“We aren’t going to outrun them, and the Hummer is out of commission,” J.B. stated grimly, lighting the tiny stub of his last cigar. He drew in the dark, then exhaled in satisfaction. “Library is our best bet.”
“Once inside, we are trapped,” Doc told him. “The sky is already starting to darken.”
Drawing a knife from his boot and tucking it into his belt for easier access, J.B. growled, “Same can be said for them.”
“A mousetrap?”
“Yep.”
The sky rumbled ominously, as Doc studied the broken line of trucks. “Might work. If there is still fuel in the tanks.”
“Only one way to find out,” J.B. said, lowering his voice to a whisper as the first of the bats crawled over the stone wall.
The muties looked ridiculous waddling on their chicken feet and tiny clawed hands, those impossibly long elbows sticking high into the air. But their feral faces removed the clownish appearance. These were man-eaters on the prowl. Only six left, but that was more than enough.
Dropping the sheath of his sword, Doc tossed the ebony cane away. It clattered on the sidewalk, but the muties made no move toward the noise. They were learning.
“Left door?” J.B. asked, firing short, controlled bursts at the creatures. The bull mutie charged him, raising a cloud of dust in its wake.
“Right. I mean correct!”
Doc assumed a firing stance, the old LeMat boomed and the bat flipped over sideways, its muscular body blown in two. The ones behind climbed over the dead, unstoppable in their rage to reach the men.
Constantly firing, they stepped back closer to the library and parted, one to either side of the outside doorway. Now angling his aim above the oncoming muties, J.B. stitched the first Mack truck across the lot, punching holes in the steel canister set under the step of the cab. Nothing happened.
Resetting the hammer on his weapon, Doc triggered the shotgun and blew off a bat’s wing. The victim yowled, and the others recoiled from the buffeting of the discharge, but didn’t flee.
J.B. directed their remaining LAW missile at the second cab. A fireball engulfed the vehicle. The gasoline blast lifted the wag into the air, tires coming off and windshields shattering.
Their tall ears flattened, the muties screamed at the explosion, fleeing from the painful concussion straight toward the two friends.
Waiting until the very last moment, Doc and J.B. grabbed the ornate handles of the big library doors and swung them farther apart, pinning themselves between the brass doors and the marble building. Trapped in a triangle of shadow, the battered men couldn’t see what was happening. They heard crackling fire, another explosion, the bats screaming and several thumps against the doors they clutched tightly.
Doc waited for as long as he could, then whistled sharply and frantically shoved. His heavy door moved in smooth timing with J.B.’s, but just before closing, an inhuman arm thrust out of the narrowing gap and shoved back, clawing for their faces. J.B. slashed at the limb, cutting off a finger, and something coughed in reply.
Thrusting the pitted maw of his blaster into the slim crack, Doc fired the LeMat. A piercing scream answered the ploy, the bleeding arm was withdrawn and they closed the doors in perfect harmony. But they noticed a minor flaw.
“Dark night, we have no way to lock them in!” J.B. said, his cigar drooping as he brushed the smooth brass plate around the sturdy handles.
“Then find something!” Doc shouted, shoving his arm through the looped door handles. Almost instantly, the brass shuddered from a violent blow, and high-pitched keens came from inside the building. The door shook again.
“And find one fast!” Doc grunted, digging his heels into the loose sand, “because our captives are most displeased with their new home and desire to leave posthaste!”
Across the parking lot, another fiery blast ripped apart the overturned truck, sending pieces sky high.
J.B. sprinted around the corner and returned with a length of chain from the winch of the Hummer. Shoving the stout links through the handles, he and Doc carefully exchanged positions and tightened the chain before wrapping the length through the handles as many times as it could. The screaming and spitting was increasing inside the library, and the sounds of assorted destruction could be dimly heard over the continuing explosions of the trucks.