by James Axler
“Borrow? Don’t you mean steal?”
“No, we borrow most stuff,” he said. “We fully intend to give it all back someday, but we ain’t done with it yet.”
“I see.”
“Bring him down into your momma’s old room,” he instructed two of his rather burly sons, who had carried Jak to their enclave on a makeshift stretcher.
“I’ll go with him,” Mildred said.
“And get Genevieve to bring a little syrup to calm the boy’s nerves.”
“Syrup?” Mildred asked.
“I call it syrup, you might know it as whisky. A good shot of it will keep him calm till we get back with the antibodies.”
Ryan looked at Mildred. “Will that help Jak?”
Mildred shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt him.”
Ryan nodded and Mildred followed the two men carrying Jak through the doorway and down under the ground.
“The rest of you follow me,” Johnson said.
He led them down a flight of stairs, and then to the right where a table was lit by candlelight and covered with an assortment of dried fruit and vegetables, nuts, bread and jugs of water.
“Dark night,” J.B. said in appreciation.
Doc blinked. “By the Three Kennedys, it’s a veritable cornucopia.”
“What Doc said,” Krysty muttered.
“Help yourselves,” Johnson offered.
The friends needed no encouragement, not having eaten since early in the morning.
“We’re all low on ammo, too,” Ryan reminded the old man between bites of food.
Johnson smiled. “Not surprised. I don’t think the baron would be providing you with ammo when all he intended was to chill you.”
“Do you have any ammo you can spare?” J.B. pressed the point. “We need mostly 9 mm and .38-caliber—”
“And I am in need of somewhat more exotic caliber rounds and materials,” Doc said.
“Not a problem,” Johnson said. “Every one of my boys is a real blaster nut. Built up a real good workshop down a couple of levels. Got a few special weapons stored down there, too. Show it to you later.”
“Ah, excellent.” Doc smiled.
“Uh, not that I don’t believe you, sir, Mr. Johnson, but where do you get your materials from?” J.B. asked. “I don’t see anything around here but stone and sand.”
“Why do you think we’ve dug down so far into the ground here? Got us a vein of potassium nitrate and another of sulfur that provide us with all we’ll ever need.”
J.B. was impressed.
“As for the rest of it, well, I scavenged Spearpoint for weeks after it was all blown to hell. Picked up as many spent cartridges as I could carry. That’s how I got started in the business.”
The Armorer nodded. “Smart.”
“There are plenty other places like that, too. We make trips every few months, combing the ruins of villes all over the east looking for empty brass.”
Ryan looked at Johnson curiously. His setup sounded a little too good to be true. “I’m surprised the baron never tried to take over your operation here.”
Johnson laughed again. “There’s only one way in they know about, and I got that covered with a blaster that fires enough rounds per minute to cut down as many people they want to send through the door. And even if they did take it over, I’d wager that within a week they’d be making odd-sized rounds that would blow the ends clean off their blasters.”
“Point taken,” Ryan said.
“’Sides, who do you think makes the ammo for all the blaster and ammo dealers within a hundred miles of here?”
Ryan stared at Johnson. “I have a feeling I’m looking at him.”
“If you deal so much ammo, why not just trade for the antibodies?” Krysty asked.
“No shortage of ammo around here, thanks to me. Antibodies, well, they’re pretty rare, especially since they’re all made in secret. Couldn’t trade for any if my life depended on it—especially on short notice—but I suspect I can borrow as much as I need.” He gave Krysty a little wink. “If you know what I mean.”
Ryan and the friends knew what Johnson meant. They had been in countless situations where they would have gladly bartered for their freedom, only to wind up having to blast their way out of trouble, chilling countless people along the way.
It didn’t make sense to fight when negotiations could be more productive to all concerned, but such was life in the Deathlands.
Johnson flashed a smile. “Enough small talk. Your bellies are all full now, so let’s get you loaded, so we can get some help for your friend.”
Johnson got up from his chair and headed down a flight of stairs, deeper into the ground.
Ryan, J.B., Doc and Krysty followed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sec detail inside the front gate was pretty easy. They’d chilled or scared off most of the muties hours ago, and now it was just a matter of staying awake long enough to be relieved by the next watch.
But it wasn’t as if there was nothing to do.
With so many sec men on the gate, a few of them had left their posts and searched the ville for some jolt and dreem. Seeing as how that’s about all DeMannville was good for, it wasn’t long until they came back with more than enough hits to go around.
Jaydee had taken a half-hit of jolt an hour into his watch and that would probably last until he was finished. That would leave him the other half to take along with a few tankards of ale in the gaudy house the baron’s sec force had taken over on the eastern edge of the ville. Word was that there were eight sluts working there full-time and they didn’t seem to be tiring.
Some jolt, a few drinks and a big-titted gaudy slut to keep him warm added up to one of the best days he’d had since joining Baron Schini’s sec force two months ago. If things kept on like this, then joining the sec force would be the best decision Jaydee McDougall had made in his eighteen years on the planet.
“Hey, pal!” a voice called.
Jaydee turned around to see who it was…just in time to get a pointed kitchen knife thrust deep into his chest.
He reached out to grab his attacker, but the person had turned and fled before Jaydee even knew what was going on.
Next he tried to stop the blood from leaking out of the hole in his chest, but it was flowing too strongly to be stopped by a pair of hands.
Finally, he screamed, as loud as he could, which wasn’t very loud at all.
BENNETT JOHNSON was as good as his word.
A few levels down below the surface, he had built up an arms workshop that could produce just about any type of round or caliber size, from shotgun shells to .44 Magnum. He was even able to provide Doc with enough rounds for three reloads of his ancient, yet massive, LeMat blaster.
Ryan had originally wanted to leave Doc behind with Mildred and Jak, but he’d said that if there was such a thing as antibodies that could ease someone off the drugs they were making inside the ville, then there was a chance he could convince Eleander to come with him.
“That’s not why we’re going back,” Ryan told Doc.
“I know.”
“And we won’t be spending any extra time looking for her.”
“I understand.”
And now they were on the outside of the ville with three more hours before the dawn.
Johnson had led them to the south end of the ville where he said there was a path leading over the wall of cars and into the ville. Arriving at that section of the wall, Ryan recognized it as being the section of the ville that had been overrun by muties several nights earlier, although it seemed much closer to the baron’s residence than he remembered.
When Ryan told Johnson about the muties, the old man wasn’t surprised.
“Probably planning a raid for days,” he said. “And they would have made it, too, the ville’s sec force being as drug-soaked and corrupt as it is. You and your friends probably saved the baron’s ass on that one.”
“We don’t always get to pick sides in
a firefight,” Ryan responded. “Usually the side picks us.”
Johnson shrugged. “No way you could have known, ’specially when the muties would have killed you just as easily as the baron’s sec men.”
“Are you expecting any mutie trouble tonight?” Krysty asked.
“From what I heard, your little action yesterday chilled a whole lot of muties and sec men. Everyone’s regrouping right now, so if we’re lucky we’ll catch ’em all napping and be in and out before they know it.”
J.B. turned to look at Johnson. “If we’re unlucky?”
Johnson slapped a hand to his scattergun. “Then we’ll be spreadin’ a lot of the bad luck around.”
J.B. smiled, approving of the old man’s way of thinking.
Johnson glanced at his wrist chron. “It ain’t gettin’ any darker, so it’s time we climbed the wall.”
BARON SCHINI swirled a bit of the amber liquid in her glass, and then sniffed it sharply with her nose. It was a little stale, but the scent of the brandy still came through. She swirled it around once more, then brought the glass to her lips. The last taste of alcohol she’d had was a bottle of newly made red wine. It had been cloudy with a thick track of mud on the bottom of the bottle. It had tasted awful, but it had given her a pleasant little drunk. This brandy would do the same thing, only it would taste delicious going down.
As she was about to upend the glass, there was a knock at the door.
“What?”
Viviani stepped into the room. “Sorry to disturb you, Baron, but one of our sec men is dead.”
“And?”
“Well, he was murdered by someone from the ville.”
The baron nodded, then put the glass of brandy back to her lips and drank from it. She took a long moment to savor the taste, then put down the glass. “You sure it wasn’t one of Robards’s sec men that did the killing?”
“No, the man was stabbed in the chest with a small knife, the kind someone might use to prepare food.”
“Spread the word about what happened to the men and make sure they’re all on full alert.” She poured another glass of brandy. “Then when the sun comes up pick a family at random, one with a couple of children, and bring them to the middle of the ville. When there’s a crowd of people gathered to see what’s going on, chill the family and tell everyone that when the next sec man is murdered by someone from this ville, two families will be chilled…and so on. I’m sure they’ll get the idea.”
Viviani hesitated several seconds, then said, “Yes, Baron.”
“If you’re not comfortable carrying out my orders, I can find someone else to do your duty for you.”
The sec chief snapped to attention. “That won’t be necessary, Baron.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Viviani bowed slightly, then turned to leave the room.
“I’m going to nap for an hour, but I’ll be down on the street before sunrise. I’m sure you can look after things until then.”
“Yes, baron.”
JOHNSON WAS FIRST to go over the wall, showing the ones that followed where the solid footing was in order to avoid the groan of metal or the clang of steel.
The breach in the wall wasn’t far from the baron’s residence. Luckily for them the front of the building had just a few guards posted, the rest of the ville staying clear of what had been a hot spot just a few hours before.
Inside of the ville and clear of the baron’s residence, Johnson hid behind a rusting oil drum where he could provide blasterfire if needed while the rest of the friends came over the wall. Ryan went first, followed by Krysty, J.B. and Doc.
Once the friends were in safely, six members of Johnson’s family took up positions to make sure that that section of the wall would be secure for the friends when they returned.
The antibodies were stored in a secret underground cairn below the bell tower that stood in front of the remains of what used to be this ville’s pre-Dark city hall. They were stored under the ground because it made it easier to regulate temperature and other conditions that helped give the drugs a longer lifespan. They would have to leapfrog through town with Johnson leading the way, and the pairs of Ryan and Krysty, and J.B. and Doc, overlapping each other’s path while covering the progress of the other pair.
“We have to go three streets west and two streets north,” Johnson instructed them. “I’ll travel from street to street, and you’ll follow taking a half a block each time. We’ll be there in ten, and back here in thirty.”
And without another word, Johnson was off, running in the shadows until he reached cover at the corner of the next street west.
“Go!” Ryan said.
J.B. and Doc traveled half the distance to Johnson, and found cover. Then Ryan and Krysty covered the length of the block, joining Johnson, who headed off for the next street, with J.B. and Doc leapfrogging past Ryan and Krysty until they were in position in the middle of the next block.
The system seemed to be working well.
But just as Ryan and Krysty headed out once more, someone screamed somewhere to the north of their position.
The sound was followed by desperate shouts for help.
And then…
Blasterfire.
Ryan and Krysty didn’t stop until they reached Johnson’s position.
“Sounds like a firefight,” Ryan said.
“Yeah, and it’s going on right between where we are and the place we’ve got to get to.”
“Can we go around it?” Krysty asked.
Johnson shook his head. “Nope. There’s only one way to get there from here and that’s through that blasterfire.”
Ryan glared at Johnson. “You saying you want to turn back.”
“No, but if you want to we can.”
“Stop wasting time,” Ryan said.
Without another word, Johnson was off, headed for the heart of the firefight.
Chapter Thirty
Two sec men stood guard over Jaydee’s body. The kid had been chilled by some citizen of the ville who’d been looking to strike a blow at the new baron. Well, people in this ville had another think coming if they thought they could get away with something like that with Baron Schini’s sec force on the job. Come morning there would be a whole family of them pissing in their pants awaiting their fate while the sec force let the ville know that a mother, father and two children would be paying for the sec man’s life with their own.
That would bring them in line, and if it didn’t there were plenty of other ways that they could chill people in this ville, until they’d be scared to look at a sec man the wrong way.
“That him?” A pair of sec men coming on shift approached the two guards.
They stepped back to reveal a body covered by a blanket and a heavy winter jacket.
“Yeah, go ahead,” one of the guards said. “Take a look if you want.”
The sec man stepped forward and was about to pull back the blanket when something heavy struck him in the back of the head. “Hey!” he exclaimed.
“What?”
“Shit!” the sec man said, holding the back of his head. Blood trickled between his fingers. “I got hit. I think it was a rock.”
The guards looked around, but could see no one, or any movement in the shadows.
“You sure?”
“Course I am—Ah!”
Another one of the guards looked up just in time to see the fist-sized rock that would knock him out cold.
Rocks were beginning to thud against the sec men’s bodies and onto the ground. They raised their blasters against the stony shower, but their enemy was unseen.
The muties had taken cover behind ruins and the rusting hulks of cars and were lobbing the stones and rocks all together, sending up a barrage against which the sec men had no defense.
“Fucking mutie bastards!” a sec man cried out, firing his blaster into the shadows.
But the rocks continued to fall, hitting the man in the head and chest, staggering him, then knocking him out
, then pummeling his body to death, turning it into a bloody mess.
When the sec men were all dead, the muties rushed the wall, grabbing blasters and knives, and then heading into the ville.
Looking for more sec men to kill.
JOHNSON WAS the first to reach the firefight.
When Ryan and Krysty joined him, they saw that they were behind a position held by Robards’s sec men, who were fighting it out with members of Baron Schini’s sec force.
There were no candles burning in any of the windows of the surrounding buildings, but there was a good chance that many of the ville’s residents were watching the firefight.
Ryan wondered how long it would be until they entered into the equation. An angry mob, backed by a few men with blasters, could overrun just about any position, as long as people in the mob knew that a lot of them would be chilled before the fight was over. Ryan didn’t think that was going to happen here, since citizens had never had much say in how the ville was run and probably didn’t care who was at the top of the ladder. Still, there would be a few who did care, and they would be the ones who shifted the balance of power.
J.B. and Doc finally caught up to Ryan, Krysty and Johnson.
“No way getting by there without getting caught up in the fight,” Johnson said with a shake of his head.
Ryan took another look at the situation. All they wanted to do was to get by and down the road, which gave them an advantage, since their objective wasn’t being defended by anyone in this fight. He made a quick assessment of the intersection and took inventory of what he had to work with. It was an average city street corner with old traffic lights, overhead lights on lampposts and a few billboards and store signs whose messages had gone unnoticed and unread for more than a hundred years.
“Follow me,” he said.
Ryan hurried down the block until he was directly behind four of Robards’s sec men.
Making sure they were all busy returning fire against Baron Schini’s men across the street, Ryan switched his SIG-Sauer to single fire, and began putting a round in each of the men’s heads.
The first two just slumped away, their heads vanishing in a spray of blood and gray matter.
