Of even more practical use in her new surroundings, Mildred was a crack shot, having participated in the Olympics of 1996 as a free-shooter and taking home a silver medal for the United States. She carried a ZKR 551 Czech-built .38 target revolver, and while she took her oath as a healer seriously, she had seen enough and experienced even more since her reawakening to know the old saying “he who hesitates is lost” was written with the Deathlands in mind.
But for now the Armorer and the doctor were both at rest. Although they kept their relationship restrained and private, Ryan couldn’t help but notice the comforting arm J.B. had placed around Mildred’s shoulders. She leaned back into the side of the Armorer gratefully. Out of all the band of friends, Mildred came closest to actually understanding the hellish process they were about to endure, but that didn’t mean she particularly enjoyed it.
J.B. was ready. Ryan saw the lean man had already removed his steel-rimmed eyeglasses and tucked them safely away inside the front pocket of his worn leather jacket. J.B.’s other hand gripped his Smith amp; Wesson M-4000 scattergun tightly, reminding Ryan to check his own weaponry. Ryan caught J.B.’s eye, and the Armorer nodded an affirmative, tilting his battered fedora down over his eyes as if readying himself for a late-afternoon nap.
Ryan smiled at the gesture. J. B. Dix didn’t like to use words when a gesture or a nod would do the job. Saved time. But he spoke up when things needed saying, or at times, when Mildred needed something a little extra from him.
“Planning on standing up for this trip, lover?” Krysty asked.
Staying upright during the matter-transfer process was never a good idea, since they usually ended up after a jump flat on the floor and unconscious anyway.
Ryan sat down in the graveyard mist next to Krysty, and she gave him a brief wink. As always, he couldn’t help but marvel at her striking beautythe flawless pale alabaster skin that managed to keep its purity even under the adverse conditions they sometimes traveled in, the radiant green of her eyes and the passionate fire of her long red hair. It was odd considering the amount of time they spent outdoors that there wasn’t even a hint of a freckle on her nose or cheeks. Such a lack of freckling was very unusual for a redhead.
“You’re staring,” she whispered, taking his hand in her own and squeezing.
“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you,” Ryan replied.
“Nice to be appreciated.”
“I’m just glad to be moving again,” Dean Cawdor remarked to his father. The boy was seated next to Krysty, his knees drawn up tight to his chest. Ryan could almost swear the lad had grown an inch during their brief separation. If the growth spurts continued, the boy would soon be as tall as Ryan himself. They already shared the same dark complexion and curly black hair.
Like many young people of the Deathlands, Dean was chronologically poised to enter his teens with the life experiences of a much older person.
Across from Ryan was a young albino he considered his second son. Unlike Dean, there was no sharing of bloodlines, nor any resemblancebut the mutual feelings of love and respect ran deep. The teen’s features were distinctive enough to bring more than a glancing notice, even among the more unusual appearances in Deathlands. Jak Lauren’s pallid complexion was paler than usual, throwing the crisscrossed scars on his face into sharp relief. His ruby eyes were half-closed, and his mouth was drawn tight in anticipation of the jump to come.
A heavy, well-used but well-maintained Colt Python blaster was safely fastened down in a holster on one of Jak’s legs. As a rule, Ryan didn’t want his party to have weapons combat ready before a jump, so there was no need to have the handblaster cocked and ready. The mental and physical condition of everyone after a jump prevented the use of any weapons. Even if they were to beam into the midst of a firefight or a band of scalies, the group wouldn’t be able to lift a finger to fight back until recovering from the physical toll the mat-trans experience took as payment for the instantaneous method of travel.
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