Rare Earth Read Online Free PDF Page B

several dozen of them, most in their early teens. They remained close together, not quite touching, their fear evident in their unsteady gaits.
    The elders had done their job well. The previous evening, Marc and Charles and Kamal had approached them and explained the plan. How they needed a number of young women to go out with the dawn, enough from various parts of the camp to attract attention. The elders had responded with only two questions, and one command. The questions had been, would Kamal give his solemn oath to protect the young women, and would the American be with them. The command had been, only use their firearms as a last resort. Kamal had balked at the order, but the elders had remained adamant. Guns had decimated their world and way of life. Unless some attackers fired first, there would be no guns. Reluctantly Kamal had agreed. His men would carry only pistols, and keep them holstered.
    Behind the girls came a second group, moving slowly. In the gathering light, Marc saw that many were little more than children. With them came the widows. The old women set the pace, some leaning heavily on the young ones.
    And behind them lurked the wolves.
    Marc saw them rise up like phantom beasts on two legs. Kamal hissed to his men and pointed.
    The closest girl heard Kamal and froze in the process of picking up a dead branch, her eyes wide and glistening in the gray dawn. To Marc she appeared like a nymph of a mythic age. Their eyes locked. Her defenseless terror gripped him so tightly his rage ignited.
    Then one of the small girls in the second group spotted the predators and squealed.
    â€œNow!” Marc rose and bolted forward. The young girl screamed, but he was already past her, threading his way through the group, heading for danger.
    Kamal appeared at his right, flying gazelle-like, his boots pushing up tiny clouds of ash. The sergeant found the breath to shout an order. Marc assumed he was telling his men to spread out.
    The wolves paused, caught off guard by the soldiers’ sudden appearance. Two attackers bolted for the camp and safety. But that still left a far larger group than Marc’s paltry band. The leader of the gang yelled words that required no translation. Marc took aim straight at him.
    The leader crouched in hungry anticipation and yelled a second time. His voice was hoarse. His two closest mates took up station on either side. Marc’s initial thought was confirmed. These were not merely young toughs. They were either former soldiers or criminals. They were trained for the assault.
    But they did not appear to be armed. Which was as Marc had expected. Why bear guns when their prey was simply women from the camp? To carry arms would mean revealing themselves to the guards by the gate.
    Two of the attackers facing Marc hefted staves from the deadwood littering the ground. The leader motioned at Marc and crooned softly. His mates laughed and whistled and made smacking sounds.
    Marc knew they expected him to hesitate, to show caution at their greater numbers. Instead, he bulled straight in. There was a brief instant when surprise registered on the leader’s face, a tightening of the skin, a warping of the scar rising from his jawline. Then Marc struck.
    He slipped easily under the right-hand attacker’s swing. He was then too close for the staves to do any good, as they risked striking one of their own. He uncoiled so fast the leader probably did not even see the two strikes, a fist to the point over his heart and another to the jaw’s hinge. The man was unconscious before he was fully aware of having been hit.
    Marc used the leader’s body as a shield against the left-hand attacker, and aimed a kick for the most vulnerable point, the throat. He let the leader drop and twisted the stave from the attacker’s fumbling hands.
    Swinging around, his entire body a whip, he aimed a blow at the now-uncertain man to his right. The attacker blocked the strike with his own stick, but