“It’s Indians,” Trader said vehemently, gesturing toward the shadowy outline of the mountains with the barrel of the Armalite.
“No bullets, no fire, no broken windows, no blood.” J.B. ticked the points off on his fingers. “I don’t see it as a firefight or an armed raid, Trader.”
“Gone out hunting,” Abe suggested. “Mebbe following deer and didn’t notice the time passing. Could be they’ll all return in the next hour or so.”
Ryan considered the idea for a moment. “Possible, Abe. Guess that’s the best one yet. But they wouldn’t have left all of the doors open like this. It’s unthinkable, isn’t it? Must fine-comb the place. Soon as possible. First, though, we’ll just have to bring the land wag up to the house. Get it parked safely out back. Abe, you can do that.”
“Sure.” He vanished at a quick trot around the side of the building.
Ryan continued. “All the rest of us can move inside and get some lamps lit and take us a room-by-room look around. Doc, you and”
“Sukie.” Both her fists were clenched tight in the pockets of her divided skirt.
He nodded to her. “Right. You two best go and wait in your room, Doc. Rest of us can search carefully.”
“I would prefer it if you ceased treating us like a pair of country clodhoppers. We can search for clues, as well, Ryan. We are not totally stupid, you know.”
“All right. Time’s passing and the darkness is coming down on top of us.”
The house was looming over them like a gaunt, ghostly sepulcher, the windows shadowed, blank eyes staring down at the small group.
He turned for a moment back to the stranger among them. “Sure about there not being any sort of message for us?”
“I said so.”
“It is more than a remote possibility that Krysty or one of the others could have placed a letter for us, explaining precisely where they are, within the house, Ryan, my old friend.” Doc moved a pace to stand next to the woman and placed a protective arm around her shoulders.
“Sure. Sorry, Doc. Sorry, Sukie.”
“We will go into my room and keep out of your way, Ryan,” Doc said.
“Fine.” He watched them vanish into the kitchen.
J.B. was about to lead the way inside the house when he stopped, his eyes caught by something. He peered down at the lapel of his own jacket, breathing out, “Dark night!”
“How’s that?” Ryan said.
“Rad counters,” the Armorer replied. “Just look at your rad counter.”
Ryan did so, angling it to catch the last fading rays of the setting sun. For a moment a rich crimson light confused him and he moved the little counter again, tilting it to make sure what he was seeing.
“It’s right around into the red. That means we’re all standing in one of the biggest radiation hot spots that I ever saw.”
“Mine shows the same,” Trader added. “Can’t all’ve malfunctioned at the same time. Not even shading in the orange. It’s way off the top of the danger scale.”
For a few moments the three friends stood still, looking at each other, trying to work out what freakish combination of circumstances could have brought what the Apaches called “the silent death” to this secure, isolated place.
Chapter One
Ryan looked around. “Fireblast!” be said. “It’s getting real dark.”
At that moment they all heard the sound of a woman, from inside the building, screaming in blind terror.
J.B. was fastest, pushing open the kitchen door and running into the hall. Ryan was right at his heels, with Trader coming in a close third. They bumped into Doc in the shadowed hall, his arm around the woman he’d recently met during his trek in the mountains. She was sobbing uncontrollably, breath heaving, tears glistening on her cheek.
Ryan had his Smith amp; Wesson M-4000 12-gauge scattergun at the hip, cocked and ready. “What?” he said.
Doc was trembling, fighting for control over himself, while simultaneously seeking to comfort the almost hysterical woman. “Two corpses in No, it’ll be all right, my dear, it will I mean a dead woman and a man knocking on heaven’s door Come outside, Sukie, and away from it.”