James Axler – Rat King

the pins and needles running down his leg. “I don’t think they’d know what to do

if they were attacked.”

“Mebbe not, but no need to take for granted,” Jak returned. “Act like best sec

men ever seen.”

Saying no more, he slipped Dean two of the leaf-bladed knives to use as weapons

and gestured to indicate a roundabout pattern for the boy to follow so that he

would come up to the sec man on the left from behind, hitting the man in his

blind spot.

Dean nodded and set off, leaving Jak to make his way around to the right.

The albino took off, using the shadows as cover. His dark camou clothing kept

him well hidden, and his face, hands and hair were streaked with mud, disguising

the usually all-too-conspicuous white. He kept low to the ground, running

swiftly and lightly in the way he had learned as a youngster in the bayou. He

passed shacks where the windows were open to the outside, and could hear the

animal sounds of rutting humans or the contented snores of sleepers from within.

Whichever, he was careful not to disturb them, nor to kick up dust when he

passed the doorways to huts that were covered only by haphazardly hung pieces of

old sacking.

It was a twisting route, as the paths through the ville were winding and not in

any kind of order that could be described as a road. Once or twice Jak nearly

lost his bearings, and hoped that the less experienced Dean hadn’t become

hopelessly lost.

Rounding a corner, Jak got the sec man in his sights. He was approaching him

from an angle and from behind. If he was quiet enough, it was doubtful that the

sec man would ever feel the knife as it slipped between his ribs and punctured

his heart.

Stealthily Jak moved in. He was less than three feet behind the man, and poised

to strike, when he heard a muffled groan from the other end of the veranda. It

startled Jak’s target out of his slumber, and he sprang to his feet, looking

around in confusion.

It was obvious that Dean had found his way to his target and taken care of him.

It was just unfortunate that his route had turned out to be a fraction easier

than Jak’s, and his chill had been achieved more quickly.

The sec man turned toward the far end of the veranda and raised his blaster.

He didn’t speak or make a sound, so there was still a chance to keep things

under cover, as long as Jak acted quickly.

Springing forward, Jak reached up while in midair. He was shorter than the sec

man and had the disadvantage of being on a lower level, the veranda forming a

six-inch platform around the house. But he had the element of surprise.

If the sec men in this pesthole had been more familiar with keeping prisoners,

and in being attacked from the outside with any degree of regularity, then it

was certain that Jak’s task would have been well-nigh impossible. The sec man

would have been expecting an attack to parallel Dean’s on his colleague.

Instead he was an easy prey. Jak’s hand snaked out in the darkness, grabbing the

man’s straggling blond hair and jerking back hard. A surprised gasp was all that

escaped his lips before he fell into Jak and onto the knife as it slipped

between his ribs and punctured his vital organs.

He tried to scream as he died, but only a harsh gurgling escaped as blood

bubbled from his lips.

Jak fell back, the sec man becoming a deadweight as he slipped into

unconsciousness and death. Jak’s feet planted themselves firmly as he landed,

swiveling so that the chilled sec man’s weight was used to Jak’s advantage,

pitching him past the albino to collapse in the dust.

Jak knew he was dead and didn’t bother to look back. He had bounded onto the

veranda by the time the sec man was laid flat on the ground.

Dean was waiting for him by the entrance to the shack, grinning. “What kept

you?” he whispered.

Jak returned the grin, but said nothing. He gestured to Dean to follow him, then