James Axler – Starfall

Halfway to the top, Ryan was covered in perspiration despite the wind blowing around them. The humidity that settled in over the area promised more rain to come, as well as hot temperatures.

As soon as Jak gained the top of the drop-off, he dis­appeared.

Ryan went up next, alert to the slightest sound or move­ment. He crested the top, his eye darting around the cleared space and the wag trail just beyond.

Jak stood at the trail’s edge and stared at the trading post. The albino looked as tense as a bowstring. “Don’t like staying open. Too easy get shot.”

Ryan silently agreed, but knew there’d been no choice. The companions had to have supplies if they were going on. And there was no question about that, either.

“We’ll try our luck at the trading post,” he said.

A HANDMADE SIGN hung over the double doors cut into the palisade walls. Annie’s Green Springs, it stated, crafted in bottle-green letters that had faded over the years. A brass bell hung beside the right door, screwed in tight to the tree trunk.

Ryan swung the chain attached to the clapper. The bell rang loudly, echoing out over the open space behind them. Standing this close to the trading post, he spotted the numerous bullet scars in the tree trunks. A history of violence clung to the trading post.

“Three people hold this place?” he asked Morse again.

“On a regular basis,” the man replied. “Course, you gotta remember what I said about Annie having company. She usually does.”

“People have tried to break in before.”

“Sure. Even had a couple get through. Annie’s got a lock-down inside the trading post. Hiding place nobody can dig her out of. Self-heats, source of fresh water. She wants, she can stay under for months. She’s done it a couple times in the past.”

“Did she lose much?” Doc asked.

“Salvaged stuff, but not her life. Annie always figures she can make a living if she just keeps on living. Dying’s kind of hard on the profits. It would be hard to carry off all that she’s accumulated over the years. The coldhearts who didn’t get their asses shot off either coming or going didn’t get away with much. And in most cases, they didn’t get away at all. People who trade with Annie, they kind of take it personal when somebody jeopardizes the business. They’ve tracked coldhearts down, brought the stuff back they took. For a bounty, and Annie don’t make no bones about paying it.”

“Don’t have many other places to go and trade around here, do they?” Ryan said, understanding at once.

“Mister, you got the right of it. Fella finds something worth trading, he might have to lug it around for months till he can find the person who can afford it or wants it. Annie opens him up an account here at the trading post, lets him get what he needs.”

“And she takes a piece of the profits.”

“Yeah.”

Ryan reached for the bell and rang it again, louder and longer this time.

“Heard you the first time you rang that bastard bell,” a woman’s voice said. It was pitched low, sounding raspy. “What do you want?”

“To trade.” Ryan glanced along the topmost section of the palisade, finally spotting the peephole created at the top of the tree trunks thirty feet to his left.

“Mebbe you want to, but I’m not sure I want to,” the woman said.

“Are you Annie?”

“Been called that. Been called other things, too, but as long as I got my hand on this trigger, I don’t have to put up with a lot of shit I don’t want to.”

“We’re in a desperate way,” Ryan said. “We’ve been run down and hunted. Short on supplies. Going back is out of the question, and pressing on isn’t going to mean much unless we’re better outfitted.”

“You going to keep Morse’s boat?”

“Hiring him on,” Ryan said. “He’s been paid.” And it was true enough considering the blasters that J.B. had re­paired to pay their way.

“He doesn’t look too happy about it.”

“If we’d had a boat, or didn’t have a need for one,” Ryan said, “we’d all have been happy. But we do, and I haven’t chilled him yet.”