James Axler – Freedom Lost

“We’re keeping their ammo,” Ryan said matter-of-factly.

“All right. We’ll deduct it from their pay,” the sec man said. “Being on this road, and the end of daylight upon us, I suppose you were heading for Freedom?”

Ryan nodded. “The thought had crossed our minds.”

“Then let me offer an escort,” Rollins replied. “You’re close, but the more people on the trail, the safer the trip. These boys have horses somewhere. They can walk in, and you and some of your party can ride, if you know how.”

“Riding’s not a problem.”

“Mebbe not. But something is, the way you’re looking me over.”

“We’re invited into Freedom, just like that.” Ryan’s tone was as friendly as he could make it, despite his suspicions.

“Just like that,” the tall sec man replied.

“Your baron won’t mind?” Krysty asked.

The big sec man chuckled. “No baron in Freedom, ma’am. There’s Mr. Morgan, but he keeps a low profile. He’s a behind-the-scenes type of leader. We’re all answerable to him, but you’ll never see his face unless things go bad for you once you’re inside.”

“Don’t guess we’ll be meeting him, then,” Ryan said.

“Freedom is nothing but people, stores, food and sluts. A fully functioning ville under one roof. You got jack to spend? Creds? Metals and stones?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answered. “We got jack. Stuff to trade, too.”

Rollins nodded his bald head. “Then you got an invite. Visitors with jack and useful items are always welcome to Freedom.”

Chapter Ten

After some quick debate, Ryan and Krysty had taken the reins of the disgraced sec men’s horses. Dean rode behind Ryan, and Krysty saddled up with Doc. Jak, Mildred, Alton Adrian and J.B. chose to follow on foot. The two beaten Freedom sec men were allowed to plod along in the lead, where a watchful eye could be kept on them.

Rollins had told the truth. The Freedom Mall was close by. The mall came into view long before they actually reached the single, imposing entrance. A massive construction of the most redbrick anyone had ever witnessed in a single location, with inset panels of tan fieldstone, the architectural beast seemed to have thrust itself upward into the hilly surroundings from a sea of black asphalt.

All of Ryan’s group had seen malls like this before. In Mildred’s case, being a former resident of the late twentieth century, she had actually shopped inside quite a few before being placed in the long sleep of cryonic suspension. A wallet of credit cards with her name embossed on the faces was probably still tucked away inside her purse in a hospital storage locker somewhere.

Ryan’s most recent memory of a mall near this size was the leveled remains of the SkyHi Mall back at Bear Creek Ridge in Colorado.

Unlike Freedom, which gave off the air of being as solid as a hunk of shining, freshly hewn stone, the SkyHi facility had been hit hard by quakes and severe weather, causing entire walls to cave in upon the once spacious and well-appointed interior.

That had been many long months ago. The group had been staying in Jak’s former homestead in New Mexicountil an interruption saw Dean kidnapped and Ryan forced to go after the boy alone in a desperate attempt to bring him back alive. Ryan had engaged the mat-trans unit to make a long jump high up the North American continent to Canada, where his old foe Major-Commissar Gregori Zimyanin had taken command of a series of slave mines.

The baron had stolen the boy to use as bait to lure Ryan into a final confrontation that only one of them would survive. The final battle had nearly taken them both down, with Zimyanin ultimately falling to his death.

However, Ryan had never seen the body to make sure. Major-Commissar Zimyanin had a particular habit of coming back from the dead. When pressed, the one-eyed leader would admit he still wasn’t sure Zimyanin was truly wormfood. Coldhearts like the major were damn hard to chill, and even harder to bury.

“Parking lot looks clear. No junk cars, no wreckage or plant growth,” Doc observed with a note of pleasure in his best baritone voice.