Читать книгу Black Harvest - James Axler - Страница 10

When they got to the river’s edge, Mildred did a quick rudimentary test of the water to see if it might make them sick. “It’s pretty clean,” she said, holding up a test tube of the clear liquid.

Ryan nodded. “Let’s make camp, then. Krysty, Doc and Mildred set up a perimeter. Jak, you and J.B. see if you can catch us something to eat.”

In silence, the friends split up and took their positions.

Meanwhile, Ryan gathered a few dried branches and set them in a pile for a fire. He’d light it later, depending on how lucky J.B. and Jak were in the river. If not, they’d have to eat the last of their rations and hope to find something else to eat in the morning.

His stomach growled and churned at the thought of it.

“Help!”

It was a woman’s voice coming from somewhere downriver.

“J.B.?” Ryan called.

“Heard it. ’Bout a hundred yards south.”

“Let’s move.”

Almost as one, the friends picked up and headed south through the trees, always sticking close to the river’s edge. Ryan could barely see the others through the brush, but he instinctively knew that Jak and J.B. were to his right, spaced about ten yards apart, while his left was flanked by Doc, Mildred and Krysty, with one of them, maybe two, hanging back slightly to cover their rear.

Another scream came from up ahead.

It was a woman’s voice, but a different woman than before.

Jak, the best tracker in the group, stopped and signaled to J.B. and Ryan to do the same. Ryan sent the message along to the others and together the friends slowly closed in around a large clearing by the river.

Two women, naked. They were either swimming or just spending some time alone together by the water. One was young, tall and blond, her body lean, taut and muscular. The other was older and a bit shorter, with long dark hair that was streaked with gray. Her flesh sagged a bit, her belly distended slightly, but she was more mature and full figured than old and fat.

The two women were surrounded by four muties similar to the ones the friends had seen in the redoubt. They were dirty and scraggly, their bodies covered by the same sores the girl in the redoubt had.

“Bang,” one of the men said.

Another one lunged forward at the women, then stepped back in fear. “Gimme bang.”

“More crazies?” Krysty said under her breath.

“There are stranger things in the Deathlands,” Ryan answered evenly.

“Want jack.”

“Need smash.”

“What are they saying?” Krysty asked.

Ryan shook his head. “I’m not sure, but it sounded like jack…”

“And smash.”

“What happened to bang?” J.B. asked.

“We don’t have any to give you,” said the taller of the two women. “Check our clothes, and you’ll see it’s the truth.”

Two of the muties riffled through a small pile of clothes on the riverbank, then threw them to the ground in disgust when it was obvious that it was just the women’s clothes and no more. “Nothing.”

“There has to be something there, check the pockets again.”

“There’s nothing, I tell you!”

“What about blasters!” the leader demanded.

The two men began to search the ground around the clothes, then check under a pile of neatly stacked rocks. In no time, each was lifting what looked like decent-quality remade blasters. “Whoo-eee! Look what I found!”

All four of the muties were laughing now.

“These we can trade for bang!”

“You can have them,” the older woman said. “Just leave us alone.”

The leader stepped forward. “We’ll be taking them all right, but before we go, we’ll be wanting something else from the two of you…” He leered as he approached the smaller woman. One of the others put a remade in his free hand and he pointed it at the younger woman as the other mutie neared.

She trembled in fear and wanted to run away, but there was no place for her to go. They were surrounded.

“Should we do something?” Krysty asked.

“Not our fight,” Ryan answered.

“Yeah, but I don’t like the odds.”

After a moment’s silence, Ryan said, “Me neither.” He carefully leveled his SIG-Sauer at the leader, who was now gesturing to the others to help him.

“Hold her down so I can give her a—”

The man never finished his sentence. His last words died in his throat as a thundering round from Doc’s huge LeMat blaster took out the man’s neck and a large chunk of his shoulder.

The mutie holding one of the blasters turned and squeezed off a single round before he was cut down by blasterfire from Mildred Wyeth’s Czech-built ZKR 551. The onetime Olympic target shooter caught the vile man with a perfectly aimed round that hit him between the eyes and slightly above the eyebrows.

With two of their fellows down, the survivors looked scared and confused. They turned to run, but were torn apart by blasterfire from the rest of the friends. Jak’s powerful Colt Python struck one of them in the shoulder, sending him tumbling heels over head into the river. And the last mutie fell to a round from Ryan’s SIG-Sauer that caught him in the back of the neck. Although it was impossible to know if it was a round from Ryan’s blaster or Krysty’s Smith & Wesson .38 that actually took the sorry man’s life, one thing was for certain—he was chilled and on the last train west before he hit the ground.

In the moments after the volley of blasterfire, all that could be heard were the muted sobs of the two women, who had gone from nearly being raped and killed, to being rescued by a band of outlanders, all in a matter of seconds.

“Anybody hurt?” Ryan called out.

At first no one answered, and then, “Yes.”

Ryan looked at each of the friends, searching for the wounded one.

“It’s Jak,” Mildred said. “Caught him in the shoulder.”

Ryan ran to where Mildred was kneeling down beside the white-headed teenager. Even though Ryan could see Jak had suffered a wound in the shoulder that was leaking blood and causing him pain, he deferred to the doctor for a better assessment. “How bad?”

“Bad enough,” Jak answered.

Ryan waited to hear from Mildred.

“Bullet went through the shoulder and tore up the flesh pretty good. Can’t be sure if there’s any damage to the bones unless I get a proper look. I can close the wound easy enough, but there’s always a chance the flesh could turn.”

Ryan nodded.

“Be fine,” Jak said, grimacing in pain as Mildred began giving the wound a field dressing. “Not worry.”

Ryan turned toward the two women and saw Doc stepping into the clearing. “It is okay,” he said. “You two are going to be all right.”

The older of the two women picked up her clothes and covered herself in modesty.

“Ah, excuse me, my good woman, I did not mean to offend,” Doc said, turning away slightly. “By all means take a moment to cover yourself if you wish.”

The older woman nodded, then hurriedly slipped into her clothes, a pair of loose-fitting pants and long-sleeved sweater with repair patches on the elbows and a picture of a mouse stitched into the fabric over the breast.

The younger woman got dressed more slowly, watching Ryan and the others warily as they slowly moved into the clearing. “Who are you people?” she asked.

“Just passersby,” Ryan said, joining Doc and the two women. “Who are you?”

The older woman put a hand on her chest, then gestured to the younger one. “My name is Eleander, and this is my daughter Moira.”

“Strange you’d be out here with just the clothes on your back and a couple of remade blasters.”

“We were on our way—” Moira began, but she stopped abruptly when her mother put a firm hand on her shoulder.

“We were out for a swim,” Eleander said, smiling. “It was such a beautiful day that we thought it would be nice to come out to the river and enjoy the good weather.”

“Alone?” Ryan questioned.

“With marauders around?” Krysty asked.

“Foolish of us, I know, but life is hard in the ville and sometimes it’s worth the risk just to get away and enjoy life…even if it’s just for a little while.”

Ryan suddenly became aware of some movement in the trees behind them.

The friends turned in time to see three sec men standing at the edge of the clearing. They had large-caliber longblasters and a few handblasters. All of their weapons were trained on the friends.

“Put down your blasters,” the man in the middle of the three said, obviously the leader of the small group of sec men. He stood under six feet tall and was bald on top with a ring of long black hair circling the back of his head. He had a thick black mustache that framed his mouth and hung down a few inches from the bottom of his chin. He wore a khaki-colored T-shirt that exposed his thin but muscular arms.

“Sorry, friend,” Ryan said, not even considering putting away his weapon. “There are seven of us, and we’re all good with blasters.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” the short man said matter-of-factly.

“No matter how fast your men can get rounds off,” Ryan continued, feeling he was still in a strong bargaining position, “we’ll chill two of you before you get one of us. That’s a promise.”

There was silence for several moments as the wind swept through the trees. Behind them, a large mutie fish jumped somewhere in the river.

“Impressive, outlander, but if me and my men aren’t back to the ville in thirty minutes, a team of twenty-four sec men will be out looking for us. They’ll be shooting first and asking no questions.”

“Won’t stop us from chillin’ you now,” Ryan said.

The man with the long black hair paused, as if reassessing the situation, and realizing Ryan and the friends weren’t about to be intimidated. “Who are you?”

“They saved us,” Eleander offered. “Moira and I came out for a swim when we were attacked by a gang. These people chilled them all.”

Again the man was silent, as if considering what Eleander had said. Finally he looked at her and scowled. “You know you’re not allowed out of the ville unescorted.”

“We know, but it’s such a nice day, and the water is so clean and blue that we didn’t want to wait to get permission.”

The short man looked at Moira suspiciously.

“It’s true,” she said. “I made my mother take me for a swim. We were planning on coming back before anyone even knew we were gone. Sorry to trouble you.”

After another long pause, the short man said, “Then we’ll escort you back to the ville.”

He turned to look at Ryan. “And you’re welcome to join us. The baron will be pleased that you not only chilled four troublesome muties, but saved two of our ville’s fairer citizens from a fate worse than death.” He smiled in a way that wasn’t exactly friendly. “I assure you the baron rewards such favors handsomely.”

Ryan didn’t move.

J.B. came up behind him. “Think it’s a trick?”

“Can’t say,” Ryan said out of the corner of his mouth. “If there’s a ville near here, it’d be better to be a friend of the baron than an enemy, seeing as we’re so low on supplies.”

“I believe Master Cawdor is right,” Doc commented. “Refusing such a gracious invitation would likely anger the baron, or at the very least arouse his suspicions about us.”

Ryan raised his head to address the short man. “We keep our blasters.”

“Of course. The baron will want to reward you for your actions, not punish you.”

Mildred stepped forward. “How about some help for Jak?”

Ryan nodded. “We’ve got one wounded.”

“We have medicine that will help him,” the sec leader said.

“What kind of medicine?” Mildred asked suspiciously.

“What kind?” Ryan asked.

“Something called penicillin.”

Ryan arched a brow in disbelief.

“That’s a good one,” Mildred said. “But I have to wonder—”

“We accept,” Ryan said.

“Excellent,” the short man stated.

The weapons of the two sec men behind him were slowly lowered and put away.

Ryan and the friends put away their blasters as well and began walking toward the woods where the sec men had been standing. At first J.B. and Mildred tried to give Jak a hand, but the proud teen was determined to make it on his own.

“How far away is the ville?” Ryan asked Eleander.

“A few klicks.”

“You walked all this way just for a swim?” Krysty asked.

“It’s the nicest spot on the river,” Moira offered.

“For an ambush by muties,” J.B. interjected.

Krysty and J.B. were right, Ryan thought. It was an awful long way to go for a swim, especially with muties roaming around. Conditions in the ville had to be horrible.

As they walked, Ryan watched Doc move up beside Eleander.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, patting away some of the dust and straightening the lapels of his worn frock coat.

“My name’s Eleander,” she said.

“Yes, of course, Eleander,” Doc stammered. “My name is Theo… Theophilus Algernon Tanner. But everyone calls me Doc, or Doc Tanner.”

“Doc,” she said inquisitively.

“I was just wondering, and excuse me if I am being far too bold to suggest this, but if we are to be guests of the baron tonight, then perhaps I might have the pleasure of talking with you at some length…”

“Talking? About what?” Eleander asked.

“Oh, about all manner of things, from the dawn of man to the setting of the sun.”

“I’d like to, but I’m not sure I’ll be allowed.”

“But I assure you, I mean you no harm, and I have no ulterior motive than to spend a bit of time with a woman who—and I say this with only the best of intentions—is closer to my own age than my usual company.”

“If the baron allows it, then yes.”

“By the Three Kennedys!” Doc said, barely able to contain himself. He bowed slightly. “Thank you for giving me something to look forward to.”

Eleander just shrugged.

The younger woman smiled at the older one, and shook her head.

Krysty came up beside Ryan. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, lover?”

“That Doc is attracted to Eleander.”

“Well, besides that.”

Ryan thought for a moment. “That something’s not right here?”

“You got it.”

“Any ideas?” Ryan asked. Krysty could be prescient at times and often got a bad feeling just before things were about to go wrong.

“So far nothing solid, but I’ll let you know.”

They neared the group of waiting sec men and as they did, Ryan was better able to gauge the size of the sec leader. He was about a foot shorter than Ryan, but was probably close to Ryan in actual body weight. He was armed with a 9 mm Heckler & Koch MP-5 machine blaster. It was a small, elegant weapon that was an excellent blaster for close-in fighting, but was far less effective out in the open. He probably used it a lot inside the ville rather than in the surrounding country. However, it wasn’t the man’s choice of blaster that impressed Ryan, but its condition. It was pristine, as if it had just been taken out of the box. It was possible that the blaster had once been part of the cache stored in the redoubt they’d just exited, but even so, it would have shown some signs of wear by now.

“You noticed it, too?” J.B. asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Nice condition,” Ryan nodded.

“Ammo looks good, too. Not new but good quality reload stuff.”

“Mebbe the baron’s a big-time trader,” J.B. suggested.

“Trading what?” Ryan wondered.

J.B. shrugged now that the sec leader was within earshot.

“Welcome,” the short man said. “My name is Robards. I’m sec chief for Baron DeMann.”

“Name’s Ryan.” He pointed his way around the group of friends. “This is Jak, J.B., Doc, Mildred and Krysty.”

“Pleased to meet you all, and I know I speak for the baron when I say he will be delighted to meet you as well.”

Eleander and Moira walked past Sec chief Robards, their heads down as if in shame. The other two sec men fell in line behind the two women, as though they were going to keep an eye on them all the way back to the ville.

“My dear Mr. Robards, as you might have noticed, I am getting on in years and I am not ashamed to say that I am not quite up to a long walk under this stifling sun.” Doc wiped a bony hand across his forehead to emphasize the point. “And of course, young Jak’s not doing so well, either. I am curious to know how far it is to this ville of yours because if it is any great distance, I would rather take a rest now and make the journey all in one go.”

“Not to worry old-timer,” Robards said with a smile. “You’ll all be riding to the ville.”

Robards led them through the trees, and as the forest first thinned and then came to an end, they came upon a large dirty yellow wag. There was no glass in any of the window frames and the sides had been reinforced with steel plate, but there were plenty of seats inside for all of them.

“It’s an old school bus,” Mildred said in disbelief.

“That looks as if it might do the job quite nicely,” Doc said, nodding in appreciation.

“Wags, too,” Ryan muttered when he was out of earshot of the sec chief.

“Whatever he’s trading,” J.B. commented, “he must trade a lot of it, or be a really good trader.”

“Good, ruthless or dishonest,” Ryan said.