James Axler – Shadowfall

“I said that we do this my way, Ryan. I want to hear what you got to say.”

“I say you best not push this any further. I say that this could all go sadly wrong, Trader. I say that there could be some of the wrong blood spilled in the dirt. Understand me? That’s what I say.”

Trader relaxed, aware that he’d gotten his own way. “Good,” he said. “Fucking good.”

THE SEC MEN SEEMED HAPPY enough to rest with the horses, as a rear guard. Rainey had spoken with Trader, arguing that he should remain with them. But he’d been talked down.

“Easy enough. They wind up the cranks on those crossbows and get the bolts loaded up. They form a small perimeter, say forty yards, and watch out for trouble.”

“Won’t see much in this fog,” J.B. stated. “Might do better to stick close and quiet.”

Trader didn’t even bother to argue with the Armorer. “Rest of you got your blasters ready? Make every one an ace on the line. I’ll head for where Jamie thinks the kid’s holed up. Jamie and Abe, stick close to my side.”

He looked around them, deep-set eyes lingering for a moment on the faces of J.B. and Ryan.

Rainey held up a hesitant hand. “Trader?”

“What is it?”

“Got one question. There’s women and children down there in the camp.”

“Wrong, sec man. All there is down there in the fog is the brushwood camp. Every single person in that camp, young or old, male or female, drunk or sober, is an enemy to us. Understand? Everysingle person.”

THE FOG WAS singularly unpleasant.

In only a few paces the main attacking party was already out of sight of the sec men and the horses, though they could hear the animals whickering for several minutes before the mist muffled the sound into silence.

The stench of sulfur was heavy in the wreathing clouds, and it clung to the skin and clothes, insinuating itself into the mouth and nostrils and the pores of the skin. It was cool and clammy, like trying to breathe through a wet kerchief.

As Jamie led Trader along the winding trail, the rest kept close to them, walking through the dank, dripping stillness, aware of the trunks of trees that swiftly disappeared into the fog, vanishing barely twenty feet above their heads.

For most of the time there was no sign of life at all in the forestthough everyone stopped dead after barely five minutes, hearing the sound of something large and ungainly, blundering through the blinding mist just a little way ahead of them. Ryan was walking fourth in line behind Jamie, Trader and Abe, and he glimpsed the shape of something, which grunted and snuffled and had two tusks, one broken.

The wild mutie boar didn’t scent the group of humans as they stood, paralyzed, watching its bulk disappear again toward the north of the track.

“Bit too close,” Abe whispered, as they resumed walking west, toward the brushwooders’ camp.

KRYSTY STUMBLED against Ryan and nearly fell. He half turned to steady her, shocked at the wide-eyed look of horror etched on her face.

“What?” he whispered.

“Oh, Earth Mother! Back. Must turn back now. Feel desperate danger behind us. Turn back now.” She pushed Ryan aside, running clumsily past the others, nearly knocking over Abe.

She grabbed at Trader’s sleeve. “Stop!” she hissed.

“What?” He was taken by surprise, almost hefting the Armalite to crack it against her skull.

“Must stop and go back, Trader. I can feel it. Very, very strong. Behind us.”

“Feel what?”

Krysty stared behind her, into the dark bank of fog that was all around them like an encircling wall.

“Something’s gone triple wrong, Trader. Mebbe they know we’re coming. I can’t tell what it is.”

Ryan started to go back toward where they’d left the ten sec men, but Trader called to him.

“Goin’ somewhere, Ryan?”

“You heard her. Krysty gets a feeling as strong as this one, then you take note of it.”

“She doesn’t know what it is, but she feels something might’ve gone wrong.” Trader laughed and shook his head. “We keep going.”

For a moment nobody moved.