James Axler – Rat King

years. The rest of the companions had done the same, preparing themselves for

when the attack came.

It wasn’t unfolding as he’d hoped. Murphy’s men were grouped in the center of

the ville. That much, at least, was according to plan. But they had wags to

protect them, which would make attack much more difficult.

J.B. was waiting for him at the arranged point, by Abner’s shack. The Armorer

had been assigned the task of covering the far sector of the ville simply

because he couldn’t guarantee his mobility would be one hundred percent. By

dropping back, he protected himself and also decreased the chances of being a

liability to the others.

“Had a look at them?” J.B. asked.

Ryan nodded. “Four wags, six men per wag. Only twenty-three now, though.”

J.B. chewed his lip. “Wish we had some plas-ex. The wags give them too much

cover. We need to draw them out.”

“If you come with me, that’s just what I intend to do,” Ryan replied, instantly

changing plans.

MURPHY FELT the cold sweat of fear ran down his back. His eyes stung with

perspiration and dust, but he didn’t dare relax his grip on the blaster for the

fraction of a second it would take him to wipe the sweat away.

After he heard the ricochet of the Uzi fire, and the scream from the direction

of the initial shot, there had been nothing. Murphy didn’t know that the ville

dwellers, hidden away but watchful, had been itching to fire back, stopped only

by the knowledge drilled into them by the one-eyed man and his compatriots—the

knowledge that a war of attrition would have a better long-term effect than a

blind firefight.

If Murphy had known that, he would have gladly told them it was working just to

goad them into some action. He glanced around at his men, who were looking as

jumpy and wired as himself. Whatever had been going on here, that bastard Cawdor

and his crew of scum had trained the outsiders well. He regretted the fact that

he and Ryan were so opposed. Cawdor would be a good man to have on his side when

the crunch came with Wallace.

The quiet was becoming oppressive, the howling wind seeming to grow in volume,

distracting as Murphy tried to listen for any sound that could give the ville

dwellers away. There was nothing.

He couldn’t hear Jak, silently gliding around the back of the wags, with a

leaf-bladed knife in each hand, ready to take out anything that got in his way.

He couldn’t hear J.B., moving around to inform Mildred, Dean and Krysty of

Ryan’s change of plan. He couldn’t hear the ville dwellers as they moved into

their new positions.

Murphy had never had to deal with the ville when it was prepared for action. He

had never been on the defensive, and he didn’t like it.

RYAN COULD FEEL the tension coming off the sec chief. Murphy knew he was giving

it off.

So Ryan felt at ease when he stepped out of the alley, shielded by the back of a

shack that faced directly onto the circle. Murphy was to his left, about twenty

yards away. There were six sec men between them.

Ryan carried the Steyr on his right shoulder, an H&K hanging by its strap from

the other shoulder. He stepped into the rear of the shack, shrugging loose the

Steyr and leaving it on the dirt floor while he slid the H&K into his hands,

preparing to fire. He looked around at the interior of the shack. It was adobe,

reinforced by old corrugated-iron sheets.

He had been counting in his head the whole time. He was up to five hundred. It

should have been plenty of time for the ville dwellers to take up their new

positions.

Now it was show time.

Chapter Twenty

Mildred was surprised by the silence in which the ville dwellers could move.

After receiving word from J.B., she had begun the slow process of quietly

informing the armed people under her command of the move around one side of the

rough earthen circle. The way in which they had responded was amazing. It was