“Watch out!” he yelled. “No floor.”
It was the Armorer’s narrow face, the spectacles glinting, staring down at him.
Mildred peered over his shoulder. “Well,” she said. “Here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“I’ll start laughing when you get me the fuck out of this stuff.”
Dean and Krysty were also in the doorway. “You all right, Dad?”
“Sure. Sinking into a lake of cold shit is the best fun in the world. I like to spend my mornings this way. Do it whenever I get the chance.”
“Sorry,” the boy muttered.
“You reached the bottom yet?” the Armorer asked.
“Not so you’d notice. There’s a dead ghoulie someplace around, and I don’t even know if he’s reached the bottom yet.”
“Can we get you out, lover, and cut out all this talk?” Krysty said anxiously.
Ryan had already unslung the Steyr SSG-70, holding it clear of the surface of the mud, and he now balanced himself, ready to throw it up to J.B. The Armorer had lain down on the floor, reaching to try and grab it, but it was just out of reach.
“Take your time,” J.B. said. “Don’t want to drop it in the shit.”
The effort of lobbing it up above his head, with the muck up to his armpits, was intensely difficult. And Ryan knew that his old friend was right. If he screwed up on it and the rifle fell back, it could easily sink beyond his reach.
He gripped the middle of the muzzle in both hands and readied himself, then threw it butt-first as hard as he could.
J.B. was crouching, with Krysty at his side in case he fumbled. But the throw was good and the catch effortless.
“I’ll knot the strap to the one off the scattergun,” he said. “Should give us enough length to reach you.”
“Sure,” Ryan replied, though he didn’t have the confidence he tried to fake. He was sunk so deep that it would take an enormous effort to heave him out.
It took the agile fingers of the Armorer a couple of minutes to securely knot the straps together. “Get it around your wrists,” he shouted down.
Ryan moved his feet experimentally, hoping that he might have sunk as far as the bottom. But there was still nothing below him but the thick ooze.
The strap came down slowly and he reached up and took it, looping it around his right wrist, folding the end tightly into his palm.
“Ready.”
He had no worries that the strap would prove strong enough, but there wasn’t all that much spare length at the top for them to use efficiently. No possibility of anchoring it around anything, or of them all getting a good grip.
J.B. was crouched down, with Krysty immediately behind him. Mildred was ready to pull at the Armorer’s shoulders, and Dean was at the back, hanging on to Krysty to give what help he could.
“Here we go,” J.B. said, as calmly as if he were setting off on a sunny walk through the countryside.
Ryan straightened his legs to make the pull as easy as possible, bracing himself as the strap tightened.
He felt the strain through his shoulders and back, but there was no upward progress.
After several seconds of intense pressure, the strap loosened. “Relax awhile,” J.B. called. “You feel any movement down there, Ryan?”
“No.” He thought for a moment. ” ‘Least I’m not going down any farther.”
“Best I use the power,” Krysty called.
“No! Not yet, lover.”
The Earth Mother power that Krysty had been taught by her mother back in Harmony ville gave her, for a brief few moments, almost supernatural strength. Ryan had seen her use it only a limited number of times, and it was a truly fearsome sight. The downside was that it devastated the woman, sending her unconscious immediately after its use, gravely weakening her for up to a couple of days.
“Might be the only way,” J.B. warned. “This isn’t the easiest way of doing a lift.”
“I know it. If we have to use Krysty’s power, then we will. Not until it’s the only option. Try again. This time brace the strap and I’ll try and haul myself against it.”