by James Axler
“Gaia, we certainly could have used these when we were underground in Tennessee,” she commented, moving the beam along the far wall.
“Could have used a nuke in Tennie,” Ryan corrected, picking up the third nuke lamp. “All right, looks like we’re ready as we’ll ever be. Let’s get moving.”
As the three companions went to the rear door of the LAV, Mildred and Doc helped them in by taking the nuke lamps and tucking the devices under the jump-seats. Jak stayed outside the wag, his MP-5 rapidfire resting on a shoulder. The teen had decided to be the door man for this run. Where there was one guardian, there could be more. Hopefully, the exploding Hummer had killed the jelly. But if half of it could still fight, then mebbe small pieces could, too. He had seen a lot of strange things over the years, and most of them had tried to ace him. When in doubt, always assume the worst.
Maneuvering through the jumble of supplies to reach the front of the wag, Ryan checked to make sure both gren bins on the walls were full, then eased himself into the driver’s seat. Taking the navigator seat on the opposite side, Krysty flipped a few switches and started the electrical system. The internal lights pulsed a few times, then came on in a subdued glow, and ventilation fans began to softly whir.
Checking a rearview mirror, Ryan waited for J.B. to close and latch the rear doors before starting the engine. The entire vehicle shook slightly as the four nuke batteries under the corrugated floor surged with power and turned over the massive 275-horsepower Detroit diesel. Instantly the indicators on the dashboard came to life, the meters swinging promptly into the green zones for electrical power, fuel, oil, hydraulics and engine temp.
Turning a few dials, Krysty killed the flashing red indicators showing that there was trouble with the missing radar and radio equipment. They dimmed to a dull glow, but the strobing was still noticeable, so she placed a strip of duct tape over the lights to mask them from sight. Busting the bulbs would have been easier, but the woman hated to smash anything so incredibly old. Besides, the spare bulbs might come in handy someday.
Shifting the transmission into low gear, Ryan started to roll forward and entered the tunnel, with Jak walking close behind. Reaching the blast door, Ryan eased to a halt, the brakes sighing in response.
Standing at the keypad, Jak exchanged a glance with the big warrior behind the bulletproof windshield, then tapped in the exit code and pressed the lever. As the blast door started to ponderously move aside, Jak walked quickly to the rear of the LAV where J.B. already had one of the armored hatches open and waiting. The teen quickly climbed inside and shut the hatch tight, making sure the lock was engaged.
As the huge black exit door slowly began to open, the companions waited with baited breath for any sign of the guardian or its spawn. But the watery tunnel appeared to be devoid of life. The charred wreckage of the Hummer stood off to the left, the nearby array of bricks cracked and discolored.
“Roof looks solid,” Ryan noted, turning on the headlights.
Rolling to the very edge of the floor of the redoubt, Ryan studied the interior of the tunnel as the blast door completed its ponderous journey and boomed into the wall.
“Hold on tight,” Ryan advised his friends, shifting into gear.
Everybody grabbed for the straps hanging off the walls, as the one-eyed man switched on the eight-wheel drive and the big wag nosed into the tunnel. As the front tires cleared the floor, the prow of the LAV dipped downward and then the front of the transport sharply dropped into the water with a tremendous splash. Thrown forward, the companions almost lost their seats. The rear of the LAV moved off the floor and also dropped into the flooded tunnel. Loose items went flying, and a couple of grens bounced out of open bins on the walls to roll freely on the floor.
As the companions unbuckled their seat belts and scrambled to reclaim the explos charges, Ryan checked to make sure the internal seals were holding and no moisture was seeping into the wag. The dark waters rose to just below the window level. If the LAV flooded, they would probably have to use the top hatch to get out. But the seals registered tight and there was no sign of leakage.
“So far, so good,” Krysty muttered, switching on the wiper blades to clear the dripping windows. The slightly blurry headlights of the vehicle extended far along the tunnel until the sheer distance rendered them useless. Big tunnel! Checking out the side window, Krysty saw that the nearby brick walls were dripping from the spray, and a choppy surface was still rippling with waves from their sudden immersion.
Glancing over a shoulder, Ryan saw the others return the grens to the wall bins. J.B. used some of the duct tape to cover the open tops. Smart move.
“All clear,” J.B. reported, sitting again and buckling on his seat belt. “But it’s a good thing we taped the handles on the grens. One of the arming pins came free and if I hadn’t shoved it back in less than eight seconds…” He spread his hands wide in the imitation of a detonation.
Brushing back one of her beaded plaits, Mildred shivered at the thought of the charge going off inside the metal vehicle. There wouldn’t have been enough of them remaining to mop up with a sponge from the explosive compression, and then the halo of shrapnel would have ricocheted off the armored walls for minutes. Which was a lot longer than it would have been necessary to reduce whatever was left of them into mincemeat.
“Spam in a can,” Mildred stated, remembering a phrase she had heard once in a old B&W war movie. It was a hell of a grisly image.
Closing her eyes, Krysty whispered a little prayer to Gaia in thanks, Doc looked queasy from the implied results and Jak popped a stick of chewing gum into his mouth and began contently chewing.
“Just hope it doesn’t happen again,” Ryan growled, shifting into gear once more.
“Better not.” Mildred sighed, leaning back in her seat. Five minutes out of the redoubt and they almost blew themselves up. Why didn’t she have gray hair yet?
Tapping the sonar screen, Krysty got no response. But even if the belly unit had still been working, that drop could have broken it. The LAV was tough, but not indestructible.
Bobbing slightly in the dark water, the wag started forward, the eight huge wheels sending out a spray behind them. Switching on the propellers, Ryan felt the transport lurch and then begin to move faster and smoother, the rpm of the engine steady rising as the temperature started increasing. Nuking hell, something was wrong with one of the air intakes. Damn engine was overheating already! Cutting off the propellers, Ryan saw the temperature start to go back down, and settled in for a bumpy ride using just the eight tires.
“What do you think we’ll find at the end, lover?” Krysty asked, rigging the rapidfire to hang around her neck.
“Hopefully a way out,” Ryan answered as the wag splashed along the tunnel.
“And if not?”
“Then we make one. We got enough plas to crack the moon.”
“True enough,” the woman agreed, and settled in to watch the surface of the water for any suspicious movements.
For almost an hour the LAV rolled and floated along the flooded tunnel, the headlights never revealing anything but the endless brick walls. Once, the water surface rose to a dangerous level as the machine dipped into a depression of some kind. Braking to a halt, Ryan waited for the waves to calm until the submerged headlights revealed they were in what resembled a blast crater, or a pothole, about ten yards wide.
Then the LAV floated slowly to the surface once more, and they kept going. Advancing cautiously, Ryan held his breath, waiting for the water to rush in through the gunports, when the front tires grabbed on to the floor of the tunnel and the LAV lifted out of the hollow back to a safe position. Lowering their speed, Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, then the LAV tilted slightly to the left.
“We aren’t rolling,” Krysty said in shock, looking at the dashboard controls. The blinking indicators threw a rainbow across her worried features. “So how can we—”
There came the sound of a muffled crack from under the heavy machine
, and the right side of the LAV listed, the choppy water rising to slosh against the windows.
“The floor is crumbling!” Ryan cursed, stomping on the gas pedal. “Fireblast, we’re too heavy! Gotta get clear of this crater! Hold on!”
The Detroit power plant roared with power and the LAV violently lurched forward to miraculously right itself. But then from behind came a great bellow as a huge air bubble broke the surface, closely followed by a splintering sound that rapidly rose in volume.
Clenching the steering yoke tightly, Ryan revved the engine to the max. Whether or not the blast from the Hummer had weakened the floor of the tunnel, or if was merely the weight of the LAV, it seemed clear that the predark tunnel was crumbling apart, and triple fast. Ryan knew that their one hope was to get clear of the weakened area before the sheer tonnage of the war wag started a chain reaction of destruction. The LAV could float, but not fly, and with the water gone, they would drop along with the rest of the debris into whatever lay below.
Suddenly the speedometer shook and Ryan saw that the wag was slowing. But the engine was at full power!
“Keep moving!” Krysty cried, staring in horror out the side window. “Don’t stop for anything!”
That’s when Ryan saw that the water level outside was dropping fast, moving toward the struggling machine, the current battering them to a virtual standstill. Shitfire, the blast crater had to have weakened the concrete bed and their weight had finished the job. The entire tunnel was collapsing!
A falling brick bounced off the hood and then something crashed onto the roof. A building wave of water swamped the machine, shoving it backward in spite of the eight desperately spinning tires. More bricks fell in a sledgehammer cacophony, and Ryan fought to keep the wag traveling straight. If the LAV turned sideways, they would be helpless.
Reaching over to the controls, Krysty turned on the propellers, and the LAV surged forward again, gaining precious yards.
If we can just outlast the flood, we’ll be fine, Ryan grimly thought, battling to get more speed from the lumbering diesel. Come on, you nuking piece of tin shit. Move!
But the backwash kept increasing in volume and force until it was more than the war wag could handle. Slowly, the LAV was forced into the crater until the rear dipped as the back wheels went over the rim. Then the next pair of tires followed, and the next. The sound of the water was rising until it sounded like an ocean whirlpool, or a waterfall, the noise echoing along the brick tunnel until reaching deafening levels.
“Fire the rear Claymores!” J.B. shouted over the roar of the rushing torrent. “All of ’em! Mebbe that’ll shove us forward!”
The idea was crazy, but with no other choice Ryan decided to take the gamble and reached for the arming switch. But before he could, there came a crash of masonry and the LAV flipped over sideways as a section of the weakening brickwork dropped way completely. Everybody was shoved hard against their safety belts, and loose items went tumbling.
Now at the mercy of the rampaging flood, the wag slid directly into the hole and turned over again, leaving the companions upside down.
As the companions desperately grabbed their seat belts tightly, they were brutally pelted by grens and food packs from every direction. Throwing back his head, Jak cried out and went limp in his seat, blood on his face. Something slammed into the side of the LAV, and a tire loudly exploded. There came another strident collision, and the bulletproof front window shattered, the explosion of shards cutting both Ryan and Krysty. Moss-covered bricks and muddy water poured into the wag, smothering the companions, sloshing to the rear. A headlight smashed, casting the interior into darkness. Somebody screamed. Another person cursed. Then the world seemed to completely drop away, and the armored wag began to wildly bounce down a series of widening cracks, plummeting into a rocky darkness that seemed to have no end.
* * *
Chapter Nine
With both of her hands tied behind her back, Lily Rogan came awake fighting for breath. Something kept punching her in the belly, making it almost impossible to drag in air.
Forcing open her tearing eyes, the girl saw only rushing ground in front of her face and just for a moment thought that she was falling. Then Lily realized that she was actually moving sideways above the soil.
This was a bike! she thought in alarm. I’m strapped to the rear of a racing two-wheeler! So why was there no sound coming from the big machines?
Suddenly, foulness seemed to well inside the woman. Her brothers were using predark tech? Slavery, chilling, rape…these were things she could accept. That was just the way of the Deathlands. But using tech was unforgivable. Lily dimly remembered hearing stories from her elders how science had brought down the nuke storm of skydark and destroyed the world. Afterward, howling mobs of civies had chased down every traitorous whitecoat that could be found and brutally nailed them to crosses, then set fire to the dirty libraries and labs. But now her brothers were using tech? It was beyond belief. Clearly, they had finally gone insane.
The bike hit a bump, slamming the girl against the fender. In raw horror, Lily focused on the spinning tire only inches away, a cold dread filling her veins at the thought of her hair getting caught in the spokes. If her flailing hair became entangled in the wheel, her face would be pulled into the wheel and quickly removed. Or worse, the hair would rip off her scalp and she would quickly die of blood loss. But not slowly. She once saw a person die that way when a stickie attacked them from behind. It had taken the screeching man a long hour to finally buy the farm.
Twisting her head to the side, Lily found that she could keep her flying hair away from the deadly spokes of the wheel. It also was easier to take a breath. Straining against her bonds, the bruised girl took in ragged breaths until the last of the fog left her beleaguered mind.
Trying to rock to the motion of the jouncing bike, Lily fought to maintain her balance and stay alive. If her bonds loosened, she would fall under the two-wheeler and be crushed to death. Lashed into this position, a prisoner had to fight to stay alive, with no chance to think about escape. She was trapped, bound and helpless. Captured alive by her crazy brothers. Dirty tech-lovers.
Slowly the land below Lily changed from sand to grass. Were they heading into the forest? But that was full of muties! A dip in the ground rammed the fender into her aching torso, slamming her against the cargo pod. At first she flinched from the contact, but soon understood that the cargo pod was all that was keeping her on the fender, and finally allowed herself to lean against it fully.
Unknown amounts of time passed. Starving, queasy, bruised and barely able to breathe, Lily was starting to hallucinate about her childhood. With the death of her father, her slut of a woman had gone to work at the local gaudy house with obvious delight. Try as she might, Lily simply couldn’t understand that, but some women seemed to love being treated like an animal. It was beyond comprehension. And with her growing physical beauty, the young girl was doomed to the same fate. It was only everyone’s fear of her four mad brothers that kept her out of the life. No man alive would risk the terrible wrath of the Rogan boys by daring to touch their little sister.
Suddenly the bike banked sharply and mercifully began to slow. Soon the brakes squealed and her torment stopped as the machine came to a complete halt.
Craning up her head, Lily dragged in great lungfuls of air, and waited for the world to stop spinning from the riotous ride. There was some sort of sharp stink coming off the engine, not the reek of shine, or the weird smell of predark juice, or anything else that she could identify. It almost smelled like wet dirt after lightning had struck the ground. Did the wag use lighting as fuel? Was that possible? What disgusting tech was being used to befoul the world now?
Ever so slowly, the black spots faded from her sight and Lily felt her heart cease to pound. That was when the pain returned to her temple and she remembered the slaughter at the Watering Hole. Friends and customers torn into pieces by the fancy rapidfires held by her brothers. Slack faces looki
ng into eternity from every table, blood flowing like the tears of the world. Forcing away those useless thoughts, Lily raised her head to hesitantly look around. Let the dead bury the dead. Her task was to stay alive and not join them.
The other three bikes were parked nearby, the riders out of sight. The ground was covered with green grass and there were trees forming a sort of wall around the clearing. Off to the side was a large boulder with a small waterfall splashing out of the side to form a pond. Could that be natural? she pondered. Probably not. More nuke-sucking tech. She could feel it in her bones. This was a place of foulness worse than any rad pit.
The muddy bank was thick with reeds and flowers. There were some insects flying about the plants, and a frog gave a deep-throated ribbet. Past the boulder, there seemed to be some sort of a concrete building, but Lily couldn’t see that far behind, the cargo pods of the two-wheelers blocking the way. Was this their spread?
As Lily watched, two of her brothers strode into view, those fancy rapidfires strapped across their backs. Now, Lily noticed there was a gap in the trees and the two men moved some cut bushes to cover the opening, then lashed wire between two trees to hold the uprooted shrubbery in place. It really didn’t seem like much of a gate, and she doubted that it would stop a howler or a stickie. Then Lily blinked at the brutal realization that the barrier wasn’t mean to keep folks out, but to keep captives in.
Just then a shadow cut off the sun, and she looked up to see only a dark outline.
“Okay, get off,” John commanded.
“I can’t,” she croaked, wiggling slightly. “My hands…”
With a guttural laugh, John slashed out with a knife and the rawhide strips binding her wrists easily parted. Completely helpless, Lily slid off the fender and hit the ground sprawling, her legs splaying wide, the skirt hitching up to her waist exposing her lack of underwear.
