eyes glittered in the faint light. “Name’s Carnahan. I’m thinking you shouldn’t have to haul so much extra weight around. There’s easier ways to get exercise. Better ways.”
Despite the pounding rain Wright saw them clearly from a distance as he approached the temporary shelter. Holding the heavy load of firewood, he quickly evaluated the unforeseen state of affairs. He had already delayed his trek northward and altered his course once in order to help the pilot. His fight was with the machines that had taken his friends, not with other humans he did not even know.
Probably they wouldn’t kill her. There would be no reason to. They would tend to their business and move on, leaving her to make it the rest of the way back to her base. Meanwhile he could easily avoid a confrontation he had not sought. They were no threat to him. They didn’t even know he was there.
Searching with increasing desperation for an escape route, Williams was not finding one. The men were armed and had spread out, blocking the way to the racecourse. Thoughts of appealing to their better nature faded swiftly as she realized that this trio had none. All she could do was play for time while hoping that some other possibility presented itself.
“Come on, guys. Machines are the enemy. Skynet is who we have to join together to defeat. We’re all on the same side and we’re all equal in this fight for the future.”
Carnahan pursed his lower lip, feigning thoughtfulness.
“Not exactly. See, I’ve got two friends on my side and you’ve got none, so we’re not really equal. In any fight.” He smiled again, as unpleasantly as the first time. “’Course, nobody has to fight. Not that we’re against it. We can do this any way you want.”
Stiffening, she moved her right leg back, raised her left arm, and dropped into a fighting stance.
“You want to fight, I can do that with or without a plane. It’s good that you’ve got friends. You’ll need someone to carry you after I’m done with you.” Opening her extended left hand, she gestured with her fingers, taunting him to make a move.
None of the three would have qualified for a university scholarship, had there been any functioning universities remaining. Having survived by stealth and brute force, neither were they prepared to risk health and limb for the sake of false pride. Instead of accepting her challenge, Carnahan raised the muzzle of the Eagle and took aim at her head (no point in wasting the rest, he had already decided). A minor point of macho conceit failed and he had to use both hands to hold the heavy pistol level.
“She’s a firecracker, ain’t she?” He leered at Blair. “Want to have some fun? Let’s have some fun—you and me.”
She nodded once toward the wavering weapon.
“You might want to chamber a round. Or do you think a pilot is stupid enough to wear a loaded sidearm in a cockpit where it might go off accidentally?”
On close study and subject to the rules of logic neither of her statements would hold up. However, before subjecting them to close examination Carnahan instinctively looked down at the gun he was holding. That was just enough time for Williams to dart forward and slam the knuckles of her closed fist into his throat. His mouth opened wide but with his air cut off nothing came out.
He dropped like the sack of shit he was.
Caught by surprise by both the speed and efficiency of her response, his two companions hurried to bring their own weapons to bear. Struggling to rise, eyes blazing, Carnahan started to raise the Eagle.
The chunk of grandstand that exploded against the back of his skull was a good three-feet long and at least as solid as the bone with which it connected. Carnahan went down, revealing a dripping Wright standing behind him. His unexpected appearance distracted one of the other men long enough for Williams to kick the sawed-off shotgun out of the startled vagrant’s hands.
Rolling clear, the last member of the trio raised his own shotgun to fire at Wright. Exhibiting extraordinary reflexes, Wright reached down and yanked the stunned Carnahan up in front of him. The dazed leader of the attackers caught the force of the shotgun blast full in the chest, killing him instantly.
As Williams looked on in disbelief, Wright lifted the limp body and threw it at the man who had fired. His second shot went wild as the bleeding corpse crashed into him.
Wright was on him before he could even think of reloading. The man screamed as his arm was not just snapped but crushed. Letting the moaning, sobbing intruder fall to the ground, Wright turned to confront the only attacker still standing.
“Turnbull’s the name and surviving’s my game,” the man stammered as he held both empty hands out in front of him and began backing away from the cold-eyed slayer who had materialized in their midst. “Killing me ain’t gonna win this war. Save it for the machines.”
In full killing mode now, all emotional restraints removed, Wright started toward him. He could end the life of this cowering shaft of slime with one blow, he knew. Whether he should do so or not wrestled in his mind with whether he
This dilemma was solved for him by the sudden eruption of the Desert Eagle. Having recovered her weapon, Williams had taken careful aim at Turnbull’s right leg and fired once. He screamed and collapsed as a large chunk of his calf was torn away.
Walking over, she glared down at him.
“That’s so you don’t follow us.”
Whimpering as he clutched at his badly damaged lower leg, Turnbull stared up at her.
“Follow you? What, do you think I’m insane?” His frightened eyes shifted to the silent, menacing figure of Wright. “Follow
Returning from searching through her gear, she looked down at him in disgust.
“You’re not crippled. You’ve lost blood and muscle.” She tossed him gauze and an Ace bandage. “There’s plenty of wood here. Make yourself a damn crutch. If I’d wanted to cripple you I’d have blown up your knee, not your gastrocnemius.”
