by James Axler
“YOU SIT HERE!” a sec man told Doc, Jak and Eleander.
“A nice enough view, but I would prefer something a little closer to the arena floor.”
“You’ll sit here,” the sec man repeated, “until the baron or the sec chief say otherwise.”
“If that is the way you feel about it, then very well.”
The sec man turned and took a few steps back.
Eleander smiled at Doc. “We should be able to see everything from here.”
“That is not what I am worried about, dear lady. If my friends get into trouble, I would prefer to be close enough to hand them their blasters.”
“I see. Well, perhaps I can get us moved down closer to the wall.”
“Much appreciated.”
Eleander got up and went to talk to the sec man in charge.
“Isn’t she something?” Doc said to Jak.
Jak had a strange smile on his face. It had been the same expression for the past half hour, and it was starting to nag at Doc. Jak was a young firebrand who would have wanted to be in the thick of the fight no matter what his physical condition. But here he was on the outside of the arena, content to sit in silence and stare blankly out onto the arena floor.
Sick or not, something was wrong. Doc decided he’d inform Mildred of the problem as soon as he had the chance.
“Are you all right, my friend?” Doc said, shaking Jak by his good shoulder then waiting for a response.
There was no answer from Jak. Just that same, unsettling grin on his face.
“It is unfortunate that we were not challenged to a knife-throwing contest.You would be the champion, eh?”
“Knives for survival,” Jak muttered. “Not for games.”
“Ah, so there is some life behind those two glassy ruby eyes of yours.”
“Too bad not talking contest. You win easy.”
“Ha!” Doc exclaimed. “Touché, my white-haired friend.” Doc breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that whatever unusual behavior Jak was exhibiting was a result of his wounds, and nothing more. He would be back to being his own irascible self in no time.
A few minutes later Eleander returned.
“We’re moving,” she said.
“But how?”
“Let’s just say that you don’t live in a ville for years without learning a few interesting bits of information about the sec men around you.”
“Blackmail,” Doc said, slightly astonished. “My dear woman, I had thought that a lady such as yourself would be above such messy endeavors—”
“We can stay here if you prefer.”
“—but I wholeheartedly approve of your ability to determine when such underhanded methods need to be employed, and I appreciate your tact in administering them so judiciously.”
“Does that mean you want to move?”
“Of course.”
“This way, then.”
“On your feet Jak, we will be taking up a position closer to the action.”
“Knife range?”
Doc hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I do believe we will be close enough for that. Yes.”
The trio moved closer to the arena wall.
MONTE SHARK WAS doing good business taking bets on the challenge. As early as last night, heavy jack had been flowing on the ville’s sec men. After all, who knew the challenge better than the men who practiced on it daily.
But with the morning, a few brave souls had put money on the outlanders, liking the odds just a little bit too much. Monte had revised the numbers before noon, but that had done little to change the flow the bets were moving in.
Mebbe it was something about the look of the outlanders’ leader. Monte sure found the man attractive. He was tall and rangy, powerfully muscular with black curly hair and a deeply set and intensely brilliant blue eye. And then there were the facial scars and the eye patch, giving him so much mystery and intrigue. The man was obviously tough, and probably an excellent fighter. But most of all, just looking at him told you he was a survivor. That was probably a characteristic that was missing from most of the ville’s sec men. They joined the sec force so they could carry a blaster, have free access to jolt and dreem and to women who wanted to fuck a sec man for the security it provided them.
Thinking it through, Monte didn’t blame people for putting money on the outlanders. All things being equal, they would probably kick Robards’s ass.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it?
All things being equal.
Monte had been around long enough to know when there was a fix on, and this little challenge stank of a fix like bear shit in a black plastic bag.
The baron and sec chief were planning something big, but he didn’t know what. Others felt it, too, but even so, decent money was still coming in on the outlanders.
Pretty soon the odds would be one to one.
“Hey, Monte,” a customer called. “What’s the action like on the outlanders.”
“Even jack.”
“If I place a bet and the baron pulls a fast one on them, do I get my jack back?”
Monte had never been in the business of returning people’s jack. “Fuck no!” he said.
The customer considered it, then began shaking his head. “Okay, but I’m still gonna go with the outlanders. You see their leader? Bet he’s chilled his share of sec men over the years.”
Monte took the woman’s money. “Yeah, he does at that.” And, he thought, maybe he’ll be chilling some more, real soon.
THE BARON ROSE to his feet.
And everyone around the arena fell silent.
“Welcome and good day,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like the dull blade of a knife.
“The following challenge will be between a group of outlanders and four of our best sec men. There will be three ten-minute periods of play with a five-minute break between periods. The team that successfully captures the other team’s flag will be deemed the winner. If neither team captures their opponent’s flag, then the team with the larger number of active players at the end of time will be named the winner. If the teams are of equal numbers at the end of time, then a public vote will determine which team is the victor.”
The baron paused. The wind swept over the arena, whistling like death itself.
“Any questions?” he said.
Ryan put a hand to his mouth. “Can we get on with this?”
A slight chuckle washed through the crowd.
“Very well, then. Contestants take your positions.”
In moments the four members of each team vanished from view, like spiders running for the shadows the moment a light has been turned on.
The baron said nothing for several moments, making sure everyone had enough time to take up their positions.
“Let the challenge begin.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan slipped behind a piece of sheet metal that had been cut to resemble some sort of bush. It was one of the few obstacles that was strong enough to stop a round from a real blaster, and he made note of its location on the arena floor.
Although he couldn’t see all of them, Ryan knew that the other friends were spread out on either side of him with ten to fifteen paces between them. On his left, Ryan could just make out Krysty’s left leg as she stood behind a ramshackle wooden shed. On his right, J.B. and Mildred were hidden from view, trying to get a bead on one of their opponents.
Their strategy was simple. They would advance in pairs, one trying to draw out a sec man, and the other taking the sec man down. They wouldn’t be making an attempt at capturing the flag until they’d knocked at least two sec men out of the game.
The arena was quiet.
The wind swept through the arena, churning up tiny clouds of sand and dust. Ryan felt the wind in his face and realized he was downwind of the sec men and would probably be able to smell them when they neared.
He sniffed at the air now and detected nothing. They were hanging back, waiting for one of the friends to
make a move.
Ryan decided he had to do something to draw the sec men’s fire.
He tossed a pebble in Krysty’s direction so that it ticked off the side of the shed she was positioned behind. In an automatic response to the sound, Krysty swung around and had her blaster pointed at Ryan’s head.
Ryan signaled her to watch for sec men. When she acknowledged him, Ryan took off his coat and hung it over the barrel of his blaster. Then, after bumping up against the sheet metal bush to make his presence known, Ryan held out his blaster so that his coat was visible to the sec men.
Three shots rang out in quick succession.
The first glanced off the barrel of Ryan’s blaster and slammed against the arena wall behind him. The other two hit the sheet metal with a wet pang.
Then, in the time it took the rest of the sec men to find their target and aim and fire, multiple shots were fired. Judging by the sounds, several shots hit wooden obstacles, but at least one had a much softer landing, followed by a yelp of pain from one of the sec men.
“Scratch one sec man,” Ryan whispered under his breath.
“It was not a mortal wound,” Robards decreed. “Sec man Kuharski remains in the challenge.”
“Fireblast!” Ryan exclaimed.
“Mebbe we have to brain them with the butt of our blasters to knock them out of the arena,” Krysty said.
Ryan nodded in agreement. He would prefer a fight in close quarters over this. At least if he cut a man with his panga he could watch him bleed and know exactly where he stood.
This was arbitrary, a game…even worse, it was a game of chance. Well, if the shots needed to be fatal to knock a competitor out of the arena, then it would free him up to take a few more chances. If Mildred, J.B. and Krysty hadn’t been able to make a head shot at this distance, Ryan doubted that any of the sec men could do better.
He got to his feet and put his coat back on. Then, once he had Krysty’s attention and she was aware of what he was about to do, Ryan took one look over the metal bush and ran across the arena floor.
The arena echoed with the sound of the sec men’s blasters.
Pock, pock, pock.
Spouts of dirt erupted in front and behind him, but not one of the sec men’s rounds had hit him.
Ryan kept running, and moments before he reached the line of stalls at one side of the arena, he dived to the ground and somersaulted once into the safe zone behind one of the stalls.
The crowd cheered the bold move, knowing that the stalemate had been broken and things would be happening more quickly now.
Ryan checked his body to make sure he hadn’t been hit.
His body was clear, but it looked as if the outside heel of his right boot had been clipped. The leather heel had turned a little blue, but Ryan was unconcerned about that, since the hit probably wasn’t even caught by Robards. No, the thing that bothered Ryan was that the leather heel was bubbling, as if it were being eaten away by the liquid that had been inside the ball.
It was strange, but he couldn’t dwell on it. The last thing he needed was to lose this challenge and end up a prisoner in this rad-blasted ville.
He rubbed the heel of his boot into the dirt of the arena floor. The bubbling stopped, and the blue tinge was gone.
Ryan was ready to shoot some sec men.
“RYAN’S DRAWING OUT the sec men,” J.B. said. “If I can get to that trash can over there, I’ll be able to pick them off when they come for him.”
Mildred took a moment to judge the distance. “Won’t be easy getting there. Sec men will be ready for you now.”
“You cover me?”
She held up her blaster. “Best I can with this piece of crap.”
“On three, then. One…two…”
On the third count, Mildred was standing and firing her blaster in the direction of the sec men’s last appearance. She was trying to catch the edge of the wooden wall the sec men were hiding behind so that the paintballs would break on contact with the walls and send a spray of water in behind. While it wasn’t enough to put any of them out of the game, it would keep them behind cover until J.B. was in position.
While she fired, Mildred was careful to keep an eye on the rest of the arena to make sure a sec man didn’t pop up somewhere unexpected.
None did.
J.B. slid the last few yards to the trash can and hunched behind it while he twisted his body so that he was facing the sec men and ready for an attack.
Ryan saw J.B. prepare himself and nodded approvingly.
Mildred and Krysty were now the two who were hanging back protecting the flag, while Ryan and J.B. would be moving forward.
Ryan waited several minutes for evidence of movement among the sec men, but there was none. They seemed content to wait for the friends to come to them. Well, if that was the way they wanted it, then Ryan and the rest would gladly take the fight to them.
Ryan signaled J.B. and told him what he was planning with a makeshift sort of sign language they had developed over the years.
Ryan would make his way up to the shack where the sec men were waiting. He would move around the left side of the building, his blaster leading the way. That would force the sec men to come out the other side, where they would be caught in fire from J.B. and Krysty. With any luck they would be able to pick off one or two of the sec men with solid shots to the head and body.
When J.B. nodded in understanding, Ryan made his move.
With speed uncommon in such a big man, Ryan crossed the open ground between the stall and the shack in just a few seconds. As he ran, he could make out the face of a sec man looking out from behind the shack, but Ryan was too quick for the man to get the outlander in his sights.
He paused a moment to catch his breath and to give J.B. a chance to move into a better position.
When all was set, Ryan moved around the left of the shack, the blaster always in front of him and ready to fire.
As he neared the last corner, he could hear the sec men talking.
“Robards won’t be calling you out unless you get nailed right between the eyes—” one of the sec men said.
“Bastard,” Ryan muttered silently.
“—and just one of these rounds will knock the outlanders out of the arena, maybe even on the last train west.”
Ryan didn’t understand what he was hearing—all of the paintballs were supposed to be identical. Mebbe it was just the sec men being a little overconfident. Whatever it was, the friends had to play out this challenge and get out of this ville as soon as possible.
Without further hesitation, Ryan switched the blaster to his left hand and moved around the last corner of the shack.
Two sec men were crouched there, both of them looking rather surprised to see him.
Ryan squeezed off two rounds, the first hitting the sec man in front of him in the forehead, the second hitting him in the left cheek. In the Deathlands, the man’s head would have been gone in a spray of gore and gray matter, but here, in this game, he merely had a pair of red welts and a face and head stained red.
Before the first sec man could be called out of the arena, the sec man standing behind the first raised his blaster and pointed it directly at Ryan.
Ryan leaped back around the corner as two blue balls zipped past his head.
But instead of striking the wall, the two balls hit a third sec man who had positioned himself behind Ryan in one of the stalls against the wall on the left.
The two rounds hit the sec man in the neck and chest, but instead of staining the man blue, his skin began to sizzle and smoke, just like Ryan’s boot had done moments before.
The man began to scream, slapping at his neck and chest as if they were on fire.
A low rumble of voices swept through the crowd, as if they were unsure what they were seeing, as if the rules had been changed.
“SOMETHING’S WRONG,” Eleander said.
“I would say so.” Doc nodded. “That sec man’s skin is disintegrating, as if he has been doused
with some sort of acid. Sulphuric or hydrochloric acid.”
“We have both in the ville,” Eleander acknowledged.
“And all Ryan and the others have to fight back with is colored water?”
“It looks like it.”
“Well, that does not seem sporting at all,” Doc declared. “It’s obvious that we shall have to even the score somewhat.”
“What can we do?”
Doc took a quick look around. Everyone seemed to be caught up with what was happening down on the arena floor. If there was ever a time to move, it was now.
“Can you get us to that end of the arena?”
“There are several ways of getting there.”
“Under the circumstances, I shall forego the scenic route and opt for the shortest possible passage between the two points.”
“Follow me,” Eleander instructed.
“Jak,” Doc said, “We are moving.”
Jak smiled. “No, wait me.”
And they were off.
All eyes around them were still on the screaming sec man.
RYAN LEFT the sec man’s zone and retreated back to the safety of the other end of the arena. “What kind of bastard sec-man trick are you pulling on us, Robards?” he shouted.
“Sec-men’s paintballs must be filled with some kind of acid,” J.B. stated. “Burns your skin.”
“Not a sec man trick,” a voice said.
Mildred gestured toward the stage overlooking the arena. “Sounds like the baron.”
“What is it then?”
“Payback time, Ryan!”
“Payback? For what?” Ryan couldn’t imagine what the problem was. They’d saved one of the ville’s citizens from a mutie attack, and had helped fend off a group of muties who’d tried to scale the wall. What reason did they have to receive retribution?
“You remember Spearpoint?” the baron asked.
The screaming sec man was dead.
The crowd had grown silent, listening to the baron closely.
“That was years ago.”
“Mebbe, but you murdered people there, people who were close to me.”
“And me,” a second, female voice said.
“We’ve never murdered anyone,” Ryan said. “Only people we chill are the ones who want us dead. Chill or be chilled.”
