Free Logan Trilogy by William F Nolan, George Clayton Johnson Page B

basement of the mountain chain, they proved to be the most extensive network of cave formations in the world. Beside them, Carlsbad was a worm crawl.
    In Custer, South Dakota, the car told Logan and Jess, "You are entering restricted territory. I am not permitted to proceed farther."
     
    At dawn they left the maze and began to trek overland.
    In a deep ravine flanking Crazy Horse Mountain was a white metal post. On it a stamped sign.
    ABSOLUTELY NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT
    DEATH!
    KEEP OUT!
    U.S. GOVERNMENT
    Hidden in the scrub growth: a stubby bark-colored pedestal. And on the side, another. And another after that. Linking this progression was a beam of invisible light.
    A dappled fawn moved from cover and, with delicate steps, advanced up the ravine. Its nose tested the morning air for danger and found none.
    It breasted the beam.
    On the high granite shoulders of Crazy Horse, bronze feathers stirred. Circuits clicked.
    The questing fawn lowered its sun-warmed head to lap softly at clear water in a natural stone basin. It did not see the two shadows which hushed over evergreen country. It did not see the two gold shapes which came out of the sun.
    Hooded jewel eyes. Razored talons. A cruel hook of steel beak. Assassins.
    The mech eagles struck.
    A blood rag of fur lay on the forest floor.
    Logan looked up at the sign. "We're almost there."
    "It says 'Death.' " Jessica hesitated.
    "Keep moving," he told her. The Gun was in his hand.
    In cloud fastness the mech eagles drifted down the sloped sky, their twenty-foot wings spread against the cushioning air. Currents buoyed the metal bodies in their glide and circle; photo-electric eyes
    locked on the toiling ant figures far below.
    A copper command in skullcase metal: Kill!
    They dived.
    In that last instant Logan saw them coming. He smashed Jess to the ground, rolling over her. And took the blow. Blinding pain raked his back. Three deep fur rows from shoulder to hip welled blood and torn cloth. Through a pain mist he fumbled in the brush for the fallen Gun.
    Sun blazed on climbing gold. The birds wheeled and came back. Kill!
    Logan's enemy fingers clawed at the Gun, in the tangle of root grass. He could not get hold of it. He dug and scrabbled at it. Blinking back waves of pain, he gripped the barrel. He juggled it around awkwardly, and his two hands closed on the pearl handle. He had it now. He bent one leg, dug in a heel, twisted and flopped over on his back. Pain!
    The two shapes carne at him, blacking the sky, as Logan screamed at his fingers and the Gun fired and a ripper sliced in a smoking scorch across the black bodies and the two birds exploded and rained down in a bronze wreckage.
    The brook was silver and cool softness over round rocks. On the shadowed moss bank, Jess dipped a cloth into the stream and carefully blotted the mangled flesh of Logan's back. He slept fitfully. Jess put aside the cloth and sat regarding him. She reached down to touch at his matted hair. His lips moved; he moaned. "Jess…" He tried to sit up, but she restrained him with gentle fingers.
    "Lie still," she told him. She could see the raw hurt in the wax of his skin, the fever of his eyes. For a moment he looked at her without recognition.
    "Rest," she said soothingly. "You need rest."
    The tension began to leave him as he listened to her voice. Above him the tree boughs moved soft fans of shifting green shadow. The quiet worked on him as the last of the tension drained away. His breath evened. The pulse in his neck slowed and steadied.
    "Got to keep moving," he said. "Ballard. Got to—"
     
    "Hush," she told him.
    Now they were moving again, with Crazy Horse towering above them, impossibly huge. The warrior's feather was lost in cloud.
    They had found the old trail, overgrown with years, leading into the base of the mountain. At its end was the main cavern entrance. Logan and Jess stepped into arched darkness. Their eyes gradually adjusted to the light change.
    The floor was layered