tried the old wooden screen door that hung lopsidedly in the doorway. It wasn’t
locked, and Jak had almost expected it not to be. They were too sloppy in this
ville, protected only by the weather conditions and seclusion of the valley.
Inside, the shack was pitch-dark, the scant outside illumination from the moon
and from the protective fires around the ville shut out by the sacking that hung
over the windows. It also served to trap the filthy smell of unwashed humans and
raw sewage, which seemed concentrated, as though the shack hadn’t been cleaned
out for a long while.
Jak and Dean slid in the door and up against the wall, flattening themselves
into the dark and waiting for their eyes to adjust to the new level of darkness.
It took several seconds, in which time both youths used their ears to take in as
much detail as they could from the sounds around the room.
Heavy snoring came from one corner of the room, to their left, and at the back.
Away from any of the windows. Not so stupe, then. The snores came from two
people. One had to be Abner. The other was from a woman. It was higher pitched,
lighter, and followed by a small groan that was unmistakably female. There were
the sounds of someone shifting in his or her sleep.
Eyes now adjusted to the dark, Jak could see that they were sleeping on an old
iron bedstead, raised from the floor. There were few items of furniture in the
room, all salvaged from predark and in varying states of disrepair.
Craftsmanship was obviously not high on the list of priorities in this ville.
There was no one else in the one-room shack, no other sec men. Even more stupe.
Did the old man want to get chilled?
The floor was unprotected boards. To make their way across to the far corner and
the bed without making a noise to wake Abner was going to be a hit-and-miss
affair, made easier by the lack of extra sec men, but still risky. What were the
chances that the old man would sleep with a blaster as readily as a woman?
Jak tapped Dean on the arm and gestured for him to follow the line of the walls
around to the bed, keeping low under the window openings. Jak would follow the
line around the opposite wall.
It took a matter of seconds for them to skirt the edges of the room, where the
boards would be least likely to creak. They met at the foot of the bed. Abner
and his woman were still snoring, oblivious.
Without a word Jak strode forward and put his hand over Abner’s mouth, pinching
his nostrils with his thumb and forefinger. The old man’s breathing was cut
short, and he spluttered into wakefulness, his eyes staring wide in shock as he
began to rise—into the point of the leaf-bladed knife that Jak held with his
other hand.
“Make noise, get chilled. Your choice,” Jak whispered.
Abner’s staring eyes, flicking across Jak and registering fear, said everything.
The woman stirred in her sleep, then awakened slowly.
“What is it?” she asked sleepily, raising herself on one elbow. The filthy sheet
and blankets covering them fell away, revealing her young and newly formed
breasts. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old.
Seeing Jak standing over Abner, she opened her mouth to scream, only to suck in
her breath and squeal when Dean moved into view, holding the point of his knife
to her throat.
“Don’t make me use it,” he said softly, trying not to stare at her breasts.
Wide-eyed, the girl shook her head.
Jak spoke softly in the darkness. “Come with us. Keep quiet.”
Abner nodded. Jak stood back, and the old man rose from the bed. He was naked,
his sagging gut hanging over his balls, making him look like a eunuch in the
darkness. He reached for his clothes, draped on the end of the bedstead.
“Uh-uh…” Jak reached out to the ragged garments, shaking them before handing
them to Abner. An old bayonet fell from the material. Even in the near-black,
Jak could see that the weapon had a serrated edge, the kind that tore and