David L. Robbins - Endworld 11 - Liberty Run

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2024-12-23 0 0 404.41KB 200 页 5.9玖币
侵权投诉
Scanned by Highroller
Proofed by ELF
Liberty Run
by David L. Robbins
Endworld #11
ENDWORLD
Warrior Roll
ALPHA TRIAD
Blade
Hickok
Geronimo
BETA TRIAD
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi
Yama
Teucer
GAMMA TRIAD
Spartacus
Shane
Bertha
OMEGA TRIAD
Ares
Helen
Sundance
ZULU TRIAD
Samson
Sherry
Marcus
Chapter One
Three women emerged from the compound.
"Look!" exclaimed the stockiest of the five soldiers hidden in the forest
to the west.
"I see," said the leader of the quintet, a lean lieutenant with angular
facial features. His brown eyes narrowed.
"Do we take them, Lieutenant Lysenko?" asked the third of the five
men. Each of them wore a brown uniform; each of them was a seasoned
professional; each carried an AK-47.
Lieutenant Lysenko nodded.
"It is big, is it not?" commented another soldier, a handsome, youthful
trooper wearing his helmet cocked at an angle.
Lieutenant Lysenko, keeping his attention fixed on the trio of women
150 yards away, nodded. "The Home embraces a thirty-acre plot," he
noted absently.
"The Home!" The stocky soldier snickered. "What a stupid name!"
"I don't know about that," Lieutenant Lysenko remarked. "I sort of like
it. The man responsible for constructing that walled compound knew what
he was doing. His name was Kurt Carpenter, according to the files our
informant turned over to us. Carpenter was no fool. He foresaw the
inevitability of World War Three and took appropriate action. For an
American, he was most unusual. Not at all like the typical capitalistic
swine of his time. He used his wealth to build this place he called the
Home, then gathered a select group here shortly before the war. He
dubbed them his Family."
"The Home! The Family!" the stocky soldier said, his tone laced with
scorn. "I still think it's stupid!"
Lieutenant Lysenko cast a disapproving glance at the trooper. "Were
your feeble intellect the equal of your flippant mouth, Grozny, the Party
Congress would hail you as a genius," he stated acidly.
Private Grozny frowned, but held his tongue. He knew better than to
match wits with the cerebral Lysenko. He also knew what would happen if
he riled the officer.
The approaching women were 125 yards off.
"Was it stupid of Kurt Carpenter to surround his compound with
twenty-foot-high brick walls?" Lieutenant Lysenko demanded. "And to cap
those thick walls with barbed wire? Or to install a sturdy, massive
drawbridge in the center of the west wall as the only means of entering or
exiting to minimize hostile penetration? Was it stupid of him to initiate
the practice of designating certain Family members as Warriors, superbly
trained individuals responsible for preserving the Home and safeguarding
the Family?"
"No," Grozny admitted.
"It was very smart of them to clear the fields all around their Home,"
interjected the youngest soldier.
"True," Lysenko said. "Our task is that much more difficult."
Grozny nodded at the women. "The mice come to the cats, eh?"
Lieutenant Lysenko studied one of the women. "But one of the mice
sports fangs," he observed.
One of the women was armed. She was a tall blonde with prominent
cheekbones, thin lips, and an intent expression. A brown shirt and green
pants, both patched in several spots, covered her athletic form. Moccasins
adorned her small feet.
"What kind of guns are those?" asked the youthful trooper.
"I don't know," Lysenko acknowledged.
"They arm their women?" Grozny inquired.
"What is so surprising about that?" Lieutenant Lysenko countered. "We
have female soldiers in our army."
"Do you think the blonde is a Warrior?" queried the young soldier.
Lieutenant Lysenko scratched his chin, reflecting. He had not
considered the possibility of the woman being a Warrior, and he mentally
chided himself for his neglect. An officer could not afford to overlook any
eventuality. The mission's success and the lives of his squad depended on
his perception and judgment.
"Orders?" Grozny questioned him.
The five soldiers were concealed behind trees and brush a few yards
from the edge of the forest, from the end of the field.
"Move back," Lysenko instructed them. "You know the drill. And
remember. General Malenkov wants a live prisoner. We will take the
blonde."
"And the other two?" Grozny mentioned.
"Kill them," Lysenko directed.
The quintet melted into the foliage, Grozny and the young trooper
drawing their bayonets as they blended into the bushes.
The unsuspecting women neared the tree line, the blonde in the lead.
Her alert green eyes scanned the forest, probing for mutates, mutants,
raiding scavengers, or any other menace. She detected a slight movement
deep in the trees and stopped.
"Is something wrong?" asked one of the women behind her, a brunette
wearing a faded yellow blouse and tan pants.
"I'll tell you what's wrong," quipped the third woman. She was
exceptionally slim and wore a blue shirt and pants, both garments having
been constructed for her by the Family Weavers. "Sherry's a Warrior."
"What's that have to do with anything?" inquired the brunette.
The third woman ran her right hand through her black hair. "Warriors
are walking bundles of nerves," she said. "They have to be, in their line of
work. She probably heard a twig snap, and can't decide if it's a bunny
rabbit or a monster!"
"Quiet," Sherry declared.
"Give me a…" the black-haired woman started to speak, but the
brunette gripped her right arm and motioned for silence.
Sherry raised her M.A.C. 10, listening. All she could hear was the breeze
rustling the leaves of the trees, an unusually warm breeze for an October
day. The leaves were red and yellow and orange, resplendent in their fall
colors. She couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but her intuition was
nagging at her mind, and over the years she'd learned to rely on her
feminine intuition. It was seldom wrong.
"Should we return to the Home?" whispered the brunette.
Sherry bit her lower lip and glanced over her right shoulder at the
Home. Blade's orders had been specific: escort a pair of novice Healers
into the forest and guard them while they searched for wild herbs. The
assignment was far from critical. But how would Blade react when he
learned she'd aborted the search because of a vague troubling
premonition? She decided to proceed, but cautiously. "We'll keep going,"
she informed the pair behind her. "But stick close to me. Don't wander
off."
The brunette nodded.
The third woman rolled her brown eyes skyward.
Sherry advanced toward the woods. She could feel the comforting
pressure of her Smith and Wesson .357 Combat Magnum in its holster on
her right hip.
Somewhere in the depths of the northwestern Minnesota forest a bird
chirped.
Sherry paused when she reached the end of the field, peering between
the trunks of the trees and into the shadows of the pines.
"Let's get this over with," said the black-haired woman. Like the
brunette, she was 20 years of age. Unlike the brunette, she had applied to
become a Healer at her mother's insistence and not due to any innate
sense of altruism.
Sherry stared at the impatient neophyte. "When I tell you to be quiet,"
she informed her, "you'll shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you.
Understand?"
The black-haired woman bristled. "Who do you think you are, talking
to me like that?"
"As you pointed out," Sherry said, "I'm a Warrior, Claudia. And as
such, in times of danger, what I say goes."
"Danger?" Claudia scoffed. "What danger? Are we going to be molested
by a moth?"
"Claudia!" the brunette spoke up. "Sherry is right, and you know it."
"Nobody tells me what to do, Jean!" Claudia snapped. Before Sherry or
Jean could intervene, she angrily stomped into the forest.
Jean stepped up to Sherry. "Don't take her outburst personally. Claudia
is upset because she knows she won't be accepted as a Healer. Our
apprenticeship, our probationary period, is over in a week. And there's no
way Claudia will be certified."
Sherry watched Claudia disappear behind a broad pine tree. "Why did
the Elders even accept her as a trainee? She's too damn immature to be a
Healer."
Jean shrugged. "You know the Elders. They probably wanted her to at
least have a chance at it."
"And her mother is real close to Kant, and Kant was the Elder who
recommended Claudia for Healer status," Sherry stated.
Jean seemed shocked by the implication. "The Elders would never allow
anyone to unduly influence their judgment."
Sherry started walking into the woods. "The Elders aren't infallible,"
she said over her left shoulder.
Jean stayed on Sherry's heels. "If you'd been born in the Family, you'd
never make such an accusation."
Sherry's lips tightened. True, she'd been born and raised in Canada, in
a small town called Sundown located across the border from Minnesota.
True too was the fact her nomination and acceptance as a Warrior could
be attributed to the influence exerted by her husband, the Family's
preeminent gunfighter, the Warrior known as Hickok. Perhaps, if she had
been reared in the close-knit Family, she wouldn't presume to question an
Elder's integrity. Jean's mild rebuke stung her, and for a few moments she
was distracted, weighing the validity of the reproof instead of
concentrating on the vegetation around them, on their immediate
situation.
The mistake cost her.
"Where did Claudia go?" Jean asked.
The query brought Sherry out of herself. She searched the landscape
ahead. "Claudia! Where are you?" she called out.
Claudia didn't answer.
"Knowing Claudia's temper the way I do," Jean mentioned, "she might
just ignore you."
"She does," Sherry said, "and she'll live to regret it."
"Claudia!" Jean shouted. "Come back here!"
Sherry moved past a large pine, then up a low incline. She reached the
top of the mound and glanced down. And froze.
Claudia was lying on her back at the base of the grassy mound. Her
throat was slit, and blood was gushing from her neck and flowing down
the front of her blue shirt and spilling over her shoulders. Her wide, lifeless
eyes gaped at the azure sky.
Jean bumped into Sherry, then spotted the corpse. "Dear Spirit!" she
exclaimed, horrified. "Claudia!"
Sherry twisted and shoved Jean from the mound. "Run!" she ordered.
"Head for the Home!"
Jean hesitated, too stunned by Claudia's death to realize her own
danger.
But Sherry knew. Her intuition had been right! Some menace was
lurking in the woods! And whoever had slain Claudia had to be nearby,
ready to pounce again! She crouched, cradling the M.A.C. 10.
Not a moment too soon.
A soldier in a brown uniform burst from the brush seven yards to her
right.
In the instant Sherry spied him, she recognized the uniform as
belonging to a Russian trooper, and knew the gun in his hand was an
AK-47. Hickok had told her all about his experiences in the Capital, when
he'd been captured by the Russians. Her mind processed the information
in the split second it took her to react, and her finger squeezed the trigger
when the Russian was still six yards off.
The Soviet soldier was stopped in midstride as the slugs tore through
his chest. His ears never heard the metallic chattering of the M.A.C. 10,
because he was dead before the sound could reach them. He toppled to the
hard ground without uttering a word.
Sherry swiveled, knowing there would be more, and there was another
one, coming at her from her left, holding the barrel of his AK-47 as if it
were a club, his legs pounding up the mound, and she fired when he was
only two feet from her. The M.A.C. 10 caught him in the face, and he was
flipped backwards by the impact, sprawling onto his back and sliding to a
halt against a tree.
Jean!
Sherry spun, hoping the Russians hadn't gone after the aspiring Healer,
but she was too late.
A stocky soldier had grabbed Jean from the rear. His left arm was
clamped around her neck, while his right plunged a bayonet into her body
again and again and again.
Sherry was about to let him have it in the head, when she heard the
padding of rushing feet behind her. She whirled, but before she could
complete the turn someone plowed into her and bore her to the earth.
Strong arms gripped her wrists, preventing her from using the M.A.C. 10.
She glimpsed a youthful face above her, and then something was pressed
over her nose and mouth, something soft with a slight odor. Sherry heaved
and strained, attempting to buck her captor, but another set of hands
grabbed her shoulders and held her fast.
"We have her!" someone exulted.
Sherry's senses were swimming. She tried to focus, to use the martial
fighting skills taught to her by Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, but her sluggish mind
refused to obey her mental commands. Gasping, she made one last valiant
effort to rise, then lost consciousness.
"We have her!" Grozny repeated, still holding her shoulders.
The young trooper, straddling her waist, nodded.
Lieutenant Lysenko, crouched to her right, removed the
chloroform-soaked white cloth from her face and stood. "We must leave
right away!"
"What's the hurry?" Grozny asked. "Shouldn't we bury our comrades
first?"
"Fool!" Lysenko barked. "Do you want to end up like them?" He pointed
to the two dead men. "The Family will have heard the shooting in the
Home! They will send their Warriors after us!" He paused and gazed at the
unconsious blonde. "She is quite formidable. If the other Warriors are half
as good as her, we are in trouble! Come! Grozny, you carry her. Serov, you
take the lead. We must reach the rendezvous point and signal for the
copter to come and pick us up."
Serov grabbed his AK-47 from the ground where it had fallen, then
hurried to the southeast.
Grozny grunted as he draped the blonde's body over his left shoulder.
He retrieved his AK-47, clutching it in his right hand.
"Go!" Lysenko directed. "I will cover you." He picked up his AK-47 and
waited while Grozny hastened into the trees. So far, so good. They had the
live captive General Malenkov wanted. Leaving the dead men behind was
regrettable, but it could not be helped. The Family would learn who was
responsible for taking one of their vaunted Warriors, but what could they
do about it? Nothing. According to the files relayed by the spy in Denver,
the family only numbered about seven dozen members. Only 15 of them
were Warriors. And 15 fighters, no matter how adept at their craft they
might be, could hardly hope to oppose the military might of the Union of
Soviet Socialist Republics.
Loud voices arose from the direction of the Home.
Lysenko followed his men, constantly surveying the foliage behind him,
alert for any hint of pursuit. He thought of the reception awaiting him in
Washington, and he was pleased. This mission would definitely boost his
career, perhaps lead to a speedy promotion. Maybe an assignment on
General Malenkov's personal staff. The prospect was exciting. General
Malenkov was a man of considerable stature in the North American
Central Committee, responsible for administering the occupational forces
in America. The Soviets had been fortunate during the war; they'd been
able to invade and hold a sizeable segment of the eastern U.S. New
England, a portion of New York, southern Pennsylvania, Maryland, New
Jersey, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, parts of Illinois, Kentucky,
Virginia, and West Virginia, as well as sections of North and South
Carolina were all under Soviet hegemony. The Soviets had intended to
conquer the entire country, but their drive through Alaska and Canada
had been stopped. And their push into the deep South had been resisted
every step of the way, and eventually halted, by the determined
Southerners.
Now, over a century since World War III, the status of the Soviet
occupation was still the same. Slightly over 30 years ago, the Russians in
America had lost contact with their Motherland. Ships sent to investigate
the reason had never returned. Planes had vanished. Communications had
gone unanswered. To maintain their military rule, the American-based
Soviets had instituted a program of forcibly impregnating selected
American women, then training and educating their children,
indoctrinating them, creating devoted Communists every bit as loyal as
any ever born on Russian soil.
In other areas, the Russians had encountered severe problems. Much of
American's industrial might had been crippled during the war, and the
Soviets suffered shortages in everything from food to military hardware.
摘要：

ScannedbyHighrollerProofedbyELFLibertyRunbyDavidL.RobbinsEndworld#11ENDWORLDWarriorRollALPHATRIADBladeHickokGeronimoBETATRIADRikki-Tikki-TaviYamaTeucerGAMMATRIADSpartacusShaneBerthaOMEGATRIADAresHelenSundanceZULUTRIADSamsonSherryMarcusChapterOneThreewomenemergedfromthecompound."Look!"exclaimedthesto...

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