rage.
Utterly ravenous, the creatures consumed the body of their deceased mother, then charged into the swirling sandstorm. Almost instantly, the salty wind purged the smell of human from their senses, but they found the physical tracks of a vehicle and took off in that direction. The genetic coding seared into their brains would not allow the living weapons to abandon the hunt until the enemy had been found and consumed. That was the very reason they had been created in the terrible white labs. To hunt and kill, nothing more.
Sooner or later, the redflesh would be found again. It was only a matter of timeâ¦
Â
S TRONG WINDS SHREDDED the storm just before dawn, and J.B. drove the urban combat vehicle into a clean new day. But that didnât last very long, and soon the usual black clouds covered the world once more, oily and thick with toxic chems, the sun only a fleeting memory of warmth and light.
During the night, each of the companions had taken a turn behind the wheel to become familiar with the controls. This was no steam truck hammered together by some ville baron, but a predark military wag, and it was equipped with GPS, asatellite uplink, multichannel encoded radio, radar scrambler, infrared defuser, massive proximity sensors for finding land mines, and a host of devices unknown to the companions, including Mildred, and it was from her time period. At the moment, Krysty was driving, with the rest of the companions settling into the routine of life inside a steel can.
âThis is the life!â J.B. said, lounging in the gunnery seat of the wag. âReminds me of our days with the Trader, eh, old buddy?â His warm boots were resting on the dashboard, and his shotgun was neatly tucked in a wall clip that seemed to be designed exactly for the blaster, the Uzi resting in his lap.
âBetter than walking,â Ryan agreed, dry shaving with a knife. The deadly panga stayed sheathed at his hip; the long curved blade was perfect for slitting throats, not shaving them.
Just then, something smacked hard into the window near Krysty, and she drew her blaster with lightning speed before lowering the weapon. âWell, I certainly like these windows,â said the redhead with a thin smile.
Clinging to the Lexan plastic was the crumpled body of a stingwing, its head pulped beyond recognition. As the wag took a dip in the ground, the mutilated corpse began to slide down the window, leaving behind a gory trail of brains and blood until it was gone. Only seconds later, hairy black mosquitoes converged on the window, hungrily cleaning away the precious fluid.
âNot know window there?â Jak asked in contempt, his pale hands busy reassembling the huge .50-caliber machine gun.
âThey probably can only see in the infrared spectrum,â Ryan said unexpectedly. âJust like night goggles. Anything not generating heat is something they canât eat, so theyâre not interested.â
âMake sense,â the teen replied cautiously, considering the matter. âBut then, why no hit tree when fly? That not hot.â
âMildred?â Ryan asked the woman.
âBeats me,â the physician replied honestly.
âMutie,â Jak snorted as if that settled the matter, and went back to his work. They were out of the good homogenized gun oil, but there had been plenty of motor oil. Filtered through a piece of clean cloth, it worked well enough for the present. There was no ammo for the big-bore blaster, but a clean weapon also got a better price than a dirt hunk of junk.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, Krysty saw a dozen snakes battling over the aced stingwing, then an alligator charged out of a salt pit and attacked them all, stingwing and snakes alike going into the toothy maw of the ravenous reptile.
âOh yeah, this is much better than walking,â Krysty added out of the corner of her mouth, feeding the main engine a little more juice.
Once they were out of the
Utterly ravenous, the creatures consumed the body of their deceased mother, then charged into the swirling sandstorm. Almost instantly, the salty wind purged the smell of human from their senses, but they found the physical tracks of a vehicle and took off in that direction. The genetic coding seared into their brains would not allow the living weapons to abandon the hunt until the enemy had been found and consumed. That was the very reason they had been created in the terrible white labs. To hunt and kill, nothing more.
Sooner or later, the redflesh would be found again. It was only a matter of timeâ¦
Â
S TRONG WINDS SHREDDED the storm just before dawn, and J.B. drove the urban combat vehicle into a clean new day. But that didnât last very long, and soon the usual black clouds covered the world once more, oily and thick with toxic chems, the sun only a fleeting memory of warmth and light.
During the night, each of the companions had taken a turn behind the wheel to become familiar with the controls. This was no steam truck hammered together by some ville baron, but a predark military wag, and it was equipped with GPS, asatellite uplink, multichannel encoded radio, radar scrambler, infrared defuser, massive proximity sensors for finding land mines, and a host of devices unknown to the companions, including Mildred, and it was from her time period. At the moment, Krysty was driving, with the rest of the companions settling into the routine of life inside a steel can.
âThis is the life!â J.B. said, lounging in the gunnery seat of the wag. âReminds me of our days with the Trader, eh, old buddy?â His warm boots were resting on the dashboard, and his shotgun was neatly tucked in a wall clip that seemed to be designed exactly for the blaster, the Uzi resting in his lap.
âBetter than walking,â Ryan agreed, dry shaving with a knife. The deadly panga stayed sheathed at his hip; the long curved blade was perfect for slitting throats, not shaving them.
Just then, something smacked hard into the window near Krysty, and she drew her blaster with lightning speed before lowering the weapon. âWell, I certainly like these windows,â said the redhead with a thin smile.
Clinging to the Lexan plastic was the crumpled body of a stingwing, its head pulped beyond recognition. As the wag took a dip in the ground, the mutilated corpse began to slide down the window, leaving behind a gory trail of brains and blood until it was gone. Only seconds later, hairy black mosquitoes converged on the window, hungrily cleaning away the precious fluid.
âNot know window there?â Jak asked in contempt, his pale hands busy reassembling the huge .50-caliber machine gun.
âThey probably can only see in the infrared spectrum,â Ryan said unexpectedly. âJust like night goggles. Anything not generating heat is something they canât eat, so theyâre not interested.â
âMake sense,â the teen replied cautiously, considering the matter. âBut then, why no hit tree when fly? That not hot.â
âMildred?â Ryan asked the woman.
âBeats me,â the physician replied honestly.
âMutie,â Jak snorted as if that settled the matter, and went back to his work. They were out of the good homogenized gun oil, but there had been plenty of motor oil. Filtered through a piece of clean cloth, it worked well enough for the present. There was no ammo for the big-bore blaster, but a clean weapon also got a better price than a dirt hunk of junk.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, Krysty saw a dozen snakes battling over the aced stingwing, then an alligator charged out of a salt pit and attacked them all, stingwing and snakes alike going into the toothy maw of the ravenous reptile.
âOh yeah, this is much better than walking,â Krysty added out of the corner of her mouth, feeding the main engine a little more juice.
Once they were out of the
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