Doomsday Warrior 02 - Red America (27 page)

“You hurt me, Rockson!” the creature said almost gleefully. “That good. Me not be hurt before.” The Mother wiped his wrist along his face which was smeared with blood where he had crashed onto the jagged rock. “You fun!” It laughed and jumped across at Rockson who barely had time to leap out of the way. He couldn’t go on like this forever. The big killer wasn’t tiring at all, but Rock was, from the constant jumping every second. He skipped ahead four or five of the stone steps that seemed to dot the entire lake, trying to gain a bit of breathing space, time to make some sort of plan. If only he had a weapon.

Suddenly the water just ahead of him broke into ripples, then waves, then a boiling foam. A dark shape cruising beneath the green water suddenly broke the surface. Good God. Rockson cringed back as the snapping dragon’s head on a neck nearly twenty feet long appeared in the air just feet away from his head. Some sort of mutation, he thought. Much like the thing he had seen on his journey to Pavlov City. That one had wanted him for dinner as well. Its huge jaws snapped at Rock’s head, red eyes cold and hungry.

“That my friend,” the giant yelled out some forty feet away. “It hear you in water. Now it want to play too. Which get you first challenger?” the Mother laughed. The immense amphibious monster swam at Rockson on large green flippers, trying to push itself onto the stones around him. Rock headed back toward the giant. As big as he was he suddenly seemed like more welcome company than this green lizard thing from the depths of hell itself. His only chance was to get by the giant, race out of the cavern and somehow free the others. He approached the Mother and faked as if he were going to jump to the right. The Mother turned quickly in that direction. Rockson leaped from the wet boulder, his feet extended straight out like a rapier as he slammed into the giant’s testicles. The Mother let out a roar of pain and Rockson jumped over him as the creature fell to the stepping stone. Rock started to run but had gone just one step when the Indian’s long arm shot out and a hand as big as a shovel slammed around Rockson’s ankle.

“You hurt me bad,” the giant screamed, pulling the struggling Rockson back toward him. “You hurt enough. Me kill
now,”
the Mother said with a gleam in his black eyes. It stood up, lifting Rock with a flip up into the air. It lifted him in a bear hug and began squeezing. The giant turned to the subterranean lake creature and called to it. “Here, Ferlinghetti, I kill now—you eat.” The monster headed swiftly toward the Mean Mother’s voice, opening its jaws wide to receive its meal. Rock pushed with all his mutant strength at the Indian’s neck. He could feel the giant’s arms tightening, pulling at his backbone. Rock was strong as steel but he could feel his spine bending, almost ready to crack. The giant’s strength was immense. There were only seconds left. Rock stiffened his index fingers, pulled the top of his body back with a superhuman effort and jabbed forward into the Mother’s eyes. The fingers, like little spears, sliced right through the eyes which gushed out like bloody broken eggs from the slimly eye sockets. The giant screamed in mortal agony and released its arms from around Rockson as it slammed its hands to its face.

“Eyes! Eyes,” it moaned incomprehensibly. The lake monster was almost upon them. Rock spun the giant around so he faced the water’s edge. The dinosaur, or whatever the hell it was, closed its eyes as it slammed its jaws down on its prey, not realizing it had taken its keeper. It gobbled down the body, chewing the huge bulk into bloody food in seconds and disappeared back beneath the green glowing surface, leaving little ripples of blood that floated back toward shore.

Rock lay still on the boulder for a minute. He could not really believe that he was alive. That he had won. Death had been so near just seconds before. But he
had
won. He rose and walked toward the gathered judges and chiefs who watched him in awe.

“You are free, Rock-son,” said the Ginsberg. “You have won.” Rock looked at the Living Master with disgust and walked past the Indian warriors who parted at his coming.

Twenty-Two

T
hree motorcycles pulled up to a fork in the hundred-and-fifty-year-old road which was strewn with pebbles and debris but still flat enough to travel on. Three roads came out of the intersection, each going off at a ninety degree angle. At the side of the crossroads lay rusting pieces of metal that had once been roadsigns indicating exits and towns ahead. Now they were barely distinguishable from the reddish yellow dirt that lined the sides. The cycles came to a stop. Then one moved ahead about a hundred feet and waited.

Rock looked at Kim atop her Harley 600 that they had received from the Crazy Alligators after Rock had vanquished the Mean Mother. He had taken a 750, McCaughlin, a monstrous 1000. The sun was just setting, almost beautiful tonight in its purple haze. The pink and brown electric clouds of a brewing megastorm were writhing far off in the distance like stampeding beasts of pure energy. Rock eyed them nervously.

“You mustn’t go off by yourself, Kim,” Rock said. “Come with us.”

“I’ve told you already, Rock, I must find my father and see if he’s safe. When I was captured by the Reds my father was trapped. I don’t know for sure what happened. I must find out.”

Rock looked down at the ground. He didn’t know the right words. He had never been called on to say them before. He felt a strange feeling in his gut. Something new. Not even love or desire. But something he had never experienced in his life. He felt fear. Not for himself but for her. For the woman he loved. Would always love.

“I must go, Rock. I must,” Kim said, a single tear glistening at the edge of her green eyes. “I love you and we shall be together again. I know it.” Rock’s eyes were like razor blades. He knew what the world was like out there. Knew better than any man. The dangers were everywhere, every second. Only the strongest survived. She was tough but . . .

“Do you know what it’s like out—”

“Rock, I’ve traveled around. You know my father is organizing a convention. A Re-constitutional Convention. He is a powerful man, Rockson, as powerful as you. Can you imagine what a new United States would mean? A new government? A new constitution? A . . . a president?”

Rock heard her words. It would be incredible. It would change the spirits of all downtrodden Americans. It would create the way for a new unity among the Free Cities . . . and with the particle beam weapons they must really win now.

“I want the same,” Rock answered slowly. “But I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I’ve never cared for anyone, anything in this way before. I’ve hardly known you but—” She leaned over from her motorcycle and put her finger on his lips.

“Shhh,” she said soothingly and then stepped off her bike and replaced her finger with her lips. She held him against her, a one hundred and ten pound woman cradling a two hundred and twenty-five pound man of the purest iron in her arms, like a baby. Rockson let himself feel her love, let it penetrate into his cells and he sent out his own. Love. How strange. Somehow he had thought he would never feel it. Had certainly not searched for it. And now, in the midst of the purest violence and horror she had appeared. They kissed and touched each other for many minutes as McCaughlin kept glancing back from his cycle some one hundred and fifty feet ahead.

Damn Rockson, can’t keep his hands off the girl, the big man thought with some irritation. He snorted and looked up at the gathering storm clouds. Oh, come on Rock, he thought, trying to send the mental signals to the Doomsday Warrior that it was time to get the hell out of there.

At last the lovers parted, looking at each other. Then Kim started her cycle and with a submachine gun tied around the handlebars pointing straight ahead, and other weapons and supplies mounted on the back, she clicked the big bike into gear and tore off in the direction of the storm. Rock stared after her, watching the cycle quickly disappear over the rolling hills to the north. He watched until he couldn’t even see a dot on the horizon or hear the slightest trace of engine roar. Then he started his Harley and joined McCaughlin ahead. The two freefighters turned their accelerators up to max and screamed off into the gathering darkness as the first bolts of lightning began cracking behind them.

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