James Axler – Stoneface

The warrior could have stepped from the nineteenth century or an old Western vid, except for the M-16 automatic assault rifle cradled in his arms. His sharp, dark eyes closely examined the faces of the people spread out in a semicircle around him, finally resting on Zadfrak.

Ryan and J.B. had picked up a smattering of the Lakota language in their travels, so Ryan said, ” Hou le mita cola .”

The warrior’s grim slash of a mouth twitched ever so slightly at the flawed pronunciation of “Hello, my friend.”

“Good afternoon,” he said in perfect, unaccented English. “I am Touch-the-Sky’. The wasicun call me Joe.”

Noticing that the blaster bores pointing at him hadn’t wavered, he added, “I mean no harm. I assure you I’m alone.”

Ryan slowly lowered his blaster, and everyone followed suit, though J.B. did so reluctantly and slowly.

“I see you caught a mucksucker,” Joe said.

“Would you like some?” Krysty asked. “There’s plenty.”

Joe made a face, but stopped short of sticking out his tongue. “No, thank you. I never acquired a taste for it. And, frankly, neither has anyone else I know.”

Doc whispered into J.B.’s ear, “See, I told you.”

Shifting position on his saddle blanket, Joe added, “Besides, this isn’t a social call. Why are you giving aid to the marked man?”

“The what?” Ryan asked.

Joe traced an X on his forehead. “The man who bears the mark of the Family. It means he has crossed himself out of the flow of life.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“You don’t know he’s from Helskel?”

“You mean there is such a place?” Mildred asked.

“There is, and if you value your lives, your spirits, you’ll give it a very wide berth.” He gestured toward Zadfrak. “Leave that carrion and go.”

“We owe a life to that man,” Ryan said. “Whatever he is, wherever he’s from, he’s sick and we owe him.”

“I understand you must discharge such debts. Even in the darkest of hearts there is light somewhere, and that man’s heart is very dark. But I don’t intend to threaten youonly to warn.”

“You’re being very cryptic,” Doc said. “Inscrutable, even.”

Joe smiled. “In which case I’m living up to my stereotype. Very well. I’ll speak with a blunt tongue.”

Saluting the area around them, he said, “This land once belonged to the Cheyenne, the Lakota, the Crow, the Pawnee. When skydark came, we believed it was a time of deliverance for our people and divine retribution against the white man. Their religion, their outrages, their politics, all was swept away. The tribes of my people returned to the old ways. We hoped the predark evil was destroyed forever. Unfortunately, evil has a way of returning or, in the case of Helskel’s masters, never going away.”

“You said you were going to speak with a blunt tongue,” Ryan reminded him.

“A few survivors of predark politics and predark science banded together. They seek nothing less than to regain dominion of the world, to rebuild the ugly, soul-destroying societies and bureaucracies. They wish to revive the horrors of predark.”

Pointing at Zadfrak, he continued, “That man and his so-called family are their servitors. If you return him to Helskel, then you’ll learn the truth of my words. By then, it may be too late for all of you.”

Reacting to the pressure of Joe’s knees, the pony turned and trotted back into the brush.

A hoarse cough from Zadfrak drew their attention. He was conscious, but his eyes were glassy. They sought out Ryan.

“You going to do what that red man said? Leave me behind?”

Ryan kneeled beside him, feeling his forehead. His fever was down. “Is that what you would do in our place?”

Zadfrak tried to grin. “Probably.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Take me home. Let me die with the Family.”

“We’ll do it.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. His breathing was shallow. Mildred lifted the poultice, noted the condition of the arm, listened to his heartbeat, timed his pulse and examined his pupils.

When she arose, her expression was grave. “His temperature’s down, but not enough. His lungs are filling. He’s got a day and a half, maybe three at the outside.”