James Axler – Rat King

that mean that the ville was usually completely unprepared when Murphy’s sec men

were sent by Wallace?

J.B. marveled at the fact that there was still a ville at all as he went from

shack to shack in his allotted section of town, yelling that an attack was on

the way. He could only put their continued and precarious survival down to the

protection of the elements that seemed to work against their survival in so many

other ways.

RYAN WAS JUST LEAVING Abner’s shack when Krysty found him. He was itching for a

fight, the baron having irritated him with his offhand manner.

“What is it?” he snapped as he saw her rush toward him. It was a reaction caused

by a deep sense of foreboding and the beginnings of an adrenaline rush. Action

was imminent. He could tell by the way that her hair had coiled at her nape, and

by the depth of concentration in her eyes.

“They’re coming, lover. Jak and Dean have seen them approaching.”

“How many?”

“Can’t tell. They’re in wags. Four, they counted.”

“Fireblast!” Ryan whirled back toward Abner’s shack, mounting the veranda and

grabbing Mac through the open doorway. The fat sec man had his back to Ryan and

grunted with surprise as the one-eyed warrior pulled him through the doorway.

Ryan spun the man so that he faced him. “They’re coming. Why didn’t you say they

used wags?”

Mac looked at him blankly and said ingenuously, “But you never asked. Besides,

they’ve never come in storms this bad. Not often.”

Ryan cursed. No matter how much a person trained someone, a stupe was still a

stupe. Taking a deep breath and marshaling his thoughts, which raced on a rush

of adrenaline and his fighting instincts, Ryan said, “Okay, you know the plan.

We let them come and then attack. We need sec uniforms to get into the redoubt,

and we need one of them alive. Getting a wag will be a bonus, I guess. Let’s

go.”

Ryan and Krysty left Mac to prepare his sec forces— such as they were—while they

raced on the double to the mound where Dean was waiting. Krysty told Ryan

briefly how J.B., Mildred and Jak were rounding up the ville dwellers. Indeed,

the ville was now a hive of activity, with the armory broken open and the

dangerous homemade and altered blasters being passed out among those who had

trained to shoot under Krysty and Mildred.

Ryan and Krysty reached the mound where Dean was waiting. He didn’t turn as they

approached, keeping his eyes focused on the approaching wags.

“A couple of minutes, no more,” he said without preliminaries. “They’re making

good time. No more than four wags. Do we still follow the original plan, Dad?”

“Even more necessary,” Ryan replied.

“Right. Got to get the bastards out of the wags first,” Dean replied.

“Okay, son,” he said. “Let’s fall back and get into position.”

THE WAGS RATTLED PAST the embers of the beacon fires, past the earthen mounds

that circled the ville and along the main track that led into the heart of the

ville.

Murphy frowned as he peered out of the dirt-splattered windshield. The

heavy-duty wipers were going at full speed, the washers squirting

detergent-laced water onto the glass. But all it did was produce a muddy smear

that made it hard for Murphy to keep surveillance and for Bailey to drive.

“This is weird shit,” Murphy whispered to himself.

“Sir?” Bailey risked a sideways glance at his superior, having to throw the

wheel to the left to correct the steering as a result.

“It’s probably nothing,” Murphy replied, still peering intently through the mud

streaks. “It’s just too damn quiet out there.”

“They’re hardly trained soldiers like us, sir,” Bailey said intently. “Probably

all still in their shit pits, sleeping or rutting like the animals they are.”

Murphy grunted. “And we have to use them for stock. Not for long, Bailey, not

for long.”

“No, sir!” Bailey breathed, bringing the wag to a halt in the center of the

ville. The rough circle that served as the meeting place was deserted, the

shacks and huts ringing it dark.

“I sniff Cawdor in all this,” Murphy said quietly. “I just hope they’ve left the