Perdition Valley

by James Axler

  Doc wasn’t impressed. He had seen a Heckler & Koch G-11 caseless rapidfire before; this was just a really big version, nothing more. As Doc grimly prepared another gren, the driver of the war wag looked his way and the two men locked eyes for a long moment. Then Delphi smiled and jerked the joystick. The treads of the wag dug into the loose soil and sent the massive machine surging across the settlement, crushing people and dogs under the armored treads.

  Pulling the pin on the gren, Doc dropped the handle and lobbed the bomb at the wag. Delphi kept going. As the willie peter charge detonated, blinding flame covered the wag. Instantly, Doc sprang into the charred pit of the dead cooking fire.

  Shadows engulfed Doc as he stepped on soft things he tried not to look at too closely. Reaching the other side, he scrambled out as a net fell on the crater, just missing him by inches.

  His long legs pumping, Doc dived frantically over a collapsed tent, and a net descended to entangle a warrior trying to reload a double-barrel scattergun.

  Charging past some trotting horses, Doc dashed toward the opening of the burning thicket. Another net fell, catching a woman and child just as they climbed onto a horse. Wrapped in the strands, the woman hugged the child tight and kicked the terrified animal into motion. Acting purely on instinct, Doc followed in their wake. There were no details in his mind, no clever escape plans, only the primordial urge to flee for his life.

  As the woman and child galloped through the thorny barrier, Doc was close behind. The flames reached out for the escapees, but they were out and away into the cool night.

  Something fluttered in the smoky air above Doc, and yet another net landed on the crackling bushes. The black strands lay immutable in the dancing flames, neither melting nor catching fire.

  Redoubling his speed, Doc charged into the darkness. This explained why Delphi hadn’t simply blown the wigwam apart on the first volley. The whitecoat wanted Doc alive. Delphi had to be the source of all of the mil tech used by the Rogans! Dear God, did this mean that the Rogans were here, too? What should he do? What could he do? Run. Hide. Escape.

  The ancient mantra of his days in captivity came back with galvanizing force, and Doc charged to the left. Most people were right-handed, and always veered that way in a chase. Ryan had taught him that. If you went to the left, it bought you precious seconds of freedom.

  Crashing through the thicket, the polished war wag headed straight for Doc as if it could see in the dark.

  Damnation, it could! Doc realized. The blasted thing had to have infrared scanners. Running from the burning settlement only made Doc that much easier to locate as the only moving heat source in the desert.

  Looking around in desperation, Doc saw some horses galloping across the desert and took off after them. He was about halfway there when something moved in the sky. Doc wildly dived to the right. A net smacked onto the ground, a strand brushing the hem of his coat and clinging for a long moment before coming loose. The sight filled his stomach with dread. Okay, running wasn’t working. Time to change tactics.

  Reaching into a pocket, Doc pulled out a gren. Yanking the pin, he dropped the spoon and counted to five before throwing the explosive charge at the war wag. J.B. said all of their grens were set to detonate after eight seconds, so holding it for that long was cutting things dangerously close, but there was no other choice.

  A grinning Delphi waved at Doc as the gren exploded three seconds later and a lambent blanket of hellfire flooded the open top of the war wag to engulf the exposed honeycomb. Set ablaze, the warheads of the missiles began to detonate, then the solid stage fuel ignited and the entire wag shook violently as it disappeared inside a deafening fireball of colossal proportions.

  Not waiting to see the results, Doc changed direction and pelted furiously for the old ruins. The predark brick walls might hide him from the thermal sensors of the machine, or they might not. But it was his best chance. Only chance. Go! Move!

  Putting his every ounce of strength into running, Doc dashed across the open expanse that led to the crumbling base. With every heartbeat he expected another net to fall from above or a laser to stab into his back and bring the horribly electric shock of defeat.

  The sounds of the burning ville became distant, and there was only the noise of his pounding boots. The battered gate of the dilapidated fort was hanging from sagging hinges, the wood eaten by insects and partially softened by the relentless acid rains. Throwing up an arm, Doc braced himself and hit it at a full run. He smashed through without slowing. Ducking into a pool of shadows, Doc desperately looked around for a suitable hiding place and found it at once. The well. The stone well. The solid rock would shield his body heat from the sensors of the war wag. Perfect!

  Scrambling to the side, Doc felt sick as he once again heard the chatter of rapidfires and the screams of dying people. The fact that there was nothing he could do to help the Indians didn’t ease the sadness in his heart. Doc prayed for their forgiveness as he grabbed the rope attached to the crank set above the dark well and swung himself over the side. At first the wooden crank creaked to turn incredibly slowly, gradually lowering him into the well with the speed of winter molasses. Snarling a curse, Doc tugged on the rope hard, and it came loose to spin freely, dropping him quickly down the well, only to snag on something and jerk to a hard stop. Tugging once more, Doc cursed as the ancient rope snapped.

  Plummeting out of control, Doc clawed at the rough stone wall for any purchase as the yawning blackness swallowed him whole.

  ROLLING THE MODIFIED LAV over the sandy plain, Delphi looked about at the landscape and scowled at the sight of the smashed fortress. He dimly remembered when it was brand-new, but that was so long ago…

  Checking the infrared scanner, Delphi saw no sign of anything that resembled Tanner. Switching to a sonic scanner, he filtered out the cries of the Indians, the crackling of the fire and the whispery wind. But there was nothing else. How could that be? The man couldn’t simply disappear into thin air. Where was Tanner? Holding his breath in some alcove?

  Shoving the joystick forward, Delphi listened as the engine smoothly engaged and the APC rolled forward. Then he scowled at the harshly blinking section of the control board that showed that the net cannon and missile pod were totally destroyed. Who knew the old fool had a thermite gren? Had to have gotten it from the Rogan brothers. Delphi grimaced. The fools would pay dearly for that mistake.

  Flipping toggles, Delphi pressed a palm to a flat screen to activate a new weapon system. With a whine, a stubby barrel extended from the front of the transport. Pressing the arming switch with a thumb, Delphi pulled the trigger on the joystick and a scintillating ruby-red beam of cohesive light stabbed out to sweep across the ancient buildings, slicing through stone and steel as if they were warm butter. As the half-melted material fell aside, Delphi listened carefully to the sonic sensors for any cursing or sharp intakes of breath. But there was only the assorted noise of the destruction.

  Anxiously, Delphi glanced at a rear monitor showing the annihilated Indian settlement. Had the time traveler somehow gotten behind him, and was hiding among the Indians? He shuddered at the horrible thought that Tanner might be dead. With a wave, Delphi banished the very notion and sent the LAV rumbling straight at the fort. Tanner was intelligent, there was no denying that. The scholar had tried to escape numerous times from Operation Chronos without the help of Coldfire. He survived in the Deathlands for some time with only his addled wits, yet wherever he traveled, the agents of Coldfire died: Dr. Tardy, Silas, Overton, Lord Kinnison…

  Smashing through the adobe wall, Delphi braked the tank in an open area and flicked on powerful searchlights. In the stark white glow of the sourceless laser field, he saw the answer to the riddle at once. A stone well! Clever, but not clever enough.

  His hands started to move across the control panel, but Delphi forced himself to stop. There was nothing the tank could do down there. If the massive machine even came close, the weak sides of the vertical shaft might collapse an
d crush Tanner to death. If the man was hiding at the bottom.

  Muttering obscene curses under his breath, Delphi flicked a row of switches and set the tank on autopilot. Rising from the chair, he stomped out of the cockpit, the door automatically opening at his approach, then closing again in his wake.

  Going to a ferruled box made of ceramic armor, Delphi pressed a hand to a glowing plate. The subelectronic locks disengaged and the cabinet sighed open to display a small arsenal of weapons. Making fast choices, Delphi slammed the cabinet closed and headed for the exit. The side of the tank irised open as he approached it, and a metallic ramp extended to the ground like a silver tongue. Striding to the well, Delphi dilated his pupils to gather in more light, and the darkness brightened to a pale gloom. But he could still see nothing important.

  Listening closely, Delphi heard an echo fading away down below. Fading? What did that mean? Sticking his head over the side, Delphi strained at the Stygian depths, but even his augmented vision couldn’t see in total blackness. Then he spied the ragged end of the swinging rope, the threads showing brown on the outside, but pale tan on the inside. A fresh break! Could it be a trick? Of course, but he didn’t think so. Tanner had to be below. Probably wounded and just waiting to be captured. Yes, this was child’s play now.

  Turning to glance at the egg-shaped tank, Delphi touched his throat. “Defend,” he subvocalized. The lights in the cockpit instantly changed as more weapon systems activated, and the hull became lethally charged.

  Nimbly going over the side of the well, Delphi started to climb down, his fingers easily finding purchase. But then a rock came free, and he slipped a little. Snatching another handhold, more rocks come free and Delphi found himself falling. Bracing for the impact, the cyborg activated his forcefield and landed on top of something soft and yielding. Horrified that he might have just crushed Tanner, Delphi turned off the forcefield and scrambled along the wet rocks to finger the sodden material. It felt cold, not warm, and there was no coppery smell of fresh blood. His eyes opening to their fullest, Delphi still couldn’t see anything, so he flexed his hand and the palm monitor began to softly glow, the blue radiation oddly resembling moonlight. Now Delphi could discern that he was merely standing on top of the rest of the rope.

  Glancing around, Delphi saw that the bottom of the shaft was inches deep in water, which explained the odd echo. Fluids distorted sound waves in the strangest ways. Inspecting the rough stone walls at the bottom of the ancient well, Delphi thankfully saw no sign of blood anywhere. Nor of Tanner. Which meant the time traveler was still alive. Somewhere. Then Delphi noticed the wide crack in the stone wall. There were a few loose threads sticking to the rough stonework, along with a tuft of silvery hair.

  Tossing away the rope, Delphi started eagerly forward. So the well opened onto an underground river or stream. Well, that wouldn’t avail Tanner now! The old man was fast running out of places to go, and his capture was imminent.

  The fit was tight, but Delphi managed to squeeze through the crack by shoving a few of the loose stones out of his way. As one of the stones fell away, a small metallic sphere was revealed, sticking to the wall with a wad of chewing gum. Delphi barely had enough time to register that it was a military grenade when the charge detonated.

  The strident chemical blast filled the well, smashing it apart, causing an avalanche of stones and timbers from above. But even as the flames, shrapnel and debris raged impotently against Delphi’s personal forcefield, the dirty water in the shaft flowed across his silvery slippers and the immaterial winked out as if it had never existed.

  Caught in the last vestige of the detonation, Delphi was brutally slammed against the shattering walls, the ricocheting shrapnel hitting him in a score of locations. Red blood gushed from wounds as a large timber crashed down from above and smashed Delphi across the left knee with trip-hammer force. White-hot agony filled his leg as Delphi dropped, crying out in pain.

  Long minutes passed before the reverberations of the boobie faded away. Weeping openly, Delphi was still cursing when he raised a glowing hand to inspect the damage. There were countless small holes in his clothing, the ragged openings edged with crimson, but the bleeding had already stopped. Unexpectedly, there came a whiff of smoke, and Delphi opened his shirt to see a deep gash across his hairless chest. But the circuitry woven into his muscles and organs was already extruding mono-filaments to suture the wound closed. The cyborg watched emotionlessly as the flesh and plastic joined together again, and a shiny ball bearing was pushed to the surface of his skin to drop away and hit the water with a splash.

  Picking up the piece of shrapnel from the grenade, Delphi scowled at it angrily, then tucked it into a pocket. A grim souvenir to remind him never to be so complacent again. Tanner had set a trap, in the dark, and on the run. Most impressive. It was just blind luck that Delphi had stumbled into water and grounded out his forcefield, or else the blast would have done nothing. The time traveler was simply lucky, nothing more.

  Stepping forward again, Delphi stopped when he found the damaged leg didn’t properly respond. Mentally, he screamed at the autorepair mechanism implanted into his body, but there was only a garbled reply from his internal minicomputer. Glancing upward, the cyborg tried to contact the tank with the same lack of response. Damn it! The very stones that hid Tanner from the thermal sensors also kept Delphi from accessing the emergency computer. He could climb to the surface, but by then Tanner would be long gone and the hunt would begin again from the start. That was unacceptable.

  Pulling a stubby crystal wand from inside his sleeve, Delphi limped forward through the jagged crack in the earth, the glow of his palm shining like a beacon in the subterranean gloom.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As Delphi splashed into the deepening water, he discovered it was a shallow stream. The thermal sensors in his clothing registered an average temperature of 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Clearly, this had to be made of the melted snow running off the Mohawk Mountains.

  Looking around for any more traps, Delphi heard a shot ring out from the darkness and the rocks exploded just to the left of his glowing hand. Contemptuously, he sneered at Tanner’s bad marksman-ship. Then the old blaster fired again, this time an equal distance to the right of the hand, and Delphi was slammed in the chest by a white-hot sledgehammer.

  Crumpling to his knees, Delphi blindly stabbed back with the crystal wand, the sizzling crimson beam lancing along the waterway to angle down and touch the surface. The fluid erupted into steam, creating a cloud that soon filled the subterranean passageway. The black-powder blaster fired twice more, but the shots went wild and only hit the walls and ceiling.

  Gritting his teeth, Delphi waited for his body to effect repairs from the wound in his primary heart, his secondary one pumping wildly to compensate. In short order, the bleeding stopped. But the wound remained open, the raw muscles and wiring in plain sight, and the pain merely lessened to a dull ache. Damn! He’d been afraid of that. He had received too much damage, too fast. His resources were waning, and the microfilaments were unable to perform a full repair on the spot. With the forcefield canceled by the river, this meant the time traveler’s primitive weapons could now reach Delphi, do real damage, even endanger his life.

  Swallowing hard, Delphi turned to glance at the vertical passage of the well and seriously considered a retreat. Then he turned with a grim expression and boldly stood. No agent of Coldfire was going to run from an old man with a popgun! Ridiculous! Unthinkable!

  Setting the charge on the crystal rod to maximum, the grim cyborg started sloshing through the water in search of his elusive prey.

  FOLLOWING THE FLOW of the water, Doc paused to glance behind again at the thinning cloud of steam rising from the boiling stream. Thankfully, just like the sewer tunnel near Blaster Base One, the walls of this underground river were covered with luminescent green moss. Were the two tunnels connected? It was possible, even though the redoubt was more than a hundred miles away. Arizona was famous for its
underground rivers and caverns. The Nuke War had to have simply opened new fissures to honeycomb the whole state into a subterranean warren. For one horrible moment, it occurred to Doc that the water could be deadly radioactive, but without a rad counter like those worn by Ryan and J.B., he had no way of knowing. Resolute, he marched onward.

  Just for a brief instant he saw the glowing hand, and fired both handblasters twice. The gamble was rewarded by a startled cry and the soft white light winking out. Quickly ducking to the side, Doc saw the returning energy beam cut through the green darkness, the heat of its passing feeling like the breath of some great animal. Where the ray hit the walls, the rocks turned red and softened to flow like warm candle wax. A large patch of the glowing moss shriveled from the radiated heat and slowly turned a lifeless gray.

  Reaching under the cold water, Doc found a rock and threw it down the passage toward Delphi. In response, the crimson beam stabbed into the water, creating another steam cloud. Taking advantage of the cover, Doc dashed forward trying to find an exit to the surface. The air was sweet and clean down here, not dank in the slightest, so there had to be a direct route to the desert. All he had to do was to find it, then use a gren to block the path after he was through. Past that idea, Doc wasn’t really sure what he would do then, so he just concentrated on getting out. And he’d have to move fast; the stream was icy-cold. Already his feet were feeling numb, his steps becoming a bit clumsy. If Doc stayed down here too long, he would soon be unable to walk and Delphi would catch him for sure.

  Setting his jaw, Doc took out one of his last grens and pulled the pin. Kneeling in the freezing water, he found a large flat rock and placed the sphere carefully underneath. Withdrawing his dripping fingers, Doc eased away from the crude boobie until a curve in the passage took it out of sight.