James Axler – Stoneface

Zadfrak seemed undisturbed by J.B.’s words and the pressure of the blaster. He cougheda deep racking sound from the bottom of his lungs. He put a hand to his mouth, spit into it, examined the result and flung his hand down. The sputum made a bright pink blob on the dark metal of the floorplates.

“Rad cancer,” Mildred commented, leaning back on her knees. “I suspected as much.”

Zadfrak smiled sourly. “Yeah. That’s why I was out on my bike with no weapons. Didn’t give a shit what came after me screamwings, stickies, whatever.” He half turned his head toward J.B. “So go ahead and shoot. You’ll beat the reaper by a couple of weeks, mebbe less.”

J.B. put his weapon back on the seat and returned his attention to driving.

“If that’s the case,” Ryan said, “you want to be dropped off by the side of the road?”

Zadfrak shook his head. “No. Figure I wasn’t supposed to chill myself this way. Fate or destiny or some kind of shit brought us together. Might as well see where the ride takes me.”

“Getting dark pretty soon,” J.B. said. “Can we reach this Helskel of yours before nightfall?”

Zadfrak shook his head. “It’s a day’s travel and a bit. Best make camp. You don’t want to be on this road at night.”

“You know a safe place?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah. A couple of miles up the road.”

Zadfrak moved around to face the shuttered windshield, leaning against the front seats. He directed J.B. to slow the vehicle, since the turnoff he was looking for wasn’t easily detectable from the road, even in full daylight.

Ryan looked at Krysty and mouthed “Anything?”

She shook her head. “So far so good,” she mouthed in response.

Though Ryan had the utmost faith in her abilities to sense danger, he wasn’t comforted. Their new acquaintance appeared to be extraordinarily phlegmatic about his situation and his surroundings. He didn’t make comments about the wag, or even the quality of the blasters everyone had in plain view. Many braveor foolhardysouls had tried to get their hands on the companions’ weapons and had paid the ultimate price.

Following Zadfrak’s instructions, J.B. turned the wag to the right, crossed the shoulder of the road and pushed through a few scraggly bushes. An old, almost completely overgrown gravel path pushed through the underbrush. The wag followed it slowly.

As the vehicle rolled farther down the path, the brush became sparser and they heard the sound of rushing water. Ryan looked past Zadfrak, his eye straining into the greenery ahead. He estimated they had penetrated two hundred yards into the underbrush when Zadfrak said, “Stop.”

J.B. braked and sat with his hands on the wheel as he glanced over his shoulder at his guide. “Now what?”

“Now we get out. We got a supply of fresh water, nobody can see us from the road and we can kick back and bed down.”

“The Black Hills are the hunting grounds of the Cheyenne and the Lakota.”

Zadfrak made a derisive spitting noise. “The Family took care of the few that were around here. Tomorrow I’ll show you what we do to redskins.”

Mildred’s lips compressed, but she said nothing.

Everyone disembarked, but no one wandered far. A small river was only a few hundred feet away. It wasn’t very wide and didn’t appear to be very deep, but judging by its lack of odor, the water was fresh enough.

Zadfrak leaned against the hood of the wag, not bothering to help pitch the tents or gather firewood. He accepted a sleeping bag from Jak without a word of thanks, as if it were his due.

They’d traded ammo for food in the last ville they’d passed through, and as Ryan helped Mildred break out the provisions, she said in a low, angry tone, “If that scrawny son of a bitch wasn’t my patient, and wasn’t terminal, I’d have J.B. teach him a lesson. I may do it myself if he doesn’t watch his mouth.”

Krysty and Jak prepared a meal, which was quickly consumed, and afterward they drank a pot of coffee sub.

Doc made a face after his first mouthful, and began his usual refrain that a coffee substitute should taste something like the original, not like boiled chicken droppings. He tried to enlist Mildred’s aid in extolling the virtues of predark coffee, but she wasn’t in the mood and told him so.