forefathers as they learned the hard art of defending the redoubt and the
mechanism. Despite the discomfort of the conditions, each man moved confidently
across the terrain, making much better time than any of the outsiders.
For his own part, Murphy was down on the floor of the enclave before Doc even
had a chance to move out. The conditions and sudden blasterfire had a bad effect
on Doc, taking his fragile psyche back to the psychological battering of the
trank darts and comp torture. As he shielded his eyes from the dust storm, he
felt as if he were back in the dark, wind-battered tunnel with Lori…or was it
his beloved Emily?
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes…or does it,
indeed? Are you, perchance, the Snark my friend, or merely a Boojum?” Doc,
quietly chuckling to himself, asked the figure that gradually took shape in the
dust.
“Madman,” Murphy muttered dismissively, raising his Uzi to barrel whip the old
man into submission.
Like many another enemy, he had underestimated the seemingly old man. Despite
his apparent fragility—both of mind and body—Doc Tanner had reserves of
whip-cord strength that could, in an emergency, prove to be of use as a
surprise.
Murphy brought the barrel around in a down-sweeping arc, aiming for Doc’s jaw.
As the old man brought his lion’s-head swordstick up to parry, the barrel of the
Uzi was deflected, hitting the edge of a rock and sending a painful jolt up
Murphy’s forearm until it hit his elbow. The weakened joint buckled, and Murphy
yelped in pain and surprise.
Doc rose to his feet, drawing the LeMat pistol and pointing it in Murphy’s
direction.
The sec chief stumbled as he tried to regain his balance and level the Uzi. It
was only blind fortune that saved him. A bit of grit from the floor of the
enclave caught in a crosswind and whirled viciously between the two men,
catching Doc in the eyes. It disturbed his aim enough for the loud and
resounding explosion of the shot to discharge harmlessly over Murphy’s head as
the sec chief regained his poise. He crouched, coming under Doc’s outstretched
arm with the stock of the Uzi turned toward the old man, angled upward as he
drove forward.
The stock caught Doc under the ribs, driving the air from his lungs and jarring
his heart. Doc’s eyes widened, his mouth grotesquely distorted as he exhaled
every breath of oxygen within him. The only thought he could muster was to try
to start breathing again as he hit the rocks and the dry earth in a sitting
position. He dropped the LeMat and swordstick, his arms clutching at his aching
guts.
Murphy pressed home his advantage, bringing the barrel around to crack Doc’s
jaw. A light went out in the old man’s eyes as he slumped into unconsciousness.
Shouldering his Uzi, sticking the LeMat into the waistband of his camou pants
and stowing the sword-stick in his belt, Murphy leaned over and picked up the
old man with a strength that made Doc’s deadweight seem like a feather.
He was paying little attention to the fighting that was sporadically breaking
out at the head of the valley, and so didn’t notice the white wraith that
drifted toward him…
JAK WALKED PAST the sec men as though they weren’t there. Their attention was
focused on attaining the head of the enclave. As a result they weren’t expecting
anyone to go through their ranks in the opposite direction, heading back to the
redoubt.
Jak had spent his whole life hunting or being hunted, and so found it simple to
take the scattered rocks and the opaque storm as cover, flitting across the
ground and blending with the rocks and hummocks along the way.
The gathering of sec men at the head of the valley, and their attempt to stop
the group attaining open ground beyond, wasn’t his problem. Like the rest of the
companions, Jak trusted the abilities of the others implicitly, and knew that
they would either overcome the obstacles or perish in the effort. Life was that
simple.
His task now was simply to find Doc and try to get him back to the others.