In those few moments, the raiders broke and ran.
Seeing that the field was theirs, Ryan shouted for everyone to calm down and stop firing.
“Get your stuff and we’ll move out,” he yelled.
Doc emerged from the undergrowth, still muttering under his breath, struggling with the Le Mat. “I fear that I was of scant use after my first preemptive strike,” he said. “Now I’m ready to wreak some more bloody and savage vengeance and the rogues are fled.”
“Should go after them and spill some more blood,” Trader said, looking longingly toward the main body of the camp, where the fleeing men had vanished. “Could take out the whole lot of the bastards.”
“Five dead’s enough price.” J.B. took off his glasses and polished them on his sleeve. “Agree with Ryan. This is the time to move out.”
Krysty stood with one arm around Dean’s shoulders. The boy kept looking from side to side, barely awake, visibly frightened.
“What happened, lover?” she asked.
“Don’t know.” Ryan shook his head. “Some sort of drug in the food. Something like that, I guess.”
“Then how come Doc escaped?” Mildred asked. “He ate what all of us did.”
“Ah, I believe that I have the solution to that enigma,” Doc said, smiling broadly.
“Not now, Doc.” Ryan was watching the camp for any sign of life, particularly for a sight of Straub’s bald head. But the stillness was absolute. It was likely that they might regain their mislaid courage and stage a counterattack at any moment, and next time they might be more careful and successful.
It took only a few moments for everyone to retrieve their scant belongings from the two tents, those who needed to reload their blasters taking the opportunity.
“Ready?” Ryan looked around the circle of faces. “Then let’s move it.”
THERE WAS NO ATTEMPT at pursuit from the raggedy camp. Not a dog barked and not a shot was fired.
The moon continued its gentle progress across the star-scattered sky, and the temperature dropped further as dawn came closer.
The nine friends followed a trail toward the east. There had been a brief argument about whether they should return to the sea again and make another jump from the redoubt, but only Abe was strongly in favor of that plan.
Trader spoke out against the idea. “I reckon we should seek out this baron. What’s his name?”
“Weyman,” Jak said.
“Right. Find him and tell him that the brushwood people are planning to try and topple him.”
“Should we tell him about the scabbies, as well, Dad?” Dean asked.
“Figure if he’s been in charge of a ville in this region, he must know about the muties. But the threat from Straub’s something else. Something seriously dangerous about that man. Still, we can play that one as it lays. If we can find his ville.” Ryan looked around to Doc. “While we’ve stopped for a breath, you might tell us what you figure was happening back there. How did Straub trick us?”
” John Barrymore?”
“What, Doc?”
“I am having a little difficulty in changing the hammer back so that it strikes on the shotgun round. Could you possibly do it for me?”
“Sure. Give us the Le Mat.”
“I am most obliged. Now, my good friend, the Lord of Cawdor, who shall be king hereafter.”
“What?” Ryan peered in the moonlight at the old man’s grinning face.
“A quote from the Bard of Avon, my friend. You ask me what happened back there?”
“It was the drum, wasn’t it?” Krysty said. “Kind of doped us all up.”
Doc Tanner nodded. “Partly, in part, inter tres partes , like all of Gaul. Oh, my aching head! Stress and pressure always addles my poor pate even more than usual.”
“Good convenient excuse,” Mildred muttered, but Doc didn’t hear her.
“I believe that the villain had also used some sort of sleeping drug in the campfires. The wind blew the scent directly to our tents.”
“And the drum?”
“Indeed, Krysty. I believe that it was operated at an almost subconscious level, probing at the alpha rhythm of the brain, synchronizing with the heartbeats and then going slower and slower, bringing a deeper level of darkness to our minds. Most devilishly cunning.”