James Axler – Deathlands

“Well, we ended up in Moscow that one time,” Ryan said. “Can you change the settings to give us an idea?”

“Sure. But I can’t give any real kind of accuracy at all. Even if I try and reset all the base parameters on it. Let’s see If we”

They stood still, waiting. A skinny monkey swung past overhead, its pelt a leprous yellow. It paused and stared down at them from red-veined, protruding eyes.

J.B. sniffed. “Well, near as I can figure it, we’re someplace like the middle of the Amazon jungle. But there’s one lateral reading that doesn’t seem to register properly. I guess we could be on the narrow bit between Deathlands and South America. Could be.”

“The isthmus of Panama,” Doc suggested. “Home of the great canal and every kind of disease-bearing insect known to humanity. The white man’s grave.”

“Farther south is more likely.” J.B. put away the minisextant. “Best bet is that we’ve jumped to some kind of secret base that got built in the jungles of Brazil or a place like that.” He took off his glasses to clean away a blur of perspiration. “Have to admit that my geography’s not too hot once you get south of the Grandee. And we’re way south of that.”

Ryan glanced behind them. They’d all checked out the exterior of the building that housed the mat-trans unit. The one thing that seemed certain was that it wasn’t a normal redoubt. It was too small for that, though it was built of the same nuke-resistant materials.

Some scratches and deeper gouges marred the reinforced walls at the side of the open door. Instead of the usual lever to close the door, there was the kind of protected number-and-letter digital-display pad that was normally on the outside doors of big redoubts.

Taking a chance, based on previous experience of exits from sealed redoubts, Ryan had keyed in the numerals 2 and 5 and 3.

It had worked, and the massive sec door had slid closed. There were more shallow scratches and minor dents on its outside, as if attempts had been made to break inbut totally ineffectual attempts.

“Like the one in Russia,” J.B. had observed. “Just the mat-trans unit hidden away without a major redoubt to guard and protect it.”

“There goes my hopes of a hot shower,” Krysty moaned. “With this soaking heat I need it even more.”

“Me, too,” Mildred agreed. “Maybe we’ll find a nice limpid crystal pool somewhere close by.”

“Probably will,” Jak said. “Filled piranhas.”

THE PATH RAN for about a hundred yards.

Doc called for a halt. “Might I ask a short and simple question?”

“Sure,” Ryan replied. “Shoot, Doc.”

“Since the gateway was sealed and had obviously not been opened since the days of skydark, what is the point of this path? It appears to lead through an otherwise impenetrable region of dense forest to a locked door.”

“Good question.”

They all stood and pondered it. Apart from the narrow path, there was no other sign of the existence of human life, though the undergrowth was so thick that there could have been a sixteen-lane highway just a hundred yards away and they wouldn’t have known it.

“Mebbe part hunting trail,” Jak suggested. “Plenty game around.”

“Could be.” Ryan wiped sweat from his face, pulling away the patch from his missing left eye and mopping the puckered socket dry.

“What are we looking for, Dad?”

“Don’t know until we find it. Somewhere to get some food. Just move on a ways until we come across some sort of ville.”

Less than thirty seconds later they encountered the locals.

Chapter Five

Ryan had just started moving again when the path came to an abrupt end. The wall of forest opened into a wide clearing, hacked clear and kept cropped. Immediately opposite was a wider track, winding toward the west.

But what immediately caught Ryan’s eye was the trio of men standing by a large circular block of stones at the center of the clearing.

They were dark skinned, with short hair that was covered in some kind of oil or grease. Two of the stocky men wore cotton shirts and pants, the third a beaded loincloth that barely covered his genitals. All of them had necklaces, and dangling rings through their ears. Bows were slung across their shoulders, as were quivers of feathered arrows. Two of them also had blasters. One was carrying what seemed to be an ancient Mauser rifle. The other had a pistol tucked into the waist of his pants. It wasn’t a model that Ryan recognized at all.