Pausing at the stalagmite fence, the runt sniffed the air for a moment, a three-fingered hand drawing a crystal dagger from a rat-skin sheath. Then, moving even faster than Jak, it grabbed a bunch of rats by their tails and swung the bodies hard against the rock wall. The animals squeaked once as their heads smashed into pulp, and the mutie walked away humming.
“Just a cook,” Ryan ventured once the runt was gone from sight.
“Those tufts must be feelers,” Mildred muttered. “So they don’t slam their heads on the sloping tunnels.”
“We got food, and if they have stone knives, there’s nothing else here to steal,” Ryan stated bluntly. “Let’s go.”
As they headed along the wall, a runt staggered out of the darkness barely able to stay on his feet. Going to the wall, he lifted his loincloth and they heard a splashing sound. Sighing in relief, the mutie completed urinating and started back the way he had come, then turned abruptly and headed for the rat farm.
The companions tried to duck out of his way, but the runt was too fast and he gasped at the sight of the norms hidden in the wall shadows. Drawing a dagger, he inhaled for a scream and Ryan moved like a panther, crossing the few yards in a heartbeat Violently, he slammed a fist into the mutie’s face to the sound of shattering bones. The runt flailed its arms and dropped limply to the ground.
Moving past the corpse, the companions jumped over the wall and started across the open plain when an odd noise in the air above made them spin, braced for an attack. Unexpectedly, a net dropped from the sky, entangling their limbs and weapons.
“Two-legs!” another female runt called out loudly, advancing into view. “Live two-legs here!”
Shoving her weapon against the rope strands, Mildred fired the crossbow. The homemade arrow took the mutie in the throat, and the runt backed away, gasping for air as blood trickled down her chest.
A knife in each hand, Jak slashed wildly, the net parting at every touch of his blades. Soon the companions shrugged off the last few pieces of the restraints. Darting to the stalagmites, the companions paused to take stock of any wounds and see if there was any pursuit.
Nobody was running after them, but in the ville, a runt climbed on top of the temple and raised something small to its mouth. Ryan swung his blaster around in case the blowgun was pointed at them even though the range was impossible. But the runt aimed the thing toward the ceiling and blew so hard its cheeks puffed out. Nothing seemed to happen. Maybe it was also drunk and hadn’t heard the warning of the others.
“Shit!” Mildred flinched, touching an ear. “Something just went straight through my head. That must be an ultrasonic whistle.”
“Madam, that makes no sense,” Doc replied, cocking the hammer of his LeMat handcannon. “The mutie talked to us normally. If we hear the same, why would one use an ultrasonic dog whistle?”
“Call dogs,” Jak growled.
J.B. said nothing, but hastily hauled a Molotov from his bag, spilling mushrooms onto the ground.
“Ready the torches,” Ryan said, flicking a butane lighter. “The bright light should send these big-eyes powering away screaming.”
The torches were prepared, but suddenly they noticed it was much easier to see one another. In horror, the companions realized the cavern was significantly brighter.
On the rooftop, the runt blew again, and the silvery moss on the walls flared with illumination until the huge cavern was as bright as daylight.
“Fireblast!” Ryan cursed, firing once at the runt. “Back to the redoubt!”
Clutching his stomach, the mutie tumbled off the roof just as dozens more boiled out of the temple and huts, screaming and waving weapons.
ROLLING ALONG the hard-packed ground, the LAV-25 was buffeted by the wild winds. The ash storm was over, and the acid rains thankfully gone, but now with nothing to stop or even slow them, the natural winds were ravaging the Tennessee valley. Dead leaves and loose dust peppered the wag until they were driving blind.
“See any road?” Brandon demanded.
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