James Axler – Road Wars

The only thing that seemed likely was that they weren’t going to chill him during the night.

This was the best hope he had to hang on to.

It gave Trader a little time.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“One of the few times in my life that I’ve ever felt reasonably safe in the middle of a ville.”

Ryan grinned at his companion’s words. But there was some truth in what the Armorer had said. Tenbos, despite his obvious serious illness, seemed to be on top of things, including his two unpleasant and threatening stepsons. There was no evidence of evil or cruelty, and the sec men simply went about their work without bullying or sadism.

“Yeah,” he said. “If we weren’t in a hurry to meet up again with Trader, I wouldn’t mind taking up the baron’s offer and staying here awhile longer.”

“Me too. Hope he’s well enough to show us his weapon collection this morning.”

“Main thing I want is to get some more decent food under my belt. See me through the next few hundred spine-rattling miles in the armawag.”

There was a discreet knock on the door of their room. Both of them reached instinctively for their blasters, hesitating, both laughing.

“Death doesn’t often let you know he’s coming,” J.B. said.

He raised his voice. “Yeah?”

“It’s Edward Tenbos, gentlemen. The baron wonders if you would like to visit him on the top floor of the tower to view his firearms? And then to the first floor for breakfast?” The voice was calm and very deliberately neutral.

“Thanks a lot,” Ryan replied. “Tell him that the answer to both of his invitations is ‘Yes,’ and we’ll be with him in about five minutes.”

They heard steps moving away. J.B. turned to face Ryan. “Only thing that worries me is those two boys. Something seriously creepy about them. Mebbe it’s that everyone knows they’re just waiting for dead man’s boots.”

“Mebbe. I know what you mean. Wish Krysty was here. Could do with her ‘feeling’ about them.”

“Taking your blasters?”

Ryan looked at the Steyr rifle and the SIG-Sauer automatic. “I don’t know. You?”

“Don’t really want to hump the Uzi and the scattergun up and down stairs.”

“Doesn’t seem dangerous.”

“True.”

“Fireblast! Look, I’ll just take along the SIG-Sauer. Should be more than enough for any piss-ant problem that might blow up in our faces.”

THE STAIRS WERE DARK, curling around and around, with only an occasional slit casement to let some filtered light through. One of the great problems of windows in Deathlands was the amount of ordinary glass from predark days, a century back, that had become crazed and dulled by the harsh elements.

There was a pair of sec men on the landing below the arms collection. By the time that Ryan and J.B. had reached them, the two guards had tensed, recognized them, then relaxed, waving them through.

“Baron’s been there for an hour or more. Got a half dozen of us to try to do some cleaning and dusting.”

The other sec man nodded. “Even had his shitbag sonspardon my speechup here. Truth is, since his illness and the business with the slut-whore wife, well, the baron sort of lost interest in his blasters.”

“You’ll be the first onesfirst outlandersup these stairs for months and months. Still, best go on ahead. Don’t keep him waiting.”

J.B. ran his finger along the curving balustrade, brushing his hands together. “Filthy,” he commented.

THE LIGHT WAS FAR BETTER at the top of the old tower, with windows on every side. There were a few padded seats remaining around the periphery of the large circular room, left over from its use as a revolving restaurant.

Baron Tenbos was sitting on one of them, his head leaning back, motionless.

Ryan stopped at the top of the stairs, holding up a warning hand to J.B.

“Chilled?” the Armorer whispered.

“Far from it, Mr. Dix.” The voice was weak, but the piercing eyes under the hooded lids were still keen.

“Forgive my not rising, but I found the climb rather more steep than I remembered it. A real bastard becoming feeble when once you were so strong. Do come on in, gentlemen.”