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

about just who would get the right to kill—or maybe eat them. Rock suddenly realized how the black slaves of old must have felt—as their fates were decided by alien masters.
    Ishtar’s hand hovered at the knife handle for long seconds, but apparently not ready to take up the challenge she abruptly turned on her heels and headed through the flap. At the last second she turned and said with an ominous tone, “Vous etes morte, Reina. Je suis destroyez-vous.” Then she was gone. Reina let her own hand drop from the knife and then smiled at Rockson as if to show she wasn’t afraid.
    “Ishtar est dangereuse. Guardez.” Rock got the message. The flap suddenly opened again and a whole troupe of the women warriors came in pushing two immense wooden barrels filled with steaming hot water. “Votre bath,” Reina said with a sly look. The women pushed the hot tubs into the center of the teepee as Reina motioned for the two freefighters to rise. She cut their ankle binds with a single quick slice, but left their hands tied. The Kreega women rushed over to their two prisoners and began stripping off their clothes. Within seconds both Rock and Archer were standing stark naked surrounded by nearly a dozen of the Kreega who ran their eyes up and down the men’s bodies as if taking in the eighth wonder of the world. Their desire was undisguised as their mouths opened slowly. Several of them rubbed their breasts, squeezing them tight between white hands. Rock and Archer gulped under the feminine scrutiny. Several of the women pointed at the lower portions of the men’s bodies and made obscene remarks to one another punctuated by coarse laughter.
    The freefighters were led over to the wooden tubs and helped inside. Rock hoped they weren’t cooking pots. But the second he touched the hot, soothing water he knew that at least for the moment they weren’t about to be made into soup. The two men sank deep into the four-foot-high barrels, scrunching their legs up so they could fit. The women surrounded them and, hefting big bars of animal fat soap in their hands, began scrubbing and massaging the male bodies. Reina stood beside Rock’s tub, not touching Rockson’s muscled flesh but watching, her eyes riveted to him like a precious stone. The women washed the two freefighters until all the dirt and grime had been cleaned from their bodies. They stepped out from the tubs and several of the Kreega wrapped them in thick homespun towels.
    “Un moment ,” Reina said, suddenly stepping forward. She looked down at Rockson’s back, noticing the inflamed red wound he had recieved from a Red bullet while stealing the MIG from the Moscow airport. “Vous avez le wound,” she said, stepping behind him and touching the raw entry hole.
    “Oui,” Rock answered wincing. “And Archer also.” He pointed over to the grizzly-sized freefighter who seemed to be enjoying the female attention immensely. On Archer’s thigh as well was an infected wound, almost purple and filled with pus.
    “Le couchez, le couche,” Reina barked out, pointing to the two bearskin beds at the far side of the teepee. They were led by their still-bound wrists and deposited naked on the beds. Reina pulled a small deerskin pouch from the belt of her loincloth and opened it, taking out a handful of dried green powder. She wetted the powder down with some spit and slapped it over Rock’s wound. Another Kreega did the same to Archer. When the wounds were completely covered with the green paste, they were wrapped with a crude white fabric. Rock was somewhat skeptical about the method of treatment, but powerless to do more than just turn his head and watch the proceedings.
    When the wounds were covered, the two freefighters were once again turned over. Four of the Kreega women jumped onto Rock’s bearhide mattress, edging toward him, their hands reaching for his flesh.
    “Non, non,” Reina yelled, pulling the women off and heaving them halfway across the teepee floor. “Le