Joe searched for a weapon as the four murcs stalked him, but he'd thrown the only one that'd been nearby. His fingers brushed across the pitchfork tine. He clamped his jaw and sucked in a breath as he yanked out the slim piece of rusted metal. He slid it into his waistband, careful to not look like he was doing anything suspicious.
The four had their blasters leveled. When they were within five feet, they encircled him. The one in front of him spoke. "Follow me, prisoner."
The murcs began walking, and Joe struggled to keep up—hell, he was struggling to stand.
"A little help here, guys?" Joe asked. "In case you haven't noticed, I had a pitchfork shoved through my leg."
He received a blaster tip poked against his back in response.
"I'm moving as fast as I can," Joe said. He was half tempted to just fall and let them drag him back to his cell, but he didn't know if they'd just kill him instead, so he stayed on his feet.
His left thigh hurt worse than anything he'd felt in a long time. The tines had skewered muscle, and he couldn't take a step without stressing the injuries. On the bright side—if there was one in all this—his shoulder didn't hurt too badly. Wendigo's claws were so sharp, they'd cut like razor blades. The slice in his shoulder had gone deep, but not deep enough to hit muscle or bone. The wound bled, but as long as he held his right arm to his chest, the pain was bearable.
The prick in front never slowed down, but at least the murc behind Joe didn't shove him forward, because if Joe fell, he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to his feet. His muscles shook from both weakness and the adrenaline hangover, now that the fight had ended. He wobbled every time his left boot connected with the ground, which was constantly since he could no longer lift his leg. He clutched his thigh as he dragged his leg forward.
The door they'd entered through opened, and Joe wondered if he'd have to make the long walk down the same hallway again. He hoped not.
Yep, he walked the same damn hallway to the same damn cell. His cellmates watched him return. They all seemed surprised to see him.
"Bobo?" Terry asked from the other side of the bars.
Joe shook his head.
The prisoner in the next cell over gave Joe an appraising nod before turning away.
The lead murc slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled a tube out of his pocket. Joe recognized the coagulant gel immediately—he'd used enough of it through his life. The murc squirted a line across the cut in Joe's shoulder, and then put three dots on the three holes in his thigh.
"Since you're playing doctor on me, I sure could use bio-wrap," Joe said.
The murc laughed. "Don't worry. You won't live long enough to get an infection."
Joe frowned. He didn't like that response one bit, and realized he had one shot. The odds sucked. Four against one, but he'd take those over another mutant any day of the week.
"You're sending me back out there?" Joe asked the lead murc as he gripped the pitchfork tine while leaning forward to rub his thigh.
The murc chuckled. "Of course you're going back out there. Probably even tonight. You came in on an immediate death sentence."
"Lucky me. How about a painkiller, then? Something to help dull the pain so I can at least give them some kind of a show," Joe said.
The murc eyed Joe for a long moment before shrugging and putting his hand back into his pocket.
As soon as he did that, Joe grabbed the murc's arm, spun behind him, and pressed the tine to the man's throat. Joe was careful to use the murc's body as a shield.
"I'm going to kill you myself," the lead murc growled.
"I'm dead already," Joe said. He spoke to the others. "Drop your blasters and put your hands up in the air. If I see any of you even twitching toward a weapon or a comm, your buddy's going to become a kabob, got it?"
. As soon as their hands were in the air, Joe shoved the tine into the murc's neck and grabbed the rifle. With the blaster still slung over the man's shoulder, he brought it up and fired at the three murcs. A smoky haze filled the air. As all four fell, Joe unslung the rifle and held it ready, tight against his side, since movement made his shoulder protest.
Prisoners in the cells on both sides of Joe began pleading to let them out.
"Quiet," Joe ordered. He bent down as carefully as he could to rifle through the murc's pockets for more coagulant gel. He was relieved to find the man actually did have painkillers on him. He popped a tablet in his mouth and shoved everything else in his pocket.
Through the hopeful faces in his old cell, he spied Terry. "If I let you out, will you help me get out of here?" He motioned to his bum leg.
Terry nodded vigorously. "Of course. Just get me out of here."
Joe took the keycard from the lead murc, grabbed a second blaster, and opened the cell door. Terry stepped out. As expected, his other cell mates followed. They pilfered the remaining weapons and took off running, but Terry stayed with Joe. He hoped he'd read Terry right and could count on the man until they were at least clear of the Devil's Playground. He handed Terry the other blaster, and Terry looped an arm around Joe to help him walk.
"What about us?" the prisoner in the next cell over asked.
Joe grabbed a second keycard off a fallen murc and tossed it to the prisoner. "Let out everyone you can."
Terry and Joe headed quickly down the hallway, though prisoners ran past.
"As soon as they get outside, the murcs are going to see them," Terry chided.
"I'm counting on that," Joe said.
"Yeah?" A nervous tic caused Terry to blink.
"Yeah. They're our diversion."