Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga (22 page)

Floyd cringed. “Sweet Jesus!”

Sam jumped out of the truck and ran down the long driveway toward the parking lot.

“Wait,” Floyd yelled. “You can’t go out there! You’re goin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I’m the only one who can stop them,” Sam shouted. “Get as far away from here as you can, Floyd!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Floyd reached over and pulled the passenger door shut.

As the truck pulled away, Sam ran as fast as his legs would carry him; the heavy bag on his back banged against his body with every footfall. He skidded to a halt as one of the mechs flung an overturned car aside to reveal three deputies and the sheriff huddling behind it. Two of the deputies ran while the older sheriff tried desperately to drag the severely wounded third deputy out of harm’s way.

“Stay back,” the sheriff yelled as he dragged the man by his shirt collar with one hand and fired his pistol at the robot with the other. “I’m warning you!”

The mech tore the deputy from the sheriff’s grasp with one clawed hand and flung him aside into a lamp pole, breaking his spine. The robot then raised one of its feet and brought it down on Challis’s legs, crushing them. The sheriff cried out as it leaned down and examined him curiously like a dog with a wounded grasshopper.

In a desperate act of defiance, the sheriff spat on the robot’s black sensor eye. The mech brought back one of its arms to strike the finishing blow.

Sam leapt into the air as the mech brought its claws down toward its prey. His foot struck the sensor eye, and the robot stumbled back slightly from the impact. It sent out its scanning beam to scrutinize the Replodian, then stepped back, its arm cannons trained on its new target.

“Samrai,” the mech growled.

“That’s right, you convoluted pile of scrap,” Sam snarled as he raised his own weapon. “Come and meet your maker.”

The mech stepped forward and opened fire with its arm cannons, but Sam sidestepped and unleashed his own barrage of plasma bolts, which bounced off the advancing Death Walker’s armor. Sam leapt into the air over the line of fire, landed on top of the mech’s body, and clung to the hot metal. His fingers dug into a ridge in the robot’s armor, and he braced his legs below the sensor eye.

He pressed the barrel of the plasma rifle against the eye. “Scan this, you son-of-a-bitch!”

He squeezed the trigger and the air between him and the mech became a strobe of red plasma fire. Sam screamed as some of the blast fragments ricocheted back and tore through his body, leaving ragged, glowing yellow holes in their wake.

“Crack, you mother,” he growled. “Crack!”

Finally the eye cracked, and the Death Walker recoiled, bucking wildly. Sam tossed the rifle aside, punched his fist through the broken eye, and dug his hand around inside while the mech tried desperately to shake him off. Finally his fingers closed around a bundle of wires, and he savagely wrenched on them.

“Shit. Ought. Not. Resist. Me!” He pulled out the handful of multicolored wiring.

The Death Walker convulsed, and Sam fell to the ground, landing on his feet and still clutching the bundle of wires in his fist. The mech teetered and flailed its mechanical arms.

“Fall,” Sam said. “Fall!”

The robot fell forward onto the pavement, caving in its armored nose. Smoke poured out of the shattered sensor eye, and the mech shuddered for a moment before it became permanently still. Sam tossed the wires to the ground and ran to Sheriff Challis, who was convulsing and clutching his broken legs.

Challis gaped at Sam as his glowing wounds began to close. “What are you?”

“Don’t talk.” Sam knelt to examine the sheriff’s injuries. “You’re going into shock. You need medical attention now.”

“No paramedics,” Challis’s voice grew weaker. “On their w….”

“Don’t worry.” Sam gingerly scooped the wounded lawman into his arms. “I know the best doctor on the planet.”

Sam turned and scanned the parking lot for any sign of his brothers. “Lamont! Where are you?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Quintin popped up from behind a police car, fired three quick shots at the back of a nearby Death Walker, and quickly dropped back down before the robot’s retaliatory fire shredded the car’s front end. He checked his weapon and cursed. Half a blast pack and he hadn’t put so much as a scratch on the metal bastard.

He pulled a grenade out of his jacket pocket, mashed the plunger with his thumb, and counted to three softly in Phaedojian before chucking it over the top of the car. The mech locked onto it with its sensor eye and fired a short burst from its arm cannons. The grenade exploded in mid-air, and the shockwave hit Quintin like a hammer even behind the burned-out husk of the squad car. Sensing no movement, the mech turned and focused on other activity.

Quintin dug three more grenades out of his pocket and stood to shout at the departing mech, “Hey! Don’t you turn your back on me!”

The Death Walker quickly swiveled at the waist to face him again and took aim, its legs stepping slowly to match the direction of the torso.

Quintin mashed the plungers and tossed all three grenades at the robot. “Think fast!”

The mech adjusted its aim accordingly and shot two of them out of the air, but the third went untracked in the explosions and detonated mere inches from the sensor eye. The mech staggered back a step, its stance unsteady on its sidestepping legs. When the smoke cleared, Quintin saw a scorch mark covering the robot’s entire face, but more importantly, there was a hairline crack in the eye. The mechanical monster growled and flexed its claws as it advanced.

“Uh oh,” said Quintin. “Now I’ve done it.”

As he fumbled for his rifle, twin plasma blasts sliced through the air around his shoulders. The mech staggered back from the continuous string of impacts. Rene and Cherry appeared at Quintin’s side, firing on the robot with their rifles.

“Quintin,” Cherry shouted, “get out of there!”

“Move, boy!” said Rene.

Quintin nodded and looked around him for an escape route, but froze when his eyes fell on the entrance to the school and saw the two guards stationed there walking away.

“They’re leaving!” Quintin shouted.

Rene cocked his head toward the boy, straining to hear over the gunfire. “What?”

“The Horde is leaving,” said Quintin. “Now’s our chance.”

“Leave it to the Replodians, Quintin,” said Cherry. “Now get out of here!”

“No.” Quintin shook his head. “Alex needs me.”

He slid over the cruiser’s hood and ran for the front doors at full speed, deftly hurdling large chunks of debris along the way as bullets raked the ground.

“Quintin!” Cherry dropped her rifle to chase after him. “Come back!”

“No, Cheryl!” Rene grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Cheryl, no! Don’t draw attention to him!”

“You bastard! Let me go!”

“No!” Rene grabbed both of her arms and shook her. “Listen to me! It’s time you let the boy become a man. The best thing we can do for him is keep these things busy so he can get away.”

Cherry looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “I hate you, Rene Boudreaux.”

“I know,
cher
,” he said. “But you can hate me later. Right now I need you to fight!”

“Rene…” Cherry’s shoulders heaved as she sobbed. “He’s my—”

The blind mech followed the sound of their voices and unleashed a salvo of heavy fire between their feet.

“Son of a bitch!” Rene shouted.

The two Methuselans raised their rifles and resumed their assault on the metal giant.

“Run, Quintin,” Cherry called. “Don’t stop!”

*****

Quintin couldn’t hear Cherry’s cries over the sound of an exploding grenade behind him as he jumped over an overturned garbage barrel near the entrance. He raised his rifle and fired a three-round burst at the doors, shattering the glass and twisting the steel frames. Once inside, he looked down both halls and chose the path to the right.

The gymnasium doors opened, and two Hordesmen entered the hall holding Alex’s unconscious body by the arms, his feet dragging lifelessly along the floor. Quintin slung his rifle over his shoulder and ran toward the soldiers.

“Hey!” he shouted.

The soldiers turned and dropped Alex. While they fumbled for their weapons, Quintin leapt into the air, kicking one in the face and shoving the other’s head into the brick wall. Both fell to the ground unconscious. Quintin rushed to his brother’s side and carefully turned him onto his back. He winced at the burns and blood covering his face.

“Alex!” Quintin lightly slapped his brother on the cheek. “Alex, wake up!”

Slowly, Alex opened his eyes and blinked. “Quintin?”

“What happened?”

Alex struggled to sit up, and Quintin propped him up against the wall. “It’s Temujin. He’s here.”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” said Alex, holding his head. “He took Crystal.”

“Took her where?”

“I don’t know,” said Alex. “He said he’s going to make her part of his harem. We have to save her.”

He struggled to his feet and fell to his knees.

“You can’t fight in your condition,” Quintin protested. “I’ll go after Crystal. You go find Lamont.”

“Quintin—”

“Shut up and go,” said Quintin. “I’ll bring her back to you, I promise. Now, take my rifle. You’ll need it outside. And take my jacket.”

Alex leaned against the wall and accepted the rifle, “What about you?”

Quintin stripped off his jacket and lifted his shirt, revealing the silver handle of a laser sword shoved into the back of his jeans. “I’ll manage.”

“Thank you,” Alex said as he struggled to put the jacket on.

“Thank me later,” said Quintin. “These guys are starting to come around. I’ll meet up with you later.”

Alex nodded and limped down the hall as fast as his burning muscles would allow. Quintin watched until his brother disappeared around the corner. He wiped a hand over his face, smearing it with Alex’s blood. One of the troopers groaned, and Quintin quickly dropped to the floor and closed his eyes. He listened as they slowly got to their feet and began to chatter at each other in an unfamiliar language. His earpiece translated.

“What happened?” asked one.

“Somebody hit us,” said the other.

“Where’d they go?”

“Who cares? Probably some kid trying to play hero. Just help me carry this punk to the
Ragnarok
so we can get out of this miserable place. These brats are driving me crazy.”

Yes, that’s it, boys.
Quintin smiled.
Take me to your leader.

*****

Lamont took a couple steps back and fired the last burst from his rifle. The weapon fizzled, and he flipped it on its side. He cursed; the gauge now read empty. He flung the spent weapon aside, drew a plasma pistol from within his jacket, and fired. The small bolts bounced pathetically off the mech stalking toward him, not even making it falter in its gait. It loaded a rocket into its left-side launcher.

The Death Walker was too busy locking onto Lamont to notice the sound of a roaring engine rapidly approaching. Lamont looked between the robot’s metal legs and saw one of the highway patrol cars bearing down on it from behind. He jumped out of the way and the mech turned to track his movements, but it didn’t notice the car until it rammed into the back of its legs and sent it toppling over onto its back.

Moe crawled out through the driver’s side window and ran to help Lamont to his feet. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Lamont rubbed his shoulder. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Time of my life,” said Moe.

The ground shook as the twisted Death Walker slammed its claws into the concrete and righted itself. Its free arm leveled at the Replodians and the cannon spun. Moe crouched, ready to spring out of the line of fire, but the guns issued a rapid clicking. With its free gun empty, the mech swiveled its legs slowly until the feet found purchase, lifting it off the ground.

“This isn’t working, Moe.” Lamont stared wearily at the struggling robot. “We just can’t smash these things enough to make them stay down.”

“They’ve gotta run out of ammo
sometime
,” Moe said. “Right?”

::Lamont.::

Lamont whirled toward the school. “Alex?”

His eyes fell on the smashed front doors. Alex stood leaning against the doorframe, wearing his brother’s brown leather jacket and holding a plasma rifle in his right hand.

“Alex!” Lamont shouted.

::Help me.:: Alex collapsed onto one knee.

The Replodians ran to his side. Lamont laid Alex on his back while Moe covered them with his “paintball” rifle. Lamont felt along the teen’s ribs, arms, and legs, and then took his pulse. He peeled back the teen’s eyelids and frowned at how his eyes quivered.

He dug into the pack hanging over his shoulder. “What happened in there?”

“Temujin took Crystal,” said Alex, his voice weak.

Moe looked over his shoulder. “He
what
?”

Alex’s eyes flicked to him, barely visible under heavy lids. “I tried to stop him. He’s too strong.”

Lamont produced an injection gun and a large vial of bubbling green liquid. “How’d you get away?”

“Quintin,” Alex rasped. He struggled to keep his eyes open. “He took my place. He’s going after Crystal.”

“Damn.” Moe turned toward the door. “I’ll go and get them.”

“No!” Lamont shook the vial and pushed it firmly into the gun until it clicked. “I need you here. I can’t treat Alex and fight those things off at the same time.”

Moe pointed to Alex’s rifle with the barrel of his own weapon. “Is that thing loaded, Alex?”

“I think so,” Alex nodded.

Moe tossed his rifle down and traded it for Alex’s. “Paintballs don’t do squat to these things.”

“Neither does plasma,” Lamont observed, pushing up the sleeve of the jacket and swabbing the inside of Alex’s elbow with alcohol. “It just pisses them off.”

Moe checked the primer. “You almost done there?”

“Almost.” Lamont picked up the injection gun. “All right, Alex, listen up. I’m injecting you with a cocktail of adrenaline, endorphins, and muscle enhancers. It’ll give you a short boost in strength and stamina. You got that?”