Read Online Doomsday Warrior 08 - American Glory by Ryder Stacy - Free Book Online
Authors: Ryder Stacy
Ads: Link
whispered in the animal’s ear. “Yeah, you deserve a break.” He sat up and scouted the terrain ahead for any signs of danger. There were no trees or hollows for predators to hide behind—just a few low moonlit hills off to the right—but he didn’t see a living thing on them. He pulled the reins back slowly, patting the ’brid on the side.
“Whoa boy, whoa. You’ll get your drink.” The hybrid came to a complete stop and flung its head around from side to side, spittle flying out in a spiraling spray. Jed laughed at the animal’s expression of thirst and jumped down from the saddle, grabbing one of five large gourds he had tied around the top of the ’brid’s back where a whole array of supplies hung precariously from ropes and bags, somehow never quite falling off. Jed walked to the front of the towering creature and pulled the wide top off the gourd, holding the cool gallon of spring water up to Eisenhower’s lips. It plunged in, slobbering half of it off in every direction as it attacked the gourd with a tongue the size of a first baseman’s mitt. It got only half of the liquid down its gullet, but looked satisfied nonetheless. The big head arched around toward Jed and licked him along the face from neck to scalp, leaving the side drenched.
“No, dagnabbit—you can’t get your oats now. When we get to Foster Station—then you can eat like a pig. But this is it, pal, and I ain’t eating either. And you know I like to eat. So we’re in this together. Understand?” The ’brid whipped its head around the other way in disgust and stood there, obviously pissed off.
Jed had put one foot up in the stirrup when he heard the noise. A low growling sound with a teeth-snapping edge to it that the Pony Express rider didn’t like one bit. It was a carnivore—and it had him sighted.
“Easy boy, easy,” Jed whispered, continuing to rise up toward the saddle, but slowly, very slowly. At the same time, he reached around with his right hand and pulled one of the three rifles slung around his shoulder forward. By the time he was fully mounted on the ’brid, he had the hunting rifle under his arm, finger on the trigger. Jed kicked the ’brid in the sides with both boots and the animal started slowly forward, looking nervously over in the direction of the sound.
Suddenly it came again, but ten times louder—and attached to the hideous scream of hunger—the thing that had made it. Jed’s eyes open wide in disbelief. He’d seen everything in his years of riding the Express—saber-toothed mountain lions as big as bears, snakes with wings, packs of rats that stretched off to the horizon. But he’d never seen a mutation like this. It had no face—or rather, it was all mouth. A row of jagged spiked teeth stretched from just below the ears, all the way across the bottom of the head. Hundreds of teeth in a set of jaws that looked like they could chomp a watermelon in half. Humanoid in shape, the thing’s body was at least seven feet tall with legs the size of tree stumps, dark purple in color, and with arms as long and strong as a gorilla’s with curving claws at the ends.
It came at Jed from about a hundred feet away, moving at amazing speed for a thing with its size and bulk. Jed knew he couldn’t get the ’brid up to full speed in the semi-darkness with rocks around before the thing would catch them. They’d have to duke it out. He pulled the dusty Browning .8mm up to his shoulder and fired at the monstrosity, which howled as the slug caught it just beneath the shoulder—but it kept on coming.
“Oh shit,” Jed muttered into the rising wind. He pulled the trigger again and again, sighting up the thing’s head since its chest seemed impenetrable, covered with a thick leathery hide. The ’brid was rearing back now, unable to contain its fear any longer. But Jed hung on and kept shooting. Just ten feet from them, the thing stopped in its tracks, its head bleeding in torrents from the top of the skull.
“Whoa boy, whoa. You’ll get your drink.” The hybrid came to a complete stop and flung its head around from side to side, spittle flying out in a spiraling spray. Jed laughed at the animal’s expression of thirst and jumped down from the saddle, grabbing one of five large gourds he had tied around the top of the ’brid’s back where a whole array of supplies hung precariously from ropes and bags, somehow never quite falling off. Jed walked to the front of the towering creature and pulled the wide top off the gourd, holding the cool gallon of spring water up to Eisenhower’s lips. It plunged in, slobbering half of it off in every direction as it attacked the gourd with a tongue the size of a first baseman’s mitt. It got only half of the liquid down its gullet, but looked satisfied nonetheless. The big head arched around toward Jed and licked him along the face from neck to scalp, leaving the side drenched.
“No, dagnabbit—you can’t get your oats now. When we get to Foster Station—then you can eat like a pig. But this is it, pal, and I ain’t eating either. And you know I like to eat. So we’re in this together. Understand?” The ’brid whipped its head around the other way in disgust and stood there, obviously pissed off.
Jed had put one foot up in the stirrup when he heard the noise. A low growling sound with a teeth-snapping edge to it that the Pony Express rider didn’t like one bit. It was a carnivore—and it had him sighted.
“Easy boy, easy,” Jed whispered, continuing to rise up toward the saddle, but slowly, very slowly. At the same time, he reached around with his right hand and pulled one of the three rifles slung around his shoulder forward. By the time he was fully mounted on the ’brid, he had the hunting rifle under his arm, finger on the trigger. Jed kicked the ’brid in the sides with both boots and the animal started slowly forward, looking nervously over in the direction of the sound.
Suddenly it came again, but ten times louder—and attached to the hideous scream of hunger—the thing that had made it. Jed’s eyes open wide in disbelief. He’d seen everything in his years of riding the Express—saber-toothed mountain lions as big as bears, snakes with wings, packs of rats that stretched off to the horizon. But he’d never seen a mutation like this. It had no face—or rather, it was all mouth. A row of jagged spiked teeth stretched from just below the ears, all the way across the bottom of the head. Hundreds of teeth in a set of jaws that looked like they could chomp a watermelon in half. Humanoid in shape, the thing’s body was at least seven feet tall with legs the size of tree stumps, dark purple in color, and with arms as long and strong as a gorilla’s with curving claws at the ends.
It came at Jed from about a hundred feet away, moving at amazing speed for a thing with its size and bulk. Jed knew he couldn’t get the ’brid up to full speed in the semi-darkness with rocks around before the thing would catch them. They’d have to duke it out. He pulled the dusty Browning .8mm up to his shoulder and fired at the monstrosity, which howled as the slug caught it just beneath the shoulder—but it kept on coming.
“Oh shit,” Jed muttered into the rising wind. He pulled the trigger again and again, sighting up the thing’s head since its chest seemed impenetrable, covered with a thick leathery hide. The ’brid was rearing back now, unable to contain its fear any longer. But Jed hung on and kept shooting. Just ten feet from them, the thing stopped in its tracks, its head bleeding in torrents from the top of the skull.
Similar Books
