James Axler – Bitter Fruit

“Once those people get reorganized,” Doc said, “they will come for us again. Gehrig does not appear to be a Christian soul. Forgiveness, doubtless, is not part of his itinerary.”

“No,” Krysty agreed. “Jak, can you take care of him?”

The albino nodded.

Ryan glanced at the Celtic boy as his horse shifted beneath him. Tarragon was their ticket into the Celtic ville and a chance at rescuing Mildred. If the woman was still alive. He moved his horse forward, getting into a position where he could look back toward New London. He took the night glasses from his back and studied the terrain as it fell away from them back toward the ville.

Shadows were moving down there, but they were cautious. Ryan couldn’t tell if it was Gehrig’s people or the White Sands soldiers.

“Those soldiers tailed us to the ville,” J.B. said. “I figure it was to chill us.”

“Mebbe,” Ryan replied.

“If worse comes to worst, dear Ryan,” Doc said in a quiet voice, “there are ships that cross the oceans.”

Ryan didn’t like the idea of being trapped in the worm-infested bilge of some boat or ship that presented only a fair chance of returning to Deathlands. Something like that, over that kind of distance, he’d have to trust his welfare and that of his friends’ to someone else. That wasn’t restful thinking at all.

But if it was the only way to get back to Dean, then he’d see it done.

“J.B.,” Ryan said, “you got the rear. I’ll take point. Krysty, you’re after me. Then Jak and the boy. Doc, you’re next.”

He kicked his horse in the sides, pointing it east, intending to keep angling up the incline to keep the terrain working against whatever followers they might have. Krysty rode up next to him and passed over his pack, followed by his coat.

“It’ll be cold out here, lover,” she said. “And we’re going to be in it for a while.”

Ryan shrugged into his jacket as he rode, transferring the Steyr from hand to hand while he got it done. He gave her a wan smile, then reached out briefly to touch her face. “What with all these coldhearts out aiming to chill us, we’re coming up between a rock and a hard place.”

“We’ve been there before,” Krysty said. “They’ll find us ready.”

Ryan leaned forward long enough to brush his lips across hers, then set the Steyr across the saddle pommel with the safety off and got moving. He figured they could get back to the Celtic ville by early morning, hopefully prelight. His chron showed that it was a little after 900 p.m.

He kept a weather eye peeled on the area behind him out of habit. J.B. was as good as they came, and he knew the companions were in good hands. Concentrating on the forest stretching out before him, he kept his senses alert, knowing possible death dogged the group every step of the way. And he was sure it lay in wait at the Celtic ville, too.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ryan led his horse, the Steyr hanging loose and comfortable in his right hand. In the past six hours the companions had put a lot of miles of hard terrain behind them. The animals were getting badly worn by the constant pace and from the cold ghosting across the land under the pale quarter moon.

He glanced back and saw that Krysty was staying about fifty yards behind him. Close enough to cover him if she needed to, and far enough back that she stood a chance of escape in case he was brought down.

Ahead of him the land gradually rose, losing itself in the trees and brush and thick gray fog that had coiled in from the sea. Seventy yards up, it seemed to drop off.

Ryan tied the reins to a sapling, leaving them in a slipknot he could disengage with a yank. He stepped away from the horse and signaled to Krysty to send Jak up and let J.B. know they were holding their present position.

Krysty passed the message back. In less than a minute the albino was at Ryan’s side.