They were through the valley now, heading uphill at a sharper grade.
Ryan maintained the lead, followed by Krysty, who was watching over Doc. The old man had teetered back from the abyss a while back, but the internal struggle had physically drained him, and he had to lean heavily on his swordstick.
The landscape continued to be thickly forested, but thinned somewhat as they traveled upward. The frost held a harder crust now, facing the windward side of the mountain.
Ryan signaled a breather, not for himself so much as for Doc. He found a flat shelf of rock sticking out from the mountainside and hunkered down to present a smaller target to the wind. He leathered the SIG-Sauer and pulled out the Steyr, holding on to it with both gloved hands and leaning on it for support.
The others went to ground less than fifty yards away, almost hidden from view by the tree line and the brush.
Jak crossed the distance to Ryan, covering the incline in an easy stride. The albino’s cheeks were pinked from the cold, and his white hair blew in wild disarray. He dropped into position ten feet from Ryan, setting himself behind a gnarled pine tree that clung tenaciously to the mountainside.
“Doc not make it much more,” Jak said.
“I know,” Ryan replied. “I’m thinking mebbe we can find a place up a little farther. Someplace mebbe we can have a fire and get thawed out proper and be protected. I reckon we’ve come far enough that we’re out of whoever’s territory that was back there.”
“Hope so.”
“Come morning, I think we’re going to find out. One way or the other.” Ryan stood. “Want to scout the situation a little farther up with me?”
The youth nodded. “Stay still get cold. Don’t like it.” He stood and shook himself, tight and coordinated like a big cat.
“J.B.”
The Armorer held up a hand.
“Take ten more,” Ryan said. “If there’s soup, drink it, but stay away from the heavy stuff. Don’t want anybody getting sleepy from overeating. Me and Jak’ll recce and be right back.”
Ryan took the lead, holding his jacket a little more tightly to his chest. The sound of his feet breaking an iced-over puddle sounded incredibly loud to him, but he knew the wind wouldn’t let it carry far.
“CAVE,” JAK SAID.
Ryan looked into the shadows where the albino pointed. The frost wasn’t as prominent at the top of the mountain range, but with the irregular surfaces and the sharp angles, details were blurred.
They’d climbed steadily for almost fifteen minutes by Ryan’s chron. The incline had become steeper as the bite of the wind had grown steadily.
“Careful,” Ryan admonished as the youth walked toward the area.
The brush and trees had been torn and twisted by the elements until they looked like mutie versions of themselves. That was one of the things bothering him they were at an area with a redoubt, yet the area was relatively free of the nuke destruction that was usually apparent around such spots. No scabbies. No stickies. The three men they’d found hanging looked perfectly normal except that someone had cut off their cocks with scissors and run mistletoe stakes through their eyes.
There was kind of a sick relief in that, he realized. Even though the nuke-blasted terrain seemed to be missing, reminding him constantly that they weren’t in Deathlands, the common denominator of savagery and brutality remained. It would have been a hard thing, he told himself wryly, to have lost all forms of familiar security.
Jak walked nice and easy, as if he were out for a stroll instead of a recce. Ryan knew, though, that the appearance could be deceiving. He’d never seen anyone move as fast as Jak Lauren when danger threatened.
Ryan could see the mouth of the cave now. Tall enough for a man to pass through on his feet, it gaped like a wound in the wind-blasted stone. Shadows twisted at the core of it as they approached, but there were no signs of life.
Something flickered at the corner of his vision. He turned quickly and looked back down the mountain, freezing in his tracks. He wasn’t sure what had alerted him.