James Axler – Road Wars

“Then your dick’ll be safe in her mouth, mister. Come and try it, why don’t you?”

Ryan grinned, guessing that Ellie had honed her wit over the years of touring with the act and probably knew the likely things a drunk audience might throw at her, and the best replies to bring most of them onto her side.

The hunter scowled at finding himself the unexpected center of the crowd’s laughter.

“Watch him,” J.B. said. “Pot just waiting to boil right over.”

Ryan nodded.

Ellie was on her feet again, bowing to the cheers, raising her hand to quiet them. “To finish this little show, I’m going to give you good folks of” she hesitated a moment, trying to remember the name of the ville “Wetherill Springs a chance to do something that you can tell your children and your children’s children about. How you patted one of the most terrifying animals ever to stalk the earth.”

Ryan straightened up, moving a couple of steps away from the barred wag, hearing the snuffling behind him of the pair of black bears.

“She really taking the lions in among them?” he asked Julie.

“No. Just Rajah. Old softy’s harmless. Unless you get on the wrong side of him.”

Katie and Nell had gone forward, each of them taking one of the lions with them, snapping thin chain leashes onto the leather collars.

They led them back to stand by Ryan and J.B., both of whom moved a few self-conscious steps away.

Ellie clipped a similar chain onto Rajah’s collar, patting the huge head. The tiger opened its mouth and gave a halfhearted roar, loud enough to send the crowd swaying back, moving together in the gestalt unison of fear, like a school of fish that scented a killer whale.

A fat little man in a striped apron broke the spell by taking the crucial step in the front. He reached out with his hand, a gold ring gleaming in the midday sun, and touched Rajah cautiously on the top of the ruffed head.

“Well done,” Ellie said. “Mistress Satana rewards you with a kiss.” She offered her pursed lips to him.

But his supply of courage had been drained, and he shook his head shyly. “No thanks,” be stammered. “Don’t think think wife would like that.”

Ellie smiled understandingly. “You did good, anyway. Who else wants to stroke striped death?”

This time there were plenty of volunteers, including three or four of the little children, though all of them were only allowed to pat Rajah while their mothers or fathers tightly gripped their other hand.

The woman and the animal were working their way slowly around the perimeter of the orchard, nearing the hard core of the buffalo hunters, the scarred giant at its center. Exhaling a cloud of noisome smoke from his cigar, the man dropped his head and said something to his immediate group of cronies, something that made most of them snigger.

Ryan had the familiar prickling feeling at his nape, the feeling that something bad was about to go down.

Beside him, J.B. was starting to unsling his Uzi. Neither man spoke to the other. There wasn’t any need for talking.

Now Ellie was only ten feet from the hunters. Six feet. Four.

“I wanna pat the fuckin’ pussycat,” said the leader of the group. “Can I do that?”

“Sure. Be careful with that cigar. Rajah doesn’t much like smoke.”

“Then I’ll fucking stub it out, slut!”

Before anyone could move, the buffalo hunter leaned forward and stooped a little. He lifted Rajah’s plumed tail with his left hand and jammed the glowing end of his cigar against the animal’s tender flesh.

Chapter Fifteen

“I’d be the first to admit to being surprised by this, Abe.”

The high-pitched cry came from somewhere behind them, threatening blood for blood, echoing off the peaks until it sounded like a hundred men were all shouting at once, encircling the two fugitives.

Abe started to wonder whether he was becoming seriously sick. The rot-gut liquor burned a hole through his intestines. Twice in the past hour or so they’d been forced to stop while he hastily dropped his pants by the side of the trail, feeling his stomach contract with the gripping pains.