James Axler – Rat King

Jak’s impaired vision meant that he heard the fight before he saw it, and he

zeroed in on the noise. He heard Doc’s loud exhalation, Murphy’s grunt of effort

and the crack of the Uzi on Doc’s jaw. Small noises told him that Murphy was in

no rush to finish his business. The scufflings were unhurried, and Jak crouched

low to the ground, moving noiselessly across the earth. He paused behind a

hummock to see Murphy heave Doc over his shoulder and turn back toward the

redoubt’s entry door.

The albino teen leveled his Colt Python, sighting along the silver barrel. He

cursed silently through gritted teeth as Doc’s swaying and unconscious form

blocked his line of fire. He wouldn’t risk hitting the old man.

Holstering his blaster, Jak moved out from behind the hummock and across the

enclave with a fluid and silent grace.

Murphy was slowed considerably by carrying Doc, and so Jak was able to catch up

on him quickly. Like magic, a leaf-bladed knife of lethal sharpness sprang into

his hand seemingly from nowhere. It would be simple for him to spin the

unsuspecting sec chief as he reached the redoubt entrance and chill him before

taking Doc back to the others.

He was within three yards of Murphy, poised as the sec chief fed in the sec code

to open the redoubt door, when he heard the slightest noise behind him.

Jak whirled to come face-to-face with an ancient, battered and home-repaired

blaster. The black hole at the end of the barrel was pointing straight between

his eyes.

“I’ve got no love for that bastard, cully, but if you don’t put that knife away

now, your brains are going to be just so much water on the soil.”

Chapter Ten

If, as he suspected, they were evenly matched in terms of numbers, then why the

fireblasted hell were they suddenly getting volleys of blasterfire coming from

behind them?

Ryan ducked behind the hummock, uncertain of which was the greater enemy. The

new blasterfire was coming from the head of the enclave, and by the manner in

which it flew over the heads of the group, kicking up no dust or earth around

them, it was clear that it was aimed at the sec men from the redoubt. There was

no chance that the newcomers’ aim could be that bad.

No one survived long in Deathlands without the ability to shoot at least

reasonably.

Ryan cursed the dust storm that seemed unwilling to relent for even a second.

The fragments of stone and earth whirling through the air stung his good eye,

wormed their way under the patch that covered the empty socket and bit into the

dead flesh. A line of sandy deposit formed, which irritated the long scar that

bit into his cheek, from empty eye to jaw.

Worst of all, the clouds of dust, earth and stone moved around in the air,

obscuring the movements of his enemies coming from the redoubt, making it

impossible to see where these newcomers were positioned.

Ryan made a head count—there was just enough visibility in the air to enable him

to do that. Doc was missing, and Jak had gone in search of him. Two down.

To his left he could see Krysty behind an outcropping. She was trying to pick

off sec men, using her blaster sparingly in the poor visibility to preserve

ammo. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that her mane of red hair wasn’t so

much being tossed by the storm as fighting against it, whirling wildly around

her head.

A few short yards away, Dean was taking cover behind a grassy hummock. His

Browning Hi-Power was a good defensive weapon, but not the best blaster for

these kinds of conditions. He, too, was using his blaster sparingly, trying to

pick off the opposing sec men as they appeared through the confusion caused by

the storm.

On the opposite side of the enclave, Mildred and J.B. were almost completely

obscured from his view. He knew they were slowly moving toward his position, as

their blasterfire was gradually changing direction.

He caught a glimpse of J.B.’s fedora, and the glint of a stray ray of sunlight