James Axler – Judas Strike

The field stretched for more than a mile, trees growing in scattered stands, which grew closer and closer together until the companions were proceeding through a lush grove. The trees gave off the rich aroma of eucalyptus, and Mildred pulled off several handfuls to stuff into her med kit.

Several times, Jak altered course for no discernible reason, and the others followed, even though there was no indication of anything having passed that way.

“Damn, they’re good,” Krysty said softly, in annoyance.

“We’re better,” Ryan answered, tracking a motion in the trees. Then a monkey with four arms scampered out of the greenery, pursued by a gang of norm chimps, who snarled and slavered in blind fury, the bull males culling the troop of a mutie.

The sky was darkening when they arrived at a large vista of black stone. The irregular plan of congealed lava extended for hundreds of yards. Jak didn’t even pause as he changed direction and headed for a low rise, a momentary swell in the lava flow that had become trapped forever in time. Cresting the rise, he easily walked down a gentle slope into a deep ravine. At the bottom was a pre-dark road, the pavement stained and cracked, weeds growing tall through every crevice.

Even in the early-evening light, Ryan could see that several of the stalks were bending back into shape from something recent pushing them aside.

“Here less than an hour ago,” he said softly.

Jak nodded his agreement.

The ancient road meandered through the dense weeds as if based upon the path of a snake. The cracks became wider and more pronounced until the slabs of pavement were islands in the soggy earth. Soon they were riding through a marsh, the muddy water almost a foot deep. Clumps of decaying trees dotted the surface, and occasionally the bloated body of a drowned animal floated by.

“Watch for pools of still water,” Ryan warned, slowing his horse. “Could be a sinkhole. Break a leg stepping into one of those.”

“Or quicksand,” Dean added, frowning.

Following the wash of the stagnant water, the companions walked their mounts through the sodden landscape until the mud turned to grass, and they were back on dry ground again. Another forest of tropical trees grew to the east, stretching to the mountains, tall peaks of brown stone that reached for the clouds. To the west and north was the start of the jungle, the array of bushes, bamboo and vines seeming impassable without machinery.

“Gate,” Jak said, pointing.

Moving incredibly fast, Ryan fired the SIG-Sauer twice, the silenced weapon coughing gently. There was a stirring in the bushes, and two men dressed in mottled green dropped their flintlock longblasters and fell to the ground, both of them bleeding from the throat.

Spreading out, the companions did a quick recce of the area and found no more hidden guards. Dismounting, they checked the fallen guards and found one of them still breathing, the blood bubbling from the ghastly wound in his neck. Ryan cut the man’s throat with a smooth stroke of the panga, the blade curving along the neck as if designed specifically for that function.

On closer inspection, the wall of bamboo was false, the tubular plants resting on some old splintery wood with a central pivot buried in the soil. Ryan pushed on one side, and the other swung outward. Ryan took the point and went inside first. To the left was a corral of horses, to the right a bubbling spring of naturally carbonated water. He whistled like a mountain lark, and the others came through the gate, weapons in hand.

Tethering their mounts on the outside of the corral in case they needed to leave quickly, they fell into line, Ryan on point, Doc in the middle, J.B. at the rear. A wide path led through the bamboo grove, and Ryan found two more hidden guards. The first was a massive hound. It wasted its only chance to give a warning by growling at the companions. Ryan aced the dog nice and quiet, the SIG-Sauer delivering a 9 mm round directly into its left eye. The other guard was a man who burst from cover to throw a spear. Ryan dodged the spear, but his slug only grazed the man’s neck, a geyser of blood spurting from the nicked artery. Grabbing the wound, the man opened his mouth to scream and a knife slammed into his temple. With a sigh, the guard collapsed to the ground and died. Jak reclaimed his blade and wiped it clean on the corpse’s shirt.