The 13th Horseman - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,70

could do that, at least. That was something.

He was lying on his back. Mel was lying on his front, his arms holding her against him. The robe was on the ground beneath them. He didn’t have the energy to try to figure out how. He looked up and saw three concerned faces looking down at him.

“Oh, thank God,” Pest said, letting out a breath he had been holding on to for a long time. “You’re OK.”

“Welcome back,” War said. “Good catch.”

“Biscuit?” asked Famine, holding out a packet of digestives.

Pestilence and War looked at the fat man in quiet amazement. “Well, there’s a first,” Pest said. He reached for the packet. “I’ll have one, if it’s going.”

“Shove off,” Famine grunted, pulling the packet back. “I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Drake and his lady friend.”

“I’m OK, thanks,” Drake said. He tried a laugh. It didn’t hurt too badly. “What about you, Mel?”

Mel did not answer.

“Mel?”

Drake craned his neck so he could look at her. Her eyes were closed. The muscles in her face were slack. “Mel?” Drake said again, and he could hear the desperation in his own voice this time.

“Get her on her back,” Famine said, nudging War. “Check her pulse.”

Drake scrambled to his feet as Mel was lifted off him. He watched, saw nothing else, as War pressed two fingers against Mel’s throat, then gave a single slow shake of his head.

“N-no, but I saved her,” Drake stammered. “I caught her. I saved her.”

Pest took hold of his arm, holding him back. “The fall itself...” he said softly. “Humans, they’re fragile. The fall itself could’ve done it. There’s nothing you could have done. There’s nothing anyone could do.”

Famine licked his rubbery lips, then wiped the saliva away with the back of his arm. “Yes, there is,” he said. “Rules of First Aid. Step one, check for dangers.” All but Drake glanced up at the robot. “We won’t count that one,” Famine decided. “Step two—”

“Just hurry up!” Drake cried.

“All right, all right, keep your hair on,” Famine muttered, as he dropped to his knees. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, warming up, then he tilted back Mel’s head, clamped his lips over hers, and blew.

One breath, that was all it took. She coughed, spluttered, sat up, stared, then slumped back down again, her eyes closing as she fell. War checked again for a pulse. This time, he nodded.

Famine licked a finger, pressed it against the side of his face, and made a hissing sound, like water becoming steam.

“She reacted quickly to that,” War said.

Pest shuddered. “Do you blame the girl?”

Drake was down on his knees. He hugged Famine. Or rather, he hugged a small percentage of Famine. The rest would have to wait.

“Mel,” he said, but the word came out as a sob. He placed a hand on her face. He could feel her moving beneath his touch, as her breath came and went. “You’re going to be OK,” he whispered. He became aware that his cheeks were wet with tears. “You’re going to be OK.”

Her eyelids flickered, then opened. “Hey, Chief,” she croaked. “What... what happened?”

Drake resisted the urge to glance at Famine. “Trust me,” he said. “You don’t want to know.”

She tried to sit up, but pain twisted her face and she lay back down. Her eyes swam for a moment, but she forced them to focus on Drake’s face. “Did you stop him?”

“Not yet.”

“Then what are you waiting for? We had a deal, remember?”

Drake nodded and smiled grimly. “I remember.”

From the noise she made, Drake knew it hurt, but Mel forced her head and shoulders up until she could kiss him on the cheek. “Go get him, Drake,” she said.

“Can we hurry this up, do you think?” War muttered. “I’m three seconds away from puking in my own beard.”

“Oh, stop teasing him,” Pest said, slapping War on the arm. “Can’t you see? The boy’s in love!”

“What?” Drake spluttered, his face reddening.

“Listen, if you ever need any advice, Drake, come and see me,” Famine told him, then he winked and tapped his nose. “I know a thing or three.”

“Will everyone please shut up?” War growled. “We’ve still got the big metal bugger there to deal with, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Drake joined War in staring up at the mechanoid. “Any ideas? Could you, like, chop its feet off or something?”

“Doubt the sword will get through that,” War said.

“I could eat it,” Famine suggested. “But it might take a while,” he admitted.

“We have to do