James Axler – Gemini Rising

When every mount was bleeding profusely, Overton kicked his stallion into a canter and headed for the drawbridge, shooting at any open window and door just to be safe.

THE IRREGULAR BLASTERFIRE sounded distant to Doc in the gatehouse, but the plodding steps of a horse coming toward him were loud and clear. Snatching an AK-47, Doc waited behind the barred window trying to breathe calmly. There had been a loud blast a short while ago, and the top of the keep was no longer visible above the parapets. But did that mean Nathan and Ryan were winning the fight, or had already lost the battle for control of the ville? Was this relief coming or an execution squad?

The hoofbeats had a sharp sound to them, which meant shod hooves. No plow horse, then, but a baron’s mount, or an officer’s. And just a lone animal, so it wasn’t a hunting party or troops. Perhaps one of the baron’s horses escaped and was running away from all the noise. That made sense.

The clatter of iron hooves on cobblestones grew louder until a magnificent dappled stallion rode into view. In the saddle was a well-dressed figure, carrying a canvas bag and a huge blaster.

“Overton!” Doc whispered in a mix of delight and shock. The baron seemed just as startled to see him in the kiosk instead of his blue-shirted sec men. Aiming the AK-47 to avoid hitting the horse, Doc fired the weapon at the hated enemy.

The rounds hit Overton several times in the chest, and he hosed Doc with the stuttering Tommy gun, the tiny rounds striking the kiosk, floor, walls and bars with ringing force. A pain stabbed Doc in the shoulder, and he was thrown to the side, dropping the AK-47. Doc fought the pain and tried to draw his pistol.

Twisted sideways in the saddle, Overton was too high up to target Doc. He sprayed a wild burst from the odd blaster before leaning in to the kiosk and tripping the lever to lower the drawbridge. He then kicked the stallion into a full gallop and rode over the drawbridge and across the grassy fields.

“Egad, a vest!” Doc fumed in outrage. “The dastardly blackguard is wearing a bulletproof vest!”

A tiny piece of his mind wondered where the man was getting this predark military equipment, but he shoved that question aside for later as he scrambled to his feet and rushed into the tunnel. Fisting the LeMat, he ignored the pain in his arm and tightly held the blaster in both hands, aiming it at the hastily departing baron. Carefully, Doc tracked the rhythmic gait of man and horse as they raced over the ground. Seconds passed, and Overton was perilously near the trees when Doc finally fired.

The handcannon boomed, and Overton bucked in the saddle, nearly falling out, blood spraying from his left thigh. Dropping the Thompson, he struggled with the reins and managed to stay on the horse as it galloped into the woods and out of sight.

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Ryan and the others arrived at the gatehouse, panting from the long run.

“Dark night!” J.B. raged, throwing his hat on the ground. “We saw the bastard on the bridge but couldn’t chance a shot because we were afraid of hitting you.”

“Well, I did hit him,” Doc said, holding a hand to his upper arm. Blood was seeping between his bony fingers, but only a small trickle. “Shot him several times, in fact, but the egg-sucker is wearing a vest!”

“Bulletproof?” Jak asked, scowling.

“Most assuredly.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Now, where did he find one of those?” Nathan asked, resting his longblaster across his shoulders. “Hell, where did he get any of his supplies?”

“Who cares?” Dean wheezed, holding his side to help ease a stitch from the long-distance running. The others had done this only once, but it was the second time for him. “L-let him go. We won the fight!”

“But did we win the war?” J.B. asked succinctly.

“Unknown,” Ryan snarled, brushing the hair from his scarred face. “The son of a bitch will only return with more troops. I’ve meet his type before. They never stop until they’re dead.”