“Six wags, all of them armored and reinforced with the addition of metal shielding and wire mesh across the windows to make it hard for any grens to be thrown into them. They are mounted internally with a variety of machine blasters, and two appear to have rocket launchers also fitted. They were covered with a swarm of filthy, sweat begrimed mechanics, who are working flat out to prepare them.
“There was a heavy sec presence within the arena, but such is the work rate being demanded of the mechanics that they were being pressed into action to help mount blasters and carry cans of fuel and boxes of ammo to and from the central stores, which seems to be located under the main stand. It did cross my mind that to knock out this stand would be to cripple their operation, but I was vetoed by Lonnie on this notion. I fear a head-to-head conflict would be a necessity for the Hellbenders to achieve satisfaction, no matter how else the result could be achieved. “We were able to secrete ourselves around the arena and make notes and observations, and also to hide in plain sight among the sec and mechanics. It is such chaos as they straggle to meet the deadline imposed on them that the firefight to come may be aided by their inability to ensure the full working order of every wag and blaster.
“Having achieved our objective, retreat was a simple matter, as was regaining the rendezvous. The rest you know.”
Doc finished his story, and Dean contemplated it in silence as they continued across the hot desert, keeping watch on an empty horizon and praying for dusk to fall.
It would be interesting to see what Ryan made of this, as compared to Papa Joe.
Chapter Twelve
It took less than two days to make the return journey, the recce party hastened by its initial trip into the desert during daylight hours. When night fell, they were glad to rest up, dehydrated and overheated by the rigors of the day’s march. After building a fire, they ate and then slept while a watch rotated, rising with the dawn the next morning to complete the trip back to the hidden redoubt.
The last few hours, those spent scaling the winding road that stuttered in and out of existence around the side of the mountain, were in many ways the worst, as they found themselves making a journey upward in the blazing sun, the incline and the heat conspiring to draw any strength that was left from their calf and thigh muscles, each step weighing heavy and dragging what little energy they had from their bodies.
Apart from the sheer hard slog of it, the journey had been uneventful. There had been no more giant worms to disturb their passage, no packs of wild cats luring them into a feeding frenzy trap and certainly no other humans or muties such as stickies who were traversing the vast wastes of dust-blown desert, either on foot or by wag.
They had been completely alone, and this sense of desolation hadn’t added to the ease of the journey, making them feel as though they were the only people left alive. By the time they had reached the small plateau of rock shelf that stood before the camouflaged entry to the redoubt, they felt as though this may actually be true. Doc, already partly delirious from the heat and the dehydration, was sure that this was so, and that those who accompanied him were mere shades—ghosts of those he had set off with, but who had perished along the way. Within the recesses of his mind, Doc was aware that he was starting to lose the thin thread of sanity, the silken cord to which he desperately clung, and prayed fervently that they would soon attain the air conditioned cool, the water and food sources of the redoubt, and that he would be able to rest and recover, grasping once more that silken thread.
“Sec cameras should have got us on the last turn,” Lonnie remarked to Dean, Jak and Doc as they walked—more shuffled after the last grueling ascent—toward the large sec doors set in the rock face. “There should be a party waiting for us.”