Read Doomsday Warrior 05 - America’s Last Declaration for Free Online

Her mouth opened, revealing pearly white teeth.
    “Donnez-moi votres weapones!” Rockson stared at her in incomprehension. “Donnez! Donnez!” she yelled out, pointing to Rock’s staff and the crossbow held tightly in Archer’s hands. Hesitant to turn over their only weapons, they stood there motionless until the female warrior motioned the cats to come forward again. The freefighters quickly handed the implements to the two women who stepped forward. The leader of the women whistled twice and the panthers backed off, sitting down at the sides of the female warriors. The women scratched their heads and spoke softly to them, making the big cats relax from their attack state.
    Another woman stepped forward from out of the blinding snowstorm. Rockson hadn’t noticed her, partially because she had blended in so well with her white surroundings. She was an albino. The palest, chalkiest white Rock had ever seen. If the other women were pale, this one was without any color, almost ghostlike with her translucent skin. Her hair was like bleached wheat and fell like a waterfall down her back to her waist. She looked at Rockson with pink eyes, taking him in—all of him. It was like looking into a vacuum, a vacuum of lust and rage.
    “Les hommes sont moi,” the albino spat out to the leader.
    “Non, Ishtar, ne pas vous. Pour le tribe, le Kreega,” the leader shot back, her face red with fury. The other female warriors looked on with concern, as the panthers grew restless. Rock could sense some sort of internal power struggle between the two women for leadership of the tribe—and possession of him and Archer. But the albino backed down, drifting back into the blowing storm with a single motion and disappearing among the flakes.
    Their hands and ankles were quickly bound with thick leather thongs. The women smiled, glancing at one another with quick leering looks as they tied the knots. Rock realized the entire party was eyeing them both with a ravenous hunger. He wondered if they were about to be saved from the panthers only to meet the same fate from the tribe of Amazons. He had encountered cannibals several times over the years. But never ones as beautiful as these.

Three
    “M e—Reina,” the leader of the women warriors said as she led Rockson by a rope tether attached to his wrist bonds. “We—Kreega.”
    “Kreega,” Rock stammered as she pulled him through the snow at a speed he could hardly keep pace with. She seemed to have the strength and agility of a cat. Her long lithe body in front of him though was all female, and abundantly so. Despite his tiredness and the throbbing pain in his lower back from a wound he had received in Moscow, he watched intently as her thin loincloth bounced around and occasionally blew aside in the wind.
    Archer ran as fast as his large body could travel, pulled by three of the Kreega and surrounded on both sides by the panthers. He stumbled through the snow behind his female keepers grumbling loudly, casting half intelligible aspersions on their ancestry.
    At last they came to a thick woods, with towering black-leaved trees creating a canopy of cover. Once inside, the snows were stopped far above by the myriad leaves and branches. It was also an instantaneous hothouse as a junglelike atmosphere was created by the rising moisture of the closely packed trees. Here, they moved more slowly as the dense undergrowth made movement difficult, catching hands and feet in vines and thornbushes. But Reina apparently knew her way. She followed almost invisible trails through the tangling growth. It quickly grew dark as they pushed further in, the light from far off and above only dimly trickling down through the maze of plant life. In almost utter blackness they headed on, Reina moving at a good pace, pulling Rock along right behind her. Every few seconds she would look back at him with wide eyes filled with undisguised desire.
    They half ran through the leafy jungle for what seemed like hours