The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(86)

Chapter 28


    Montgomery


They’d tied his wrists together so tightly they ached, and he had no way of undoing the knot. Even if he had found a means to untie himself, he would be left in the company of more than two dozen armed men. Not exactly an enticing prospect.

Montgomery had hoped the trail would be narrow and overgrown, making it difficult to proceed on horse and therefore slowing them down, but it proved to be in decent shape. They could ride without need of hacking their way through the jungle and would cover ground quickly enough like this, even when moving in single file.

Lupe rode at the front of the group, while Montgomery was toward the middle of the pack, followed closely by Eduardo. Her hands were also tied. Neither of them had a chance at escape.

Montgomery lamented his current predicament and cursed his situation, wishing he’d done things differently. Not just his damn encounter with these men, but the whole of it. He’d spent six years in the service of Dr. Moreau, watching over Yaxaktun, and always telling himself his position was not immoral. He neither created the hybrids nor did he wish to profit from them. He was merely a man doing a job.

He’d loved the distance and peace of Yaxaktun, he’d cared for everyone there, regarding the hybrids as the only friends he could ever hope to have. Yet what good had his sympathy done in the end? The hybrids were in thrall to Moreau and to Lizalde, and now they were hunting them down.

And what about Carlota, left behind with her father? What should become of her? Moreau could not protect her; the man couldn’t even rise from his bed. Although, Montgomery supposed right that second he should be more concerned about what might happen to Lupe and him. If they’d wanted him dead they would have killed him already, and Lupe was somewhat valuable if only because Lizalde considered her his property. But that did not mean there wasn’t a bullet with his name on it awaiting Montgomery at the end of this trail.

The narrow path snaked to the left. Montgomery’s horse had not rounded the bend when a shot rang through the air. Three more shots followed. The man right ahead of him fell from his horse. Montgomery, knowing he was an easy target simply sitting there, threw himself to the ground and rolled to the side of the road. The white dust of the path clung to his clothes as he gritted his teeth, pressing as low as he could.

Lizalde’s men grabbed their rifles and began shooting back, but with the trees and the foliage it was hard to see exactly where the shots came from. The man who’d fallen from his horse had not gotten up, and Montgomery stood and rushed forward, pulling him to the side and turning him over. The fellow was dead. Montgomery crouched by the road, holding his breath, hoping he wasn’t the next one to get shot.

Their attackers had ceased their brisk fire. Hernando Lizalde was yelling ahead of them, and he saw Eduardo, atop his horse, reins in hand, looking nervous.

“What’s happening?” the young man asked.

Welcome to a real fight, Montgomery thought, and he walked ahead, past the bend of the road, to get a better look at what was going on there. Eduardo cautiously followed.

A couple of Lizalde’s men had been injured. Lupe was still toward the front of the column and looked fine. Everyone was alert, waiting for another volley of fire and the chance to pinpoint the location of the shooter. There were two or three people shooting at them, he wagered. Had there been more, there would have been considerably more damage. Still, two or three men with decent rifles could create a pretty big amount of trouble.

“Get back on your mount,” Eduardo said.

“Hush,” Montgomery muttered. He heard a rustling, the breaking of twigs.

“You don’t give me orders.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Grab him,” Eduardo ordered to one of the men. “Grab this bastard.”

Something moved quickly between the trees, and one of Lizalde’s men pointed in its direction. He was probably expecting another volley of fire, but instead a lithe creature sprang from the shadows and leaped atop the man, tossing him to the ground. Then a second and a third emerged.

He recognized K’an, her long yellow hair a whirl and her mouth a snarl, as she grabbed on to the legs of a rider and pulled him down as he screamed. There, too, were the wolfish Pinta and áayin, his caiman’s tale swishing back and forth. They slid forward, jumping on top of the men. Their fists pounded upon their heads and backs.

It was a frightening sight. Yet the brute that Eduardo had ordered to grab Montgomery either did not see the three hybrids jumping around or he did not care. His single focus was Montgomery. Hands tied, Montgomery could do little more than dodge his blows. One struck him in the stomach, while the other met his chin. Montgomery stumbled back and fell.

The brute stepped forward, slamming his foot against Montgomery’s right leg. God damn it! He groaned and narrowly avoided a swift kick by rolling over on his belly, which didn’t improve the situation. The man kicked him again, robbing him of breath. He scrambled in the dirt, trying to get away. Montgomery was kneeling, trying to steady himself, when he felt the barrel of a pistol pressed against his skull.

“Stand up slowly,” the brute said.

“You don’t need to point that at me,” Montgomery muttered.

The man grinned. He didn’t help Montgomery stand up, but at least he stepped back, though the pistol was still aimed at his head. Montgomery pulled himself to his feet.