The tall lieutenant stepped forward and eyed Valentine through the wire, hand on his stiff canvas holster. "I don't know you, kid. Where's the message, and who sent you?"

"It's verbal, Lieutenant," Valentine answered. "Let me think.... It goes like this: You're a shit-eating, traitorous, murderous disgrace to the human race. That's about it."

The guards inside the gate froze.

"Uuh?" Franks grunted. Franks's hand seized his sidearm, the Velcro on the clasp making a tiny tearing sound, but Valentine had the two pistols out before the

Quisling's hand even got around the grip. Valentine squeezed off two shots from the automatic and one from the revolver into the lieutenant's chest, the officer's limbs jerking with the false nerve signals generated by the impacting bullets as he fell.

Behind him, the two Wolves raised their carbines. One had some trouble with his poncho, delaying him for a second, but Alpin put a bullet through the guard's chin while the sentry was still shouldering his rifle. The other Wolf got his gun clear in time to put another shot into the lurching figure even as the magazine-fed battle rifle fell out of the tower.

In the time it took the guard's rifle to smack into the wet dirt twenty feet below, Valentine emptied his two pistols into the other Quislings at the gate. The three Wolves dived for the roadside ditch, splashing into puddled rainwater. Valentine abandoned the empty revolver and slipped a fresh magazine into the automatic, sliding the action to chamber the first round. A shot fired from the northern tower whizzed overhead.

Alpin slithered along the ditch as Valentine popped his gun arm and one eye over the crest of the depression, gun following his gaze as he checked the door and windows of the old guardhouse. An unlatched metal screen door with the word welcome worked into the decor squeaked in the gusty breeze. Valentine rolled back into the ditch.

"Should I make a try at the gate, sir?" Baker asked, muddy water dripping from his face.

Valentine shook his head. "Stay put, and wait for the sarge."

Farther down the ditch, Alpin popped up to swap shots with the northern tower.

"Alpin, stay down!" Valentine yelled.

The Wolf brought his gun up again, and a bullet burrowed into the ground right in front of his face. Dirt flew, and with a pained cry, Alpin dropped his gun and covered his right eye. Valentine crawled toward the youth, swearing through clenched teeth, when he heard a wet smack followed by the report of the shot. Alpin toppled backwards into the ditch. Valentine risked a dash to his trooper, whose one good eye fluttered open and shut next to the bloody ruin of the other.

The challenging wail of a hand-cranked siren sounded through the camp as he pulled Alpin along the ditch, seeking to put the gatehouse between them and the rifleman. Stafford had the platoon attacking the northern fence. Valentine heard a shot and the sound of breaking glass, where his other gunman was shooting at God-knows-what in the guardhouse.

Valentine found the wound in Alpin's arm and pressed hard to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, the sticky flow welled up underneath his palm in a steady stream rather than short arterial bursts. He called the other Wolf over.

"Baker! Alpin's hit!"

"Someone came to a window there.... I missed," Baker gabbled.

"Keep your head down. C'mere and help me put a dressing on," Valentine barked.

Baker scuttled over, but seemed at a loss as soon as he looked at Alpin. First-aid training always took place in a quiet meadow, not stretched out in a wet ditch with no elbow room.

Valentine blew out an exasperated breath. "Never mind. Just put pressure right here," Valentine said, placing Baker's hand on the underside of Alpin's arm, just below the armpit. "Press hard. Don't worry-he's in shock. He doesn't feel anything."

Valentine popped his head up again-still no sign of the other Wolves, although no more shots came from the direction of the northern tower. The guard had either run or been shot. Baker seemed to catch on, and he took control of keeping tension on the tourniquet.

"Mister, mister!" someone yelled from the guardhouse. "We surrender.... I surrender, I mean. I'm coming out, no gun. I got a woman with me."

"I'm just a housekeeper. I ain't one of the Territorials!" a woman's voice added.

He cautiously looked out of the ditch. "Come on out, then!" Valentine called. "Hands up in the air!"

The welcome door opened, and a young man in camouflage fatigues emerged, followed by a woman in a simple smock. Valentine aimed the pistol at the Territorial. "You in the uniform-facedown on the ground-now!"

The Territorial complied. No more shots came from the other side of the compound, but Valentine could see Okla-homans running from the barracks toward the north fence. The Wolves must have reached the compound.

"Open the gate, please." The woman rushed to comply. The unlocked gate swung easily on its hinges, and Valentine entered the camp. He walked up to the Territorial, still on the ground, face turned sideways and fearfully eyeing Valentine.

"Terri, you better tell me who's in the house, unless you want to piss off the man with the gun aimed at your head."

"Mister, it's four Skulls, and some administrator guy out of Tulsa. And I ain't really a Territorial, I just wear the uniform because I'm in the transports. I drive trucks. I just drive trucks, I swear."

"Did you drive a tanker in here today?"

Tags: E.E. Knight Vampire Earth Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net