by David Robbins



The battle-ravaged Alpha Triad, an elite fighting force dedicated to the restoration of civilization, traveled across the blasted landscape towards a fateful meeting. Accompanied by members of the Freedom Federation, Blade and his deadly team rolled into a small Wyoming town hoping to slaughter the Doktor in a final ambush. But the predators quickly became the prey when they were cut off and surrounded by a savage hoard of blood-thirsty half-humans. They were seven against an army and their epic battle would live on throughout the ages--if any of them survived to tell the tale.


A small cluster of soldiers were racing toward the fountain, determined to reach their commander.

Hickok saw there was no way Bertha could hold them off, that some of them might even reach the fountain. He dropped his Henry and drew his Pythons, running at full speed now, firing as he ran, going for the head as he invariably did, his shots spaced so closely together it was almost impossible to tell them apart. He reached Bertha's side, the two of them shoulder to shoulder.

Blade suddenly wrenched free of Bertha and rose, the Commando chattering, swinging the machine gun in an arc. Four charging troopers jerked and danced as the heavy slugs stitched a crimson patchwork across their chests.