Damn. They were still following me. It was pretty late I noticed, must have been past midnight. I had been to this shadow years before, during the war, and had decided to stop here to rest up a bit before continuing my search.
This place was one big dump. The dregs who lived here had killed their own world with bombs and radiation. Now the place was mostly desert and rusted ruins. Still, I like the place.
Anyway, I must have fallen asleep at my table because now most of the patrons were gone and I was alone in a bad situation. The guy was across the room half concealed in the darkened corner checking me out, but trying to look like he wasn't checking me out. As I glanced around I saw that there were about half a dozen other guys in the room, all wearing the exact same boots. There were only two other people in the room and as I was looking around they started heading for the door. The Bartender was nowhere to be seen . . .
As the two guys went out the front door the guy in the corner and two sitting at a table near him started heading for the door acting like they were going after the first two. Yeah right, I wish I was that lucky. As they moved from the shadows I got a better look at them. Red bloodshot eyes, pasty skin, and heavy jaws. I didn't need to see the hand spurs.
Hell . . . No reason to wait til they came to me. As the three of them made there way around one of the tables, I rushed them. One came at me quickly from the right side of the table, another from the left, and the third stood at the other end of the table and went for something in his coat. I never gave him the chance. Before the first two could get around the table I leapt on top of it and ran at the third guy, drawing two throwing daggers from within my leather jacket sending them flying into his neck and face. As the guy fell I jumped over him, landed behind his body in a crouch, drew two more daggers and threw them into the back of the guy on the left. As his back arched and he fell to the ground his buddy on the right drew a flat looking piece and pointed it at me. Shit, guns were supposed to be rare in this shadow. Before he could fire I rolled onto my back and kicked out with my feet, knocking the table I had just ran on top of onto it's side. The round hit the table and not me. As I was lying there I remembered that there were three other freaks in the room, and decided I'd better get the hell out of dodge. I did a quick move to regain my feet that Ben had taught me and managed to grab the arm of the guy that had just shot at me as he came around the table. I twisted his arm as hard as I could, brought my knee up into his groin, grabbed him by the back and swung him around in front of me just as two of his friends decided to take a few pot shots at me. He made a wonderful shield. As those two threw away their now empty weapons and drew short blades I ran for the last guy. He was in front of the window.
Needless to say . . . I made it out.
| Tueday, October 21, 1997 |
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