James Axler – Deathlands

Once that was done they went outside, leaving a half dozen of the dead man’s closest relatives and friends to fill in the hole and stamp the dirt hard and flat again.

“YOU SAID THAT THERE WAS an American base not far from here,” Ryan said. “How far away? Is it still there? Mind if we go take a look at it?”

Itzcoatl had taken off his mask, but still retained his ceremonial cloak. Pitchers of octli were being passed around as the village feasted in celebration of the dead. The chief’s speech had become slurred, and his dark eyes narrowed until they were almost invisible.

“Three questions,” he said, giggling, holding up four fingers, squinting at them owlishly. “Or was it four questions?”

“Three questions,” Ryan agreed. “First, how far away is the base?”

Itzcoatl considered that. “As far as tomorrow and as near as yesterday,” he mumbled.

“Terrific. How long would it take us to get there?”

Another giggle. “As long as your past and as short as summer rain.”

“Just tell him we’re going,” Krysty said.

“Got a better idea.” Ryan turned and looked at Jak. “You ask him the questions. He won’t dare to fuck around with a god.”

“Don’t want to. When we going from here?”

“Why? You got a problem, Jak?”

“Sure. Don’t like way they treat me. Don’t like heat and damp. Don’t like food. Don’t much like danger. My vote to leave and make another jump.”

Ryan nodded. “Fair comment. Day or so and we’ll leave. But we haven’t talked much about what we’re going to do while we’re here. Will we help them against this neighboring tribe or not? Will we go after those slavin’ sons of bitches?”

The teenager looked down and sighed. “Mebbe right, Ryan. Mebbe just me. Sure, I’ll ask him.” He tapped Itzcoatl on the shoulder, making him jump.

“What do you want, Jak? Women? Drink?”

“Just answer Ryan’s questions. Where is old American base? How long to get there? Does still exist? We’re going take a look.”

Itzcoatl shook his head muzzily. “Haunted ruins, Jak,” he mumbled.

“Haunted by what?” Ryan asked. “Ghosts of the old Americans who used to live around here?”

The native laid a finger along the side of his nose and winked at Ryan. Or tried to wink. He succeeded only in closing both eyes at once, which made him lose his balance and nearly fall over.

“Dark night!” The Armorer pointed at Jak. “Just ask him which way. We’ll go find it ourselves.”

“I will get Rain Flower to show you. You have seen her before. She will go with you, Jak, and will follow your orders. Sure will.”

IT WAS A HEAVEN of a morning.

The young woman had listened to the drunken chief, nodding her submissive understanding. She wore a blouse of plain cotton over an ankle-length skirt that had been handprinted with large, bright orange flowers. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, and she had a Savage automatic tucked into a crude holster on a broad leather belt around her slender waist.

Ryan and his group carried all of their weapons, including the Steyr rifle and the Smith amp; Wesson M-4000 scattergun. It wasn’t a time or a place to take any risks.

Rain Flower walked quickly, barefooted, through the gates, turning to follow the side of the lake for about a quarter mile. Then she cut off to the left along a clear track that took them close to the huge pyramid.

After another two hundred yards, they were all swallowed up by the jungle.

Chapter Fourteen

Faint and far off, Ryan heard the shrill noise of the trumpet from the village. His guess put them at least two miles away, with the lake lying directly behind them. The track was growing narrower, and they were passing fewer and fewer side trails.

“How long before we get to the old base?” Ryan asked. The young woman hadn’t spoken a single word since they’d left the village, and he was beginning to wonder whether she spoke American. Or whether she might possibly be mute.

“It is about as far as the distance that we have already come,” she replied after a long pause.