James Axler – Rat King

dodge. The surface of the ground became a writhing, shifting mass of loose

earth, churned up continuously by the trapped zephyr.

“Couldn’t you find an easier route?” Ryan yelled through the encroaching

confusion.

“This is the easiest,” Tod shouted, somehow imparting this information blandly,

despite having to raise his voice.

Although the zephyr could have covered no more than half a mile, visibility in

the swirling fog of earth was reduced to a few feet.

Krysty felt her senses tingle, and was at once acutely aware of danger, but not

of the source.

She moved closer to Ryan, grasping his arm and pulling him toward her so that

she could yell—albeit as quietly as possible—in his ear.

“Trouble coming, lover.”

“What kind?” he asked, inclining his head so that his mouth was near her ear as

he shouted over the noise of the storm.

Krysty shook her head. “Can’t say. It’s just getting stronger, that’s all.” She

shivered. “We need to keep alert.”

Ryan looked around him. His people were clustered in a small group headed up by

Tod and Tilly, with Mac and the two tongueless sec men bringing up the rear.

Their flanks were unprotected.

Ryan cupped Krysty’s cheek in his hand. “We always need to keep alert,” he said.

“Let’s warn the others.”

He moved off and spoke rapidly to Dean and Jak, while Krysty headed for J.B. and

Mildred.

“How’s the ankle?” she added to J.B. after telling them of the situation.

The Armorer shook his head but didn’t speak, the pain bringing him to his most

taciturn.

“Dammit John, you shouldn’t have to walk on it,” Mildred said heatedly. “I

should have strapped it up hours ago, at the very least.”

“Sometimes we just can’t do what we should,” J.B. gritted, leaning a little

heavier on Mildred as the pain broke through his concentration.

Krysty and Mildred exchanged glances. It was obvious that the Armorer’s injury

was worse that he was letting on, and that could make things difficult if they

were attacked by anyone—or anything.

Meanwhile Ryan had told Dean and Jak of Krysty’s feeling, trying, impossibly, to

shout quietly. There was no way that he wanted Mac and his sec men to know— at

this stage—that Krysty had mutie traits. Chances were that they were muties

themselves—hell, it seemed obvious after their leap across the chasm—but people

across Deathlands were suspicious of any mutie traits.

Because of the very weather conditions that made him have to shout, his voice

failed to carry back to Mac and the mute guards. They showed no interest in what

he was saying, contenting themselves with a desultory glance around the swirling

storm fog.

“Mebbe surprises for everyone,” Jak said, palming one of the razor-sharp

leaf-bladed knives from his patched jacket.

Ryan hid his surprise behind an impassive mask honed through years of

experience. Dean didn’t find it so easy, and his father looked back to see if

his surprise had registered with their captors.

It didn’t seem so.

“Hot pipe!” Dean exclaimed. “How come they let you keep them?”

“Just take blaster—not bother search me,” Jak commented with a shrug that spoke

volumes.

“Triple-stupe bastards,” Dean said. It was lost in the storm, but Ryan and Jak

got the gist and nodded their agreement.

“Guess they didn’t expect you to conceal anything,” Ryan mused.

“Not used searching. Murphy’s men were,” Jak said, palming the blade back into

its hiding place.

It was a good point. Ryan had become increasingly aware, as had Jak with his

fighter’s instincts, that their captors were used to a certain set of conditions

and a certain set of enemies. Used to them to the degree that they didn’t expect

anything outside of their limited experience.

That could be good. If the chance came, Ryan felt sure that his people could

take their attackers, despite the advantage they had of carrying blasters.

If the chance came. First they had the possibility of an outside attack.

Ryan, Dean and Jak dropped back a little, until they were level with Krysty,

J.B. and Mildred. Ryan viewed the Armorer’s stance with concern.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

J.B. grimaced in reply, gesturing with his hand to indicate it was okay, but…