by James Axler
“They took her out into the yard at the back of his palace, and there was a stake hammered into the ground. Kindling had been piled around it, and they tied her to the stake, bundling the kindling around her feet and legs. Two of them held me up while I was made to watch. Becky was in no kind of state to fight against them—anyway, she was just one woman and there were so many of them. They tied her against the stake, then Jourgensen went up to her and fired up the kindling. That was when she started to scream. Yeah, she’d made noises before, but all the fight had been knocked out of her. But this was different. She was wide awake, totally conscious now, and knew she was going to buy the farm. And do it in a way that—Fuck it, I can’t think of a worse way to go. The flames licked up her legs, and I swear I could see the flesh blistering as the heat got under her skin. The smell was horrible—sweet and strong, like roasting fat. I could see the flames traveling up her naked body, touching her and making her burn. I swear to anything that you can call a god that I could see her intestines roasting and burning away, I could see her bones start to show as the flesh and fat burned off them.
“I don’t think she died until her guts spilled out and burned away. It must…”
He stopped, and paused for a few moments before continuing.
“Anyway, that asshole Al decided to save me for the next day. And that was his mistake. They left me alone, figuring that I couldn’t move far enough and fast enough to be a danger. Wrong. I had enough willpower to get the hell out. I was head of sec, y’see. I knew where the wags were, how to hotwire one, when the sec patrols were due and who was on them. But first I had to do something. I went back to the fire and gathered together what was left of Becky. I took her with me and got the hell out. I didn’t know where I was going, and I thought I was on my way to buy the farm…but on my own terms.
“But it didn’t work out that way, did it? Fate will always decide. And it decided for me. It took me up that mountain to meet the end, but instead I found that old tech base. It was fate that then brought the others to me.”
He looked down at the box.
“And it’s fate that has finally brought us here, my love. Fate that has decreed we have a chance to be revenged. And if I buy the farm and join you, then so be it.”
Chapter Seventeen
As the wags approached the outcrop, Correll picked up the radio transmitter in front of him and patched in to the other wags in the convoy, ordering them into the positions they had seen sketched on the map back at the redoubt. His voice was firm and clear, with no indication of the emotional catharsis he had been through just a few minutes before. Ryan and Krysty sat in the wag and observed in silence. There was no way they could communicate their concerns to each other, let alone to their comrades in the other wags. All they could do was sit tight and wait for that opening to occur.
“No sign of the trade convoys yet,” Correll commented as he drove the leading wag through the gap in the outcrop and into what would soon be the arena for the final battle.
“Making good time, then,” Ryan replied, keeping his voice level. Yet there was something about it that made Cy turn sharply, even if Correll didn’t notice.
“What else?” the sec man asked.
Ryan shrugged. “Nothing. The desert was pretty bad in places, so much mud, dust and quicksand. Could have delayed us.”
“Could have delayed them, too,” Cy answered. He seemed to be reassured in some way, but there was a faint querulousness to his tone that suggested he still felt something wasn’t quite right. He just couldn’t define what that may be.
“If they’ve actually set off,” Krysty pointed out. “We have no way of knowing this for sure.”
“They will have,” Correll said with a cast-iron certainty in his tone. “They’ve got no choice. It’s this or a long, hard chill for both of them.”
He drove his wag to the center of the dust bowl that was in front of the outcrop, then veered to the left, taking the wide load through a gap that was so narrow it almost scraped the paint from the side of the wag. As he took this path, the second wag, driven by J.B., went a little farther on and then took a right fork, finding its shelter behind another gap in the rock wall. Two wags followed each lead, and then the wags positioned themselves near the gaps, hidden from view but with an easy access to each end of the outcrop.
“That’s their big mistake, Jourgensen and Hutter,” Correll remarked to Ryan, although it seemed almost as though he were talking to himself. “They haven’t done their research properly. They’ll have their sec look out for something at each end, but they don’t know about these channels. They won’t know that we’re hidden, waiting to circle around and take them out.”
And it was true. Ryan looked out of the side window on the wag door. The gap in the outcrop was barely wide enough to pilot a wag through, but if taken with care it could be achieved. They were approximately halfway along the length of the arena, with the rock channel twisting in front of them and leading out at an oblique angle to the main track the trade wags would be taking. From the approach, that exit was well hidden, and it would be easy for the Hellbenders’ wags to slip out and circle around to close off the entrances. In the heat of a firefight, these would be the only other avenues of escape, and Correll had plans to seal them off.
He picked up the handset and called J.B.
“You got the packages?”
“Yeah,” J.B. replied simply.
Correll nodded to himself, satisfied with what was about to take place. “Okay, you and Jenny get them delivered. You got the remotes?”
“Yeah, and tested,” J.B. answered. “The signals are fine, just got to prime ’em.”
“Okay.” Correll paused for a second, and Krysty felt a cold shiver run through her as she caught the gleam in his eyes. It was the culmination of his plans, and he was relishing every moment. “Let’s do it,” he said simply.
At this signal, the assembled Hellbenders sprang into action. J.B. and Jenny left their wag to plant plas-ex charges at the mouth of the rock channels, which they would detonate with remote detonators. J.B. jogged back to the entrance to the channel and began to climb the rocks, searching for handholds and testing them before supporting his weight and hauling himself up to a point where the rock had a deep crevice. He took the charge from a bag slung over his shoulder and punched in the code that would make it respond to the detonator he had in his pocket. The lights on the digital display of the small detonating device flashed the code back at him, then settled into one small, red, blinking light that affirmed the readiness of the device. This achieved, he secured its place in the crevice and scrambled back down.
While he did this, Jenny had sprinted across the length of the arena toward the opposite channel opening, and had started to climb, searching for hand- and footholds as she went. With a speed that wasn’t surprising given her lithe build, she scaled the wall of the channel, finding a ledge on which to place her charge. It wasn’t a crevice in the manner of the hiding place J.B. had found, so she had to secure the plas-ex in place with adhesive tape, hoping that this and the natural texture of the plas-ex would be enough to keep it in place until the charge was detonated. In truth, it was likely that even if the charge became dislodged and fell to the foot of the opening, it would still rip out enough rock to cause a fall and block the channel. She punched in the sec code as J.B. had done, checked that the single red light was flashing and then quickly descended, sprinting across the arena to return to her wag.
Meanwhile, the other preparations were taking place. Although the desert floor outside the outcrop was too disturbed by the chem storm, and too pitted and scarred to show any giveaway wag tracks, inside the arena itself the surface of the earth was relatively smooth and undisturbed, so any recent wag tracks would be all too visible. To this end, Correll had ordered that, on their arrival and secretion, some of his people would leave their wags and, using brushes they had brought with them from the redoubt, would clear the surface of any telltale wag tracks.
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br /> It was a risk. If the surface had been muddy and the weight of the wags had caused the tracks to be sunk into the earth beyond a certain depth, it would have proved difficult, if not impossible, to eradicate their traces. However, Correll had figured that the desert surface would have dried out and returned to its sunbaked hardness by the time their convoy had arrived, leaving just the disturbed top layer of sandy soil to be raked over by the brushes.
He was right. Led and directed by Rudi, ten of the Hellbenders set to with speed and alacrity to scour the surface of the arena, their ears bent toward the sound of distant wags and the rumble of heavy-duty wheels that would signal the imminent arrival of their quarry. The ten Hellbenders worked hard, and in a surprisingly short time had completed their task, working from the center out toward the sides of the arena, brushing and raking themselves clear back to the channel openings on each side, enabling them to return to their wags without leaving a sign of their passing.
Correll used the radio to confirm that each Hellbender had returned to his or her post.
“What now?” Krysty asked him.
The gaunt man fixed her with a stare that had the lust of battle mixed with a strange glow of almost infinite contentment.
“We wait,” he said simply.
“THERE IT IS, Baron. I hope you’re ready for this,” Elias Tulk said softly as he piloted the leading wag toward the outcrop, which became larger with each passing minute, the narrow entrance framed by forbidding rocks that reached to the chem-clouded sky. Tulk added, after looking up at the sky, “Yeah, I really hope you are ready, ’cause it looks like it’s headed for a sandstorm to me.”
Tad Hutter gave Tulk a sideways glance that could have chilled him on the spot. “You being funny, boy?”
“Call it that if you want,” Tulk answered, “but you just take a look up at that sky and tell me I’m wrong.”
Hutter looked up at the sky through the windshield of the wag, and could immediately see that the chem clouds had returned to the previously hazy but clear atmosphere. They were scudding across the bloated red orb of the sun, and indicated that there were conflicting air pressures and zephyrs in among them.
“Fuck it, that’s all we need,” he murmured, annoyed both at the approaching storm and at the fact that Tulk had been proved right. If there was one thing of which Hutter was certain, it was that Tulk wouldn’t live long when they returned to Summerfield.
“I figure that we’re in for a sandstorm with it,” Tulk continued, making a point of ignoring his baron’s hostility. “With those kind of winds blowing up there, all it’s gonna take is for one little sidewinder to come down and touch base, and it’s gonna be a whole lot of fun. Let’s hope we don’t get it at the rendezvous, eh?” And he allowed himself a small grin at this.
They continued in silence, the outcrop looming larger. Tulk slowed his wag, wanting to take a good look at the approaching rendezvous point. It would seem that they were the first to arrive, as the shape of the arena within the outcrop allowed him to see virtually all angles—certainly enough angles to show any wags that were attempting to hide within. The arena was clear, and the far entrance was empty. He didn’t know about the channels to the side of the arena, and a flutter of fear crossed his stomach. What if the Hellbenders hadn’t showed? How the hell would he cope with a pissed-off Hutter after the trade? He didn’t mind dying in a firefight or hand-to-hand combat, as long as Hutter bought the farm. But if he had to go back to Summerfield, he knew that his chilling would be painful and drawn out after the way he had treated the baron.
Mebbe Correll knew something he didn’t, and everything was okay. He could only hope so. He spoke again, trying to keep the sudden wave of fear from his voice.
“Looks like we’re the first here,” he said simply.
Hutter grunted. “Take it to the entrance and then stop. We’ll wait there—that way they can’t encircle us.”
“Okay,” Tulk replied simply. It seemed to him that Hutter had momentarily forgotten their little conflict in his anxiety at making the trade. Which was okay…for now.
Tulk drove to the mouth of the arena and stopped the wag. Hutter shifted in his seat. “Come on, boy, we’ve got some orders to hand out,” he muttered as he left the wag.
Tulk joined him, leaving the other sec men in the lead wag on lookout for the approach of the Charity convoy, which would be plainly visible through the opposing gap in the rocks.
Hutter moved back down the wags, ordering his men to keep alert. His basic plan was that they would begin to move into the outcrop at the same pace as the Charity convoy, beginning when Jourgensen’s men hit the far entrance, so that both convoys could keep equal pace and distance.
“We don’t move to hand anything over until I’ve spoke to Jourgensen. Then we unload our wags and place the goods in the center, between the two leading wags, while they lead the women out. When they’re both in the center, then we swap and retreat, keeping our blasters on them.”
“What do we do if this storm blows up?” Tulk asked.
Hutter gave him another chilling look. “We hope it doesn’t,” he replied.
INSIDE THE WAG containing the women who were the trade for Summerfield, Claudette kept her Uzi trained on the driver and shotgun sec, while Ayesha watched the women.
“How near are we?” Ayesha said shortly.
“How the fuck should I know?” the driver replied testily. “I can’t see squat for all the dust in front of me. I’m just following the wag in front.”
“Won’t your daddy use the radio when we get near?” Claudette asked with a sneer.
“Don’t give me shit with the attitude,” Ayesha snapped. “You think if I had any feelings left for that cocksucking son of a gaudy whore I’d be doing this? No, I’d be going forth like the dutiful daughter and getting screwed by every man in Summerfield.”
“Okay, I get it,” Claudette replied reluctantly, “so I’ll say it again without the sarcasm. Won’t Baron Al have orders to give over the radio when we get near?”
“I’d guess so,” Ayesha replied thoughtfully. “Is that what he’s told you?” she directed toward the driver.
The two sec men stayed silent for a moment, considering whether they should answer, before the man riding shotgun said reluctantly, “He told us that we’d get a call from him when we were within ten minutes’ drive. That way we’d be prepared when we get there.”
“And you know what ‘there’ looks like?” Ayesha pressed.
“Yeah,” the sec man replied without elaborating.
Claudette spared a glance at Ayesha; it was a glance filled with surprise. “You’re shitting me,” she whispered. “He never told you what was going to happen?”
Ayesha turned on Claudette angrily. “In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m a piece of meat just like you, babe. I didn’t get fuck all of a say in what happened to me, and I’m damn sure that under the circumstances there was no way my lovely father was going to tell me anything that was going on. You understand that now?”
“Yeah, I think I do,” Claudette said quietly.
“Good, well, let’s just get it together here, because we really need to get some kind of a plan together. You,” she snapped at the sec man who was riding shotgun, and who had been turned uncomfortably toward them for some time, frightened to move in case he got blown to pieces, “what happens when we get to the rendezvous?”
“You get exchanged for the seed crops and the food supplies,” the man replied simply.
Ayesha sighed heavily. “Don’t be a stupe, or else I’ll just get Claudette to blow you away, okay? I mean tell me exactly what happens, and mebbe you’ll get out of here in one piece.”
The sec man paused for a second, unsure as to whether he should say anything.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. The plan is that we rendezvous at a bunch of rocks that form an enclosure, kinda like the field where we primed the wags. That means that we’re covered on all sides, and there’s only us and the guys from Summer
field in the middle, with no way of anyone sneaking around from the sides, ’cause there’s only one exit at each end. So when we’re there, we wait for them and then we get ourselves into the middle of the space, and we make the trade. If all goes well, and we get to do it, then you get led out in those shackles—” he inclined his head to the chains and cuffs that were spread on the floor of the wag “—and then we exchange you. They load you up, we load up the trade and we both back out slowly, keeping an eye on each other.”
“You’re not just handing over the wag?” Ayesha asked, a sudden wave of nausea riding up her throat.
“Hell, no,” the sec man replied, “you think we’d hand over something as good as this? Anyway, they might think that it’s booby-trapped. We’d suspect it of them, right?”
“Oh, shit,” Ayesha said softly.
“What do you mean, ‘oh shit’?” Claudette asked.
Ayesha looked at her. “I thought they’d just swap wags. I told the others that we’d hold this wag and stop these bastards blasting them as long as they left us alone. But what the fuck are we going to do if we have to leave the wag? Especially if we have to wear those stupe things,” she added, indicating the shackles.
“Okay, girl, don’t panic about it,” Claudette said, a look crossing her face that showed she was deep in thought. A thought that was interrupted by Anita, who still—after all this time—hadn’t stopped crying.
“I told you that it was useless. We’re all just meat, and we’re going to be used by those vile bastards.”
“Will you shut the fuck up, you irritating bitch?” Claudette snapped, taking a step back and swinging the barrel of the Uzi so that it caught the heavy blonde full across the face, leaving her mouth a smear of blood and saliva, stunning her so much that she couldn’t even squeal or cry anymore. Before the sec man had a chance to move, the iron-faced young woman had the blaster trained back on him.
“We’re going to have to go through with it at least part of the way,” Ayesha said softly. “No matter what the plan was, we’re going to have to go out there with these shackles on.”
