Amazon Gate

by James Axler

J.B.'s wire-framed spectacles glinted in the firelight as they ate, and Ryan could tell from the slow rhythm of the reflections that the Armorer was also casting an appraising eye around the camp. These people were their allies for now, but to know their strength as allies or foes was equally important.

  When they had eaten their fill, Gloria turned to Jak.

  "You feel safer now, sweetie?" she asked him in a gentle voice.

  The albino shrugged. "Never feel safe. Safe means chilled."

  "That's one way of looking at things. I guess we don't quite see it that way. We're safe in here because we have trust in our scouts. We have to have trust in one another, because our community lives and dies by that. That's the way we've always lived."

  "We trust one another," Ryan said softly. "We've been through a lot. But we don't know you, which is why mebbe Jak doesn't trust you."

  "Do you?" the warrior queen asked him.

  "Would you?" Ryan countered. Gloria's icy blue eyes, matching the piercing blue gaze of the one-eyed warrior, sparkled in the firelight. "I'd be pretty stupe if I did, so that's okay. Mebbe I should tell you something about us. You already know what we're looking for, but you don't know how we got this far. Then you tell us about you. Deal?"

  Ryan nodded. "Deal."

  Gloria raised her head, staring into the night sky, beyond the glow of the campfire and out into an infinity only she could see. Her nostrils quivered as she began to breathe in a rhythm that took her into a trance state, her eyes misting over as she began to speak in a singsong tone.

  "Long before the time of the great darkness, when the old ways became too complex for those that had created them, and the moment of ultimate truth came, the Illuminated Ones spoke from within the great shelter and told of the disaster to come. There were few who listened to them, but among them were our forebears. A small community we had always been, living in the hill countries and living by our wits and our beliefs. The end times were coming and so we were ready. We had food and water, and the power necessary to survive the long, dark winter.

  "Our people went into hibernation for generations, only reentering the world when the air was once again clean, and the waters flowed like spring. Then we found that much had changed, and yet much had stayed the same. There were people as before, and people that were new. And there were still those who wanted the return of the old ways. They would guard their secret sites with jealousy, keeping us at bay with the rays of light. They were more colorful than the drabness that had enveloped the land, and yet their very brightness was a mark of the hope to come. For they would lead us to the promised land, the gateway to the future.

  "For generations we have traveled the Deathlands in search of the gateway. It has been a long path, but one which is forever fulfilling, for each step of the way we learn more about ourselves, preparing ourselves for the first step into the gateway and the world of wonders that lie beyond."

  She paused, breathing heavily, her mind switched into oratory mode, the words handed down to her coming from her mouth with a perfect inflection.

  While they waited for her to continue, all the companions dwelled on what she had said. Mildred had spent most of the meal prior to Gloria's recitation observing the way the warrior queen had been looking at Jak. It was obvious that the woman was fascinated by the albino, both for his appearance and also for the reticence with which he had approached the whole meeting. It was obvious that Jak was holding back something, and this fascinated Gloria. Mildred was still worried that whatever was worrying Jak would make him reject even the most innocuous of advances from the warrior queen. If that happened, how would she react, and what would this mean for the rest of the companions?

  But, like the others, Mildred had been jolted from her reverie by the mention of the Illuminated Ones. The secret society from predark who had prepared for the Apocalypse and built its own redoubts was a force that they had only obliquely crossed, but enough so to realize that it could hold the key to both what the Gate was looking for, and to what Ryan and his people were searching for.

  Gloria continued briefly. "The manner in which we have traversed the land, and the many battles that we have seen, would take an age to detail. It is enough to say that we have remained as we have begun, a tribe led by women against the darkness caused by men, and a tribe dedicated to the new age and the new ways."

  She breathed deeply, exhaling seemingly for minutes before resting her chin on her chest. Then, after a short while, she raised her head again, and looked toward them with eyes that were piercing and clear.

  "So what about you?" she said simply.

  "Us?" Ryan answered. "I think we're all fascinated by what you just told us. Because we have experience of the Illuminated Ones, as well."

  And as simply as he could, Ryan related the events surrounding the companions landing in a private redoubt and finding documents pertaining to the secret order of the Illuminated Ones. About how they had trekked across a desert and encountered the strangely clad warriors with laser blasters. About the ville of Raw, which had been founded by those who had left the Illuminated Ones, and of how they believed the order still existed, maintaining a redoubt and stockpile hidden in a secret location.

  "And perhaps this is the place we seek. It certainly sounds like the gateway that's your quest."

  J.B. spoke in the pause, his voice quiet but carrying in the silence of the camp. "I'd love to get my hands on one of those blasters that works. We've seen what those rays of light can do, and that's some firepower. The ones we found were missing the power source, but if I could find that—"

  "It'd be some kind of blaster, eh, honey?" Margia said, speaking from the shadows. J.B. looked over to her and could see that the blond Gate armorer was looking at him with a renewed respect in her eyes. "You're a man who knows his trade—am I right?"

  J.B. had no ego on most things, but when it came to weaponry he took a quiet pride in his knowledge and skills. He nodded. "I like to keep blasters good, to keep plas-ex and grens to hand and in working order, and I like to find new weapons and learn about them. You can never stop learning."

  Margia eyed him with an admiration that Mildred found almost as disturbing as the way in which Gloria had been looking at Jak.

  "I like your attitude, boy. I think you and me are going to get along just fine."

  Before Mildred had a chance to say anything, Ryan spoke to Gloria.

  "Seems to me that your quest is our quest. We'll join with you."

  AFTER MORE swapping of stories designed on both sides to sound out the fighting properties and attitudes of both the Gate and Ryan's people, the companions were allotted their quarters for the night. A large tent made from a polyethylene-and-nylon sheet molded around flexible tubing, it was roomy enough to house all seven without too much difficulty.

  When she was sure that no one from the Gate was near, Krysty spoke to Ryan in tones hushed enough to be heard by the rest of the companions, but not outside the tent.

  "Are you sure we should join them so soon? How do you know we can trust them?"

  "I don't. Not any more than they know they can trust us. Not any more than we could trust anyone. But I do know that I don't want to have to fight them right now. And I also know that we have a common goal. Mebbe there'll be problems later on, but right now we need to travel with someone. There's always safety in numbers when you're in unknown territory."

  Jak had been silent the whole time, but now he spoke: "Gate also unknown territory…"

  Chapter Seven

  Despite Jak's fears, the next few days moved at an easy and uneventful pace. Doc and Ryan consulted with Gloria over the direction she had chosen for the tribe to proceed. The two men had spoken at length of the northwesterly direction in which they believed the hidden stockpile to be located, and it would seem that whatever hidden energy line the instinct of the warrior queen was following was also running in a similar arc. Ryan called upon J.B. to take readings with the minisextant, and the result was that the Armorer belie
ved Gloria's direction would lead them past the vast emptiness where once had stood the old predark capital of Washington State and trace its course around the outskirts of the Seattle area, which was the scene of their previous encounter with the Illuminated Ones.

  The consultation between Ryan and Gloria occurred on the second evening, as the men of the Gate tribe assembled camp for the night in a small clearing. Despite the fact that they had encountered nothing more dangerous than a few low flying birds or a swarm of mosquito derived insects, the women of the Gate kept up their vigilance, not allowing the quietude to lull them into a potentially dangerous sense of security.

  The camp was built around the spot where the four people, including J.B. and Doc, were seated on a groundsheet, with a few scraps of paper spread around them. The papers consisted of a map Doc had carried with him from the redoubt, and some faded and almost parchmentlike maps that Gloria carried. When she didn't consult them, they traveled in her few belongings, parceled carefully and carried on a pack mule led by Petor, a young man of the tribe that Gloria favored.

  "I never birthed any child of my own, and his mother, Kaya, was a good friend. When she died in combat, I swore to take him on as my own, and so it has been," she explained. Certainly Petor was a testament to the caring side of Gloria, as he was a tall youth with sleepy eyes and a deceptive quickness of wit and limb, who had already bonded with Dean. Petor knew the honor that Gloria had bestowed upon him, and so was fastidious in his care of her belongings… particularly the documents that she carried, as these were sacred to the tribe and had been handed down. As Gloria explained to them when Petor brought her the documents and laid them out carefully on the groundsheet, "These are all that remain of the documents that define us. They were carried from the underground when our people emerged into the light, and they are both guide to the future and reminder of the past."

  The documents were faded and worn, with almost nothing readable along the creases where the documents had been folded for many years, even though Petor now kept them in a metal cylinder, rolled to prevent further damage. The ink had faded over time, and the pulped paper yellowed, so that the maps were sepia, with some color tones blending into a faded mush that made parts hard to read.

  However, there was enough still legible for Ryan and Doc to be able to trace the route they had so far journeyed, and also to tell that the map carried on it details of old U.S. government redoubts, and also another set. Doc pointed out one that lay near a city marked as Seattle, in the northwest corner.

  "Dear boy," he remarked softly to Ryan, "I have the strangest feeling that somewhere in the darkest recesses of my foul imaginings, there is something to do with our course and these redoubts that I once heard of. Something that I should recall but that remains as ever elusive as the merest wisp of a dream."

  "To do with the Illuminated Ones?" the one-eyed warrior prompted, aware that pushing Doc for answers would only make the old man fret and lose his grasp of his own mind.

  Doc frowned, as though the very act of concentration were physically painful. "I think—no, I'm sure—that it has a connection, but perhaps not directly. If only I could…" He tailed off with a sad shake of the head, the frustration showing in the distraught gaze he cast upon his friend and leader.

  J.B. cut in, his voice barely a whisper. "Dark night, with maps like this, it should be easy to find the place you're looking for," he said to Gloria. "I don't get why you haven't just read the maps and gone. Why the following of energy lines?"

  Gloria smiled, which carried both sadness and amusement. "You think we wouldn't have done that generations ago if we could?" she said. "Why don't you think we did?" she asked, her fingers unconsciously trailing over the paper.

  Doc looked from the paper to the face of the warrior queen and her piercing blue eyes. Then it came to him. She had been tracing the map with her fingers all the while they had consulted, but had never once actually looked at it.

  "By the Three Kennedys! You are unable to read the map," he exclaimed.

  The warrior queen nodded. "A strange affliction that infected our tribe soon after the coming out. All the newborn of one generation were unable to distinguish the letters and words as anything other than a jumble, although they could feel impressions. Some say that it was a rad-blast sickness, others that it was a sign from the exalted ones that we must learn on the journey, and so it could not be quick. Either way, we became wanderers unable to divine from our own maps in the space of less than two generations."

  Ryan looked her in the eye, his single icy blue orb meeting with her piercing diamond blue stare. "Well, we can read these, and if our current direction is anything to go by, your time of learning may just about be over…"

  OTHER ALLIANCES and enmities were forged in the quietness of the journey. Krysty found herself spending time with the young Amazon who had a mass of tumbling auburn curls. She was taller than the rest of the tribe, and was glad to find in the statuesque Krysty someone of a similar size. The woman was named Tammy, and was barely out of her teens, yet already she had proved herself in battle and explained to Krysty how the girls in the Gate tribe were trained from birth to carry the wisdom and fight of the tribe. Although the men did many of the everyday tasks about the camp, the secrets of medicine and healing were carried down the female line. The young girls of the tribe were schooled in camp every day on the techniques for both healing and harming, and Krysty watched Tammy take a class of younger girls in unarmed combat, while Margia taught them the skills of handling and maintaining blasters.

  Remembering her own youth with Mother Sonja in Harmony, the Titian-haired warrior was keen to discuss the secrets of healing with Tammy, who was herself learning the skills of being a medicine woman. They spent much time discussing the skills of herbal medicine and healing, finding that both had the natural earth touch that enabled them to locate injury and heal with the body's own natural energy and force. Tammy had the bubbling enthusiasm of the young for the skills she was learning, and was keen to learn from Krysty. Mildred, who had spent her time since awakening into the Deathlands learning natural healing skills to augment what she knew from predark, was also interested in learning from Tammy, as anything that could supplement the meager resources of scavenged predark medicines and drugs was to be welcomed. It also took Mildred's mind off something that was bugging her more and more.

  Tammy took great pleasure in the attention that the two women paid her. She also noticed the looks she was getting from Dean as he occupied himself with Jon and Petor.

  The young Cawdor had made himself known to the two friends when, on the morning after the companions' arrival in camp, he had happened across Jon and Petor wrestling. Rising early, he had decided to take a look around the camp while the others were barely stirring, and his attention had been drawn by the sounds of scuffling from behind a tent in the far corner of the camp.

  Not stopping to wake anyone, Dean ran to the tent, keeping low and as light of foot as possible, skipping over the few guy ropes that secured some of the more primitive tent constructions.

  As he approached the source of the noise, Dean crouched closer to the ground, his hand snaking to where the Browning Hi-Power was holstered. In an almost unconscious and instinctive gesture he checked that it was easily to hand, the holster unhindered by any obstruction. He knew that the safety was on and that the blaster was fully loaded as he had checked it before turning in the night before. But hopefully he wouldn't need it. The struggle sounded like no more than two people, and was possibly only a fight between Gate people rather than an intruder from outside the camp. From what he knew of the tribe, Dean reckoned that it would have to be an incredibly good guerrilla fighter to get past the guard patrols.

  Dean edged closer to the edge of the tent, peering around to get a view of the struggle.

  Two young men were wrestling behind the tent, their noise subdued by the fact that both were concentrating intently on the matter in hand, and also by the fact they were so evenly matched as
for there to be no distance between them in ability. Dean recognized one of them immediately as Petor, the adopted son of the queen, who attended to her personal tent and belongings. He also had a position in the armory, working under Margia.

  The other combatant was also a worker in the armory. Dean had seen him around the camp and knew that his name was Jon, but hadn't had any contact with him. He had seen both young men together, and so relaxed when he realized that the wrestling match wasn't hostile, but was an exercise of their skills. Dean straightened and stepped out from behind the tent, the better to observe, arms dropping easily to his sides, hand away from his blaster.

  The two young men didn't see him. Their attentions were focused on their own contest. They were both standing, thigh and calf muscles straining under the tensions of their efforts. Jon was attempting to trip Petor, and throw him across his body while still retaining a grip on one arm, so that he could follow through with an armlock. However, because of Petor's strength he was finding it hard to get the advantage, and was unwilling to give an inch in order to gain momentum, as he knew that Petor would immediately take advantage.

  For his own part, Petor had height over Jon. Although Petor was wiry where Jon was stocky, with a broad face that was as open and honest as his fighting stance, Petor was a couple of inches taller, so their difference leveled the playing field. Petor's main disadvantage was in having his arm potentially locked if he should yield an inch to his friend and sparring partner. Even though it wasn't in serious combat, such a move on Jon's part could break Petor's arm.

  So they were deadlocked. Dean cocked his head, examining their respective stances and positions. Then he spoke.

  "Foot behind on his left leg, then flick. He'll loosen his grip instinctively to save his balance. It'll only be for a fraction of a second, but that's all you need."

  The sound of Dean's voice had an unexpected result on the contest. Both Jon and Petor looked up in surprise, their shock causing them to lose balance with each other, tumbling in different directions and pulling each other into a heap of tangled limbs on the floor.