Settling in his chair, Dean rested the Kalashnikov in his lap. Taking out his pocketknife, he started to cut slices off a brick of military cheese from a MRE pack and prepared for a long wait. Then something bounced down the stairs, clanging and banging on every step and issuing volumes of gray smoke.
The boy gasped at the sight of the military gas gren, then realized his mistake, but it was too late. Trying to force limp fingers to trigger the longblaster, he slumped over and lay unnaturally still within the billowing gray cloud.
ONE LEVEL ABOVE, Collette smiled in satisfaction at the sound of the body hitting the floor. Sliding combat boots back on her bare feet, the woman drew a knife, impatiently waiting for the life-support system of the redoubt to clear the air and allow her to finally reach the staggering pile of weapons and supplies so tantalizingly close below.
REACHING THE END of the tunnel, the companions and their mutie guides went down the incline to find even more runts waiting for them with offerings of mushrooms, smoked rats and baskets of fluffy moss.
“Gifts!” the chief announced, gesturing at the baskets. “Much food!”
Ryan looked over the assortment and pointed the Kalashnikov at the attending rants. They went deathly still, until he laid the longblaster on a shoulder. “I am pleased,” he announced, “but we don’t need more food yet. You may keep and eat.”
“Hail the machine god,” a female warrior whispered in shock, then she shouted it to the cavern roof. “Hail the machine gods!”
The runts cheered wildly at the magnificent gift, only a few of their numbers glowering in open hostility at the norms. But those muties also stayed well away from muzzles of the deadly blasters.
“Now take us to where your old god died,” Ryan commanded loudly, his words echoing among the stalagmite forest. “And I want fifty of your strongest workers to follow. We have much to do.”
“Will this bring more food?” the chief asked hopefully.
“Better,” he replied.
On cue, J.B. tossed a cloth bundle at the feet of the little mutie. It came apart as it hit the ground, spilling out dozens of knives. The runts stared at the steel weapons and reached for them, then looked at Ryan for permission. The Deathlands warrior nodded, and the chief lifted a blade, marveling at its shine, then testing the edge of a palm. A line of blood welled from his skin and flowed along his hairless arm.
“Magic knives!” the chief shouted, brandishing the Bowie knife, and the runts chorused the words over and over in a wild frenzy.
“It shall be done as you command, god,” the leader of the runts breathed, hugging the knife and bowing deeply, his twin tufts of hair brushing the pile of weapons.
The companions waited while the chief distributed the knives to the female warrior and a select few of the males. Then, choosing his work force, the proud runt led the norms from the cavern into a warren of caves. Zigzagging through a maze of cracks and hewn tunnels, the runts led the companions back to the crashed wag. Once there, Ryan had the muties start a relay line, hauling the smaller of the rocks from the pile until the tiny pinprick of light from the outside world was enlarged to a medium-sized hole. Satisfied, Ryan dismissed the runts, sending them back to their ville. The chief was the last to go, dragging his feet and stalling, obviously hoping to be allowed to stay. But when Ryan began to frown, the chief took flight and disappeared into the subterranean darkness.
“Twilight,” Jak said, studying the purplish illumination outside. “Got to wait some.”
“Mebbe an hour or so till night,” Ryan said, checking his wrist chron. “Time to get ready.”
Dropping their packs, the companions gratefully stretched their muscles, working out some kinks. Meanwhile, Krysty opened her duffel bag and started passing out the long strips of blue cloth.
“I never asked where you got it,” J.B. said, tying a length around his head pirate fashion.
“Officers’ quarters,” she answered, removing the chron from her wrist and attaching it farther up her arm safely under a sleeve. “Lots of Navy and Air Force uniforms still hanging in the closet. Army camou is the best, but this blue is dark enough.”