Amazon Gate

by James Axler

  Distracted from his habitual vigilance, Jak was taken completely off guard.

  The albino was pitched forward, head over heels, by a sudden and heavy impact in the small of his back. Recovering quickly, he relaxed his body into the momentum of the impact, and turned a sudden fall into a roll that brought him back onto his feet, crouched around toward the source of the attack. Part of his mind raced, running a series of mental checks that were completely instinctive. He could feel no blood down his back, no sharp internal pain, no uneasy sensation in the areas of his vital organs. He ached like hell in the pit of his back, but it was purely the force of the blow. There was no damage—of that he was sure.

  He didn't waste time wondering what had attacked him. Instead, he focused simply on locating the enemy so that he could attack it. This was easy, as his enemy made no attempt to disguise himself. He couldn't have, not on the open veld.

  As Jak drew his .357 Magnum Colt Python blaster with one hand and palmed a leaf-bladed knife with the other, he weighed the odds. They weren't pretty. On his side, he was just over five feet tall, slender and quick, with his blaster and knives, as well as sinuous strength and a cunning hunting instinct. But his opponent…

  The man in front of him stood about eight feet in height, with broad, heavily muscled shoulders that rippled under the bright yellow one-piece bodysuit. It was made of a material that Jak recognized from one place only: the raiding party they had encountered some time back on the road to the villes of Samtvogel and Raw, when they had tangled with the cult of the Sunchildren. The raiding party with the laser blasters had appeared suddenly, indulged in a brief firefight and then disappeared. Ryan believed them to be part of the Illuminated Ones, a secret society from predark times that had somehow survived and might hold secrets that could lead them to a peaceful, tranquil land of legend.

  "Would" have lead them. Jak had to remind himself that his companions lay dead on the veld. And unless he acted swiftly, he would be joining them.

  He ran a swiftly assessing gaze over his opponent. The giant had a laser blaster slung on a strap over his left shoulder, but he didn't seem inclined to use it— instead, he held a chunk of rock in the vast paw of his right hand, which he swung loosely and easily at waist level. The heavily muscled shoulders and arms tapered to a comparatively thin waist, with thighs that looked well muscled and strong, but considerably less so than the upper torso.

  So the giant would have a fairly high center of gravity, and once toppled would be unable to help himself from falling. That gave Jak a possibility. But why didn't he want to use the blaster? That would make for a quick chill.

  But then again, remembering the chilled corpses he had seen, Jak figured that a clean chill was the last thing that the giant wanted. He liked to inflict pain. That thought was emphasized for him by the memory of the wounds in Dean's knees, and the sight of an old handblaster holstered in the small of the giant's back as he and Jak began to circle each other. The blaster looked absurdly small nestled into the shiny material that covered the vast back, but allowing for the giant's size and the wounds he had seen, Jak figured that it had to be a fairly high-caliber weapon, perhaps a .357 Magnum blaster similar to his own.

  The thought vanished from his consciousness as soon as it flitted across. It was pointless to speculate right now. The only thing that mattered was defeating the giant, preventing himself from getting chilled.

  They circled slowly, the giant's face red and shiny with sweat in the sun, eyes glinting with blood lust and lips drawn back over his strong white teeth with a leer that bespoke his intent only too well. He shuffled around in a wide circle, large feet crunching and rustling in the undergrowth.

  Why hadn't Jak heard him approach? He was so bastard clumsy and loud that the albino should have been able to hear him from half a mile away.

  The nagging feeling in Jak's gut increased as this thought flitted through his mind. The odds were stacked heavily, and he felt as if he were playing a game where no one had bothered to tell him the rules.

  That wouldn't be the first time. He had to make sure it wasn't the last.

  The giant's shiny one-piece costume shimmered in the sun. Because of its tight fit, and the kind of material it was, it inadvertently telegraphed his movements to Jak.

  With a deft and wickedly fast flick of his thick wrist, the giant sent the rock skimming through the air toward Jak's head. It was a sharp-edged flint, and at that velocity could have opened his skull and spilled his brains on the grass.

  Could have—if the lightning-fast reflexes of the albino hadn't already read the movement. By the time the rock reached the point in space where Jak's head should have been, the wiry albino was already executing a roll to bring himself out of the sideways leap that had carried him out of the rock's flight path.

  "Fuck," he swore as his shoulder struck a stone in the earth at the very apex of his shoulder joint. He felt the sudden jarring down his left arm as the nerve caught fire and then deadened temporarily.

  By the time the word had escaped his lips, he was up on his feet again, trying to hide the temporary disability from his opponent.

  The blood-lust sneer turned to a snarl of anger as the giant followed Jak's path. Missing with the stone and finding that his opponent was more than a little faster than he had imagined had done nothing more than anger Jak's opponent. And from the sudden glimmer in those animal eyes, Jak knew that the giant had registered Jak's injury.

  With a roar, the giant sprung at the albino teen, using all the power in his thighs and calves to propel himself through the air from a standing position. He would have gained momentum by stepping forward first, but what he lost in this way he more than gained in surprise and valuable fractions of a second.

  Jak swung himself to one side, unwilling to play odds on another jarring blow from the ground. He spun away from the flight path of the giant, enough to prevent the man driving him into the ground, but not enough to stop himself from receiving a glancing blow that took his spin into an uncontrollable tumble. Even that glancing blow, hitting him just below his injured shoulder, was hard enough to drive the air from Jak's body and make his head reel.

  He hit the ground on his back, explosions of light and dark passing rapidly before his eyes as he gasped in pain, his head hitting soil that no longer seemed so moist and yielding.

  The giant had also landed heavily, which bought Jak a little time. Expecting his sudden move to take out the small albino, the giant had been unprepared for the swift movement, and so had been unable to protect himself when he crashed into the ground. His size had worked against him, as his sheer weight hitting the ground winded him.

  Jak winced, scrambling to his feet. This was no time for finesse. He had to chill the bastard and quick. He drew his .357 Magnum Colt Python and leveled the barrel, taking an easy and instinctive aim at the prone giant.

  The man was floundering, trying to turn and rise quickly, his large frame uncomfortable on the ground.

  His movements were slow in comparison to Jak's, and the albino gently increased the pressure on the blaster's trigger, squeezing in what seemed to be slow motion. The liquid flow of time slowed to a sluggish drip as Jak's attention focused on his adversary, still clumsily struggling to regain an upright position.

  Then time stopped altogether. It stopped with a sudden, heart-jerking brake.

  Jak's finger tightened all the way, the pressure squeezing the trigger of the Magnum blaster and firing it.

  At least, that's the way it should have been.

  Instead, Jak was greeted with a dry click as the mechanism of the blaster failed to work.

  He knew that the blaster was well maintained. It was a matter of simple survival to keep one's weaponry in good condition. Besides which, J.B. had made it a matter of routine for everyone in the party to keep their blasters in good order. It was a matter of pride to the Armorer.

  Had been a matter of pride. The Armorer was now dead, and lay somewhere behind him, with his head severed from h
is body.

  That fraction of a second—the shock of the blaster failing and the sudden memory of J.B.—gave the giant all the time he needed. With a speed that could only be born of the knowledge that he had escaped being chilled by only the merest whim of fate, he was on his feet and across the veld to Jak with a lung-bursting roar.

  Already the albino had slipped the blaster back into its secure holster and had palmed two of his knives, so that one sat easily in each hand, perfectly weighted for hand-to-hand combat.

  The giant reached him in three long, loping strides. The fourth footfall brought him toe-to-toe with Jak, and his large arms encircled the albino, pinning the teen's hands to his sides, the pressure of the bear hug causing his hands to close on the knives, the blades slicing into his own palms.

  The pain was sharp and intense, of the kind that only a very minor injury, slicing the nerve endings that were close to the skin, could bring. It was the kind of pain that concentrated the mind. Jak switched off from the constriction he felt, the crushing weight that sought to expel all breath from his body, and let all his muscles contract and loosen. The vital inch he gained in space enabled him to wriggle down from the grip, sliding down against the shiny yellow material of the giant's clothing, the lack of friction enabling him to ease himself from the grip before the giant had a chance to adjust and tighten his hold.

  As he slipped down and away, Jak slashed with his left arm, the razored edge of the leaf-bladed knife slicing across the giant's abdomen, cutting through the material of his bodysuit and scoring the skin. A thin line of blood appeared across his stomach, spreading out to stain the material.

  The giant sprang away from Jak with a pained yell, clutching in surprise and shock at his stomach.

  Jak was thrown off balance by the force of the spring, and he rocked on his heels. His head was still light from both his fall and the lack of oxygen where he had been the recipient of the bear hug. Ordinarily, the albino's fighting instincts would have led him to finish off the giant with a well-aimed throw, as the big man was still standing stupidly, staring at his bleeding abdomen, his body completely open to attack. He made no attempt to cover the areas of his vital organs as he stood there.

  But Jak wasn't one hundred percent. He, too, was suffering from the effects of combat, and he shook his muzzy head to clear it, cursing himself for the seemingly slow movement of his limbs as they failed to respond rapidly to his brain's instructions. His blood was apparently replaced by molten lead that flowed sluggishly and powered his muscles in a similar fashion.

  The knife in his left hand came up and made to throw. But if the giant had been opened up a moment before, he recovered his attacking poise with a greater rapidity than the albino. Before Jak could power his throw, the giant scooped up a handful of earth and threw it at the youth, temporarily blinding him.

  The knife left the albino's hand, but his aim was affected just enough for it to fly past the giant's head, grazing air instead of penetrating the carotid artery that had been its target.

  Before Jak could clear his eyes, he felt the giant's arms around him again. This time they lifted him cleanly from the ground, raising him high in the air before throwing him. Jak felt the sudden weightlessness of flight and braced his body for the inevitable fall.

  Despite his best attempts, he still felt all the breath driven from his body by the sudden and jarring impact. His head struck the earth, sparking off more explosions. He landed on his side and rolled over to his back, ready to spring.

  The sight that greeted him made him freeze. The giant was standing a few feet away, gazing directly at him. The blood lust had disappeared from his visage, replaced by a calm concentration. The reason for his concentration was immediately apparent: the laser rifle had been unslung from across his back and was now in his hands, the length and bulk of it dwarfed in his grip. He was aiming directly at Jak Lauren.

  So this was how it was all to end, the chilling of his comrades unavenged and his own chill coming in circumstances that still eluded him. The doomie feeling nagged at him.

  It nagged at him that this wasn't the end. But what could save him?

  "Hey, stupidworks…get to fuck."

  The voice was husky but strong and firm. It was also female. An expression of puzzlement crossed the calm concentration of the giant's face, and he turned away from Jak almost involuntarily to find the source of the call.

  Jak, feeling as he did so that it was a stupe thing to be doing, followed the giant's gaze, completely failing to take advantage of his opportunity to rise.

  The source of the voice was immediately apparent. She stood several yards away, her calves lost in the lush grass. How she had managed to come upon them without disturbing them up to this point was something that Jak didn't even bother to think about. Too many strange things had gone down since he had regained consciousness.

  She was smaller than Jak, mebbe five foot one or two, and her sharp and clearly defined features were handsome, her high cheekbones framing clear blue eyes that pierced through both men. A mane of flaming red hair, lighter than Krysty's but of a similar flowing length, cascaded over her slight shoulders.

  She was slim, finely built with a delicate bone structure that pulled into a narrow waist and slim hips. Her breasts were small and firm, hidden beneath the torn and patched material of a T-shirt. She wore cutoff jeans that were skintight and cut high up the thigh. Her skin was a golden brown from repeated exposure to the sun, and the amount of it she had left exposed served to show off the incredibly toned musculature that clothed her delicate skeleton. The muscles rippled on her thighs and calves, her flat stomach glistening with a light sheen of perspiration. The muscles on her arms were whip taut, one hand resting easily on her hip, within swift grasp of the panga that was strapped to her thigh. The other arm was out in front of her. In her small hand she held a Vortak pistol. The lightweight blaster seemed enormous in her grip, but Jak knew from J.B. that it was an excellent handblaster, light and accurate. He wondered if it was the 11-shot .45 ACP, the 17-shot .40 Smith & Wesson or the 20-shot .38 Super configuration. Not that it mattered right now. She needed only one shot, and that was mebbe all she'd get.

  "Are you deaf, boy? Get to fuck," she repeated.

  The giant blew out his cheeks, as though appalled at the nerve of the tiny woman to try to interfere in a private fight. He raised the laser blaster.

  "Asshole," the woman muttered before squeezing off a rapid succession of shots. Jak tried to keep count, but lost it in the rapidity and figured she squeezed off nine or ten. The gas-buffered recoil system that was specific to the Vortak meant that she was able to steady and adjust as the giant jerked and fell under the onslaught, her aim following him down to the earth so that each slug hit home exactly where she wanted it.

  The giant was chilled before his body even touched the earth, the impact muffled by the grass and foliage. She holstered the blaster in the small of her back and smiled at Jak, a wry, lopsided grin that began in her large blue eyes but spoke of an injury to one side of her face, paralyzing some of the muscles. She walked over to where Jak still lay and reached out a hand to him.

  "C'mon, honey. Time to move on," she said softly.

  Jak took her hand and felt the tremendous strength in her tiny yet wiry frame as she lifted him to his feet. "What fuck going on?" he asked simply. "Not doomie, but feel it. Not remember anything of friends chilled. Not hear him coming," he continued, indicating the chilled giant, then added, "or hear you. Not add up."

  She made a small, warm noise in the back of her throat that could have been a chuckle, and began to walk across the veld toward the trees in easy strides. Jak fell in beside her.

  "Soon you'll understand, sweets. Nothing ever happens without reason, even though you may never know why. Although you don't knew me yet, in some ways you always have done and always will do. Mebbe I appear like this now, but not at other times."

  "Make less sense than Doc," Jak grumbled.

  She stopped and turned
to the albino, raising her hand and cupping his cheek in her palm.

  "Trust me, and remember me. It's my gift to know before times, and to reach out. Remember what you've seen and remember me," she repeated again before brushing her lips against his. "I've got to go. But remember…"

  Jak stood and watched her as she continued into the trees without looking back, her hair swinging across her shoulders and down her back in rhythm with her stride.

  Part of him wanted to follow, yet another part of him knew that now wasn't the time. Now was something else.

  The doomie feeling gnawed stronger. Suddenly, it stabbed, doubling him in pain. He felt a familiar wave of nausea replace the anxiety, and blackness rose before his eyes. He sank to his knees, welcoming the relief of oblivion.

  Chapter Two

  Jak could feel the strings of bile, bitter and choking in his throat, as he regained consciousness. Every muscle, tendon and nerve ending in his body ached. Not with the pain of combat, but with the strange feeling that it had been deconstructed and then put back together again under an enormous pressure. Which was what had happened, in a way. He always felt this way after a mat-trans jump.

  As he spit the bile from his mouth and wiped the thin trickle of blood from his left nostril, he blinked in the dim light of the chamber. The armaglass on this chamber was a smoky turquoise hue, and let in little light from outside. The only illumination was the low-level lighting and the fading glow of the disks that patterned the floor of the chamber. There were no tendrils of mist left from the fog that enveloped the chamber immediately before and after a jump, so it was easy for him to figure that he had been out for some time, which was usual. But not the dream.

  Was it a dream?

  Jak was a man who lived entirely in the present and the real. He was a born hunter and predator, his attention and mind focused only on what was going on around him. He didn't dream often.

  The only dreams he could ever remember were those that involved his dead wife and child, Christina and Jenny. Terrible dreams, dreams where they were close to death and he was always prevented from saving them, condemned for all eternity to relive their deaths in an infinite variety.