James Axler – Deathlands 35 – Skydark

“Did your ville have a name?” Krysty asked.

“Naw. It wasn’t much of a place. Sort of popped up along Baron Elijah’s toll road, so’s travelers could be safe after dark.”

“Baron Willie Elijah?” Ryan asked.

“Of course,” the man said. He gave the one-eyed

man a suspicious look. “Where’d you say you come from?”

Ryan didn’t reply.

“Everybody’s heard of Elijah,” J.B. said. “He led the other barons in the Mutie War, about twenty years back. Got them to combine their sec men and mercies to crush the mutie slave rebellion. They killed every mother’s son they could get their hands on.”

“Old Elijah’s always had a thing about keepin’ mu-ties in their place,” the man said. “He’s real picky about the purity of his bloodline, too. Doesn’t want them mutie traits creeping in.”

“Is he still riding his own daughters?” Ryan asked.

“Daughters!” the woman exclaimed. “He’s probably humping his granddaughters’ brats by now. He’s a nasty old goat and he starts in on them before they’ve grown a full curl.”

“Gonna git what’s comin’ to him, though,” her husband said.

“How’s that?” said Ryan.

“The stickies’re all headin* his way. Like hungry locust bugs to Willie ville. And in the front of them all is one mutie he sure should of chilled when he had the chance.”

“A mutie is leading them?” Krysty said.

“Biggest, ugliest bastard you ever saw. I recognized him right off. I seen him lots of times before. In a cage. Baron had him in his zoo for years. Raised him up from a little bitty squirmer. Old baron likes to gather things, and he doesn’t like to let them go. Got this particular

specimen from some mercies after the Mutie War. I reckon it’s come payback time for old Elijah.”

“How far is Willie ville from here?” Ryan asked.

“Twenty-one miles,” the man replied, pointing to the road north.

“Whoa!” J.B. said. “You’re not thinking about going there, are you?”

Ryan looked into his old friend’s face. “Might go for a look-see.”

“If we don’t get there before the stickles do,” Mildred said, “everyone in that ville is going to die, too.”

“We’ll have to try to get the eastern barons organized for mutual defense, or nobody’s going to stand a chance-including us,” Ryan stated.

“That’s a tail order,” J.B. replied. “The barons haven’t worked together since the Mutie War.”

“There’s something else,” Ryan added. “I think you should all know about it before you each decide what you’re going to do.”

“What is that, dear fellow?” Doc queried.

“I’ve got a history with Willie Elijah that goes back to the war. I wasn’t much older than Jak when I hired on with him as a mercie. He and I parted on bad terms and he might still remember and hold a grudge. What I’m saying is, because of that he might not listen to anything I have to say. Worse, he might kill me and whoever’s traveling with me.”

“You think this is worth the risk?” Krysty asked.

“You saw what the stickles did here. If we don’t do something to stop them, they’ll hunt down and erase

our kind from Deathlands, mebbe from the whole world. I’m going on alone, if I have to. Mebbe that would be best, anyway.”

“Count me in,” J.B. said.

“Me, too,” Krysty stated.

The other companions likewise threw in their lots with their leader.

He turned to the refugee couple and said, “Do you want to come with us?”

“To Willie ville?” the woman said, aghast She scowled at Ryan as if he were a triple stupe droolie.

“No, thankee, if it’s all the same to you,” the man told him. “That’s the wrong direction for me and Mar-gee. We’ve seen enough stickies to last us. We’d rather take our chances in the bush.” He dipped his fingers inside the slash pocket of his raggedy coat and took out a battered semi auto blaster. The rusted slide was locked back, the action open.

“Got no more bullets for it,” the man said. He dumped the magazine of the Brazilian knockoff of a Colt Government Model onto his palm. “Can you spare us three 9 mm slugs, just in case we don’t make it?”