Atlanta Run

Chapter Eleven

Hickok’s breath whooshed from his lungs as the incredibly powerful creature plowed into him, wrapped its spidery arms about his chest, and bore him to the hard ground. Putrid breath assailed the gunman’s nostrils, and beady, malevolent eyes glared into his.

“Hickok!” Chastity screamed, checking her flight and whirling.

“Run!” the gunfighter bellowed, squirming in the mutant’s grasp. His arms were pinned to his sides and he couldn’t raise his Pythons.

The beast snarled and bared his fangs.

“Eat this, sucker!” Hickok declared, and angled the Colt barrels inward until they were flush with the creature’s ribs. He squeezed both triggers.

Muffled by the mutant’s hair and flesh, the Pythons blasted, their twin slugs penetrating the beast and searing the creature with overwhelming agony. It relinquished its hold and rolled to the left, roaring mightily.

Hickok rose to his knees, ready to add more shots if necessary, but the thing was still rolling. Suddenly it leaped up and darted into the undergrowth.

“Hickok!” Chastity cried.

“Stay put!” Hickok ordered, slowly standing. Where the dickens did the brute go? He backed toward the girl, surveying the vegetation. A puddle of red liquid drew his attention. Blood. The creature was undeniably hurt, seriously injured. Would the genetic deviate go off to lick its wounds, or would it hover and await an opportunity to pounce?

“There!” Chastity shouted.

“Where?” the Warrior asked, glancing at her.

“There,” she repeated, pointing to their right. “I saw something move.”

Hickok scrutinized the wall of vegetation enclosing the clearing. “I don’t see anything.”

“I saw it,” Chastity insisted.

The gunman edged to the pit rim, Chastity by his right side.

“What do we do?” she inquired.

“We stay here for the time being.”

“Why?”

“That critter can’t take us by surprise here,” Hickok informed her.

“We’ll sit tight and see if it skedaddles.”

“Skedaddles? Is that bad or good?”

“We’ll sit tight and see if it leaves,” Hickok clarified.

From the forest to their right, concealed in the prolific greenery, the mutant growled.

“I’m scared,” Chastity said.

“I won’t let it get you,” Hickok promised.

Chastity hugged his right leg. “Think there could be more?”

The gunman pursed his lips. He hadn’t given the matter any brainwork.

“I don’t think so,” he said to assure her.

Another growl punctuated his statement.

“Do you think it got Rikki?” Chastity inquired.

“I doubt it,” Hickok replied. “Mutants don’t like stringy meat.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Keep quiet,” Hickok directed her.

There was the crackle of brush and the rustling of leaves as the creature moved about, changing position.

“What’s it doing?” Chastity asked.

“I don’t know,” Hickok confessed, trying to come up with a solution to their dilemma. He didn’t like the idea of being stuck in the clearing when Blade and Rikki needed his help. But if he tried to lead Chastity through the forest, the beast would undoubtedly attack. A ruse was called for, a foxy scheme to outwit the critter.

But what?

“Maybe we can hide in the hole?” Chastity suggested.

“Don’t be…” Hickok said, starting to admonish her. Then he cut himself off, looking into the pit.

Hold the fort.

The pit was ten feet deep, circular, with sheer sides to prevent any hapless captive from clambering to freedom. Which was all well and good.

But how did those doing the capturing haul their prisoners from the hole?

Did they use a rope? Not likely, because the nearest tree capable of supporting a long, sturdy rope was 20 yards off. They would need to lug a lot of rope with them and assist their captive in exiting the trap.

No.

There had to be another way.

The gunfighter edged around the rim, his keen eyes inspecting the vegetation at the perimeter of the clearing.

Chastity hung onto his leg and shuffled with him.

“You can leave go of me,” Hickok said softly.

“No way.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No.”

“I can’t walk with you clingin’ to me,” Hickok observed.

“I won’t let go,” Chastity declared.

“Suit yourself,” Hickok said. “But if that varmint comes after us again, I can’t fight it very well with you slowin’ me down.”

Chastity stared up at him, indecision etched on her countenance.

“And there’s something else you’d best keep in mind,” Hickok told her.

“What?”

“If I tinkle my pants, it’ll run all over your hands.”

Chastity released his leg and scrunched up her nose. “You wouldn’t tinkle your pants,” she said.

“I certainly hope not,” Hickok stated. “My missus would clobber me.”

He stepped nearer to the foliage on the far side. Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe the…

There it was.

The gunman hurried to the weeds bordering the clearing, Chastity in tow. He grinned as he knelt next to an 11-foot pole the thickness of his arm.

“What’s that?” Chastity queried.

“Have you ever played hide and seek?”

Chastity nodded. “Lots and lots of time. Why?”

“We’re going to play it again,” Hickok said, holstering his left Colt. He grabbed one end of the pole and dragged it to the pit, then knelt and slid the end he’d held to the bottom of the hole, slanting the shaft so over two feet protruded above the lip.

“I don’t get it,” Chastity commented.

“You will.” Hickok unslung the Uzi and placed the weapon on the ground near the pole.

“What are you doing?”

“Hush.” Next, Hickok slid his right Python into its holster and unslung the M-16. After insuring the magazine was loaded and flipping off the safety, he turned to the girl. “Climb on my back.”

“Why?”

The gunman sighed. “It’s nice to know that women start at an early age.”

“Start what?”

“Never mind.”

“There you go again.”

“Just get on my back,” Hickok instructed her, his eyes raking the forest.

Chastity complied, locking her arms around his neck and clamping her legs on his sides.

“Now hold on tight,” Hickok cautioned. “I’m going to slide down this pole to the bottom of the pit.”

Chastity’s grip tightened. “It’s dark down there. The monster will get us.”

“No,” Hickok said. “We’re going to give the monster a big surprise. Trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“Don’t fret. It’ll be a piece of cake,” Hickok assured her. He surveyed the foliage, hoping the mutant wasn’t watching, and gripped the pole with his left hand, looped his right through the carrying strap of the M-16, and slowly lowered into the pit, descending hand over hand to the dirt floor.

Branches and grass mats littered the hole. He crouched and deposited Chastity.

“I don’t like this,” she mentioned.

“Think of it as hide and seek,” Hickok said. “We’re hiding from the mutant. If it finds us, it wins the prize.”

“What prize?”

“A face full of lead,” Hickok replied. He gripped the M-16 in both hands and settled on his knees. “Sit.”

Chastity obeyed.

“Now we wait,” the Warrior whispered. “We can’t make a peep or the monster will hear us.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Chastity promised.

Hickok stared at the top of the pole, resigned to a lengthy vigil if necessary. He cocked his head as gunfire erupted far off.

“Hickok?” Chastity said quietly.

“I knew it,” the gunman muttered. “What?”

“Would you be my new daddy?”

For one of the few times in his entire life, the gunfighter was speechless.

He glanced at the girl, stunned by the unexpected query.

“Would you? I need one.”

Hickok didn’t know what to say. “I already have a son,” he blurted out.

“Ringo,” Chastity said. “I know. Would you like a girl too?” She gazed at him earnestly, expectantly.

The gunman tore his eyes from her and looked at the pit rim. “You should stay with kinfolk,” he said huskily.

“Who are the Kinfolks? Relatives of yours?”

“No,” Hickok responded. “I meant that you should stay with relatives of yours.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Yes, you do. Your father’s sister, remember? Your aunt. Blade is in Atlanta searching for her right now,” Hickok told her.

Chastity frowned. “Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t like her,” Chastity declared. “I don’t want to live with her.”

“You should live with relatives,” Hickok reiterated.

Chastity glumly stared at the floor. “I get it. You don’t want to be my daddy.”

The corners of the gunman’s mouth curled downward. “It’s not that. I have a son—”

“And you only want one child,” Chastity said.

“It’s not that—”

“Your wife would be upset,” Chastity stated.

“Will you stop interruptin’ me!” Hickok snapped. “I never said we only wanted one kid. As for my missus, I’m the head honcho in our marriage.”

“The what?”

“I’m the boss,” Hickok explained.

“You are?”

“Well, sort of. We divide the responsibility and the decisions fifty-fifty,” Hickok elaborated.

“Even-Steven?”

“Well, not quite.” Hickok reflected a moment. “Actually, although I’d never admit it to anyone else, my missus is the brains in our marriage.”

“Would she like to have a little girl?” Chastity asked eagerly.

“She’s always gripin’ about being outnumbered,” Hickok mentioned. He looked into her eyes. “But takin’ on a new mouth to feed is a major decision. Sherry and I would have to talk it out, and Ringo should be prepared.”

“Do you mean you’ll think about it?” Chastity inquired with a hopeful lilt.

“I’ll cogitate on it,” Hickok said.

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yippee!” Chastity exclaimed, jumping up and hugging him.

The Warrior felt like he was being choked to death. “Whoa there, princess. Calm down. We’ve got to be quiet.”

But it was too late.

Hickok’s blood chilled as he heard a guttural snarl from overhead, and he craned his neck for a view of the rim. A savage visage glowered at him.

The mutant was at the very edge next to the pole, holding the Uzi in its hairy left hand. As the gunman had contrived, curiosity had prompted the beast to emerge from cover and shuffle to the weapon lying near the pit.

Hickok guessed that the mutant had picked up the automatic a second before Chastity yelled, and now it knew they were there. “Look out!” he shouted, shoving the girl aside and elevating the M-16.

With a bellow of bloodlust, the creature leaped into the pit.