Desert Kings

by James Axler

  A wounded trooper lunged for Ryan and he fired the AK-47, blowing away his throat. As the corpse sagged to the ground, the twitching hand triggered the BAR, a trio of rounds hitting the plank and slamming it out of Ryan’s grip. The wood went airborne and disappeared in a new volume of smoke from the three burning LAVs. Fireblast!

  Working the bolt on the Kalashnikov to clear a brass jammed in the ejector port, Ryan found the clip empty and tossed the rapid-fire away. That had been the last reload. Now he was down to the Steyr, SIG-Sauer, a few grens and the panga.

  A heated barrage of rounds told him that somebody had more ammo for their BAR, and Ryan stayed low as he moved across the sandy ground. His eye was stinging badly from the airborne salt, but there was nothing he could do about that right then except ignore the pain. Pieces of smoldering metal and steaming chunks of bodies lay everywhere, spent brass lying golden among the silvery grains of salt and sand.

  The telltale boom of the LeMat proclaimed that Doc had also run out of brass for the predark AK-47. Then the Uzi chattered, a brief stutter of flame pinpointing the location of J.B. in the smoke. A red beam lanced across the battleground toward the Armorer, and he ducked, barely in time. Breaking into a full run, Ryan pulled out the panga. Come on, feeb, use that las just once more time, Ryan urged silently.

  A dark shape rose from behind a chilled horse and steel flashed mirror bright as a trooper stabbed at Ryan with a BAR, the bayonet gleaming like polished death. The bayonet knocked the Steyr aside, and the one-eyed man swung the panga to slice his attacker across the chest. Lurching away, the trooper tried to aim the longblaster, but seemed unable to find Ryan even though the Deathlands warrior was only a yard away. Attempting to pull the trigger with shaking hands, the pale trooper staggered, drool flowing from his slack mouth.

  Knocking aside the BAR, Ryan mercifully leveled the Steyr and shot the man in the forehead. Blood, brains and bone went flying.

  The faceless corpse hugged the rifle like a child did a favorite toy for protection from the monsters in the night. Then a lambent energy beam stabbed out of the roiling smoke and hit the corpse. The clothing burst into flames, and Ryan jerked aside to throw a gren. It vanished into the gloom, and a few seconds later it detonated, the sound of the explosion mixed with a startled cry. Encouraged by that, Ryan prepared another gren and started forward, the Steyr leading the way.

  THROWN BACKWARD by the explosion, Delphi hit the ground hard and struggled onto his feet just in time for a roaring giant to charge out of the smoke. The startled cyborg recognized Edward Rogan and immediately shot the huge man in the chest with both the needler and the laser. But as the body collapsed to the ground, Delphi saw the sizzling fuse dangling from the canvas satchel strapped to his back, along with the clearly printed words U.S. Army, C-4 plastic explosive, demolition charge.

  Spinning around fast, Delphi tried to run when the world became solid white as the trip-hammer explosion engulfed him completely. Suddenly airborne, he seemed to float for a very long time through the moonlight before crashing onto the pebbled beach. The force field flared from the impact, but held, as strong as ever. Climbing to his feet, the jubilant cyborg laughed in triumph at the knowledge that he missed landing in the scummy water by less than a foot.

  Glancing upward, Delphi saw Ryan and the companions standing on the cliff above, then a hail of dark objects flashed past the cyborg to splash into the polluted lake.

  “Missed!” Delphi said with a sneer, raising the crystal rod to chill his adversaries when the barrage of grens and pipe bombs loudly detonated, throwing a foamy wave of dirty water over Delphi. Erupting into sparks, the force field visibly wavered and then vanished.

  Horrified, the cyborg looked down at his dripping wet hands, then quickly aimed the laser just as the companions fired their assortment of blasters.

  Pain tore through Delphi and his internal systems went into emergency function, closing off arteries and rerouting blood as microfilaments raced to close the gaping wounds in his chest and limbs. More grens hit the beach to roll into the lake, the explosions soaking him again and again, as he stumbled away, bleeding, unsure of where to go or what to do next. A LAW rocket streaked through the gloom, then a pipe bomb landed nearby. He kicked it away to bounce off a boulder and disappear into the thick green scum. The blast sent a column of steam and slime skyward, and he clumsily dodged the falling hail of hot filth, his strength returning with every beat of his artificial heart. The blood had stopped gushing from the bullet wounds, and his vision was clear once more. Breaking into a frantic run, the cyborg pelted along the pebble beach, thinking only of escape.

  Bullets kicked up the stones along the shoreline, ricochets throwing out sparks as more grens detonated in the lake behind him. Only a faint spray reached Delphi, moistening his tattered clothing, washing away the red blood tinged with hints of yellow. His force field fluttered in response, struggling to come back online. Just a few more seconds and he would be safe. It flickered again, bright sparks dancing all around the cyborg. Yes, almost there!

  Then something large fell from the sky, and Delphi instinctively ran away, trying to gain as much precious distance between him and it as possible. The thing hit the beach with a resounding thump, and he saw it was another satchel charge. The fools missed the lake entirely!

  Then the awful truth hit Delphi one second before the twenty-four blocks of predark C-4 plas ex violently detonated. The satchel charge had been exactly on target.

  Chaos ruled Delphi’s mind as he was blown sideways to splash into the lake. Floundering in the mucky water, the cyborg sank to the bottom as his struggling force field dropped completely. But the depth was only a few yards. He still had a fighting chance!

  Struggling to hold his breath, Delphi clawed for purchase on the smooth pebbles lining the shallow water, grabbing hold of something round and full of holes. Panicking at the thought of another gren, the cyborg illuminated his eyes and stared in mindless terror at the charred skull. There was just enough tattered flesh left for him to identify Edward Rogan, the teeth grinning evilly in the dappled water. Then it hit him. Teeth in the water!

  Casting the horrid thing away, Delphi surged forward and broke the surface to desperately pull in a lungful of air. Brushing away the sodden hair from his face, the cyborg could not see anybody nearby, and he sloshed for the beach. Choppy waves were spreading out fast, and hazy gray smoke lingered over the turbulent water.

  Lying on the shore were more pieces of Rogan, a boot with a foot inside, a bent machete and a gunbelt with an undamaged Webley still firmly in the holster. Excellent! Racing toward the beach, Delphi almost made it out of the water when he heard the sound of galloping hooves. Jerking toward the collapsed section of the cliff, Delphi saw two men riding a horse across the loose soil. Ryan and Tanner!

  The cyborg grinned in delight. Excellent! Now he could chill the fools and take their horse for his escape. Raising his hand, Delphi aimed the Educator, and his hand flinched as a hole was blown clear through the palm. A rolling boom echoed from the cliff overhead, telling of a sniper, and pain racked Delphi as fat blue sparks started crawling over his flesh from a short-circuit. Mentally, the cyborg screamed for the autorepair systems to fix the device, but there was no response.

  Staggering away from the shore, Delphi tried to raise his force field to no avail when something tightened around his leg. Looking down, the cyborg saw it was a slimy tentacle extending out of sight under the scummy waves. Other tentacles were wiggling along the bottom to haul away the scattered bits of Rogan. The fresh blood had to have attracted the attention of some underwater scavenger! Glancing at the Webley only yards away, Delphi attempted to break free of the undulating limb, but the grip was like iron. Thrusting his damaged hand into the water, he hoped the short-circuit might drive the mutie away, but the tentacle only tightened more, nearly crushing his leg, and began to inexorably pull him away from the shore and deeper into the toxic chem lake.

  Reining in the wounded horse, Ryan
and Doc jumped to the ground and advanced upon the cyborg, steadily firing their blasters. Lead plowed into the scummy water, blowing away small pieces of the cyborg. Hydraulic fluid and blood seeped from the punctures, staining the lake mottled colors.

  “Wait!” Delphi yelled as the waves lapped at his chest. “Save me, and I’ll tell you the secrets of the redoubts! I know it all! I know everything!”

  Ignoring that plea, the two grim men continued to trigger their weapons as the tentacle bodily hauled Delphi back under the water and out of sight.

  Turning on his eyes, the cyborg saw that the creature seemed to be composed of nothing but tentacles and a large sloppy mouth that opened and closed constantly. Fumbling for the decorative knife on his belt, Delphi unexpectedly felt the hard slaps of hot lead hit him again. Suddenly he understood that the outlanders were not trying to ace him, but to cripple him. Served to the lake mutie like tossing a dog a bone!

  Madness overwhelmed the cyborg as his laboring lungs began to throb with the need for air. Then his internal systems came online, and flapping gills opened in his neck, brining new strength with a rush of oxygen. Redoubling his efforts to escape, Delphi slashed at the tentacle. Incredibly, the ropy limb withdrew, only to be replaced by a dozen more tentacles that wrapped tightly around his arms and legs, pinning the cyborg helpless. As if it were some ancient Kraken from predark myths, the aquatic mutie dragged the squirming Delphi into the shadowy depths of the lake and stuffed him whole into its gaping mouth.

  Screaming curses, Delphi thrashed madly as a thousand tiny fangs pierced his flesh and hardened gums began to slowly grind, ripping away layer after layer of clothing, skin and muscle. Pain filled his world. Still alive and horribly conscious, Delphi began traveling down the putrid gullet as searing stomach acids washed over his helpless form as the cyborg entered a new type of hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “And so ends Delphi,” Doc said, holstering the smoking LeMat. “I would have preferred to take his life personally, but nothing is perfect.”

  “Near enough.” Ryan grunted, holstering the SIG-Sauer and sliding the Steyr off a shoulder to work the arming bolt. Patiently, he waited for the cyborg to rise again from the scummy waves. But after a few minutes, the man eased his stance and clicked on the safety.

  “Satisfied, my dear Ryan?” Doc asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Near enough,” the one-eyed man replied, almost smiling.

  A clatter of loose stones from behind made the two men turn and grab for their blasters, but the noise only proved to be the rest of the companions clambering down the sloping embankment of loose salt and sandstone. Everybody seemed undamaged, except for Chief Stirling, who had a bloody arm stuffed into his shirt for support. A LAW rocket was strapped across his back, the launching tube cracked but still serviceable.

  “That pays a lot of debts,” the sec man boss stated, giving them a hard smile. “Never thought I’d see the day. When Rogan and I found that fragging droid in a cache of predark blasters, I thought I was on the last train west for sure.” The man grinned. “Then the nuking thing gave a bow like we were barons and asked for orders.”

  “So you told it to come along, and help ace Delphi,” Mildred guessed, hefting the med kit slung over her shoulder.

  “Yep. Worked, too, although damned if I know why.”

  “How find?” Jak asked, his long hair billowing in the breeze.

  “Doomie told us back in Two-Son.”

  “Thank Gaia for that,” Krysty said, finishing reloading her S&W revolver and closing the cylinder.

  “Yeah, good thing doomies are on our side,” J.B. drawled, resting the Uzi on a shoulder. “Be a triple-bitch to fight an enemy who knew what you were going to do, even before you did!’

  “Got that right,” Stirling agreed, rubbing his arm.

  “I can fix that,” Mildred said, reaching into her med kit. “Only take a few minutes.”

  “Sounds good,” the sec man replied, easing the limb from within his uniform. “It’s going to be a long walk back to Two-Son without horses or wags.”

  “First, we have to recce that island,” Ryan said, walking to the edge of the beach. Now that Delphi was gone, he couldn’t take his sight off the place. So near. He was almost there. Adjusting his eye patch, Ryan noted that down here he could even see the white adobe building with the strange design above the doorway, and now he knew what the symbol stood for.

  “Get ready, TITAN,” the man whispered softly. “Here I come—”

  There was a flash of bright light and a moment of disorientation.

  As his vision cleared, Ryan blinked at the sight of snow covering the landscape, reaching all the way to the craggy black mountains on the horizon, the snowcapped peaks and tors, challenging the heavens above. The sun was high overhead, and a shaggy goat stood on a nearby tor, chewing on some flowery weeds growing out of a small crevice. Fireblast, it happened again!

  Hastily looking around, the Deathlands warrior was relieved to find the rest of the companions standing waist-deep in snow only a few yards away from the towering black doors of a redoubt.

  “Dark night! What the fuck just happened?” J.B. blinked, startled. He removed his fedora to brush back his hair and jam the hat back on good and tight. “Must have been TITAN’s defense mechanism. Mighty nice of them to send us here, rather than the moon.”

  “Where is here?” Jak asked with a scowl, trembling from the bitter cold. “Alaska?”

  “Tell you in a sec,” J.B. replied, tugging the minisextant out from under his sandy shirt.

  “More important, where is Chief Stirling?” Doc asked, his words foggy in the cold air. Hastily, the old man began to button his damp coat.

  “Probably back at Two-Son ville,” Mildred guessed, stuffing her hands into pockets. “And I strongly suggest that we get our damp asses out of the cold before we all catch pneumonia and die.”

  “Well, I see no place else to go,” Krysty observed dourly. Walking to the keypad, she tapped in the entry code. After the usual pause, the massive blast doors rumbled aside and a great exhalation of warm air rushed out to greet the companions.

  “Okay, this is…Siberia,” J.B. said slowly, then double-checked the figures. “Yep. We’re smack in the middle of nuking Siberia, about a thousand miles from Moscow.”

  “You sure about that?” Mildred queried. “Why would there be a redoubt here?”

  “Who knows?” the Armorer replied, tucking away the minisextant. “We’ve been in redoubts outside Deathlands before. Who knows why any of them were built.”

  “Siberia. The other side of the world,” Mildred said in a soft voice that was almost a whisper. “You know, to anybody with brains, this would be seen as a warning to never trouble the folks on that island again.”

  “Guess so. Last time they sent me back to the Trader,” Ryan added, studying the landscape. “This time, halfway around the globe. Brass will get you powder that the next time, we’ll be aced. Chilled to the bone.”

  “So the next time, we get them first,” J.B. said confidently, walking into the access tunnel. “Smash the island to drek, before getting close. We’ll figure out something.”

  The companions hurried into the redoubt’s access tunnel.

  Stomping the snow off his shoes, Doc looked at the distant Russian mountains lost in somber contemplation. Cort Strasser was aced, as was Silas, and now Delphi. When would enough blood be spilled to pay his debt to the universe? When would sufficient lives be lost to redress the balance?

  “When will I be allowed to go home!” Doc bellowed, shaking a fist at the morning sky. The shouted words echoed across the snowy field and down into the river valley, seeming to repeat forever. But if the universe heard, or cared, there was no reply.

  With a sigh, Doc turned away from the barren wasteland and started into the foreign redoubt to rejoin his friends, the only real family he had anymore. A few moments later, Krysty keyed in another code and the titanic blast door closed with a hollow boom
.

  THE MOON WAS STILL HIGH in the nighttime sky when the green layer of scum covering Bad Water Lake started to ripple around the small island. Then, incredibly, the land mass began to slowly move away from the pebbled beach until it was in the middle of the lake, very far away from the dark shore.

  Moments later, a dozen Krakens moved below the scum, creating low swells and they assumed positions around the island like sec men standing guard. As if compelled by a will of its own, the green scum expanded to fill in the ragged patches, and a strong wind blew in from the hills, throwing loose sand over everything on the cliffs.

  Soon, every trace of the battle was erased as if the fight had never happened, and a thick silence settled over the huge artificial lake, undisturbed except for the sound of the low wind and the slap of the dirty waves against the rocks.

  BACK IN TWO-SON VILLE, Edgar Franklin leaned against a low cinder-block wall and sipped warm beer while he watched the workmen toil in the ville’s greenhouses. Safe behind the wall of glass, the thriving green plants seemed almost unnatural set amid the endless desolation that surrounded the walled city. In spite of himself, the cyborg was mildly amused. Not even the legendary Dante ever imagined a lush garden in the center of Hell.

  Finishing off the ceramic mug of homemade brew, Franklin set it aside and started toward his room in the basement of the gaudy house. Thankfully, everything had gone according to plan, and the grand scheme of things was finally back on schedule. He had completed his assigned task, and Delphi was dead. In the morning, he was supposed to meet the baron, but instead, he would slip out of the ville at dawn and return to the redoubt, then jump back to his base and resume his regular duties. The traitor had been destroyed, but TITAN’s bid for control of the Deathlands had only just begun.