“Saw him get across the fence,” J.B. said. “Chilled two coldhearts and a motorcycle.”
“Junkyard’s the only chance we’ve got to remain mobile and get out of the rain.”
J.B. nodded. “That’s what Dean and I figured.” He revealed the gren tucked inside his shirt. “We were going to soften them up, get them used to the idea, but they came at us before we were ready.”
“We’ll do it now,” Ryan said. He put away the SIG-Sauer and slid the Steyr off his shoulder. Gazing across to the entrance of the junkyard, he knew it was still a lot of ground to cover. “Get Krysty across first. We’ll follow.”
The Armorer nodded, but his eyes cut to Mildred.
“It’s okay, John,” the woman said. “I’ll be along.”
“She’ll make it,” Ryan said.
“I’ll be holding down the fort.”
“Do that. But keep an eye peeled for those bastard dogs. I don’t think we’ve killed them all out yet.”
J.B. pulled on the reins and turned the horse. The animal’s footing was no longer certain, but it had heart. He put his heels to its sides and charged across the open space.
“Let’s go,” Ryan ordered. “Jak, you’ve got point. Mildred, you’re after him, then Doc. I’m walking slack, but if you slow down out there, I’m going to kick your skinny ass all the way to that junkyard.”
“Friend Ryan, these legs may well be old, but I wager you shall be eating my dust,” Doc retorted. “Fear lends this old heart a certain alacrity in nearly every happenstance.”
IT PROVED IMPOSSIBLE to run in a straight line. Ryan cursed the luck as they had to dodge dead men and horses, then the combatants.
They were halfway to the junkyard when the Slagger leader, Halleck, pointed to the small group of companions and shouted orders to his men. The baron’s horsemen had retreated into the rubble and started picking off some of the Slaggers on foot. The withering fire from the horsemen cut into the numbers of the coldhearts and drove them back to cover.
The Jeep roared off in pursuit, streaking for the companions. Gunners in the back fired at will, but luckily the weapons were semiautomatics and no real time was taken to properly aim.
Ryan knew the companions would never make it before the Jeep caught up to them. He stood and brought the Steyr up to his shoulder, felt the buttstock caress the side of his face. He put the crosshairs over the driver’s side of the windshield and squeezed the trigger.
But the uneven ground and the worn springs of the Jeep made the target more elusive. Three shots missed killing the driver, though he felt certain at least one of them had hit the female passenger. Then the Jeep was bearing down on him, taking away all margin for error.
“Fireblast.” Ryan turned and ran, watching bullets pock-mark the ground around him. The sour stink of the coming rain burned his nose with renewed vigor as he drew it deep into his lungs.
The Jeep bore down on him, and a pair of bullets ripped through his coat.
Ryan threw himself aside at the last moment. The wag’s bumper slammed into him with bruising force, clipping him and driving him to the ground. He managed to hang on to the Steyr during his fall, but even as he reached his knees, his body protesting because the wind had been knocked out of him, he saw the wag bearing down on him again.
This time it wouldn’t miss.
“STOP, YOU STUPE BASTARD, or I’ll blast your triple-ugly face off!” Dean ducked under the man’s knife arm and kicked his leg hard enough to topple him. Before the man could get back up, Dean screwed the barrel of the Hi-Power into the side of his neck.
“Don’t kill my pa!” the little girl screamed. Tears fell from her blue eyes. “Don’t kill my pa!”
If it hadn’t been for the little girl’s pleas, Dean thought he might have pulled the trigger. True, the man who’d jumped him didn’t look like one of the coldhearts or the baron’s horsemen, but the man had tried to chill him all the same.