James Axler – Freedom Lost

“Yeah, this place is positively tidy,” Ryan added dryly.

“We keep it cleared,” Rollins said. “First order of business each spring is to repair the lots. We towed the wags out years ago. Mall management prefers the areas around the perimeter to be unobstructed.”

“What about that mess?” Dean piped up, pointing at a melted, blackened mass of metal and plastic as they headed for the front entrance.

“That’s new, boy. With all of the recent stickie attacks we’ve been having, our group has been working overtime keeping the areas clean. Drives the stickies crazy. There’s nothing close to burn, so they have to drag in their own shit to set on fire. Pieces of furniture. Small engine motorcycles. Old dried-out lumber. They even trailer in larger objects from time to time to light up Freedom’s nightlife.”

“They were probably looking for stuff in the old hospital when they came upon us,” Alton said quietly to J.B and Mildred as they listened to the conversation from the rear.

“Stickies do love their fireworks,” Ryan agreed. “I’ve even seen them set each other ablaze when they’re really worked up.”

Rollins laughed. “Right! Right! Believe it or not, one of the crazy bastards actually figured out how to use a catapult. A goddamn catapult! Don’t know where they got the bastard thing. Used to be an outdoor theater presented in Old Salem where they’d reenact ancient history and stuff. Mebbe it came from there. Anyway, they were flinging flaming shit up on the roof of the mall for a few weeks. Made for some long nights for all of the mall sec men, but at least we could see it coming from a mile away in time enough to dodge.”

“What made them stop?” Krysty asked, reining her horse over to keep close to Ryan’s deep-copper-colored gelding.

The sec leader shook his head with amusement. “As usual, being the scholars they are, none of the stickies seemed to realize that we could see where the flaming loads from the catapult were being launched, and high-power bullets go a lot farther than a fireball.”

“Took them out using snipers?” Ryan asked.

“You bet. We dug up some old Army ordnance in a swap with a ville, and in the trade we picked up an old bolt-action sniping rifle with a night scope. That did the trick. Started picking off muties right and left. Poor stickies had to leave their catapult behind, and the next morning a team of sec men went out with fire axes and dismantled the damn thing triple quick.”

“Doesn’t sound like you have a problem,” Ryan said.

“Six months ago, we didn’t. Things are different now. I don’t know what’s been going on in the downtown area, but the muties seem to bewell, they seem to be getting smarter somehow.”

AT THE GAPING MAW of the reinforced mall entrance, Rollins and his sec men parted company with Ryan’s group. Mike and the staggering Ike were led away by two of their fellows, while the others took the horses in the opposite direction. A line of people, men, women and a few kids around Dean’s age were awaiting entry via the Freedom checkpoint.

“Hans will check you through. He’s the gatekeeper,” Rollins said as he followed his men through a second sec-personnel entrance. “No offense, but I hope not to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Ryan agreed as he and the others took positions at the back of the slowly moving line.

“What’s your take on that guy?” J.B. asked quietly.

“Seems on the up-and-up. Could be some kind of trap, but a ville this size, all enclosedI want to get a closer look,” Ryan replied.

“Same here,” Krysty said. “Feels okay to me. What it appears to be, it is.”

“Then we’re going in,” Ryan stated. “Stay alert.”

The entrance was well guarded, again by four of the Freedom Mall sec men dressed in green. All were armed with long blasters cradled in their arms. One carried a .30-caliber Browning automatic, while the others cradled M-16 assault rifles. They were bulky men, padded with what Ryan guessed to be body armor similar to what Mike and Ike were wearing. They also wore bulletproof antiriot helmets with fold-down protective visors.