The footsteps drew closer.
“Whoa. What’s this? Who’s been in here?”
A figure entered, diminutive and female. A hand reached out and the room flooded with light from an overhead bulb. She held a tray with a bowl of soup, and took a step toward Thomas.
“Ben! How did you get free?”
Soren moved between her and the doorway so she couldn’t get away. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The girl whirled. She gasped and her eyes grew wide with astonishment. “Damn. They grow them big where you come from.”
“I will ask you again. Who are you?”
Recovering her composure, the girl snapped, “You’ve got that backwards, bozo. Who are you and what are you doing in here with my friend? If you’re here to hurt him …”
“You are Mr. Thomas’s friend?”
“That’s what I said. Don’t your ears work?”
“Then I will take both of you.” Soren strode past her and again bent to lift Thomas.
“Hold on. Not so fast. Who the hell are you? And where do you think you’re taking us?”
“I’m called Thor. I’m here with other Warriors to retrieve the vehicle Mr. Thomas was to deliver to our Home.”
“Others?” Hope lit the girl’s face. “God, I hope you brought a whole army.”
“There are three of us.”
Disappointment replaced the hope. “Only three? Damn, mister.
Do you have any idea what you’re up against? This is where the Aryan Army meets. There are pretty near sixty of their soldiers upstairs right this minute.”
“Don’t worry. I have Mjolnir.”
“You have what?”
Soren held out the hammer. “Mjolnir. Crusher. Giant killer.
Bringer of the lightning.” “God, you’re nuts.”
“I am perfectly sane, child. Who are you, by the way?” “My friends call me Space. I suppose a lunatic can, too.” Soren turned with Thomas cradled under one arm. Instantly, Space set down the tray and was at their side. She slid her arm around Thomas from the other side.
Soren was surprised at how light the man was, and remarked as much.
“I sneak him food when I can but it’s nowhere near enough.
They keep a close eye on me.” Space shifted so Ben’s head rested on her shoulder. “They have me working in the kitchen. Me!
Peeling spuds and chopping carrots. It’s too damn stupid for words.”
“At least they haven’t killed either of you.” “They’re keeping me around for breeding purposes. Their very words.” Space tenderly touched Thomas’s sunken cheek. “They’ve been trying to make Ben tell them how they can get into that vehicle of yours, but he wouldn’t. That’s the only reason he’s still breathing.”
“We’ll get you to the Home, child. You’ll be safe there.” “Whose home? Yours? Where is it?” “I’ll explain later. Right now we must hurry.” They carried Ben Thomas out of the room and down the hall to the stairs. His feet dragged until Soren noticed and raised him higher.
“We’ve got to take it slow, mister. If we run into any of the Aryans and they sound the alarm, you’ll be up to your armpits in racists.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Space angrily stamped a foot. “Damn it. You’re not taking this serious enough. Didn’t you hear me about the big meeting?”
“Didn’t you hear me about Mjolnir?”
“Listen, nut job. You have a hammer. They have guns. Lots and lots of guns. You won’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.
Our best bet is to sneak out before they notice I’m missing and come looking for me.”
Soren was paying attention to her and not their surroundings.
He realized his mistake when they came to the landing and he looked up to find five well-armed men staring at them in amazement.
“Hold it right there!” one of them barked, and leveled a rifle.
Brothers in Arms
Robert Montoya was within twenty yards of the trailer. He had angled across the lot to come up on it from the rear. The Aryans behind it hadn’t seen him, and their backs were to him, which made no difference. Raising the Jati-Matic, he cut loose, felling them in their tracks.
Montoya started around the trailer to join Slayne. He had only taken a few steps when the front doors of the factory slammed open and out rushed more Aryans. Caught in the open, he had no choice but to dive flat and spray lead.
Slayne did the same. Their combined hailstorm drove the Aryans inside, leaving half a dozen on the ground. “Get up here, Ricco. I’ll cover you.”
Montoya didn’t hesitate. He had a lot of open space to cover, but he had confidence in Slayne. He’d seen Slayne at target practice; the man seldom missed. He ran flat out.
Slayne saw a head appear in the doorway and let off a burst to discourage any attempt to shoot Montoya. He watched the windows, too, and when a shadow filled one of them, he gave the shadow some slugs to chew on.
Montoya was almost to the cab when a single shot cracked.
He felt the sting of impact and his left leg was nearly knocked out from under him. Limping, he returned fire and reached Slayne’s side.
Slayne downed the shooter, an Aryan who had popped out of the open doorway. “Where are you hit?”
“The calf, I think. But I can manage.” Montoya fired at a window. “What do we do? We can’t stay here.”
Slayne agreed. They were too exposed. They could take cover under the trailer, but the bottom was too high off the ground.
Only the tires offered any protection, and he didn’t want them shot out. He pointed at a pair of large metal trash bins at the near corner of the building. “There,” he said. “You first. I’ve got your back.”
Montoya nodded. His leg pained him with every step and he hopped more than he ran but he made good speed. The possibility of taking a round in the back lent extra incentive.
No shots rang out. Slayne kept expecting the Aryans to barrel from the factory in pursuit, but either they were regrouping or they had some other tactic up their sleeve. He reminded himself these weren’t
