s
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Axler, James - Earth Blood 02 - Deep Trek.htm out to hold Heather's hand.
"Maybe."
For no reason at all, Jim Hilton half remembered a line from some old poem
he'd done at high school: "Nothing they know of friendship, who only
friendship know."
Something like that.
The voice barked again. "Don't like saying it twice. Engine off and hands
where we can see them."
"He never said that once."
Jim heard Steve Romero's muttered comment. He reached down and touched the
cushioned grips of the Ruger, reluctantly leaving it be. The men at the
roadblock all carried rifles and looked as though they knew how to use them.
They were trapped in the pickup, where any effort to fight would inevitably
lead to plain bloody butchery.
He ran his fingers through his thinning blond hair, now well down to his
shoulders.
The movement attracted the attention of the man with the bullhorn. "Tall guy
on the back of the truck. Stop moving around. Let's see everyone's hands up
there, trying to catch a slice of sky."
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Heather lifted her hands, dragging one of Sly's arms up with her. "Come on,"
she
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Axler, James - Earth Blood 02 - Deep Trek.htm whispered.
"Fat kid only got one hand? If not, he better get it up there."
Steve leaned out of the window. "Leave the boy alone!" To his son he said,
"Sly, do like they say. See how high you can stretch up. And don't put your
hands down until I tell you."
Two men, carrying M-16D4s, eyes bright like hunting polecats, fanned out to
cover the vehicle, moving light-footed.
"One at a time. Tall guy on the back. Step over slow and easy. Then the girl
and the fat kid. After that you two in the cab. Driver first, last the skinny
black in the passenger seat."
Jim felt a flicker of hope. Somehow they hadn't seen Carrie Princip. She must
be lying flat between Kyle and Steve, out of sight.
But all she had was a six-shot .22 Smith & Wesson against six heavily-armed
men.
As he climbed down over the tailgate, Jim managed to stumble. Under the cover
of tangled limbs he managed to switch his powerful handgun from its holster to
the back of his trousers, hidden by his jacket.
"Don't fool around, Jack, or you get to be dead before you get to be dead.
Move it, people."
Steve and Kyle stood close together, masking off the interior of the cab from
the
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Sly was next to his father, but Steve was making sure the boy didn't turn and
see Carrie, knowing that Sly wouldn't be able to control himself, wouldn't
recognize the danger.
Heather stood next to Sly, her father close by on her left.
The five military types were ranged in a half circle and were now slightly
more relaxed. Behind the barrier the machine gunner had lit a cigarette and
had climbed down off the platform.
"Now, we better think about some names, people. I got me a list& " The tallest
of the group, who was still holding the bullhorn in his left hand, was
rummaging through the pockets of a smart combat jacket decorated with what Jim
Hilton could now see was a silver sun, transfixed with a stylized golden
arrow.
"What list?" asked Steve Romero. "Didn't think anyone was organized enough to
have a list."
"Then you thought wrong, didn't you? Because I got me a real good list. You
tell me who y'all are, and I'll see if we have you down as being a wanted or a
not wanted."
Jim didn't much like the sound of "wanteds" and "not wanteds." It was looking
as if things were going downhill fast.
Maybe because the paramilitaries didn't realize they could be a threat, they
hadn't been searched for weapons, at least, not yet.
Kyle's Mannlicher rifle was in the back of the truck, but Jim didn't know what
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Axler, James - Earth Blood 02 - Deep Trek.htm the navigator had done with his
Mondadori .32.
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Steve's bowie knife, strapped to his waist, was in sight. But the sawn-down
shotgun was also in the bed of the pickup, alongside the .357 Magnum rifle.
Against the group of men, it would have provided the most effective weapon.
Maximum punch at a minimum range.
But Steve had also been wearing a small blued-steel .32 automatic. A very old
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