James Axler – Road Wars

“If Dad was” he began uncertainly.

“He’s not,” Doc whispered. “Best we can do is get back along the draw to the house and warn Krysty.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I just don’t know!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Most men would have tried to keep still and very silent, and hope for one lucky chance to surprise and attack the murderous little man with the bottle-glass lenses and the 9 mm Luger pistol.

And most men would have died.

Seeing the hidden door opening soundlessly, and Malachi Gribble poised to open fire at J.B.’s sleeping figure, Ryan didn’t hesitate. He sucked in a quick breath, then shouted at the top of his voice, simultaneously powering himself upward and sideways, directly at the killer.

There wasn’t a moment to think about going for his own blaster, or trying to reach the panga with its honed eighteen inches of steel, only the single moment for his combat reflexes to take over and act for him.

The deafening bellow of anger, followed by the powerful shadow looming up at him from the corner of the room, nearly paralyzed Gribble. His finger tightened on the broad trigger of the old German blaster, totally beyond his control. The gun fired, the bullet burying itself in the wall, three feet above J.B.’s pillow.

Gribble tried to scream, but his fleshy throat was being squeezed shut between the iron fingers of Ryan’s right band. The left hand gripped the thin wrist of the little man, steering the Luger away.

It was no contest between Ryan’s six feet two and two hundred pounds of bone and muscle against the small, near-blind Malachi. To stop the frantic struggling, the one-eyed man brought his right knee up hard into Gribble’s groin, crushing his balls against the unforgiving ridge of pubic bone at the front of his pelvis. There was a squeak of pain, and the blaster clattered to the floorboards. The body went instantly limp.

“Got him covered, if you need it,” J.B. said, standing by the side of his bed, the Uzi cocked at his hip. “But I see that you don’t.”

“Reckon not.”

“How did he get through the bolted door without Oh, I get it. Second door. Should’ve looked for that, brother. Nice trick to play.”

“Yeah.” Ryan hardly breathed any faster than usual, moving to the bed to connect with his weapons, glancing once at the whey-faced, unconscious figure on the floor by the cupboard. “Live and learn, like Trader says.”

Ryan took Gribble outside and tied him to a fence, a thin cord around his thumbs and another around his neck, holding him upright, leaving a finite decision on him until the dawning.

Then he and the Armorer went back to sleep.

“I WAS GOING TO HAVE a special tableau,” Gribble stammered. “Bring folks from miles. Gunfighters. Like in old westy vids and stuff. And you two would be wonderful.” He paused ruefully. “Would’ve been wonderful, I guess I mean.”

Ryan was munching a hunk of the ill-cooked bread, J.B. at his side. It was a beautiful morning, with the bright sun hovering over the eastern range. The paint on Cribble’s hobby town glinted, and the windows shone.

“You both got real mean and ornery killers’ eyes. Cold as cold can be. Dress you in black, Ryan, and you in white, Mr. Dix. I got a pair of Peacemakers.”

The gas generator out back was silent. The Armorer had spent an hour, just after dawn, helped by Ryan, draining off fuel and transferring it to the LAV-25, which he’d driven up the narrow street and parked outside the schoolhouse. Now they were gassed up and ready to go another thousand miles or so.

“Didn’t mean any harm.”

“How many you chilled altogether?”

Gribble blinked nervously at Ryan. His thick-lensed spectacles had been broken during the attack of the previous night and he seemed almost blind, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Don’t recall.”

“Try.”

“Not everyone you see in my portraits of old-time life. Most, I guess. But there was a couple died natural.”

“Twenty? Thirty? Come on,” J.B. prompted. “Must be that many in the town here.”

Gribble licked his lips, his tongue like a feeble slug crawling over his mouth. “Well You have to understand that they didn’t all work out properly. Made some mistakes. Specially early. Had to reject some specimens.”