James Axler – Rat King

discarded the weapon he had acquired earlier.

They all agreed with Jak, but saved their breath, concentrating instead on

staying razor keen for the slightest indication of Wallace’s plans.

Whatever they may be…

“REMEMBER WHAT the good book says, Sarj—never shoot till you see the whites of

their eyes, or eye in Cawdor’s case. It’s all metaphorical, of course.”

“Yes, sir,” Murphy answered, wondering what on earth the fool was babbling

about. He thought that Wallace’s idea to let the others go by making them

believe they were escaping and then snatching back Tanner at the last moment was

a complete crock of shit. The Gen might believe that he was the cleverest man in

the whole of Deathlands because of some insane hereditary right, but Murphy was

sure that the outsiders wouldn’t be fooled for a second. They were too battle

scarred, too clever to fall for it.

It galled him immensely that he had let them escape from their dormitory

cell—even more so that he had lost a perfectly good man in the process. Of

course, the most galling aspect was that they had taken the initiative before he

had had a chance to effect his own fake escape opportunity. There was no way

that he had intended to put his own man at risk, let alone himself. His head

still ached, but not as much as his wounded pride. Given half a chance, he’d

wipe out that one-eyed bastard and his bunch of muties and scum—the old fart

included.

But the work had to continue. The machine demanded a sacrifice.

Murphy and Wallace stood in front of a bank of monitors in an anteroom to

Wallace’s office. The Gen wore his prized .44 Magnum pistol with the eight-inch

polished barrel. It was a family heirloom and spent most of the time locked away

in the safe that hid behind a picture of Elvis on the wall behind his desk. It

was only worn in times of the most intense redoubt activity.

The anteroom was the only part of the redoubt that wasn’t covered by a sec

camera—even the Gen’s own office had a camera to survey what went on inside. The

anteroom was also the only part of the redoubt that had monitors for every

single camera. The sec operations were concentrated on three monitor rooms that

had some overlap between them, but didn’t cover the entire compound.

Murphy had spent many a sleepless night pondering this when Wallace first showed

him the anteroom. In the end he decided that it had to have been a preskydark

directive to concentrate base power entirely in the hands of the Gen. After all,

he who knew everything had ultimate power.

And now he was standing here, watching the outsiders make their way toward the

doors that stood between the redoubt and the outside world.

The room was completely dark, lit only by the flickering images on the banks of

screens. Third row down, fourth screen along, the outsiders made their way into

the frame. Their body language was tight and intense.

Wallace’s face was illuminated by the screens, his jowls cast into shadow and

the pudgy flesh under his eyes lit almost white.

“They’re getting closer,” he said, almost to himself, pointing to the screen. “A

remarkable facility for remembering direction there, boy. It’s a pity we’ve got

to let them go.”

“Why can’t I just chill them?” Murphy asked, looking at the Gen rather than at

the screen.

Wallace turned sharply. “You questioning my orders, boy?”

Murphy winced at the way the man’s eyes bored into him. “No, sir, just curious.”

Wallace sighed and spoke in the tone of voice he used for the severely mutated

and inbred maintenance techs.

“Tanner is extremely important if the mechanism is to survive and prosper. The

other outsiders could be extremely dangerous if allowed to stay. In order to

separate them, it is necessary that the outsiders be allowed to escape. Any

attempt at chilling them could lead to a last stand, and the possible

elimination of Tanner. This would be an extremely bad thing. Do you follow me,

mister?”

Murphy chewed his bottom lip. There was a screwy logic to what Wallace was