Читать книгу Siren Song - James Axler - Страница 11

Chapter Four

“I don’t like losing the mat-trans,” J.B. stated as he and Ryan moved through the redoubt. “Makes me edgy.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Ryan agreed. “The mat-trans have been our little secret for a long time, and I don’t revel in losing our escape hatch like this if we are in a hostile place. Otherwise, it means a hike overland to wherever the next redoubt is.”

As the two men trotted past the monitoring room, Mildred’s head poked out, calling them back.

“Hey, guys!” They joined Mildred in the monitoring room, where Ricky was just fixing his shirt over the bandage that Mildred had affixed around his belly and ribs. J.B. touched Mildred’s face briefly, leaving what he wanted to say unvoiced.

“What happened?” Ricky asked, looking from Ryan to J.B.

“Bomb went off,” Ryan said, “ruining the mat-trans.”

“Damn,” Ricky cursed.

J.B. made a show of looking at the youth’s bloody shirt. “How are you feeling? You okay, kid?” he asked.

Ricky shrugged. “De nada. I’ve had worse in Nuestra Señora.”

He was bluffing, J.B. knew. That musket shell had scored blood and had to have hurt like hell, but the kid was proud and he didn’t like to show weakness in front of the companions.

“I only heard one explosion,” Mildred was saying as she put her extra bandage in her medical satchel.

Ryan nodded. “We were lucky,” he agreed. “There were no other bombs. A military base like this could’ve been stuffed full of ordnance that might have been rigged remotely to go off when the bomb went off.”

“You said the mat-trans was wrecked,” Mildred said, phrasing it like a question.

“Yeah, for now anyway,” J.B. confirmed. “We might be able to do something with it, given time, but we’d be better off finding another mat-trans if we need one.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Mildred said, “but, assuming it does, how far would we have to go?”

J.B. shrugged. “Till we know where we are, I won’t have clue one, Millie,” he said.

“Then I guess we’d better start figuring out where we are,” Mildred said, and Ryan agreed.

Checking that Ricky was okay to move—he was—Ryan led the way back out into the corridor and the foursome headed toward the outside door.

* * *

DOCLOOKEDSURREPTITIOUSLYat the five angelic women who accompanied them as he, Krysty and Jak were led back through the redoubt they had just exited. Each of these women was young with flawless skin. Doc guessed not one of them was over twenty-one. The blonde led the way confidently, and she seemed to know which paths to take. Doc guessed that she was leading them to the mat-trans chamber to survey the damage that the bomb had wrought, and he wondered if Ryan and the others had survived the blast.

“So,” Doc began uncertainly, “Melissa, is it? You seem to know your way around this...facility.”

The blonde looked at Doc after a moment, confusion turning to understanding as she realized that he was addressing her. She smiled then, indulging him. “It’s not Melissa,” she said, “and yes, we’ve been here many times before.”

“Ah,” Doc said. “Please accept my apologies, I thought I heard your companions call you Melissa. I must have become muddled.”

“They did,” the blonde replied as she led them down a stairwell with concrete steps and reinforced-glass banisters dividing each level. “But that’s not my name, it’s a designation. We’re all Melissas.”

“I see,” Doc said, though he didn’t.

“I’m Phyllida. This is Linda, Nancy, Charm and Adele,” she said, indicating the others.

“All pretty names,” Doc said. “So you say you have been in here on other occasions?” Doc added, raising his voice a little in the hope Ryan would hear—if he was still here.

The Melissa called Phyllida looked back at him and smiled, her teeth white and flawless, much like Doc’s own. “The mat-trans you came in was damaged a long time ago in the quake,” she explained. “We’ve been examining its workings, trying to repair it.”

“Our engineers,” the dark-skinned Melissa, who was called Adele, elaborated.

“We noticed some quake damage when we came in,” Krysty said from within the huddle.

“The unit’s only been operational—what?—two days,” the brunette called Linda said.

“Not even that long,” Phyllida said. “They were still testing it yesterday evening.”

“Then it seems we arrived bang on time,” Doc said, wincing at his rather unfortunate choice of words. “Forgive the unintentional pun.”

“Yes, you—”

“Nobody make a sudden move!” Ryan said, stepping from the cover of an open doorway with his SIG Sauer raised in a two-handed grip. “Hands in the air.”

J.B. and Mildred stepped out of the shadows behind Ryan, their own weapons raised to target the group of robed women. Behind them both, Ricky waited in the shadow of the doorway, his De Lisle carbine clutched in both hands, the pain of his patched flank making him stand a little hunched over.

The Melissas tensed, moving automatically back so that they were close to the concrete walls.

Doc found himself front and center of the sudden negotiation.

“What’s the state of play, Doc?” Ryan growled, his weapon fixed on blond-haired Phyllida where she stood behind the old man.

Doc took a deep, steadying breath, his hands surreptitiously twisting the silver lion’s-head grip of his swordstick to release the blade within. “These people are unarmed, Ryan,” he stated, “and they have shown no inclination to harm us. It is my understanding that their sole interest is in the mat-trans, which they have been working on for some time.”

“Did they plant the bomb?” J.B. asked, running the shotgun over the group in warning.

“No,” Doc explained. “I am led to understand that they opposed the individual who did that, and that they had hoped to stop it.”

He turned to Phyllida. “Is this correct?”

Phyllida nodded. “Yes. You didn’t mention that there were more of you,” she said.

Doc raised his eyebrows. “You did not ask.”

Phyllida looked from Doc to Ryan and the others who had their drawn blasters pointed at them. “Your friend is quite correct,” she said at last. “We won’t hurt you.”

“My name is Phyllida,” the blond-haired woman continued. “We of the Trai have a strict ‘no blasters’ policy, and we would be grateful if you would adhere to that while on our property.”

She waited while Ryan watched her, his lone eye scanning carefully over her companions as he weighed them up. Finally he said, “And your people are unarmed?”

“Precisely so,” Phyllida confirmed.

Ryan searched Doc’s face for some sign of deceit and saw none. It paid to be cautious in the Deathlands, but a standoff had to be resolved, one way or the other, and Ricky couldn’t keep fighting without recovering. Slowly, Ryan brought his SIG Sauer down and holstered it, and his people did the same. Ryan knew just what J.B. was thinking as the Armorer slung his shotgun—it was the same thing that they were all thinking. Can these people be trusted?

“I’m Ryan,” the one-eyed man said, though he made no move to meet Phyllida.

Instead she came to him, her pure-white robes fluttering behind her like mist, one delicate, pale hand outstretched in greeting. “Pleased to meet you, Ryan.”

Ryan took the woman’s hand. Her grip was firm, stronger than he would expect for her build. He released her hand after a moment.

“I guess you weren’t inside when the bomb hit,” Ryan said.

“What makes you say that?” Phyllida asked.

“Your clothes,” Ryan said. “They’re clean.”

“You’re right,” Phyllida replied. “We were outside this structure, tracking down the violator who planted the device. I understand it went off.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

“Then I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Phyllida told him. She sounded genuine, her voice tinged with regret.

J.B. spoke up from behind Ryan’s shoulder, his eyes watching the strangely garbed women carefully. “You use the mat-trans often?” he asked.

“No, never,” Phyllida told him. “But we had hoped to, as stories had been passed down for generations regarding its purpose. As I was telling your companion here, the device was out of commission for a very long time. Our people only achieved functionality again barely a day ago.”

“Then someone blew it up,” J.B. said drily. “That’s mighty inconvenient.”

One of the other Melissas spoke up, the honey-haired one called Charm. “William was a fool.” She spit. “He should have been driven out of Heaven months ago.”

“Heaven?” Doc asked with obvious surprise. These women dressed like angels, but surely...

Phyllida turned back to him and smiled. “Heaven Falls,” she said. “Where we live. We’ll show you, if you like, once we’ve assessed the damage to the mat-trans. It won’t take long.”

“Heaven Falls.” Doc rolled the name around in his mind. “It sounds, well... It sounds heavenly. Does it not, Ryan?”

The one-eyed man looked from Doc to Krysty and the others, judging their expressions. When he met with Mildred’s chocolate-brown eyes he saw her nod subtly. She wanted somewhere to check Ricky over more fully. A ville could be it.

“I think we’d like that,” Ryan said finally.

Together, the group made its way back through the redoubt to its heart, where the operations room and the mat-trans waited in their state of disarray.

“The bomb was set here,” Ryan said. “My friend tried to disarm it, but we ran out of time.”

“Placed the fire blanket over it to douse the flames,” J.B. said, as if in consolation.

Kneeling, Phyllida lifted the soot-streaked blanket and swept her hand through the mess underneath. It was still hot, but she didn’t seem to be bothered. Behind her, two of her companions were lamenting the shattered armaglass walls, while the other two checked the equipment in the control room.

“No signs of additional damage,” Adele said as she worked one of the consoles.

“All clear here,” black-haired Nancy confirmed, running a boot-up sequence on another console on the far side of the room.

Ryan and his companions watched in silence, and he felt almost violated by seeing other people operating the mat-trans controls. The companions had no clue as to how the system worked, but seeing strangers working the equipment felt threatening and very wrong.

After a few moments Phyllida straightened from the smoke-blackened tiles of the mat-trans floor and stood at her full height in front of Ryan. She was a beautiful woman, statuesque with the flawless skin of youth. Women like this didn’t usually exist in the Deathlands; it was a demanding environment, one that wore away at people, and at women most of all. Seeing these Melissas, as they called themselves, made Ryan feel uneasy, as if he was being tricked somehow.

“Thanks for everything you did to stop the fire,” Phyllida said.

“J.B. here—” Ryan began, but Phyllida interrupted him.

“You’re all to join us at the Home,” she said. “I’m sure that the Regina will want to thank you personally when she hears of your heroics.”

With that, the Melissas ushered the group from the control room and out into the corridor. Within minutes they were outside, following the dirt track that led from the redoubt door.

* * *

ITWASBEGINNINGto warm up outside. They were in a wooded area, lush grass lining the steep slope that led toward a blue, cloudless sky. Surprisingly, the usual chem clouds were absent here.

Though she had been outside briefly, Krysty wore a broad smile as she stepped into the sunlight again. She looped her arm through Ryan’s and pulled him into a sunny spot that was brightly illuminated on the dirt-and-tarmac path. “It feels good to be alive,” she told him, and Ryan knew what she meant. She had had no chance to express her concern for him in front of all these strangers, and her comment now was a veiled reference to how pleased she was that he had survived the bomb blast. Giving away too much about relationships, or much of anything else, wasn’t smart when you were around strangers.

“Your friend likes the sunlight,” the honey-haired Melissa observed.

Krysty remained on the path, twirling joyfully with her arms outstretched, a few feet from the redoubt’s entrance.

“She does at that,” Doc agreed, “and her name is Krysty, though forgive me if I have already forgotten yours, foolish old man that I am.”

“Charm,” the woman replied, flashing Doc her perfect smile.

“How very appropriate,” Doc replied.

The companions were allowed to keep their weapons, which boded well. In fact, allowed was too strong a word for it—the Melissas simply showed no interest in discussing their blasters just as long as they kept them holstered. Jak retrieved his Colt Python from where he had dropped it close to the redoubt entrance, and that was the only occasion where blasters were ever mentioned in conversation, wherein Linda instructed him to keep the weapon out of sight at all times. That was also when the subject of the late William came up.

“I’m sorry that you had to witness that,” Phyllida told Jak.

“Not see much,” Jak told her.

“The man was a violator,” Phyllida explained sorrowfully. It seemed that she regretted not that Jak had seen it so much as that their society had deviants at all.

“Violation is a disease,” she added. “It eats away at our love, fracturing the world we try to build. I’m proud of what I do for the Home, even though my contribution is small.”

“What is it you do?” Ryan asked her.

Phyllida thrust her shoulders back proudly, like a soldier showing earned medals, and gestured to her white-robed companions. “We are Melissas,” she said. “We protect the Home from factions that would destroy it, both from outside and within.”

“Then you’re sec women?” J.B. queried.

Phyllida looked at him and shrugged. “I haven’t heard that term,” she said, then remained silent, unsure of how to explain it to these strangely garbed outlanders.

Ryan and his companions followed as the white-robed Melissas led them up through the trees, following some unseen route they knew only from familiarity. There were flowers dotted here and there, more of them as they moved closer to their destination, brightening the surroundings with little oases of color: here a patch of magenta, there a line of red and white and blue. Occasionally, J.B. caught Phyllida and the others looking up at the sun, and he guessed that they were using it to navigate, the same way he did when he arrived at a new location.

Not far into the journey, Ricky stumbled and Mildred was forced to stop the group while she rechecked his wound. When he lifted his shirt, Mildred saw that the wound was still weeping blood; a darkness that was almost black had spread across the gauze she had used to patch him.

“Is your young friend going to be all right?” Adele asked with evident concern.

“He’ll be okay,” Mildred said, but there was worry in her tone.

Linda spoke swiftly, almost cheerfully. “We have a medical faculty at Home. Perhaps your companion could...” She trailed off, looking to the group’s leader for confirmation.

“Of course,” Phyllida said. “We would be only too happy to help.”

“Thanks,” Mildred said, but she sounded unconvinced. What kind of medical faculty? she wondered as Ricky replaced his shirt over the wound.

The group moved slower after that, with Ricky leaning alternately against Mildred and Jak as they trekked the path to Heaven Falls.

They were following a dead-straight path through the trees. Ryan sensed something familiar about the place; the foliage reminding him of Front Royal, where he had grown up. That was in Virginia, and he wondered if they had landed close. He caught Phyllida’s attention and asked her.

“Where exactly are we?” he asked.

“Almost home,” Phyllida replied, unintentionally cryptic. “You’ll see in a few minutes.”

And see they did. About six minutes later the group reached the summit of a rise and the trees parted to reveal a great mountain range towering over the grassy plains. Ryan’s breath caught in his throat as he looked out over those familiar mountains, while the others stopped and stared. It was Virginia, he was almost sure of it. They were looking out over the Blue Ridge Mountains.

“Is it much farther to this ville of yours?” J.B. asked, his dour voice bringing Ryan back to earth.

“Through there,” Phyllida told J.B., pointing down a little ways through the crags.

J.B. and the others looked, and they saw lush green grass dotted by wooden, boxlike constructions that stood to roughly shoulder height. The boxy constructions featured latticed sides and stood atop what looked like table legs, and each had been painted white.

“Are those beehives?” Mildred asked, surprised.

“We farm honey here,” Phyllida told her in reply. “The bees like the coolness of the mountain air. They thrive in high environments.”

“I did not know that,” Mildred admitted.

Phyllida led the way through the rows of manmade beehives and deeper into the gorge between mountains. The beehives buzzed with a constant low hum, and Doc ducked his head as a bee flew close by.

“They won’t hurt you,” Charm told Doc, having somewhat attached herself to him during the journey over. “They just want to get to the pollen.”

Embarrassed, Doc laughed. “I told you I was an old fool,” he said.

There was an overhang of trees up ahead, creating a natural gateway leading into a sloping path. Beyond that stood a wide depression between the mountains within which lay the home of the Trai people.

And what a home it was!

There, in the wide plain that rested in the depression between mountains, stood a structure like nothing they had ever seen before. Like most villes the companions had encountered, it was surrounded by a high gated wall on which was located a sentry tower where sec men—or in this case, women—watched the surroundings, night and day. Behind that, white towers gleamed in the sunlight, arranged in a great circle that rose up into the sky, each building an almost perfectly circular tower. Tiny figures moved among the towers, striding across high walkways like acrobats in a circus act.

It was left to Doc to express what they were all thinking, albeit in his own inimitable style.

“By the Three Kennedys!”