic. Ross's hard eyes dipped down and stared at the man with a pencil thin moustache.
Ranger Ty Miller shook his head to clear it. He looked up with his fist raised. He was expecting to see another loudmouthed braggart miner claiming that Temptation's Rangers cheated at cards. What he saw was his superior towering over him. He swallowed convulsively.
"Sir!"
Silent, Ross's mouth fell into a tight line. He pulled his Colt Peacemaker and fired off two rounds into the air, taking care not to fire into the center of the room above him in case it was occupied. Tile and plaster fell just in front of Debbi. She blinked at the dust filtering down, but didn't move. Her hand rested on the butt of her sidearm.
There was sudden, enormous silence within the establishment. A head hesitatingly appeared from behind the counter. It was a disheveled Mo; thin, stooped, gray hair curling, wearing his customary snarl. When he saw Ross, he breathed with relief and stood up straight, pretending he was taking control of the saloon again.
Every face in the room now stared at Ross in alarm. He regarded them calmly, still not saying a word. Slowly, men started to pick themselves off the floor, uprighting chairs and tables, brushing broken glass from their shoulders. No one spoke; afraid of having his attention brought their way.
Order was again in effect.
Ross holstered his weapon.
Ty Miller made to rise, but found Ross's boot on his chest. Ross painstakingly brought his gaze down. Miller cursed his luck to have fallen at the feet of his commanding officer and waited for the inevitable.
Ross's voice was a cold monotone. "Rangers will pay the damages."
Miller immediately bucked, but Ross's boot pressed down harder. He would brook no argument on the matter. It didn't matter who started it or over what. Temptation's peace had been compromised. Rangers were at the heart of it.
Miller gasped at the force Ross was exerting, both physically and psychologically. He sagged back and nodded.
Ross stepped back.
Miller rubbed his sore chest. He wasn't hurt, just embarrassed. He clambered to his feet and straightened his jacket, refusing to meet the eyes of the others in the bar.
Ross turned on his heel and noticed Debbi for the first time. She dropped her hand away from her weapon and stared him in the eye.
"Evenin'," she said. Debbi was unconsciously adopting Ross's own drawl.
"You're late," he said.
"Sorry, Dad," she quipped.
He worked his jaw, as was his habit when he couldn't think of anything to say. Or when he couldn't say what he wanted to.
Then he said, "Come on to the office. I wanna hear about it."
He strode past her out the doors. She seemed about half his height, although she was a healthy five foot seven inches. Debbi exchanged glances with Ringo and followed the boss.
Ranger headquarters was simple, clean, and uncluttered. There was an outer office, or squad room, and Ross had a private office where few ventured. Through a heavy metal door at the rear of the squad room was the five-cell lockup, Banshee's most commodious jail for several hundred miles. The second floor housed most of the high-tech equipment that was damaged in the Worldstorm and was awaiting spare parts that might never come. There were also a few bunks for catching sleep between duty shifts during rush times.
Ross stood waiting.
Debbi tossed the miner's rifle on the desk. Then she unhitched her gun belt. She laid her Ranger Dragoon down gently; her life depended too much on that weapon to toss it around. It was an all-purpose heavy automatic pistol with the capability of firing anything from normal loads to explosive-tipped shells, and it had a grenade launcher with a capacity of three. In the right hands, it was deadly accurate up to one hundred and fifty yards and had an effective range of nearly five hundred yards.
She slipped into a chair with a deep sigh.
"What's this?" Ross picked up the rifle and studied the underbarrel attachment.
"I don't know. Found it with the prospectors."
"They move on like you told 'em to?"
"In a way." She massaged her burning eyes. "They're dead." She could tell even through closed eyes that Ross was st
aring at her, waiting for more.
She added, "Not by me. There was something out there." She suppressed a shudder at the memory of it.
"Anouks?"
"No. Some kind of animal. I saw it, but I don't know what it was."
Ross exhaled. "Anything about this job you do know? Did you look around?"
Debbi's eyes snapped open and she glared at her boss. She considered saying something harsh, but decided against it, as usual. She straightened in her chair, all business now. She was under Ross's scrutiny and she didn't like it.
"Yes, I looked around. And I found that animal, like I said. Nothing I've ever seen before."
"Hmm," Ross said.
Debbi growled, "Look, I was born on Banshee and I'm telling you, I've never seen anything like it. I didn't get a good look, but it was big and it was strong. Biped. It killed three full-grown, armed men. Ripped one of them in half. I shot it at several times. No noticeable effect." She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, waiting for his retort. It had been a long day.
Ross studied her with a hardened brow. He returned his gaze to the rifle. "I'll lock this up. Go to bed." With that, the debriefing was over. He took the gun into his office and closed the door.
Debbi sat up and said in a deflated murmur, "Thanks."
She dragged herself to her feet, her eyes locked on Ross's door, disappointment flooding her face. She would have liked to blame Ty Miller for Ross's behavior, but she knew that was just an excuse. Ross was clearly dissatisfied with her performance and her lack of information on a job botched all to hell.
Whatever was left of the self-satisfaction Debbi had experienced after escaping that creature melted away. Ross hated disorder. He didn't expect things to go smoothly every time, but he did expect Colonial Rangers to perform at one hundred percent efficiency, keeping Temptation and its surrounding jurisdiction safe and sound, no matter what.
Banshee Screams Page 2