Genesis Echo (Deathlands 25) by James Axler

“Last night?” said Ryan. “Not earlier?”

The sec boss shook his head. “Allow a man to know when he shaves off his mustache, outlander Cawdor, if you don’t mind. Last night.”

“Fine.” Ryan turned away to conceal his puzzlement, looking at the big plastic dishes of food that were being uncovered, steaming slightly in the cold. “Why isn’t the heating turned up higher, with snow outside?”

Ellison sniffed. “Yeah. Way the sky’s squatting on top of the valley, it’s going to unload plenty of goose feathers. Professor Crichton’s been sayin’ for some months that the power source is starting to give up. Reckons that it’s only important to keep it up in the labs. Rest of us poor folk can just shiver and pull on an extra layer of clothes.”

Trader and Jak were both by the window, gazing out at the thickening blanket of white, ignoring the dishes of pallid gunk that were being ladled out.

It was Trader who turned away first, addressing the sec boss. “Ellison, just what do you do for sport in the dead-alive hole?”

“You mean gaudy sluts? We go out on a rota in one of the small wags, four days a month. There’s a ville about fifteen miles away and the girls there”

“No, no, fucking no!” Trader held his forehead in his hands, reassuming control of himself. “I didn’t mean that sort of sporting. I meant hunting or fishing or something like that. That ever happen?”

Ellison smiled, the deep livid scar curling his lip like a purple worm. “Sure. Fact is there’s to be a hunt starting off around noon today. Professor Buford said I was to ask if the rest of you wanted to come, figurin’ that Miss Wroth would maybe stay and help out the whitecoats.”

“What hunt?” Jak asked.

“Guards at the barrier have seen a big bear. Humpback grizzly sow with a cub. Seen her two or three times. Put her in the mutie class. Reckon she’s up to fifteen feet on her hind legs. Take some stopping.”

Ryan looked at Krysty. “Sounds good to me, lover. Sure you’re well enough?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Mildred said. “Hunting down a mother bear with a cub sounds like my idea of murder, rather than sport. But, don’t let me stop you, gentlemen.”

“My orders was everyone except Miss Wroth. Professor didn’t say anything about anyone else being around. Have to check.”

“Go ahead,” Ryan said. “Rest of us’ll eat.”

The sec boss hesitated, then went out of the room. Ryan followed him, closing the door of the old hospital ward behind him. Ellison waited for him to speak.

“What is it, outlander?”

“Anything going to happen to Krysty?”

The blunt face was immobile. “Why should it?”

“Things happen here. Dogs vanishing. Taste of blood in the air. Not obvious, but it’s there, like a forgotten promise at the back of your mouth.”

“I believe that no harm at all will come to her. I helped in one of their experiments, but I’m sworn to secrecy. Didn’t do me no harm.” He touched his mouth. “This was there before. Nothing to do with them.”

Ryan stood close, almost brushing the whispering white plastic jacket. “Anything goes wrong with Krysty, the first person I look for is you.”

“I’ll be here, Cawdor.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Now I’ll go take a teak.”

The bathroom was clean, though he noticed that the water pressure in the faucets was intermittent.

Outside in the corridor he could just hear Ellison talking to one of the other sec guards, their voices fading away toward the staircase.

Ryan finished pissing, did up his pants again and washed his hands at the nearest basin. There was a slit window behind it and he leaned forward to find out whether the snow was persisting. It was still falling steadily, cutting visibility to less than a hundred yards. It was already layering on the branches of the nearby pines.

There was a movement below him and he could just make out a few figures, very dimly, moving toward the edge of the trees. From the shouting and laughter he could tell that they were playing in the freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.