"David L. Robbins - Endworld 08 - Denver Run" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

revolver and raised the gun until the barrel was touching Mitchell's nose.
He cocked the hammer. "I want to know what you're doing here, and I
want to know now."

"You'd better tell him," Geronimo offered.

"And if I don't?" Mitchell boldly asked, as if he didn't already know the
answer.

"Well, then, Arthur," Hickok said, grinning, "I reckon I'll ventilate your
nostrils with my Python."

Geronimo grimaced and took a step backward. "Just don't splatter his
blood all over me! These are clean clothes I've got on!"

Hickok's steely blue eyes bored into Mitchell's. "What's it gonna be?"

Mitchell gaped at the gleaming metal barrel of the Colt Python and felt
a shiver rack his body.

"I'm gonna count to three," Hickok announced. "One."

Mitchell's mind was racing. He knew it would be tantamount to an act
of treason to disclose the information the gun fighter wanted.

"Two."

Mitchell's mouth was abnormally dry. He wasn't a coward, but he
disliked the prospect of dying needlessly. What purpose would it serve to
beтАФ

"Three," Hickok finished his count.

Before Mitchell could find his voice, the Warrior pulled the trigger. The
blast was deafening.

Geronimo shook his head and sighed. "Now look at what you've done."

Hickok's moccasined right foot flicked out and nudged the form at his
feet. "Kind of pitiful, ain't it? They sure don't make soldiers like they used
to."

Chapter Two




Where had they all gone?

The huge man stood on the crest of a low hill, in the very middle of U.S.