by James Axler
"Jak, everything okay?" she said softly.
"Yeah…kinda," he answered shortly. "Feel like know this place."
"Like deja vu?" she asked. Noting his blank and puzzled expression, she added, "Just an old expression from French. I would've thought you'd know a little French, from your people."
Jak raised a halfhearted smile. "Everything change after skydark, even talk."
"Does this have anything to do with what happened to you during the jump…with whatever's been bothering you?" she continued, trying to press home a possible advantage.
Jak screwed his face into an indeterminate expression as though he were wrestling with his own conscience, which, in a sense, he was. Should he mention the strange dream-vision now, especially as the sky was so reminiscent of that he had fought and nearly been chilled under?
But it was just something that he couldn't bring himself to do. He said, "Something weird, can't remember well."
Mildred turned back to face the front and continue, leaving Jak to his thoughts. She didn't believe that he couldn't remember, but knew that it would be pointless to pursue the matter. She only hoped that it wouldn't distract him too much if there was any need to be on the defensive.
The thick undergrowth filled the air with a sickly-sweet scent, the exaggerated and mutated pollens attempting to attract the myriad insect life that swarmed through the valley. J.B. felt as if he'd never seen so many bugs in his life. Not that they particularly bothered him, but insect bites were one of those ridiculous small irritations that could sometimes cause a person more annoyance and discomfort than any other kind of injury or situation. He knew that Mildred had plenty of medical supplies should he be bitten, but he still hoped to avoid the eventuality. Large mosquitoes and horsefly-derived insects hovered in the air, their wings humming ominously. Large stag beetles in an array of bizarrely luminous colors, changing as the stray rays of sunlight that filtered through the trees hit them, scuttled over his combat boots. Brushing the leaves of the overhanging plants and bushes from his face as he followed the others, he disturbed caterpillars and ladybugs of enormous size. Wasps and hornets the length of his index finger buzzed around the flowers, beaten in size only by bees so fat and large that it was a miracle of aerodynamics that they stayed aloft.
While the Armorer struggled with the insects, Dean had turned his attention to the array of birds and mammals that populated the valley. It seemed that the shallow basin had become a haven for the local fauna, as ratlike creatures and squirrels with bushes three times the size of their shrunken bodies could be seen on the floor of the valley and in among the trees. They were keeping well out of the way of the large intruders in their territory, and from their behavior and large numbers, Dean felt it was safe to assume that there were no larger mammalian predators in the valley. Not that he was prepared to relax his own vigilance. If nothing else, the swooping birds that ducked and dived between the branches of the trees, picking insects from plant leaves and pulling ponderous, orange berries from vinelike growths, were a constant danger by their sheer disregard for anything that may get in their way. Certainly everyone in the line had cause to dodge an unconcerned feathered missile as the birds focused on their objective of feeding to the disregard of all else.
The shallow basin in which they found themselves stretched for approximately a quarter of a mile from the entrance of the redoubt to the horizon, which was the lip of a gentle incline that presumably led to a plain beyond. Perhaps the forestlike undergrowth stretched on indefinitely. At that stage it was impossible to tell. Ryan had picked a path that veered at a ten-degree angle from a straight line, as that seemed to be slightly less dense in growth than the alternatives.
Away to each side, and behind the outcrop that allowed entry to the redoubt, it seemed that the foliage was even more dense, with the trees forming in places a barrier even more impassable than the dense blanket of green broken by violent color. Ryan figured that the slightly less dense area in front of them was what remained of the old road to the redoubt. The fertile growth had obviously spread over it during the past century, but there was still enough dead ground caused by a road surface to slow that growth and leave it just spare enough to allow him to hack a way through. Not that a person could ever tell it had once been a road surface. There was no trace of macadam left beneath their feet, the rich soil having long since been churned up to the surface by the insistent pushing of plant and tree roots.
Progress along their self-made path was slow and punishing. The sickly-sweet scents and the humidity of being in among so many plants under such a sun, even under the shadow of the twisted trees, meant that they were dripping with sweat and breathing heavily within half an hour of leaving the redoubt. Mildred thought of the showers with their carefully regulated water temperature, and allowed herself a rueful smile. Business as usual, she figured.
Ryan kept on hacking at the growth, creating a path. The muscles on his arms bulged as particularly stubborn growths refused to budge, or he hit a knot in a tree branch. Taut whipcords stood out on his arms as he gritted his teeth, sweat running into his good eye and making it sting, the salt gathering to no effect in the empty socket beneath the patch over his right. He wondered if they should turn back, allowing himself a glimpse at the position of the sun in the sky. Even though they had taken their time from the old chrons down in the redoubt, and those had told them that it was still early in the morning, there was no guarantee that they had been correct. The last thing he wanted was to have his people caught in the middle of such a jungle when night fell.
The sun was almost dead center in the sky, which was probably why it was so hot. But at least it told him that the old chrons had been accurate, and that they had plenty of time to reach the edge of the valley before nightfall, even at this appallingly slow rate. Time enough to scout over the lip and see what lay beyond.
RYAN REACHED the top of the valley's lip and stood surveying the territory that spread out below them. The valley was formed in a small crater so that it sloped gently away from the lip and out into a plain. The plain was covered by vast forests of trees similar to those in the valley, linked by velds of grasses that reached taller than a man. Ryan waited for the rest of his party to reach the top, then turned to J.B.
"Want to check our position according to the map, just to get the right bearings?"
The Armorer nodded and produced his minisextant from one of his capacious pockets, pulling a map he had taken from the comp control room along with it. He sighted the sun and checked their position by the map before pointing across to their left.
"That's northwest. Not much left that way these days, but it does head toward the old Seattle area. So mebbe…"
"So mebbe we should take that direction," Ryan finished. "Good as any. It looks deserted as far as I can see, but those forests could be deceptive. I figure we skirt around those, stick to the plain as much as possible, mebbe use the fringes for shelter at nights."
There was a general agreement, Ryan was the unofficial leader, and his word was the final one, but he was always willing to listen to a well reasoned opinion that could influence and inform him. This time, however, he had immediately suggested the only real option.
Jak looked down at the veld. "Mebbe should be careful…more careful," he said softly.
"Never anything else," Ryan replied, shooting the albino a puzzled glance. Whatever was bugging Jak, the one-eyed man wished he would let it go and tell them all. Dismissing the thought and returning to more immediately pressing matters, Ryan stared up at the sun. It was over in the sky, and he figured they had a three-hour trek before it started to fall, and the time came to look for night shelter.
"Head there," he said shortly, indicating a stand of trees that seemed to be about three miles to their left. The way ahead was across a plain that was little more than long grass. Any dangerous mammalian life would be easily spotted, and although it would leave them fairly exposed, it would also expose any enemies that might come across them
. More to the point, it would be easy for them to traverse with speed.
They set off down the gentle incline and across the plain. Jak felt his guts turn as they hit the grassland, yet for the life of him—and on the lives of his comrades—he didn't see how they could be surprised on such territory.
THE SUN BEAT DOWN upon them as they crossed the veld, heading toward the trees Ryan had indicated. The grass came up to their knees at most, and the soil was surprisingly easy under their feet. Instead of the bone-jarring crunch that they expected with each footfall, the yielding earth was comfortable and springy beneath them. It was hot, but not oppressively so, and although they shed their coats to prevent too much moisture loss through perspiration—they had refilled their water supplies before leaving the redoubt but were, as always, loath to waste water—none of the party felt as though they were burning beneath the chem-shrouded rays.
The insects were lesser over the veld, although there were swarms of midges that buzzed in small clouds, causing them to bat uselessly in front of their faces to try to stop the insects from blocking their noses and stinging their eyes. But the swarms were few and far between, and at an easy pace it didn't take them long to reach the shelter and shade of the trees.
They remained silent on the trek, strung out in formation with Ryan in front and J.B. at the rear. Although still maintaining observation on a level that went beyond the conscious to almost a sixth sense, the lack of sound or activity combined with the heat, which was dry and dull without becoming noticeably oppressive, caused their minds to wander as they made their way through the valley jungle.
It was only when Ryan reached the edge of the trees that he spoke.
"Okay, let's rest for a few moments," he said, dropping to his haunches before continuing. "That sun is too hot to risk sunstroke skirting around this. Change of plan. Let's see what it's like through there and mebbe go through rather than around. If not, we stay here for the night. So rest up out of that sun while someone carries out a recce. I'll take the west part of the forest. Jak, you take the left."
The albino nodded. It would suit him fine to recce before they continued, as his sense of unease was unabated. He felt better that they'd crossed the veld untouched, but a stand of trees like this could hide anything. Even a giant in yellow clothing.
J.B. arrived at the rear of the column and dropped to his knees. "Dark night, if I have to pick another midge out of my mouth…" He spit, disposing of a few insects to prove his point.
"If that's the worst we've come across, then it's not too bad, John," Mildred chided him.
Doc smiled wryly. "Ah, but is not it always the way, my dear Dr. Wyeth, that it is the smallest things in life that can cause the greatest irritation?"
Mildred returned the old man's wryness. "Why, Doc, if I didn't know better, then I'd say you were setting me up perfectly."
They laughed easily, the relative ease of the trek so far putting them in good spirits. Leaving the others to relax, Jak and Ryan set off into the trees, following their respective courses, to recce the area.
JAK HAD THE FEELING that something was about to go I wrong, but he couldn't tell if that was just his dream or not. It clouded his usual crystal clear sense of danger in a way that worried him. One thing was for sure—if there was any real danger on the sector of forest that he was scanning, then he sure couldn't find it. The tall and twisted trees grew to more than fifty feet, with their branches starting at about fifteen feet, leaving them with plenty of headroom. The branches themselves were thick and overlapping, with the leaves forming a canopy that, in some areas, reduced the level of light to zero and made it hard to see where he was going. Fortunately his red and pigmentless eyes were better adapted to the dark than to bright light, so he was able to find his way around a little better than any of the others.
The trees grew close together, in some places so thickly that there was little gap between the trunks. For such large trees to take root so close together was unusual, but they had a complicated root system that seemed to tie them together into one large organism, feeding and strengthening off one another. This became obvious where the knots and intertwined roots broke the surface, rising up in clumps that could be ankle-shattering if caught by an unsuspecting foot.
Jak skipped over them with a fleetness that betrayed his excellent night vision. He noticed that there was little life beneath the trees bar some fungi encouraged by the cool and humid air trapped beneath the canopy of leaves. With little plant life, there were no small mammals to speak of, and little in the way of insects and grubs. Unlike in the valley, they would be untroubled by the bird life, which would keep to its own level.
The albino saw the break in the trees, leading onto another plain. He estimated that the depth of the forest was about two and half miles by the route he had taken. He turned and headed back, wondering how Ryan had fared.
He didn't recce completely to the edge of the trees…
WHEN JAK ARRIVED back at the far end of the forest, he found that Ryan hadn't yet returned. He waited until the one-eyed man returned before he relayed his findings to the group.
Ryan nodded slowly. "Guess that route curves less than mine. Parts of the forest are so dense that I had to take a series of twists and turns that took me to about four miles. There's not much here for us…" He looked up at the position of the sun, then consulted his wrist chron. "Not long until sundown so I say we make it through to the far side of the trees, then set up camp for the night. The usual watches."
"Sounds good to me," Krysty said. "That heat was starting to make me feel drowsy, and I think we'll all be ready for some rest after tackling the woods."
In general agreement, they gathered themselves together and headed into the forest, following the route Jak had taken. The albino led the way, slowing his previous pace as he knew the others would take longer to adjust their vision to the relative darkness. Ryan followed, with Krysty, Doc, Mildred, Dean and J.B. following close on his heels. It was imperative that they stick together.
"Watch roots. Wrong foot and ankle break." Jak remarked as they reached the densest part of the path, where the entwined and knotted system of interdependent roots broke the surface. Slowing to almost a crawl, Jak picked his way over them, leading the others by example. His path was so surefooted that even Doc had little trouble in negotiating the trickier stages.
"Hot pipe, I wouldn't like to come up against anything in here," Dean muttered as they reached the mile-and-a-half mark of their trek. "There's no room to fight."
"No room for anything," J.B. replied, "which is mebbe why there isn't anything here."
Dean shot the Armorer a look, not sure whether he was being mocked. J.B.'s face was deadpan behind his spectacles.
"Okay, so I'll think before I open my mouth next time, all right?" Dean said acidly.
J.B. remained deadpan, despite the muffled laughter from the others—even from Dean himself.
Despite the difficulty of the path, there was an almost lighthearted feeling within the group as they trekked through the heart of the forest. It was true that they were maintaining a vigilance, but the entire trip so far had been so devoid of anything remotely resembling a threat that even their collective subconscious was starting to lose concentration…
THE OPENING at the far end of the woods was in sight. It lay about three hundred yards away, a small natural inlet into the trees, which grew up around it but for some reason hadn't closed perfectly, allowing two hundred yards of grassland to invade the bare earth and root system. The sun shone through the gap, lighting up the grasslands with an almost luminous glow as the rays shot low across the ground.
Jak was fifty yards into the sun when he caught a movement that was almost beyond the periphery of his vision. It was instinct rather than eyesight that told him something was moving, something that wasn't a bird or foliage, something that was bigger than either.
Krysty's instincts jolted her out of her reverie at the same moment. "Ryan!" she blurted.
&nbs
p; The one-eyed man's reaction was razor sharp. The Steyr was off his shoulder and into both hands within the blink of his single eye, the bolt back and the chamber loaded, the stock cradled into his elbow and finger already pressuring the trigger. Behind him, at the rear of the party, J.B. had already unslung his Uzi, bringing it into position on rapid fire, and automatically covering the opposite side of the clearing to Ryan.
The one thought that crossed Jak's mind, before his fighting instincts overtook it, was that their attacker was as silent as the yellow giant in his dream.
Except that the attack wasn't by a single figure. It was much worse than that: a large group of stickies swarmed from the lower trees and bushes that fringed the clearing, where the lack of cover and root system had allowed smaller foliage to survive.
There had to have been close to forty of them.
And they had the element of surprise…
Chapter Four
There was no time to act, only to react. The stickies were on them before they had a chance to form a defensive formation or even clear their weapons for action.
Like all stickies—a particular form of mutation distinguished by their razor-sharp teeth, thin and shapeless skin and the suckered pads on their fingers and toes that gave them their name—they were hideous and screeched incoherently as they attacked. But what gave them that element of surprise was their stealth and also their seeming intelligence. They had observed the approaching group and gathered themselves on either side of the clearing, keeping silent until their target was within range.
That wasn't the usual cowardly and noisy behavior of stickies. There was one thing that this group had in common with others, though—they attacked in a large group, taking no chances on being outnumbered.
"Fireblast! So many of the fuckers!" Ryan yelled, loosing off a shot that ripped through the stickie that was nearest, tearing a chunk of flesh away from its rib cage and splintering bone, the flight path of the bullet pushing a fragment of bone into the creature's heart and stopping it. The stickie's expression changed from one of blood lust to a kind of dull surprise, before the light went out in its dark eyes, and it dropped to the ground.
