Choosing not to wear a shirt, the dead mutie was bare-chested with the usual stickie trait of no apparent body hair. He wore a pair of tattered dress slacks that had already turned dark with blood from his wounds. Jak’s kill was in similar shape, except the knife had caught the mutie in the throat, puncturing the carotid artery and causing a fountain of the pinkish stickie blood to spray. Some of the blood had peppered Doc, but the man hadn’t bothered to make mention of the unwanted shower, since Jak’s actions may have saved his life.
The albino retrieved his thrown weapon and wiped the blade clean on the stickie’s clothing before returning the knife to an inner hiding place inside his camou jacket.
“Wonder what brought them down here, Dad?” Dean asked. “I thought all the stickies in this part of Carolina were out smashing through stuff at the mall.”
“Could be they’ve started exploring now that they’ve burned down part of Freedom. Guess we’ll never know for sure.”
“Cowardly bastards. They’ve probably been hid- ing in the dark, waiting for a chance to jump someone,” the boy said.
“Alas, I fear you are correct regarding our attackers, young Dean,” Doc said softly. “Makes one wary, and sends one sliding backward into childhood, alone in bed at night and frightened of the hidden terrors of the night.”
“Were you scared of the dark when you were a kid, Doc?”
“Of course not,” Doc replied, then laid a finger alongside his nose and winked. “But my mother was an understanding parent and allowed me to keep a candle burning in the window all through my slumber-both for illumination for weary travelers, and for my own youthful peace of mind.”
“These muties look like rouges-not part of Lester’s band. Not smart or organized enough,” J.B. said as he busily emptied the dropped Uzi of the clip of 9 mm bullets. The fighting in Freedom combined with other gun-battles had eaten into their supply of badly needed ammunition. “Triple-strange to see a stickie carrying a blaster, though. Usually they prefer to stick to using their hands.”
“Was that a pun, J.B.?” Mildred asked in a voice tinged with mock amazement.
The Armorer looked back at her blankly. “Huh?”
“‘Stick to using their hands?’ Get it? ‘Stick to? Hands? Stickies?'”
J.B. stared at the black woman. She finally gave up on him getting the joke. “Shit, John, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We’ve got to work on your sense of humor.”
“Don’t got one,” the weapons specialist told her stoically.
“That’s what I mean,” Mildred retorted without missing a beat.
“Guess here in Carolina the local stickie population decided to change their habits, Lester or no Lester,” Ryan said. “Running into these two answered any doubts I might’ve had about passing back through this part of the Deathlands. I do intend to get up to Front Royal, but not using this route. Too dangerous without enough ammunition. Even if these stickies are wolf-heads from Lester’s mutie army, there’re probably plenty more farther up in the hospital complex.”
“So. We go back down?” Jak asked, rocking back and forth on his booted heels impatiently.
“Yeah,” Ryan said thoughtfully. “Yeah, let’s go back to the gateway. I’d just as soon get the hell out of this pit of a stairwell and on our way to another locale before we get any more surprises.”
No one disagreed and they all fell in step with Ryan as he took the relighted torch from Krysty and led the way back down. At the bottom, the landing was well illuminated by the strip lighting shining through the hole from the chamber where the cryogenic complex and mat-trans unit were both housed. Ryan extinguished the torch and placed it back against the desk where they’d found it.
“My father always told me, put your tools back where you got them,” Doc said in an approving tone.
From this side, the hole itself remained an inelegant affair, blown open previously by the wild-eyed Alvis Alton during his quest for hidden riches. Al-vis’s timing had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. He’d been able to assist Ryan and the others when they arrived in the hidden complex through the mat-trans unit, but at the same time he’d brought down a horde of stickies with the noise he created when he set off his explosives.