the neck.”
Darryl McCarthy was in his early twenties. He had none of Hobbs’ old-fashioned qualms about using bad language in front of a woman. Not under these circumstances, anyway. “Only thing holding this asshole’s head to his body,” he announced loudly, “is maybe three little strips of meat.”
McCarthy rose. Standing on the lip of the wall, he stared down at Dan Frost’s unconscious form. His look was full of approval. “Both rounds hit the bastard right in the throat. Blew his fucking neck all to hell.”
All the coal miners were gathered at the scene, now. All of them were staring down at Frost. All of them with approval.
“Remind me not to lip off to him at the Happy Trails, next time he says I’ve had enough,” murmured Frank Jackson. “Always heard he was a hell of a shot.”
Mike straightened up, remembering the girl. His eyes ranged down the creek where she had fled.
“She’s probably half a mile away, by now,” said Hank. He pointed southwest, across the creek. “I saw her scramble over to the other side. Creek must be low. She went up somewhere into the trees.”
Hank’s face twisted into a ferocious scowl. “The whole back of her dress had been ripped off, Mike.” He glared at the corpse lying on the pavement. “I think those guys were trying to rape her.”
Mike’s eyes went to the corpse. Then looked at the wall and the unseen territory beyond. Thin columns of smoke were still rising.
“Something bad is happening here, guys,” he stated. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s bad.” He pointed at the corpse. “I don’t think this is all of it.”
Frank stalked over to the corpse and stooped over it. “Look at this weird armor. What do you think, Mike? Some kind of crazy survivalists or something?”
Mike shrugged. “I’ve got no idea, Frank. But if there were two of them, there’s no reason can’t be more.” He gestured at Dan. Dr. Nichols seemed to have the blood flow stanched. “You heard the chief, guys. He deputized us, and told us to do whatever’s got to be done.”
The miners nodded,
Darryl McCarthy was in his early twenties. He had none of Hobbs’ old-fashioned qualms about using bad language in front of a woman. Not under these circumstances, anyway. “Only thing holding this asshole’s head to his body,” he announced loudly, “is maybe three little strips of meat.”
McCarthy rose. Standing on the lip of the wall, he stared down at Dan Frost’s unconscious form. His look was full of approval. “Both rounds hit the bastard right in the throat. Blew his fucking neck all to hell.”
All the coal miners were gathered at the scene, now. All of them were staring down at Frost. All of them with approval.
“Remind me not to lip off to him at the Happy Trails, next time he says I’ve had enough,” murmured Frank Jackson. “Always heard he was a hell of a shot.”
Mike straightened up, remembering the girl. His eyes ranged down the creek where she had fled.
“She’s probably half a mile away, by now,” said Hank. He pointed southwest, across the creek. “I saw her scramble over to the other side. Creek must be low. She went up somewhere into the trees.”
Hank’s face twisted into a ferocious scowl. “The whole back of her dress had been ripped off, Mike.” He glared at the corpse lying on the pavement. “I think those guys were trying to rape her.”
Mike’s eyes went to the corpse. Then looked at the wall and the unseen territory beyond. Thin columns of smoke were still rising.
“Something bad is happening here, guys,” he stated. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s bad.” He pointed at the corpse. “I don’t think this is all of it.”
Frank stalked over to the corpse and stooped over it. “Look at this weird armor. What do you think, Mike? Some kind of crazy survivalists or something?”
Mike shrugged. “I’ve got no idea, Frank. But if there were two of them, there’s no reason can’t be more.” He gestured at Dan. Dr. Nichols seemed to have the blood flow stanched. “You heard the chief, guys. He deputized us, and told us to do whatever’s got to be done.”
The miners nodded,