Read Online Doomsday Warrior 11 - American Eden by Ryder Stacy - Free Book Online
Authors: Ryder Stacy
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said. “We can’t stop to collect all the bones in this town, but we will bury the two of them as a token of respect for all the people martyred here.”
On the way to the pile of rocks at the edge of town that would serve as the burial site, the Freefighters came upon two dead Russians. Their faces were eaten away by the wolves, but their uniforms of cheap brown synthetic material hadn’t proved as tasty. “A lieutenant and a sergeant,” Rock noted, pointing to the stripes on their sleeves. “There’s a bullet hole in each of their heads—big caliber.”
The Sov’s guns were out. Tokarev ten-shot pistols. Fired.
Behind the rocks the Freefighters found the American shooters body. A mountain man with a blunder-buss single-shot moose gun. He was intact, the wolves had been busy on the Sovs.
“We’ll bury this brave and good man too. He deserves it.”
As they returned to Scheransky, who had been watching them with the binoculars as they made their grim rounds, Danik asked about the shot in the shed. Rockson told him they had found a man in pain, but alive. Beyond help.
“Did you find out why the Reds did this?” Danik asked. “I know from the tapes I studied in Century City that a community like this is usually left alone . . .”
Rockson saw no point in telling Danik that he was the unwitting cause of this atrocity. “No, we don’t know why the Reds did this,” Rock said flatly. “We have to move on.”
It was always their intention to save the precious food supply the carried for themselves and hunt food for the wolf-dog teams. But they’d seen no game, not even any tracks, since setting out. Now, when they did see tracks, it was that of a small rabbit.
The tracks were hours old, Rock saw when he stopped to examine them. “No sense in going after the little thing, it would hardly sate the teams anyway. Let’s push on,” Rock said. “I don’t like the looks of those clouds.” He pointed up to the south.
“More acid snow?” Rona asked.
“No, but nevertheless it’s sure to be a bad storm.”
Indeed in a matter of minutes a wind started rising and soon became a howling enemy. The wind-driven snow, though of the ordinary variety, took their breaths away. It was coming directly from the south, so the choice was either to take a different tack or fight it. Rockson compromised, ordering the team to turn southwest and keep moving.
The temperature dropped rapidly. Rock glanced at the thermometer reading on his watch—seventy below. He saw Danik falter and let go of his rope and fall. Rock stopped the sleds. McCaughlin raced over and helped Rock put the man on his sled, covering him with everything available.
“What’s wrong with him?” McCaughlin asked, shouting into the wind.
“I think he’s still a bit weak from his ordeal getting to Century City. All the vitamin shots in the world can’t make up for a frozen trek like that. The Edenites never had to endure much in the way of low temperatures. We’ve got to find shelter.” Rock replied.
To make things worse, in another ten minutes of slow travel, the dogs abandoned their fanned-out position at the end of the nylon rope traces and tangled themselves into immobility. They began howling and biting at the strong rope. “We’ve got to untangle them, find shelter.” Rock implored.
It took twenty minutes of bone-chilling work for all of them to untangle the dogs—and they had to take off their mittens to straighten out the traces. They were well on their way to having frostbitten fingers by the time they got moving again. Danik was barely conscious, bundled down under ten layers of blankets and furs in Rockson’s sled.
They were on a high plateau, totally exposed to the elements. Rock had to find them cover now , or Danik would die. And the mission with him.
Rockson took up the infrared binoculars and scanned ahead. The binocs cut through some of the obscuring effects of the storm. Dimly Rockson made out a line of boulders ten or
On the way to the pile of rocks at the edge of town that would serve as the burial site, the Freefighters came upon two dead Russians. Their faces were eaten away by the wolves, but their uniforms of cheap brown synthetic material hadn’t proved as tasty. “A lieutenant and a sergeant,” Rock noted, pointing to the stripes on their sleeves. “There’s a bullet hole in each of their heads—big caliber.”
The Sov’s guns were out. Tokarev ten-shot pistols. Fired.
Behind the rocks the Freefighters found the American shooters body. A mountain man with a blunder-buss single-shot moose gun. He was intact, the wolves had been busy on the Sovs.
“We’ll bury this brave and good man too. He deserves it.”
As they returned to Scheransky, who had been watching them with the binoculars as they made their grim rounds, Danik asked about the shot in the shed. Rockson told him they had found a man in pain, but alive. Beyond help.
“Did you find out why the Reds did this?” Danik asked. “I know from the tapes I studied in Century City that a community like this is usually left alone . . .”
Rockson saw no point in telling Danik that he was the unwitting cause of this atrocity. “No, we don’t know why the Reds did this,” Rock said flatly. “We have to move on.”
It was always their intention to save the precious food supply the carried for themselves and hunt food for the wolf-dog teams. But they’d seen no game, not even any tracks, since setting out. Now, when they did see tracks, it was that of a small rabbit.
The tracks were hours old, Rock saw when he stopped to examine them. “No sense in going after the little thing, it would hardly sate the teams anyway. Let’s push on,” Rock said. “I don’t like the looks of those clouds.” He pointed up to the south.
“More acid snow?” Rona asked.
“No, but nevertheless it’s sure to be a bad storm.”
Indeed in a matter of minutes a wind started rising and soon became a howling enemy. The wind-driven snow, though of the ordinary variety, took their breaths away. It was coming directly from the south, so the choice was either to take a different tack or fight it. Rockson compromised, ordering the team to turn southwest and keep moving.
The temperature dropped rapidly. Rock glanced at the thermometer reading on his watch—seventy below. He saw Danik falter and let go of his rope and fall. Rock stopped the sleds. McCaughlin raced over and helped Rock put the man on his sled, covering him with everything available.
“What’s wrong with him?” McCaughlin asked, shouting into the wind.
“I think he’s still a bit weak from his ordeal getting to Century City. All the vitamin shots in the world can’t make up for a frozen trek like that. The Edenites never had to endure much in the way of low temperatures. We’ve got to find shelter.” Rock replied.
To make things worse, in another ten minutes of slow travel, the dogs abandoned their fanned-out position at the end of the nylon rope traces and tangled themselves into immobility. They began howling and biting at the strong rope. “We’ve got to untangle them, find shelter.” Rock implored.
It took twenty minutes of bone-chilling work for all of them to untangle the dogs—and they had to take off their mittens to straighten out the traces. They were well on their way to having frostbitten fingers by the time they got moving again. Danik was barely conscious, bundled down under ten layers of blankets and furs in Rockson’s sled.
They were on a high plateau, totally exposed to the elements. Rock had to find them cover now , or Danik would die. And the mission with him.
Rockson took up the infrared binoculars and scanned ahead. The binocs cut through some of the obscuring effects of the storm. Dimly Rockson made out a line of boulders ten or
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