Doomsday Warrior 16 - American Overthrow Read Online Free PDF Page A

and he heard harsh breathing. He was on his feet fast, .12 gauge in his hand ready to fire. Detroit was just a fraction of a second behind him, the Liberator submachine gun held ready to unleash a barrage of auto fire.
    “Rockson, Rockson, is that you?” a voice yelled from the shadows, and suddenly Rock could see two figures atop hybrids coming over the rise on the other side.
    “Who the hell is that?” the Doomsday Warrior shot back. “You just nearly got your heads blown off, boys.” The figures rode another ten yards and he could see they were from C.C. with the distinctive riding gear that the city’s hybrids were outfitted in, and Liberators in their saddles. Rockson holstered his huge shotpistol as Detroit let his autorifle fall back next to his bag with a snort of disgust. His stomach felt queasy with the sudden rush of adrenaline after that mutant au gratin they’d had earlier.
    “Sorry, sorry about all this noise,” the lead figure said as he rode up to them. “I’m Anderson, this is Questel,” he nodded to the other man, whose face was cast in orange light by the fire. “We wouldn’t even be riding these wilds at night except—”
    “Except what, man, spit it out,” Rockson snarled, still annoyed as he remained standing.
    “Except we’ve learned that Pattonville has been taken over by a military coup d’etat. Months ago, actually, but somehow they’ve been able to keep it under wraps. And worse—President Langford and his daughter Kim have most likely been taken prisoner.”
    “Shit,” Rockson said with disgust, knowing this little hunting vacation was over right then and there.
    “The Century City Council sent us out to get you. They’ve been meeting nonstop for the last twenty-four hours to try to deal with the events.”
    “Looks like I was right,” Detroit said with sarcasm. “The shit has hit the fan already. Humpty Dumpty has fallen. We ain’t even going to get time to digest.”
    “Can you boys handle the load of meat we got stocked up on the ’brids?” Rockson asked as his mind was already working fast.
    “That’s what we’re here for, sir,” Questel said, saluting from atop his steed. “They’re expecting you pronto. All hell’s broken loose in the debating assembly. I’d say you’re needed and fast.”
    “All right, Detroit, cut us a few more of those steaks, fry ’em enough so we can chew ’em down. We’re on the starlight express tonight, pal. Got some hard riding ahead.” Within fifteen minutes they were all packed up and as the two Freefighter messengers watched with not a little awe, the Doomsday Warrior and Detroit were riding hell bent for leather into the darkness of a hostile night.

Four
    T hey rode through the moon-shattered darkness like they were coming into the gate at the Kentucky Derby, Both men were highly experienced riders and their ’brids among the strongest in all of the C.C. stables. Still, it was rough going. The hills changed to rocky slopes and then to steeper and steeper inclines. The ’brids did all that they could but they had to slow down just to get proper footing on the treacherous slopes. The sky was murky, high strontium clouds passing over the crescent moon. But there was some light from the stars and the lunar illumination that was able to filter through. Fortunately for the Freefighters the ’brids had excellent sight, akin to that of a cat, and were able to see far better than their ancestors had.
    Rockson grew increasingly worried as they rode, Detroit just yards behind him. If Pattonville indeed had been taken over by a coup, it meant big trouble for the whole Free City Confederation. And how had they been able to keep it secret? The messenger had said months. Why had they only found about it now? Even worse, if President Langord, the recently re-elected President for all the rebel cities, was captive—and Kim too—it meant whoever the hell was running the show there had some mighty powerful hostages.
    Rockson felt