James Axler – Rat King

valley, they might find a way out, a way they could double back and try to get

Doc.

If Doc was still alive.

They sank into silence, trudging across the storm-swept plains, moving slowly

from a heavily dust-filled zephyr into a calmer drift and then into the swirl,

and subsequently into the calmer eye of another whirlwind. The valley dwellers

seemed hardly to notice the changes in the weather. The force of the storm

didn’t impede the pace they set, and their vision seemed to be unimpaired by the

conditions.

It wasn’t so easy for the others. At times the strength of the gale-force winds

drove them back, seeming to pluck them off the ground and make every step

forward seem like two steps back. The sudden flurries of dust, dirt and stones

scoured their exposed faces, made their eyes run with irritated tears until they

were dry and sore.

It was draining, and Ryan looked around to see how his people were doing. It

wasn’t encouraging. Jak and Dean were particularly hard hit, both weakened by

the effort of saving Dean from plunging into the chasm. They straggled behind,

the dumb sec men prodding them into desultory attempts to keep up. Krysty was in

front of them, her coat pulled around her to try to ward off the worst of the

wind-blasted dirt and dust. The most worrying was J.B. The Armorer was keeping

pace with Mildred, his arm around her shoulders as she helped him support his

weakened ankle. But Ryan could see that the pace was beginning to tell on him,

and his limp had become more pronounced. The dust was sticking to his

sweat-stained forehead, and he grimaced at every other stride.

“J.B., how’s it going?” Ryan asked as casually as he could.

“Been better,” the Armorer replied laconically. “Been much better.”

“We should really stop,” Mildred interjected. “Get John’s ankle bound before we

have to cut that boot off.”

Ryan took a look at their captors, who were seemingly paying them no attention.

“I’m not sure they’d let us,” he commented.

J.B. smiled at the wry humor. “Not the most hospitable of folks,” he added.

“Can’t figure them out,” Ryan continued. “They’re slack, like they don’t care if

we’re watched or not.”

“Mebbe they’re not,” J.B. said, glad of something to take his mind off the pain

of every other stride, which had grown from an itch to a stab like a rusty nail

in the ankle joint.”Where can we go to out here? No weapons to fight with, and

not as used to the conditions. Mebbe they’ve got more to fear from other sides.”

“A raiding party in wags from the redoubt?” Ryan mused.

“Could be. Could be something else.”

“What the hell could there be out here?” Mildred asked, bemused as she tried to

imagine any kind of indigenous life.

“You’d be surprised,” Mac drawled slowly, still keeping a watch all around him.

“Yeah, and…?” Mildred asked after she tired of waiting for him to enlarge.

“Weird shit, missy…weird shit. Just pray we don’t get sniffed out while we’re

out here,” he answered cryptically.

Mildred raised a questioning eyebrow at J.B., who shrugged. The man with the

blaster didn’t have to tell if he didn’t want to. And there was no way of making

him.

They continued in silence for a while, J.B. relying on his good ankle as the

pain grew harder and blunter in the damaged joint, each impact on the uneven

earth making it increase. He tried to disguise it. There were a number of

reasons, not least of which being that he didn’t want to be left behind as a

liability by their captors, forcing Ryan into a decision about action.

But he knew that if it came to the crunch, he would be found wanting for speed

and maneuverability.

WHEN THE MOMENT CAME, it was unexpected.

As they began to march through a slough in the valley floor where a trapped

zephyr made the dust storm whip up, scouring and scratching at their bodies,

their pace was slowed to a crawl. The wind howled and moaned, and the air was

full of earth, small pebbles and even larger chunks of rock that they had to