“No. Thanks, Ryan. Emma’s gone. What’s left is. like suit of clothes.”
“Come on, then.”
They went quickly to the back door and left the ville without encountering any kind of threat. Though there were lights blazing everywhere, not a single shot was fired.
Dean, Krysty and Mildred were waiting to greet them as they came out into the cool air of Washington Hole.
“What happened, Dad?”
“Long story, son. Have to wait the telling. Best we get back to the redoubt right away.”
THE SOLITARY ROOM, inside the stinking depths of the late baron’s mutie collection, was quiet again, except for a single odd incident. About a quarter of an hour after the four men had left, the sand belched open and there, on top of it, lay Jak’s throwing knife, the polished silver of the steel covered in great scratches and gouges.
Chapter Thirty-Six
They traveled quickly and safely back to the corpse-filled redoubt, skirting a nameless pesthole as well as the shantytown called Green Hill, reaching the ancient complex near dawn.
The air was unusually clear and they stood grouped together, looking across at the gigantic crater of fused black glass that was all that remained of the old pre-dark capital of the United States of America.
“Rad count’s still high, up in the yellow band,” J.B. observed.
“Mine shows close to orange.” Ryan laughed. “Mebbe the next jump’ll take us someplace away from a high rad count.”
“Be good if it took us clear out of Deathlands,” Mildred said. “Sometimes I find the shooting and the dying gets me down some.”
“The only time that happened was when we became transported to Russia,” Doc said, “and I can’t say that was one of the happiest experiences of my life.”
“Least we all got away safe from the big Hole.” Dean realized immediately what he’d said and he looked quickly across to Jak. “Hey, I’m real sorry about saying somethin’ that was so triple stupe. I didn’t.”
The albino shrugged his shoulders. “Guess losing’s something you sort of get used to. Wasn’t like with Christina and Jenny. Deep. Heart-deep. But still sorry. Emma was. Could have. You know.”
THE SENSE OF DAMAGE was more clear-cut within the redoubt. The cracks seemed wider, the dust thicker. The scent of old, old death lay more heavily in the nostrils and on the senses, an awareness of the futility that had been life in the last years before the nukecaust.
Doc pointed with his sword stick at a slashed piece of graffiti, carved into the plaster on the wall. “Living is mistakes not made.”
“I wonder whether our dear old companion Trader might not have passed this way at some time,” he pondered.
“Could be,” Ryan agreed. “Sounds like him.”
“You think that we’ll ever meet up with Trader again?” Dean asked.
Ryan flicked dust from his son’s hair. “Who knows? All things are possible, aren’t they?”
AS THEY DREW CLOSER to the entrance to the gateway, Jak called for them to stop. “Blood on floor,” he said, pointing to a small cluster of black spots, touching them with his forefinger. “Not fresh. But only days old. Not years.”
“None of us had any injuries.” Ryan stooped and examined the marks. “Yeah. Agree with what you say, Jak.”
The albino crouched down, examining them very carefully. “From shape you can tell which way moving.” He pointed ahead of them, along the corridor, toward the mat-trans unit itself. “Person bleeding was walking that way. Dust’s too messed up to tell more. Mostly our old tracks.”
As they rounded the bend, J.B., who was leading, held up his hand in warning. “Sec door’s open. We closed it.”
“You sure, John?” Mildred looked at the Armorer, who simply nodded. “Yeah, guess we did. We always do.”
“Condition red,” Ryan said unnecessarily, as everyone had already drawn their blasters.
There was more blood on the green handle, smeared in a blurred handprint on the concrete wall at the side.
“Woman or child,” Jak said. “Small.”
The fact that the bloodstain was days old meant it was probably safe, but Ryan hadn’t lived as long as he had by taking foolish chances.
“I’ll go in with J.B. and Jak,” he said. “Rest of you wait here. Won’t take long.”