A Crying Shame (108 page)

He picked up a bolt-action rifle leaning in a corner of the room and roughly shoved Tammy out of his way. He jerked open the front door. Jon jacked a round into the chamber of the rifle as he spotted the figure of the girl racing toward the house, kicking up dust pockets in the field.

Jon shouted to her.
Head that way!” he pointed.
Then angle to the house. Stay out of my line of fire, girl.”

He smiled grimly as she instantly followed orders. Shifting direction, clearing a path of fire for him, she angled toward the plantation house. Jon could tell she had almost reached the limit of her endurance; she was beginning to stagger.

Using a support post for a brace, Jon leveled the .30-06, allowed for distance as he sighted through the fixed iron sights, and squeezed the trigger gently, allowing the weapon to fire itself.

He knocked one Link sprawling, but knew from the pop of dust he had only wounded the beast, high in the shoulder. The Link jumped to its feet, howling insanely. Jon shot him in the center of the chest. This time the Link stayed down.

The other two Links dropped to the earth, the soybeans hiding them. Jon laid the rifle on the floor of the porch and ran inside, grabbing up his M-10 and canvas clip pouch. He was shouting instructions as he ran out the front door and off the porch.

Get the girl. Call Saucier and tell him what's happened.”

Then Jon was gone, jogging down the road that paralleled the field, jogging slowly, checking each row as he went.

Mister!” Christy called, using the last of her reserve of breath.
If you see a great big one, don't hurt him. He saved my life.”

Von Pappen heard and roared from the porch,
You see, you . . . you
verruckt Mann!
Crazy, that's you. There are good and bad among the Links. They must be saved, you . . .
dummkopf!”
He looked at the young girl running toward him.
Oh,
mein Gott!”
Karl stepped off the porch and held out his massive arms, Christy literally falling into them. He picked her up effortlessly and carried her into the house.

Jon jogged down the dirt turn-row, passing the row where the dead Link lay, sprawled and bloody, stinking into the sun. He suddenly ran forward in a burst of speed, heading for the blacktop. The M-10 was held at combat-ready, safety off, the weapon on full auto. In a moment Jon slowed to a watchful walk, knowing the two Links were still in the bean field, anticipating a charge from them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Linda walking down the road from the house, a weapon in her hand. He smiled. Gutsy lady. He wondered if she held the over/under twenty-gauge. He hoped, if one of the Links charged her, she would wait until it was close before firing. After having seen the beasts, Jon had doubts as to the effectiveness of the light shotgun; he was curious as to its knockdown power.

The smell warned him. The stench from the Link heavy in his nostrils, he slowed his step, his boots kicking up little hot puddles of dust. Sweat stained his back, his armpits. He wiped his forehead before the sweat could drip into his eyes, impairing his vision. The Link was close, but Jon was ready when it reared up and charged, screaming at him, drool from its mouth fouling the hot air.

Jon leveled the M-10, left hand on the padded extension silencer. He pulled the trigger, the slugs taking the Link from left to right, hip to shoulder with the rise of the weapon, knocking it sprawling amid the soybeans. The hideous beast shrieked and kicked, trembled, and then died.

The August air was hot and still, no breeze stirring the torrid summer. Jon spun as Linda's over/under boomed. Once, then again. He ran across the field toward her just as the Link was staggering to its feet, lurching at the woman, hands clawing, reaching for her. The twenty-gauge had wounded it, but not stopped it.

Linda stood her ground, pulling the automatic pistol from leather, leveling it, firing. She pulled the trigger three times. The Link howled in pain, falling backward, screaming, blood leaking from its wounds. Linda stepped closer, took careful aim, and shot the creature between the eyes. The yowling ceased.

He was at her side. She was calm, unruffled. She said,
I shot that damned thing twice with a shotgun and four times with a pistol before it died. Son of a bitch!” she griped.

They've got hides like leather,” Jon told her, taking the shotgun.
We'll find you a heavier weapon. I noticed a Winchester Model 1200 in the cabinet, chambered for slugs. That will stop them. Put enough lead in them, pushed by a heavy powder load, and they'll fall.”