The shriek of dismay from Abe, and the loud noise of the breaking branch, saved his life.
It scattered the pigs, who suspected a trap from the skies, sending them lumbering clumsily in all directions, so that Abe and a chunk of the live oak hit the ground at a place free from any of the animals.
The fall completely knocked all the wind out of the gunner, leaving him sprawled flat on his back, wearing a leafy crown and a long, shallow cut across the forehead that was already seeping dark blood.
Any hesitation was likely to be fatal.
Ryan was fastest out of the tree, swinging down onto the ground, landing with perfect balance, the SIG-Sauer in his hand. Jak was second and Trader a close third, followed a half second later by J.B.
“Now?” Trader asked.
Ryan was watching the herd of pigs. They’d stopped their panicked run at the edge of the clearing, all of them looking back at the bunch of humans, seeming as if they were gathering themselves for a charge.
“I guess as soon as they start running.”
“Might be too late.”
Ryan glanced quickly upward into the tall tree, attracted by the noise of movement. He saw that both Dean and Doc were readying themselves to pick their way down again, Krysty and Mildred at their heels.
“Stay there! We might need to climb back in a hurry. Just get ready to shoot.”
The gigantic boar was scraping at the ground with its hooves, like a bull about to launch itself into a pounding attack. Drool, tinted with blood, hung from his open jaws, his eyes shining like firestones.
“Take him out first,” Ryan said quietly, unslinging the Steyr from his shoulder.
He called up into the live oak. “You hear that, Mildred?”
“What?”
“Take out the big one first. Only a brain shot’ll do the job on it.”
“You got it.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Ryan could see that the woman was standing in the main vee of the oak, between the two large forked branches, steadying herself while she drew a bead with the Czech target pistol.
“Take them out early. Pack of bastards like that’ll come fast and hard.” Trader had the blaster at his shoulder, squinting along the barrel.
Ryan wasn’t about to argue with his old war chief over that one.
There was a tension in the still morning air that was almost visible. It seemed as if the giant boar were stirring up his herd, turning his massive head from side to side, snuffling and raging at them.
Suddenly the animal stood stock-still, little fat-buried eyes turning away from the huddled group of humans, toward the east, as though it were listening to a secret message.
“Horses,” Jak said.
Ryan looked at the albino. “How can you hear that above the noise of the trees?”
The teenager looked blankly back at him. “Can hear horses.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”
“Pigs are listening to something,” J.B. said, pointing with the Uzi. “Got them worried.”
“Dozen or more.” Jak had narrowed his red eyes, concentrating on the distant sound. “Coming this way.”
“I can hear horses,” Krysty called from the branches above them.
“Jak already heard it,” Ryan replied. “Send Dean high up, see if he can make anything.”
Then he caught the noise himself, a faint thundering, definitely moving toward them. It was coming from where they believed the ville lay, which could mean they were simply going to exchange one kind of menace for another.
The pigs were ready to run, though the leading boar was reluctant to let their prey go. It took a few hesitant, menacing steps toward the oak tree, and everyone raised their blasters. Then discretion overruled its lust for blood, and it turned ponderously about and trotted off into the deep shadows of the forest, followed by the rest of the herd, vanishing within seconds.
“We could hide in the trees,” J.B. suggested, “until we see what’s coming.”
Trader banged the butt of the Armalite angrily in the dirt. “Come on, John Dix! All those years you rode with me and you learned nothing!”
The Armorer sniffed, pushing back the fedora. “Yeah. Guess that’s right. Once we get up there and they spot us, we’re dead meat. Nowhere to run.”