Dark Reckoning by James Axler

“Mebbe,” Krysty replied. “But the mutie outside took everything we had and came back for more. What’s a 9 mm blaster going to do to another one of those?”

Thoughtfully, Ryan worked his jaw. “Yeah, I know. But what choice have we got?”

“Food first,” Mildred directed, sampling the soup. It almost tasted like pork, which was a bad sign for a beef product, but she didn’t think it would cause them any real harm.

“Found it!” Dean shouted, entering the kitchen. The boy was dragging an enormous plastic bag with faded pictures and writing on the outside.

“What that?” Jak asked, rising to help the boy haul it to the dining table.

“Silas mentioned hiding a cat in the Art Room as a trap for us. I figured it would have to eat, so I looked for food. Didn’t see the cat, but found this bag in the closet.”

Krysty squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Smart move. None of us caught that remark. You did good.”

“Thanks,” he said proudly. “‘Purina Cat Chow,'” J.B. read slowly, then turned the bag over. “Contentsrice, lamb, beef, wheat, veg oil, bunch of chems. This sounds okay.”

“Better than okay.” Mildred sighed in relief. “This solves our food problems for a while. More if we find any additional boots. Belts are good too. Less sweat to leech out.”

Doc blanched. “Madam, please!”

“Sorry, but it’s the truth.”

Ryan gingerly took a nugget of the cat food and tried cracking it with his teeth. “Fireblast,” he mumbled out of the side of his mouth. “Stuff is hard as rock and tastes strange.”

“Bad?” Mildred asked in concern. She took some pellets from the bag and sniffed them carefully. It smelled like ordinary cat food. How could she tell if it was gone bad? The stuff always smelled awful.

“No, not bad, just strange,” he said, swallowing with difficulty. “Hurt my teeth to chew. But I guess it’s okay.”

“Then it’s dinnertime,” Mildred said, taking a chair at the table.

Since the physician had cooked, the rest served. Ryan passed out bowls and spoons, while Krysty filled clean glasses with tepid water. Dean piled handfuls of the hard cat food on saucers, and Doc ladled out the thin gray soup, trying not to breath the fumes. Jak and J.B. kept watch with weapons in hand. They had been caught off guard once during a meal, but never again. Then the companions took their places and started to eat, none of them with very much enthusiasm.

Ryan ate steadily, ignoring the flavor and textures. Food was life. The one-eyed man would eat anything that didn’t eat him first.

Krysty dipped one of the rock hard pellets into the soup, and then nibbled that. If anything, it tasted worse. “Sorry I lost my bearskin coat,” the redhead said. “It was old and dusty, but it would have tasted better than this dreck.”

“Amen to that,” Doc said listlessly, taking another spoonful of the soup and forcing it down.

“Aw, shut up, you old coot,” Mildred mumbled irritably, “and eat your boot.”

Chapter Four

Night descended upon Shiloh Valley, or at least the clocks said it should be night. But there was no lessening or change in the terrible shroud of ash swirling around the ville like a black hurricane. A dozen sec men stood before the gap in the wall waiting for more muties to arrive. Fifty more men shuffled along between the brick buildings, patrolling for any other invaders. Three huddled in the kiosk in front of the main gate, the steel railing locked firmly in position. The slaves slept on the floor of the hut, since work was impossible. Nothing moved but the windblown ash; there were no sounds but the howling wind.

Then a single raindrop fell from the tortured sky and hit the ground with a sizzling hiss, like water hitting a hot stove. The ground sank out of sight where the droplet landed, a neat hole punched through the layer of dry ash.

A swaddled sec man walked closer to the spot and jerked back when he caught the delicate aroma of sulfur.

“Acid rain!” he shouted through his mask. “The rain has come early!”