James Axler – Rat King

“Get any feelings about this?” he asked.

“Only bad ones. But that’s all I’ve had since we’ve been here, lover—you know

that.”

“No harm in asking,” Ryan murmured. “J.B., what do you think?”

“Wallace’s not as stupe as he seems,” the Armorer whispered from the rear,

covering their backs as they proceeded down the maze of corridors. “Our own

nerves’ll screw us over in this quiet.”

“An astute point, my dear John Barrymore,” Doc said at a more normal volume,

which, in the exaggerated silence, sounded like a shout. “The good Gen’s

apparent stupidity in showing us around was perhaps just the pompous pride and

illusion of a man who has had his own way too long. He thinks he is invincible,

and so has no need for security within the confines of his own kingdom.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, puzzled. “You mean he’s got too confident

’cause he’s got no enemies in here?”

“Precisely, young man.”

“I wouldn’t bet on him not having too many enemies in here,” Ryan commented,

remembering the expression on Murphy’s face when they stood outside the armory.

No one added a comment. The atmosphere was too tense for speech. In the outside,

in the mutated jungles and scrub of Deathlands, there was usually some sound,

some sign of life. But in here, there was only the oppressive weight of silence,

hearing strained to catch the tiniest of sounds, the slightest of giveaways as

to what Wallace’s plans may be.

With no obstructions they were able to progress rapidly from level to level,

taking the elevators.

Jak was unhappy about that. “Bastard stand on roof, we chilled,” he commented,

shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot as they entered the empty car.

“Yeah, but it’s the fastest way. I’ll take a look,” Ryan replied. He gestured to

the service door in the roof of the elevator with the barrel of his blaster.

Krysty moved underneath and cupped her hands. Ryan put one boot firmly in the

stirrup she had made, and boosted himself up to the roof. He pushed up hard with

the tip of the blaster and flicked open the cover. The black maw of the elevator

shaft gave nothing away. Unwilling to waste ammo, Ryan paused, expecting some

fire in reaction to the movement…if the roof of the elevator was covered.

Nothing. J.B. glanced at Jak, who nodded and flicked open the knife he had taken

from Murphy. With silent grace he vaulted into Krysty’s still cupped hands as

Ryan hit the floor of the elevator. Before the one-eyed man had the chance to

put his second foot on the floor and regain his balance, Jak had lithely

disappeared through the opening, his white hair flashing in the gloom as his

camou jacket blended into the darkness.

He was gone for only a few seconds, during which time his movements sounded as

nothing more than a skittering on the elevator roof.

Just as lithely, just as silently, Jak slid back into the car, dropping to the

floor with an almost noiseless impact.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Mebbe they expect what we’re going to do,” J.B. said.

Mildred agreed. “They’ll be watching us every step of the way with those damn

cameras. It must be obvious. Wallace could lay a trap for us at any place.”

“Mebbe we should confuse the stupe and head straight for the outside. He can see

us going but mebbe won’t have time to change his plans,” Dean added.

Ryan shook his head as he hit the elevator button for the level that housed the

armory.

“If we had our usual blasters and ammo, then that’d be a good move. But with all

we’ve got? And not knowing what’s on the outside of this redoubt? We’d have to

be triple stupe.”

“Instead of double stupe by going right where he wants us?” Dean retorted.

As the elevator ascended, Ryan glanced sharply at his son. He was the leader by

virtue of his experience and by the consensus of the others. If there were to be

challenges, then it was the wrong time for divisiveness, especially from his own

son.

Dean returned his father’s glare with an equally heated expression of his own.