by James Axler
Most of the people in the land that had once been called the United States of America scratched their living day-to-day, feeding on what scraps they could find and preying on one another. The strong used, abused and chilled the weak to satisfy their whims, and there was little opportunity for formal education or for the sharing and exploration of ideas. But what they saw here, with the children being herded to school like sheep in a pen, told Ryan something that no discussion would have—that this settlement, Heaven Falls, was progressive. It was a society with its eyes on the future, on building and on betterment. In short, it was the very thing that he and his companions had sought for so long as they’d traveled the broken roads of the Deathlands—the sprouting buds of new civilization.
* * *
THE GROUP SOON reached the complex of tall towers. Each stood as wide as a house and five or six stories in height, with gently curving sides in a hexagonal design. The cluster of towers was arranged in a circular pattern, six on the outside with a single, broader tower in the middle. As she looked at it, once again Mildred was put in mind of church organ pipes.
Despite the beauty of their surroundings, however, Mildred was conscious that Ricky was in pain. She called to the closest Melissa, the black-haired girl called Nancy. “Is there anywhere here that I can look over my friend without being disturbed? He took a hit and I’m trained in medical matters.”
Nancy smiled warmly. “Of course,” she said, and after a brief exchange with Phyllida, she led Mildred and Ricky to one of the towers that surrounded the central spire.
“Mildred,” Ryan called, and she turned. “Why don’t you take Jak with you?”
Jak nodded, taking his cue and bounding after Mildred and Ricky.
Phyllida’s brow furrowed as she watched the albino charge away. Ryan saw that, and he offered a reassuring smile.
“Who knows how long she’ll be,” Ryan explained. “You have a smart-looking ville here and Jak’s our best tracker—he’ll make sure they don’t get lost or lose us.”
Phyllida seemed reassured at that. “You call it a ville?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Ryan replied. “Like a village.”
The Melissas laughed, and one of the others spoke up—the honey-haired one who seemed to have attached herself to Doc. “We call it Home,” she said. “You may, too.”
“Thanks,” Ryan said uncertainly. Despite the friendly atmosphere, he was not quite sure whether he could trust these people. Ryan and his companions had seen a lot of bloodshed and a lot of duplicity over their travels.
* * *
MILDRED, RICKY AND Jak followed Nancy across the flower-lined path between the towers toward an entryway. The entrance was broad, with a rounded arch completing its design, and no door. “This place is beautiful,” Mildred said, gazing at the gleaming buildings.
“One should be able to take pride in one’s home,” Nancy said, escorting the three of them into the tower.
The floor was paved, and it echoed their footsteps as they walked inside. Mildred smiled as she saw the entry room. It was spotlessly clean and featured a high ceiling that had to have taken up three floors of this lobby area, at which point the walls gradually began to angle inward as if they were inside some kind of conical pyramid. The grand lobby featured Impressionist-type art on the walls, great murals of swirling colors and abstract shapes. The place was lit by some trick of the wall structure itself, allowing sunlight to penetrate at regular intervals despite there being no visible windows either outside or within. Instead, it seemed that the walls were thinner in places, or perhaps constructed of some specific material that allowed light to pass through it unobscured.
Mildred shook her head incredulously. Mongo.
Nancy led them into an unoccupied room featuring two beds, a sink and several chairs.
* * *
THE REST OF Ryan’s group was accompanied through a freestanding arch into an open-air courtyard, beyond which stood the largest and centermost of the white towers.
“If you would be so kind as to wait here,” Phyllida said, “I’ll speak with the Regina regarding your arrival.”
That didn’t sound good, but Ryan accepted it, taking up a position on one of the crescent-shaped benches that lined the courtyard. His companions joined him, weary from their travels, while Phyllida and Adele disappeared inside the tower.
Ryan’s lone eye flicked up to watch the remaining sec women for a few moments. The woman with the honey-blond hair—Charm—was engaged in conversation with Doc. The old man had an eye for a pretty woman, and he could be a witty conversationalist. The other Melissa—Linda—paced across the courtyard before assuming a position beside the freestanding arch.
“You trust these people?” J.B. asked Ryan, keeping his voice low.
“Sec force,” Ryan replied with a shrug. “What’s to trust?”
A peal of laughter erupted from a nearby bench. Doc was showing Charm some kind of old-fashioned dance that involved using his stick as a cane, and they were in the middle of muddling into each other as he tried to demonstrate the steps.
“Doc seems at home already,” J.B. observed.
Ryan shook his head. “Doc doesn’t know what year it is half the time and he spends the other half wishing he didn’t know.”
J.B. continued to watch Doc as he showed the younger woman the dance. “Seeing him happy like that reminds me of how he was with Lori,” he said.
One of the dance moves seemed to involve turning one’s back on one’s partner and bumping rear ends. The woman called Charm blushed fiercely when Doc showed her, and, still laughing, she patted Doc’s hand.
“Yeah, a lot like Lori,” Ryan agreed.
Remembering what had happened to Lori Quint, Ryan wasn’t sure that this was such a good thing. She had died shortly after betraying Ryan’s group.
* * *
JAK WAS PACING the room like a caged tiger. “Not like place,” he said to no one in particular. “Too clean.”
He halted by the open door, peering out into the lobby area that waited beyond where Nancy had retreated to get help. He could see people moving there, men, women and children, same as in the streets beyond. They were quiet and ordered and clean. It seemed a world away from the life he was used to.
Standing over the bed, Mildred bit her lip in thought. “I’m not going to pull punches, Ricky,” she said. “Internal bleeding would be bad. But we can check for that. This seems to be a sterile environment.”
Jak hissed in warning. Nancy was returning, accompanied by another woman, this one older, with short, nut-brown hair and wearing a simple jacket-and-pants ensemble of very light blue material. Unseen by the pair, Jak slipped back from the door, gliding across the room until he was standing in the far corner from which he could observe everything. A moment later Nancy and the other woman entered, solemn expressions on their faces.
“Mildred, Ricky, Jak...” Nancy began. “This is Petra, one of our medical experts. Petra, this is Mildred, whom I told you about.”
Mildred looked up from where she was checking Ricky’s wound, and she showed her hands in slight embarrassment. “Just washed them,” she explained to prevent any awkward moment of being expected to shake this new woman’s hand.
“That’s a nasty-looking wound your patient has suffered,” Petra said, stepping closer to the bed. “Nancy said you were all caught up in a bomb blast. None of the rest of you suffered any—”
“No,” Mildred said, “we’re all fine, barring a little dust in our hair.” She was glad that Nancy had informed the woman about the bomb, and that both had assumed that was where Ricky had sustained the wound. It saved her having to explain the fraught circumstances in which they had arrived.
Petra introduced herself to Ricky and began to examine his wound, first with her eyes and then by gently running her fingers over it, careful n
ot to cause the patient too much distress. “There’s some grit in the wound,” she said.
“I had to patch him in a hurry,” Mildred admitted. “I cleaned the wound with ammonia—”
“Which stung like hell,” Ricky declared.
“—but there was a lot of dust floating around after the bomb burst,” Mildred finished.
“That’s understandable,” Petra concurred, placating. “I can assure you that this is a sanitary environment. We’ll clean out the wound properly with a sterile irrigant, then take a look at treating it with a salve.”
Mildred was surprised. “Do you think that will be enough? It’s pretty nasty.”
“We’ve been developing some remedies here,” Petra told her, “that we’ve found to be very successful. I think you—and your patient—will be pleasantly surprised.”
* * *
OUTSIDE THE CENTRAL tower, Krysty joined Ryan on one of the crescent-shaped benches. “I was devastated when I heard the bomb go off,” she whispered.
Ryan ran his fingers across her hand, working them along the webbing at the base of hers. “We found somewhere safe,” he said. “Those old redoubts are built to withstand a lot.”
“So are we,” Krysty said, and she raised an eyebrow and smiled.
Before they could say anything further, Phyllida and Adele appeared at the doorway to the grand tower.
“Ryan,” Phyllida began, “you and your friends have been granted an audience with the Regina. You may follow us to the meeting suite.”
Thanking her, Ryan stood, adjusting the longblaster he carried across his back. Krysty, J.B. and Doc also stood, and together the group was escorted into the towering building.
Chapter Six
The Melissas took up positions to either side of the companions as they strode out of the morning sunshine and into the tower. A broad archway granted entry, with bent sides that worked outward to symmetrical points, and a horizontal apex in mirror to the ground. The entrance was wide enough to drive a couple wags through, shoulder to shoulder, and it served to dwarf any visitor.
Beyond that arch, the interior was almost as bright as the direct sunlight that washed the courtyard. The opening space was a grand reception area that featured a number of smaller, six-sided arches leading from it. The whole place was painted white, with hints of very light grays and blues to highlight certain features such as the grand columns that held the ceiling in place. The floor was covered with large tiles, each one as long as a man was tall, shaped in hexagons so that they could be easily slotted together. The tiles were colored lightly in subtly different off-white shades, creating a clean feel to the room. The ceiling stretched at least four stories overhead, with walkways crisscrossing high above the companions’ heads, and a grand balcony stretched along each level where a few people puttered around on errands. Six chandelier-type fixtures hung at regular intervals from beams that crossed the vast area. They were delicately designed from an amber-like substance to create splashes of color in the air, like liquid gold caught in the freeze-frame of the camera shutter. The clear amber jewels caught and spread the light, casting spots of golden orange around the chamber that moved slowly with the breeze. Despite the high ceilings and open space, the room was remarkably quiet, with barely a hint of sound echoing from its other occupants.
Doc was taken with the whole place immediately. “What a wonderful room,” he said. “Quite, quite exquisite.”
Ryan, however, looked at the room with indifference. As ever, his mind was focused on their destination, not the journey.
Despite the vast proportions of the room, it felt pleasantly warm—even tropical—to Ryan, and he suspected some hidden system of heating was in play.
The group was led through another arch, down a corridor that had been painted a very pale yellow, to a set of closed, wooden double doors that featured an elaborate floral design carved upon their surface. Phyllida waited while Charm and Linda hurried ahead to open the doors. The floral design split perfectly in the middle when the doors opened, reconnecting seamlessly when it was closed. Once the doors were opened, the two white-robed Melissas waited to the side as Phyllida led the way inside.
Beyond the doors lay a grand room, almost circular in design with a low ceiling that loaned it a more intimate feel than the lobby. The walls were carved of wood, with elaborate designs notched into the panels, similar to the one on the doors. A long, straight table dominated the center of the room. The table was forty feet in length and could have seated twelve people easily on each side. A woman sat at the far end of the table on its shortest side, reclining in a seat whose back towered grandly above her to at least double her height.
Chairs were set around the table at regular intervals, and Ryan and his companions were invited to sit. The woman at the head of the table looked about thirty-five to Ryan, and she reclined sideways in the grand chair, her legs dangling over one arm, her feet bare. She was slim and had flawless skin that had bronzed with the sun. She had luxurious blond hair that shone like gold, wide, appealing blue eyes and a generous mouth. The clothing she wore was a vibrant red in color, and though the blouse and pants were separate they matched exactly. Her clothes were loose, the top open well past the neck, with billowing sleeves, and pantaloons that ended high in the calf. She acknowledged the visitors with a casual nod and a closed-lip smile.
“This is our Regina,” Phyllida explained as the companions took their seats. Then she bowed to the Regina and said two words. “All love.”
A heartbeat later the other Melissas mimicked the gesture.
Once this ritual had been performed, the four white-clad Melissas stepped back to take up discreet positions around the room, with Phyllida taking a spot close to the Regina. The Regina surveyed the newcomers in silence.
Sitting beside Ryan, Doc leaned to him and J.B. and explained in a low voice that Regina meant queen in Latin. “One of the old languages that was dead before I was born,” Doc clarified before Ryan could ask.
Nodding, Ryan addressed the woman in the red robes. “Thank you for seeing us, Regina,” Ryan began. “My name’s Ryan Cawdor and this is J.B., Krysty and Doc. I understand that you have some rules in your ville, and I’d like to apologize if we’ve offended you in any way, with our ignorance.”
The Regina’s mouth opened in a wonderfully warm smile, her line of teeth straight and dazzlingly white. “Your blasters have no place being in this room,” she said, though her words sounded nonjudgmental, “but I understand that things are different outside these walls, so that’s something you’ll get used to in time.”
J.B. had removed his hat, and he fiddled with it in front of him as he spoke. “We’re just passing through, ma’am. We didn’t plan on staying.”
The Regina sighed. “How often we’ve heard those words, Mr.... J.B.”
“It’s just J.B.,” the Armorer told her. “J. B. Dix.”
“Yes, J.B.,” the Regina continued, “we’ve seen a few travelers since we established Heaven Falls here in the mountains. It’s not easy to get here, and most journeymen are exhausted by the time they find us—those who survive. Though I am led to understand that you did not cross the mountains, but rather arrived via the matter-transfer unit.”
“That’s right,” Ryan told her. “Your people said they’d only just got the thing working not two days before.”
“Only for someone to blow a hole in it,” J.B. grumbled dourly.
“William,” the Regina said wistfully. “He always seemed...ill at ease. Still, one would never have imagined he would become so afflicted that he would be driven to such an extreme act of defiance.”
“Defiance?” Doc repeated, surprised.
“Every Home must have rules,” the Regina told them all. “Otherwise, order loses and chaos reigns. Without order, we’d have no civilization.”
“And from what
little we’ve seen, that’s something you have here in spades,” Ryan said, annoyed at Doc’s interjection. “It’s admirable.”
“Thank you,” the Regina replied. “When we all work together, it’s amazing what can be achieved.”
“I know the words,” J.B. said. “I guess having a look around will help me understand the context.”
The Regina indulged him with her brilliant smile before turning back to Ryan. “I suspect that you and your friends are hungry, Ryan. Could I interest you in a small repast?”
Ryan said that she could, and the companions waited in place while one of the Melissas left the room to fetch the serving staff who would prepare their meal. There was something here, Ryan felt, just beneath the surface. The place was too ordered, too military. It seemed—for want of a better word—inhuman.
* * *
IN THE MEDICAL tower, Petra worked with Mildred on Ricky’s wound while Jak and Nancy looked on.
Petra’s work was efficient and painstaking, with an attention to detail that Mildred couldn’t fault. Once the wound was clean, she’d instructed Nancy to retrieve something from a supply room, and the dark-haired woman departed. While they waited, Mildred asked Petra about her training.
“We pool our knowledge here in Heaven Falls,” Petra told her. “It’s a simple principle—the more we learn, the more we all discover and can put to use.”
“Your work with Ricky is very good,” Mildred said, trying not to sound patronizing.
“I studied in the house of learning,” Petra explained, “where all knowledge can be shared. They showed me the parts of the human body, and how it can be repaired and kept in good working order.”
Mildred snorted. “You make it sound like a machine,” she said.
“It’s a structure, if that’s what you mean,” Petra said with no sense of irony. “And one that can be improved upon, given the right input, the right tools.”
