James Axler – Rat King

“I’m still not sure what the hell it is we’re supposed to be keeping a lookout

for,” he complained. “Nothing can move out there, not in that.”

“Not want stay, not stay,” Jak commented quietly. “Not forcing you.”

“I know,” Dean replied, struggling for the right words. “I kind of don’t want

to, but feel like I should.”

“Why?”

“Because you feel like something’s going to happen.”

Jak turned to Dean, and for a moment there was a hint of suspicion in his red

eyes. “Not a doomie,” he said tersely. “Just bad feeling. Not know what, why.”

“Not just you,” Dean said. “Krysty’s had a weird feeling today. I heard her tell

Dad before he went to see that bastard Abner. Krysty doesn’t get bad feelings

for nothing.”

Jak didn’t reply, but now he knew why Ryan had picked today to find out when

Abner was actually going to act. The bad feeling returned to him, intensified.

It wasn’t a doomie feeling, not like those Krysty had.

No, this wasn’t a doomie feeling. It was more the kind of gut tension you got

before a fight. The feeling that a chilling was in the air.

Jak returned to his vigil, Dean settling in beside him. Both of them ignored the

wind and dust that stung their eyes, keeping watch for the slightest sign of

activity.

Such as flurries of dust where there were previously none.

“Over there,” Jak said pointing, squinting to try to get a better look.

Dean followed the line of Jak’s bony white finger, not quite believing what he

saw. Out of the dust clouds emerged a war wag. No, more than one. He counted

four of them.

“I don’t believe it,” he whispered. “Four wags?”

“How they cross chasm?” Jak murmured.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Dean replied.

That shook Jak from his reverie. He hadn’t realized that he was thinking aloud.

In one graceful, fluid movement he rose to his feet, placing a hand on Dean’s

shoulder.

“You keep watch.”

“Yeah, you go and fetch Dad and the others. They need to see this,” Dean said.

“Already there,” Jak replied as he disappeared like a wraith.

Dean kept his gaze locked on the wags as they careered through the dust storms.

At that speed it wouldn’t be long before they were at the ville.

JAK SPED through the twisting lanes and paths that comprised the streets of the

ville, making his way to the adobe hut where his companions were still billeted.

Their training of the ville dwellers hadn’t led Abner to give them better

accommodations. Then again, looking at the sty in which the baron lived, perhaps

there wasn’t anything better.

When Jak reached the entrance to the hut, he could hear J.B., Mildred and Krysty

talking about the possibility of making a mat-trans jump without being

physically sick at the other end.

The albino burst into the adobe shack, his sudden appearance causing surprise

that turned to a crackling, palpable tension as his body language communicated

his urgency.

“War wags coming. Counted four. Dean still watching. Where’s Ryan?”

“With Abner, last I knew,” J.B. told him, reaching for his Uzi and the M-4000,

checking their load and readiness for action.

“I’ll get him,” Krysty said, heading for the doorway and passing Jak. “You get

the rest of these stupes ready. They never said anything about war wags.”

J.B., grim faced, nodded. It was true that Abner, Mac and others they had spoken

to had said nothing about Wallace’s men coming by wag. Because of the chasm,

they had all assumed that the attacking forces had to come on foot. That would

make them easy to spot and easy to make a head count. But in wags?

“Round them up,” J.B. said, striding toward the doorway. He had barely the trace

of a limp now, but was still a little concerned about putting too much strain on

the ankle. He’d have to watch his positioning as much as was possible in any

firefight. “We’ll take it in three. Okay?”

Mildred and Jak agreed. The ville was small enough for them to divide and alert

the population quickly enough. So far they’d heard no alarm being raised, so did