David L. Robbins - Endworld 11 - Liberty Run.pdf

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Liberty Run
by David L. Robbins
Endworld #11
ENDWORLD
Warrior Roll
ALPHA TRIAD
Blade
Hickok
Geronimo
BETA TRIAD
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi
Yama
Teucer
GAMMA TRIAD
Spartacus
Shane
Bertha
OMEGA TRIAD
Ares
Helen
Sundance
ZULU TRIAD
Samson
Sherry
Marcus
 
Chapter One
Three women emerged from the compound.
"Look!" exclaimed the stockiest of the five soldiers hidden in the forest
to the west.
"I see," said the leader of the quintet, a lean lieutenant with angular
facial features. His brown eyes narrowed.
"Do we take them, Lieutenant Lysenko?" asked the third of the five
men. Each of them wore a brown uniform; each of them was a seasoned
professional; each carried an AK-47.
Lieutenant Lysenko nodded.
"It is big, is it not?" commented another soldier, a handsome, youthful
trooper wearing his helmet cocked at an angle.
Lieutenant Lysenko, keeping his attention fixed on the trio of women
150 yards away, nodded. "The Home embraces a thirty-acre plot," he
noted absently.
"The Home!" The stocky soldier snickered. "What a stupid name!"
"I don't know about that," Lieutenant Lysenko remarked. "I sort of like
it. The man responsible for constructing that walled compound knew what
he was doing. His name was Kurt Carpenter, according to the files our
informant turned over to us. Carpenter was no fool. He foresaw the
inevitability of World War Three and took appropriate action. For an
American, he was most unusual. Not at all like the typical capitalistic
swine of his time. He used his wealth to build this place he called the
Home, then gathered a select group here shortly before the war. He
dubbed them his Family."
"The Home! The Family!" the stocky soldier said, his tone laced with
 
scorn. "I still think it's stupid!"
Lieutenant Lysenko cast a disapproving glance at the trooper. "Were
your feeble intellect the equal of your flippant mouth, Grozny, the Party
Congress would hail you as a genius," he stated acidly.
Private Grozny frowned, but held his tongue. He knew better than to
match wits with the cerebral Lysenko. He also knew what would happen if
he riled the officer.
The approaching women were 125 yards off.
"Was it stupid of Kurt Carpenter to surround his compound with
twenty-foot-high brick walls?" Lieutenant Lysenko demanded. "And to cap
those thick walls with barbed wire? Or to install a sturdy, massive
drawbridge in the center of the west wall as the only means of entering or
exiting to minimize hostile penetration? Was it stupid of him to initiate
the practice of designating certain Family members as Warriors, superbly
trained individuals responsible for preserving the Home and safeguarding
the Family?"
"No," Grozny admitted.
"It was very smart of them to clear the fields all around their Home,"
interjected the youngest soldier.
"True," Lysenko said. "Our task is that much more difficult."
Grozny nodded at the women. "The mice come to the cats, eh?"
Lieutenant Lysenko studied one of the women. "But one of the mice
sports fangs," he observed.
One of the women was armed. She was a tall blonde with prominent
cheekbones, thin lips, and an intent expression. A brown shirt and green
pants, both patched in several spots, covered her athletic form. Moccasins
adorned her small feet.
"What kind of guns are those?" asked the youthful trooper.
"I don't know," Lysenko acknowledged.
"They arm their women?" Grozny inquired.
 
"What is so surprising about that?" Lieutenant Lysenko countered. "We
have female soldiers in our army."
"Do you think the blonde is a Warrior?" queried the young soldier.
Lieutenant Lysenko scratched his chin, reflecting. He had not
considered the possibility of the woman being a Warrior, and he mentally
chided himself for his neglect. An officer could not afford to overlook any
eventuality. The mission's success and the lives of his squad depended on
his perception and judgment.
"Orders?" Grozny questioned him.
The five soldiers were concealed behind trees and brush a few yards
from the edge of the forest, from the end of the field.
"Move back," Lysenko instructed them. "You know the drill. And
remember. General Malenkov wants a live prisoner. We will take the
blonde."
"And the other two?" Grozny mentioned.
"Kill them," Lysenko directed.
The quintet melted into the foliage, Grozny and the young trooper
drawing their bayonets as they blended into the bushes.
The unsuspecting women neared the tree line, the blonde in the lead.
Her alert green eyes scanned the forest, probing for mutates, mutants,
raiding scavengers, or any other menace. She detected a slight movement
deep in the trees and stopped.
"Is something wrong?" asked one of the women behind her, a brunette
wearing a faded yellow blouse and tan pants.
"I'll tell you what's wrong," quipped the third woman. She was
exceptionally slim and wore a blue shirt and pants, both garments having
been constructed for her by the Family Weavers. "Sherry's a Warrior."
"What's that have to do with anything?" inquired the brunette.
The third woman ran her right hand through her black hair. "Warriors
are walking bundles of nerves," she said. "They have to be, in their line of
 
work. She probably heard a twig snap, and can't decide if it's a bunny
rabbit or a monster!"
"Quiet," Sherry declared.
"Give me a…" the black-haired woman started to speak, but the
brunette gripped her right arm and motioned for silence.
Sherry raised her M.A.C. 10, listening. All she could hear was the breeze
rustling the leaves of the trees, an unusually warm breeze for an October
day. The leaves were red and yellow and orange, resplendent in their fall
colors. She couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but her intuition was
nagging at her mind, and over the years she'd learned to rely on her
feminine intuition. It was seldom wrong.
"Should we return to the Home?" whispered the brunette.
Sherry bit her lower lip and glanced over her right shoulder at the
Home. Blade's orders had been specific: escort a pair of novice Healers
into the forest and guard them while they searched for wild herbs. The
assignment was far from critical. But how would Blade react when he
learned she'd aborted the search because of a vague troubling
premonition? She decided to proceed, but cautiously. "We'll keep going,"
she informed the pair behind her. "But stick close to me. Don't wander
off."
The brunette nodded.
The third woman rolled her brown eyes skyward.
Sherry advanced toward the woods. She could feel the comforting
pressure of her Smith and Wesson .357 Combat Magnum in its holster on
her right hip.
Somewhere in the depths of the northwestern Minnesota forest a bird
chirped.
Sherry paused when she reached the end of the field, peering between
the trunks of the trees and into the shadows of the pines.
"Let's get this over with," said the black-haired woman. Like the
brunette, she was 20 years of age. Unlike the brunette, she had applied to
 

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