Bloodfire

Inspecting the blaster, Jak pulled the trigger and the weapon stiffly clicked, nothing more. Cracking the cylinder, he frowned at the .38 shells eaten through by crystalline deposits.

“Dreck,” the teenager declared, tossing the useless weapon onto the reception desk with a clatter.

“Any ammo exposed to the air would be dead from the salt corrosion,” J.B. stated, tilting back his hat. “But if we find any ammo still wrapped in plastic, I’m willing to bet that would be as good as ever.”

“Like the gunpowder in our ammo in the redoubts,” Dean said confidently.

“Actually, no,” J.B. said. “Gunpowder loses its ginger over the years. Especially crude stuff like the black powder that Doc uses.”

“Nonsense!” Doc snorted, patting his LeMat. “Black powder is infinitely superior, sir!”

J.B. gave a snort. “Most of the weapons we find in the redoubts use cordite. Not the nitro-cellulose mix in the twentieth century blasters.”

“It’s worse for the blasters,” Ryan added, glad for the break from the endless dead. “That’s why we have to clean so much, but the stuff really lasts.”

“The modern propellant for guns was cleaner,” J.B. continued. “But only lasted ten, twenty years on the shelf. However, cordite, under the right conditions, lasts a hundred. Sometimes more.”

Reaching out with his ebony stick, Doc shoved the weapon off the desk. “Anybody seeing that would know somebody had been here recently,” the scholar explained. “If the Core is not here yet, they soon will be.”

“Take no chances with them,” Krysty ordered, blowing out her candle and tucking it away. “I’ve seen what they can do in your mind. Shoot them on sight, and ignore anything standing behind them. It’ll be an illusion.”

“Not prob,” Jak stated, sliding the Winchester off his back and working the lever. The greater range meant better protection from the mind muties.

Just then, an explosion occurred far away, closely followed by the shattering of glass. Even though she knew better, Mildred half expected the sound to herald police sirens and the wail of an ambulance. But there was only the thick oppressing silence. With a shiver, the woman finally came to understood the term “graveyard quiet.” This wasn’t a city; it was a cemetery.

Going to the empty frame of a window, Ryan surveyed the area outside. Lines of cars were jammed end to end, trucks parked atop smaller vehicles, a motorcycle lying tangled with a baby carriage, the adult and infant grinning corpses.

“Nothing sight,” Jak announced from the window across the lobby, the lever action Winchester rifle held ready at waist level.

“Mebbe another fuel truck,” Mildred guessed. “Or a car near the first one caught fire and set off its fuel tank.”

A warm breeze blew through the broken windows, and Krysty sniffed a few times. “That fire is close,” she warned. “Couple of blocks.”

“Nuking salt has fried everything like tinder,” Ryan said scowling deeply, glancing at the lobby of the building. “This whole city could ignite if the wind is right.”

Suddenly, Jak gave a sharp whistle and raised a hand, clenching it into a fist. Instantly, the companions stopped talking and assumed a more aggressive stance, blasters raised.

The teen stood motionless against the marble wall, looking intently into the street full of cars and trucks. Black smoke wafted through the air, making it difficult to see very far. Then they heard a noise of metal on metal, and the smoke thinned for a moment for Jak to see something metallic moving among the preDark vehicles. A shiny dome with rotating red disks.

Holding his breath, Jak watched with a pounding heart while the machine pushed a crashed truck out of its way and turned a corner to vanish from sight.

“Dark night, a sec hunter droid,” J.B. exhaled in a whisper, standing behind the teenager.

“And this one is in perfect working condition,” Ryan growled, “unlike that wreck we found at the redoubt last week.”

“Just great.” Mildred sighed, glancing up at the ceiling and the world beyond. “We’re trapped in a burning city, with a sec hunter, and Gaza and the Core in the desert above.”

“Looting the city is no longer an option,” Ryan stated as a fact. Nobody disagreed, so he continued.

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