James Axler – Rat King

time. They were going through another whirl of the seemingly constant storm, the

wind rising to a howl loud enough to necessitate Ryan shouting. The dirt and

dust whipped at them, stinging.

J.B. was aware of the pull in his ankle getting worse. Mildred had also noticed

the way in which he was shifting his weight on his left foot, and gave him a

questioning glance to which she received a short shake of the head in reply.

Ryan repeated his question. “I said, how far—?”

“I heard you the first time,” Mac replied in a slow drawl, cutting across Ryan.

“It’s as far as it takes.”

“You always talk, not them,” Jak said, indicating the two sec men who brought up

the rear of the party. “They have no tongues?”

Mac smiled again, that lazy saurian smile that was beginning to make Ryan wish

he could ram it so far down the potbellied man’s throat that it would come out

of his ass.

“How did you guess that, boy?” Mac drawled. “Show the whitey, boys,” he ordered

the other two.

They complied, opening their mouths as they walked. Both men had their tongues

torn out by the root, a gaping red gap in the maw of their mouths, obscene and

wet.

Mildred winced. It looked like a primitive and painful extraction, even from a

distance. “Don’t tell me, let me guess,” she directed toward Tilly. “The sec men

from the redoubt again?”

The ragged, bundled head shook, the voice emanating from within almost quavering

with repressed hate.

“Not sec men. Whitecoats who wanted the body parts.”

“Nice,” Mildred murmured. “And you think we’re part of that?”

“You came from there, so it stands to reason,” Tod butted in before Tilly could

summon the venom to answer.

“You stupe or something?” Dean exploded, fatigued and sick of their seeming

stupidity. “Why were they after us?”

“Like I said, to make us think you weren’t with them. Make us easy to fool.” Mac

shrugged. “It figures out.”

Dean was about to hotly respond when a gesture from his father stopped him. He

trusted Ryan’s judgment. Although young, he knew enough about himself to be

aware that he had to control his impulsive temper.

“Seems to me that you live on the far side of the valley,” Ryan remarked. “We’ve

covered a lot of distance.”

“I’d say that was smart, if I didn’t reckon you knew that anyway,” Mac answered.

“After all, seems to me that you should know where we are when you raid us often

enough.”

Ryan ignored that and continued on his line of thought. “Yeah, I’d reckon you

live on the rim of the valley. Can’t grow jackshit down here. Never get anyone

passing by. Mebbe you can scratch a living on the edge of the valley. And you’d

have to live as far away from the redoubt as possible.”

“And why’s that, One-eye?” Tilly asked, her paranoia scenting an insult.

Ryan didn’t want to disappoint her. “Because you’re good in these conditions,

but you’ve got no real armory to speak of—not if that shit is the best you can

do.” He gestured at the homemade blasters before changing tack. “That’s okay

against foot soldiers, but they’ve got wags at the redoubt. Good ones. Ones that

many a trader would chill for. Mebbe ones that we could help you get.”

Tod furrowed his brow, resting the giant blaster on his massive shoulder so that

the pipelike barrels stuck into the air.

“You sure are a strange one, Mr. One-eye. Start by cussing us out, then offering

to help. Just what do you want?”

“Same thing as you…to survive,” Ryan said simply. “Besides, they’ve got one of

our people still in there.”

“You’d want to go back?” Mac asked.

Tilly cut across him. “Of course they would,” she spit. “Motherfuckers would

just be going home.”

“Have it your way.” Krysty sighed, tired of the way the ragged woman always

dented any attempt to build bridges or find common ground, let alone work a

means of escape.

Looking around, she could see that escape wasn’t a viable possibility. There was

nowhere to run to. Perhaps when they reached the ville, on the rim of the