Dark Reckoning by James Axler

“Sorry!” he shouted, fumbling for words. “Sorry.”

Sagging out of sight, the man’s cries got weaker as his skin flowed off, exposing muscles and beating organs. Soon only buttons, an ammo clip and some plastic pieces of combat boots would remain to mark the demise of the man.

Mercilessly, the rain continued pounding down upon the Shiloh Valley, destroying everything organic it touched.

RETURNING TO THE TOP FLOOR of the redoubt, the companions walked along the main corridor that led to the barracks. The last time they were there the hallway had been dark and lined with traps. Now it was well lit and spotlessly clean.

“Got to give old Silas that much,” Ryan said grudgingly. “He was tidy.”

“Anal retentive,” Mildred commented.

Unsure of the meaning, Jak chose the dirtiest version he could think of and snorted a laugh. “Good one.”

Going into the barracks, the companions found the four huge rooms were exactly the same as rememberedlined with bunks for hundreds of troops, small adjacent laundry rooms, and a line of lavs with rows of showers and stalls.

Choosing the most clean room, they checked once more for traps, then barricaded the door with a pile of bunks. Dean and Doc stood guard, while the others hit the showers and scrubbed themselves clean of days of sweat mixed with the bitter ash from outside. Then the others did the laundry while the albino youth and the boy showered in private stalls. The washing machines squealed unhappily, then sluggishly began to chug away. The bottles of bleach were bone dry, and adding water produced no results. But there were U.S. Army-issue plastic boxes full of individual packets of detergent and softener. In a few hours, the companions were scrubbed and wearing clean clothes.

Fed and clean for the first time in days, the companions chose the rooms reserved for officers, bolted the doors and fell soundly asleep. Nobody even dreamed.

Chapter Five

By the light of the silvery moon, the old man stared at the ruin of his ville, the melted stone towers, the burned huts, bits of cooked corpses sticking out of the flat acres of stone like insects caught in cool wax.

Reaching into a vest pocket, Baron John Henderson removed an antique silver snuff box, opened it and sniffed a pinch of the powder up each nostril. His body spasmed as the mixture of tobacco and jolt rushed to his brain, and suddenly he felt young and vibrant. As the drug took hold of his consciousness, colors changed hues, shimmering and melting into one another. The sensation of the experience made him feel giddy.

The baron of what remained of Casanova ville was wearing a predark business suit. He usually wore velvet slippers, but they had been replaced with stout leather boots. Tassels hung from an ornamental saber at his hip, but the fringe was stained and frayed. The big blaster in his shoulder holster was spotty, the gold filigree from the weapon forcibly pried off with a knife. Only the holster itself was in good condition, covered with fancy rainbow embroidery. The suit was clean, but not pressed, the buttons dim and scratched. Scabs from some disease dotted his unshaved face, his fingernails were caked with filth, his hair greasy and he smelled of urine. The reek was covered, somewhat, by the cloying perfume liberally applied to his old body.

But there was a fire in his eyes not fueled by the drugs, and his face radiated a strength of character that few men didn’t fear.

Controlling his breathing, Baron Henderson knelt and placed a hand on the gray stone. It was hot, but not sizzling. Even after a week it was still hot. His grandson wouldn’t allow the baron to visit the destroyed ville until he was sure it was safe. Safe. The very word tasted like shit in his mouth. What the hell was safe in Deathlands?

A well of fury rose within the baron, his grotesque face contorting in feral rage. Quickly, his grandson stepped forward and yanked his hand off the cooling lava.

“Dammit, I told you what it looked like,” William Henderson said, inspecting the palm. It was red, but not burned in any way. “Just had to see for yourself, eh?”