It was almost a relief when the familiar blackness enveloped him.
Chapter Eight
“Lover,” Krysty said soothingly, “come back to me.”
Chilled to the bone, his heart thudding rapidly inside his chest, Ryan forced his eye open. “Dean?” he croaked.
“Not here,” Krysty said. “School. Remember?”
“Fireblast.” Ryan made himself sit up against the walls of the mat-trans unit. He’d been dreaming that his son, Dean, had been snatched by Burroughs. The nightmare induced by the jump reluctantly left him. His stomach rolled, and the familiar headache throbbed at his temples.
The others didn’t move much, either. J.B. rested beside the door, the Uzi nestled comfortably in his hands. Mildred was beside him, on her back and breathing slow. Jak had curled into a fetal position, a trickle of blood seeping from his right nostril.
“Doc?” Ryan asked.
“Still among the living, my dear Ryan,” the old man answered hoarsely. “Thank you for inquiring.”
Ryan craned his head and spotted Doc wiping weakly at the pink-and-yellow worms of vomit staining his black frock coat and blue denim shirt.
“Could do with a bit of a wash, I suppose,” Doc said.
“Mebbe in a little while.” Ryan studied the indigo-colored armaglass, then squinted his eye when he saw the frost clinging to the outside of it. Puddles had formed inside the mat-trans unit.
Ryan focused on gathering his mind and energy. With Krysty’s help he got to his feet. “Anybody else cold? Or is it just me?”
“We all are,” Krysty admitted.
He put his hand against the window and the chill soaked into his palm readily. “Wherever we are, the climate’s definitely gotten bad on us.” His thoughts turned to winter. There were redoubts up in Alaska and in the northern areas of Deathlands. The group had been there and seen them. It wasn’t a prospect he wanted to consider.
He peered hard through the armaglass, trying to make out the details of the outside chamber. The room looked tidy. Small and angular, only partially revealed by the light streaming from the mat-trans unit, the chamber appeared deserted.
Ryan drew the SIG-Sauer and walked toward the door.
“Got to think about the men who were following us,” J.B. declared. “They were still alive. Could be they’ll use the mat-trans to try to come after us. If that corridor Doc and Krysty mined caved in real good, they aren’t going to have many choices.”
“First order of business,” Ryan said, “is to try to figure out where we are and how we’re going to keep from freezing to death. Everybody up and at the ready. We’re on double yellow. Don’t see anything moving on the other side of the glass, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
The rest of the friends got up, falling into position by memory and conditioning. No one was moving too well.
“Do it,” he told Krysty, who was ready to open the door. “And when we go out, keep the doors open! Could be Burroughs’s men won’t be able to make the jump unless this unit’s ready to go.”
She nodded. Her sentient hair was pulled in tight to her scalp, and her eyes were on Ryan.
“Be careful,” Krysty cautioned.
“You feel anything out there?”
“No, but that isn’t how I’d treat it.”
Ryan nodded. “The door.”
She hit the security code. A heartbeat later the mat-trans unit doors opened. The warm air inside turned into a frosty breath as it charged out into the empty anteroom.
Ryan moved outside, keeping himself in a crouch to be a smaller target. His eye strained against the gloom, and he was conscious of J.B. standing watch over him.
The mat-trans unit was in the back third of the room. Shelves lined the walls around them. There where two doors one dead ahead of Ryan and one on the right. Both were electronically keyed, which meant neither would open without giving some type of warning.
The chill outside the mat-trans unit was more pronounced. Ryan saw his breath fog up the air in front of him. He reached into his pocket for a packet of self-lights. Working one-handed, he slipped one out, then cracked it to life with a thumbnail. He held it away from him so it wouldn’t directly highlight him for any potential attackers.