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  woman from any community, and they usually don't hit the same community

  again for five or six years. By selectively picking their targets, they minimize the

  risk of being discovered."

  "I'm surprised someone hasn't noticed a pattern of some kind," Blade

  commented.

  "Back in the old days they would have," Athena stated. "Back then almost

  everyone had social security numbers, or those mandatory national identification

  numbers the government issued shortly before the war, or some method of

  keeping track of the population. Missing persons were usually promptly reported

  to the authorities." She sighed. "But today it's different. Many of the towns and

  hamlets are isolated. Telephone service is generally restricted to the urban areas,

  and the people don't travel as much as they once did. And you've got to keep in

  mind how rugged this country is. Disappearances are not uncommon. So if a

  woman vanishes from a mountain settlement, although a search will invariably

  be launched, no one has any cause to suspect deviate mutants are swooping

  down on helpless women and abducting them."

  "Incredible," Blade said.

  "The Spider only wants young women, breeding females as they are

  called. The typical victim is between fifteen and forty years of age. If a woman

  reaches forty in the Kingdom, whether she's borne an offspring or not, she's

  sacrificed."

  "These offspring," Blade observed. "Are they all Hatchlings?": "No," Athena answered. "Many turn out human."

  "What happens to them?"

  Athena's expression soured. "I don't know. We were never told. I assume

  they're eaten."

  "You mentioned something once before," Blade noted. "About the Spider

  killing women unable to bear him offspring. How does he know if they can or

  they can't?"

  "Let me explain how his system works," Athena offered. "The average

  number of women held in the Kingdom at any one time, during the time I was

  there, was sixteen. For some reason, the Spider decided to increase that number

  a few months before I escaped. There are twenty-four there now." She frowned. "The bastard uses a different woman every night. So a captive would find

  herself taken to the Tower once every sixteen to twenty-four days, depending on

  how many women were in captivity or pregnant. Once a woman became

  pregnant, the Spider wouldn't touch her. With so many women at his disposal,

  the bastard could afford to bide his time in trying to impregnate any one woman. The standard give-birth-or-die period was seven years. If a woman hadn't

  become pregnant within seven years of her capture, she was sacrificed." Blade's forehead creased. "And how long did you say you were there?" "About seven years," Athena replied.

  "Oh," Blade said softly, electing to change the subject. He gazed at the

  ridge in the distance. "That ridge up ahead. It's not the one we want, but it

  could be located just to the east of the one we want. Is that correct?" Athena glanced at the ridge. "That's right. It's yet another barrier

  shielding the Kingdom from the rest of the world. The stream should cut through

  a gorge in the middle of that ridge. On the other side we'll find the pool and the

  second ridge, the ridge with the cliffs, the ridge overlooking the Kingdom." "We'd better get going," Black declared, facing his men.

  The recruits were spread out over a 20-yard stretch, resting. The past

  week had taken its toll on their physical condition and morale. Seven days of

  pressing into the virtually impenetrable wilderness, seven days of forcing their

  passage through inconceivably dense vegetation, seven days of constantly

  combating ensnaring vines, of forging through a wall of brush and limbs, had

  sapped their energy and affected their emotions. Spader and Kraft were

  particularly hard hit. Neither was accustomed to the outdoors to any great

  degree. Kraft was becoming increasingly irritable with each passing day. Before

  leaving their facility north of LA, Blade had offered the recruits the uniforms

  General Gallagher had provided. He had assured them wearing a uniform was

  not mandatory. Not too surprisingly, Grizzly had declined. So did Boone and

  Thunder; they preferred their buckskins. Sergeant Havoc always wore a uniform,

  although he was partial to brown, green, or camouflage T-shirts instead of a

  regulation fatigue shirt. Spader, whose clothes were on the shabby side anyway,

  opted to wear the new fatigues and a pair of combat boots. And Kraft had

  decided to wear fatigues on this mission instead of his usual black leather

  apparel. Each one had a green web belt and canteen.

  The recruits had been issued ample weaponry. Each one, even Grizzly,

  had received an M-16, but the mutant had adamantly refused to wear a pair of

  Colt automatics strapped around his waist. Boone had likewise declined the

  pistols, opting for his Hombre revolvers, leaving Blade, Thunder, Kraft, Spader,

  and Sergeant Havoc to pack a pair of Stainless Steel Officers Model 45's. Blade

  carried his in shoulder holsters, one snug under each arm, hisBowieson his hips.

  In addition to the guns, each recruit carried a concealed boot knife or, in the

  case of Boone and Thunder, a knife tucked underneath knee-high moccasins.

  case of Boone and Thunder, a knife tucked underneath knee-high moccasins.

  inch blade and a leather sheath under his belt in the small of his back. The

  Panther was hidden by his black leather vest and might not be discovered during

  a body search by an enemy should he be captured. Each recruit was toting a

  backpack constructed of a waterproof camouflage material containing their

  necessities, their rations and one change of clothing and their explosives. As if

  the guns and knives weren't enough, General Gallagher had issued a packet of plastic explosive, a detonator, and a timer to each recruit. Blade had insured they were thoroughly instructed in the use of the explosive. The orders he received had been quite specific: Not only was he to eliminate the Spider, the Hatchlings, and the Spider's human henchmen, but he was to totally destroy the Kingdom, to blow the Tower, the huts, and everything else to kingdom come. When General Gallagher used the expression "terminate with extreme prejudice,"

  he meant exactly that.

  "On your feet," Blade directed. "We're moving out."

  Kraft sighed. "Here we go again. I bet that ditsy bitch doesn't even know

  where the hell we are!" Blade reached the Clansman in four strides. He towered

  over Kraft, glaring down at him. "I'm getting tired of your griping. I thought the

  Clan sent me a man, not a wimp. All of us are tired. All of us want to get this

  mission over with. But you're net helping matters with your lousy attitude.

  Change it or clam up. Do I make myself clear, mister?"

  "Yeah," Kraft responded testily. "I hear you."

  Blade returned to the front of the column behind Athena. "Lead on."

  Athena nodded and tramped to the west.

  Blade glanced over his left shoulder to verify his men were up and ready

  to go. Boone, at the rear, smiled and waved. Blade grinned in response, then

  followed Athena Morris.

  "You haven't told me much about yourself," she commented as she

  skirted an enormous boulder in their path. She kept her voice low, barely

  audible.

  "There's not much to tell," Blade said.

  "That's not what I hear," Athena men
tioned. "You have quite a

  reputation."

  "People like to exaggerate," Blade said. "They enjoy telling tall tale." "And I haven't seen many taller than you," Athena quipped. "Healthy hormones," Blade rejoined.

  "General Gallagher thinks highly of you," Athena remarked. "'He said he

  couldn't think of anyone better qualified to lead the Force."

  Blade wondered if his ears were functioning. "General Gallagher said

  that?" he asked in disbelief.

  "Sure did," Athena confirmed.

  "The same General Gallagher we both know?" Blade queried. Athena smiled. "The same one. Why?"

  "I was under the impression he doesn't much like me or the Freedom

  Force," Blade observed.;

  "Don't let Gallagher fool you," Athena said. "He's rough around the edges,

  but deep inside he's a pussycat."

  "Now I know we're not talking about the same man," Blade cracked. . "So how about it?" Athena stated. "Tell me a little bit about yourself."

  Blade opened his mouth to speak when he happened to glance to his right, idly

  gazing across at the stream at a low hill beyond.

  His keen gray eyes caught a glimpse of movement in a clearing near the

  top of the hill. "Down!" he hissed, dropping to his knees, reaching out and

  pulling Athena next to him. The men of the Force promptly obeyed. "What is it?" Athena whispered.

  Blade nodded at the hill. He could see seven figures crossing the clearing.

  Their features were indistinct, but one of them was definitely a woman. The

  other six were another story; they were squat black forms whose gait and body

  movements seemed oddly unnatural.

  "Hatchlings!" Athena said in horror.

  Blade estimated their distance at approximately a thousand yards off. The

  Hatchlings and the woman were proceeding in single file, the woman in the

  center. They were bearing to the west, toward the same ridge Athena had

  targeted, confirming her judgment.

  "They've captured another woman!" Athena exclaimed quietly. "Maybe she's your replacement," Blade commented.

  "What?"

  "Maybe she was caught to take your place," Blade noted.

  Athena appeared shocked by the possibility. "You could be right," she

  mumbled. Blade looked at his men. Alt of them had spied the procession on the

  hill and were watching the Hatchlings. Blade stared at the far off clearing again

  in time to see the Hatchlings and their captive disappear in the trees below the

  clearing.

  "Let's go! Athena urged. "We can follow them to the Kingdom."' "Not so fast," Blade admonished her. He scanned his men, debating.

  Grizzly was his first choice, but no, he couldn't. Thunder could handle the job,

  but the Flathead was near the end of the line, lugging the radio, their sole link to

  civilization. Speed was essential.

  "What are we going to do?" Athena demanded. Blade motioned for

  Sergeant Havoc, and a moment later the noncom was by his side. "Sir?" Havoc said.

  "I want you to follow them," Blade ordered, pointing at the hill. "Stay on

  their trail, but don't let them see you. Well come along in a few minutes. I'm

  relying on you to warn us if they stop for any reason." ,

  "Understood, sir," Havoc acknowledged. "And Havoc," Blade said.

  Sergeant Havoc was already starting to rise. "Yes, sir?"

  "Don't get yourself killed," Blade warned. "No way, sir," Havoc stated,

  grinning. He cautiously moved to the stream, his camouflage T-shirt and fatigue

  pants blending in perfectly with the foliage he passed. The water was only three

  feet in depth. He quickly waded across and was lost to view in the woods on the

  opposite side.

  Blade gestured for his men to join him and they hurriedly closed in. All of

  them were somber. Even Kraft, for once, was silent. "You all saw them," Blade

  said. "We're going to trail them to the Kingdom. I've sent Havoc on ahead to

  keep tabs on them. Thunder, I want you to take the point. Keep in sight. Don't lose Havoc's tracks. And keep your eyes peeled. If those Hatchlings stop, Havoc is going to let us know so we don't blunder into them. Get going," Blade

  instructed, then added, "but first hand the radio to Spader."

  "Me? It was my turn yesterday!" Spader protested. "And it's your turn

  again now," Blade declared. Thunder rose, unslinging the small portable

  transmitter and receiver from his back. The radio was designed to be carried

  alongside their narrow backpacks.

  "I don't see why I have to be the one," Spader mumbled as he grudgingly

  accepted the radio.

  "Take off," Blade commanded.

  Thunder nodded, hefting his M-l6. He walked to the stream and forded,

  then waited for them on the other side.

  "Come on." Blade stood and led the rest, Athena right behind him, then

  Spader, Kraft, Boone, and Grizzly. He reached the stream, gauging the rapidly

  flowing current, and entered the frigid water. He was soaked from the knees to

  his boots when he stepped onto the far bank.

  Thunder was visible 15 yards into the trees, his eyes on the ground,

  tracking Havoc and the mutants. Blade walked a few feet from the stream,

  watching the rest of his team negotiate their passage. Athena forged straight

  across, but Spader balked, perched on the bank, his green eyes showing

  trepidation.

  "Come on!" Blade promised him.

  Spader nervously licked his lips.

  "What's wrong? It's only about six feet wide," Blade noted. "I can't swim!" Spader whispered in response.

  "The water is only three feet deep," Blade said. "It will only come up to

  your waist, if that."

  "What if I fall in?" Spader queried.

  "We don't have time for this!" Blade told him. "We can't let them get too

  far ahead."

  "I don't know…" Spader wavered.

  "Oh, hell!" Grizzly suddenly exclaimed. He came around Boone and Kraft,

  his M-16 in his left hand, and before Spader quite knew what was happening

  Grizzly grabbed the Mole around the waist with his right arm, bodily lifted Spader

  from the ground, and entered the water.

  Spader uttered a strangled gasp.

  Grizzly speedily surged through the current and climbed onto the bank,

  walking up to Blade and depositing a petrified Spader at the Warrior's feet.

  "Anyone want a pissant?" the mutant quipped. Blade waved for the others to

  hurry, and within a minute Boone and Kraft had reached them. "Stay alert," he

  cautioned. "And no noise from here on out."

  Thunder was over 20 yards to the west, crouched beside a log, obeying

  Blade's injunction to stay in sight.

  Blade hastened after the Flathead.

  Thunder straightened and resumed his tracking.

  How far ahead were the Hatchlings? Blade wondered: At least fifteen

  hundred yards, he guessed. How sensitive were the Hatchlings senses? Athena

  had said they possessed a keen sense of smell, but what about their hearing?

  Blade doubted the Hatchlings would be able to detect the presence of the Force.

  But he miscalculated.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sergeant Havoc crept through the verdant undergrowth, angling his

  pursuit to coincide with the descent of the Hatchlings. He had seen the seven

  forms vanish in the woods below the clearing, and he assumed they were

  moving down the west slope of the hill toward the distant ridge. He hurried as

  quic
kly as possible, his M-16 held in front of his body, ready for action. The terrain presented imposing obstacles. Gullies and ravines sliced the

  landscape. Dead trees littered the ground. And although the month was January,

  the plant growth was prolific. Large boulders dotted the earth.

  Havoc bore to the northwest, hoping to cut the Hatchlings' trail, then

  follow them. He advanced for ten minutes and began to worry. By all rights, he

  should have seen or heard some sign of his quarry. But so far, nothing. The forest was eerily still.

  Havoc paused on the south side of a triangular boulder rearing ten feet

  into the air. He squatted and deliberated his next move.

  A twig snapped.

  Havoc tensed and flattened his back against the boulder. The sound had

  come from the far side of the boulder. He held his breath, listening intently. Had

  an animal made the noise? Or something else?

  Something far worse?

  There was an abrupt spurt of clicking.

  Havoc's bloc eyes narrowed. What had Athena Morris said about the

  Hatchlings? "Their fingers are like talons, and they can use them to communicate

  by clicking them, signaling back and forth. The clicking ceased.

  Havoc slowly exhaled, biding his time. He counted to 50, then eased to

  the dank ground and crawled around the west end of the boulder. He'd hit the

  jackpot!

  The six Hatchlings and their female prisoner were 25yards to the west.

  The hybrids walked with a strangely stiff shuffle, as if their legs lacked the

  flexibility of a human. Their four arms were held close to their torsos. A coat of

  fine black hair coveted every inch of their skin. They weren't very tall, but had

  heavy forms.

  Havoc had seen a number of mutants in the past, but the Hatchlings were

  markedly different. There was a perverse aura about them, an almost palpable

  air of sheer evil. They gave him the creeps. The last Hatchling in line

  unexpectedly turned, surveying their back trail, revealing a pair of cruel, circular

  black orbs.

  Havoc froze, afraid he'd been spotted. A small bush partially obstructed

  the Hatchling's view, and he hoped the monstrosity wouldn't distinguish him

  against the backdrop of vegetation. An eternity seemed to elapse before the

  hybrid pivoted and continued its trek. Havoc breathed a sigh of relief. The last