It took less than five minutes.
The control room and the small anteroom were all empty, and they could see through the sky blue arma-glass that the gateway chamber itself was clearly devoid of life.
But they found something.
J.B. spotted it, rolled under one of the desks near the entrance through to the chamber.
“Look at this,” he called.
They all gathered around him as he bent and picked the object up, laying it on the control console.
It was a helmet of archaic design, mounted with a carved bronze moon.
“Samurai,” Doc breathed. “That was the one worn by the fellow who had the bow and arrow. I recognize that lunar design on top of it.”
Ryan nodded. “Seems like the shot found its target, Doc. There’s more blood around the side of it, and the throat strap’s been cut. See the ragged ends. One of the pieces of buckshot from the Le Mat must’ve done that.”
“He was wounded and managed to get this far back. Then he must’ve jumped, Dad.”
“Right, Dean. I spotted more congealed blood on the handle of the mat-trans chamber.”
They stood in a silent circle, staring at the intricate workmanship on the helmet, engravings of big birds like storks, and flowers with frilled petals, an ornamental bridge between two little temples.
“Beautiful,” said Krysty. “Sort of thing you’d only see in a. What were those places called, Mildred?”
“Museums.”
“That’s it. Really lovely.”
Dean picked it up and tried it on, finding that it was a little too small for him. “Hey, the guy has a real double-shrunk head.”
“Take it off and leave it there,” Ryan said.
“Can’t I keep it, Dad?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Ryan looked at his son, feeling a sudden welling of anger at the repeated questions, but controlling it. “Because the man who owns it might come back for it. Good enough reason?”
“But he tried to chill Doc. Why can’t I take a dump in it, Dad?”
“Because we aren’t animals, and I don’t think that the man who owns the helmet is, either. Now leave it lie and let’s get on with the jump.”
When he opened the door of the chamber, Ryan consciously tried to avoid touching the patch of clotted blood.
“More inside,” Mildred said.
“Can you tell anything from it?” Ryan asked. “Kind of how bad it might be?”
“No. Clusters on the floor where he sat down. I guess Doc’s shot must have taken him high up. Face or neck and shoulders. At that range it would’ve probably starred out a lot. Not enough to show how serious the wound is, but it looks like it was getting worse. Might be the effort of returning here made the bleeding worse. That often happens.”
“Where in Hades did a Japanese samurai warrior come from?” Doc said. “Seems like they know how the gateways work. They come and go. And we’ve heard these strange rumors of gangs of them raiding around, all over Deathlands.”
“Guess we’ll never know.” J.R was picking his spot to sit down on the floor, avoiding the metal disks. “Unless we accidentally jump right on top of them, one of these fine days.”
“I can’t hardly wait,” Ryan said. “Come on, people. Let’s get out of here. I’m sure I can feel that rad hot spot eating into my bones.”
The Armorer sat himself first, taking off his fedora and brushing dust from it, laying it on the floor on his left. He folded his glasses for safety and put them in a pocket of his jacket. The Uzi stayed in his lap, the big Smith & Wesson scattergun on the floor on his right, ready for his hand.
Mildred sat next to him, the beads in her plaited hair rattling against the sky blue armaglass walls of the chamber, folding her hands in her lap and waiting patiently for the next jump to begin.
Dean was next in line, wriggling to his left to miss the speckled spots of blood.
“May I join you?” Doc asked with a small bow, smiling at the boy’s nod. “Well, thank’ee, Master. Thank’ee. I shall attempt to avoid puking all of my last miserable meal up all over you, but don’t blame me if-“