Doomsday Warrior 05 - America’s Last Declaration (27 page)

“I love you. I do love you, Rona,” the Doomsday Warrior half cried out.

“You’re a good liar.” She grimaced as she lifted her head for a final kiss. She opened her lips for his . . . and fell limp. She was still alive—but she needed help.

He held her tightly in his arms, not daring to let go. As if he clutched her tightly enough, somehow death would not be able to take her into the dark beyond.

Suddenly he heard another whistling sound, and still holding her to him, Rock rolled into a mortar-made crater several yards away. A .155mm round tore into the earth just above the crest of the hole, sending up a deafening storm of sand and stone. Rockson was lifted bodily from his shallow foxhole and flung through the air, his arms releasing Rona as he was knocked momentarily unconscious by the force of the blast. He lay motionless, just yards away her, as she breathed slow, straining breaths.

Slowly he came to, the world spinning around him like a top out of control. He tried to rise but found it difficult to move, his muscles like rubber. Then he turned and saw her, so, pale, like a dream, like a princess in a dream. Her eyes opened and she looked at him from a few yards away.

“Rock,” she asked with her mind.
“Are you—”

“Just stunned,”
the Doomsday Warrior telepathed back.
“I’ll be all right in a minute. Just have to catch my breath.”
He turned his face so she couldn’t see the deep gash on the right side of his head, slowly dripping, like a leaky faucet, bright red blood onto his shoulder and arm.

“Oh, Rock, I’m afraid,”
Rona thought through the cold air.
“Not of dying—but of being without you.”

“No one’s dying,”
the Doomsday Warrior sent back. He mindlinked with her, sending out his strength in telepathic streams, shoring her up with the will of his own soul—as she struggled above the waiting waves of death that slapped around her living flesh.

No—Rockson would not let the Grim Reaper claim this woman. Death would have to fight both of them—two sea boulders rising above the dark rushing waters. He reached into the deepest part of his being and sent out all his life energy, forming a protective circle around both of them.

“Let it come,”
he screamed out at the dark night closing in on them.
“Let death stalk us,”
the Doomsday Warrior challenged the universe as bony, clawed footprints stamped ever closer in the damp earth.
“Come on—Death! I’m ready for you. Come on—I’m waiting
!”

He felt a black energy soar in toward her, reaching, straining to pull her into its world. And Ted Rockson, using every bit of strength that was in him, struck out at the life-taking claws of the Dark Destroyer.

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