James Axler – Stoneface

Hellstrom beckoned to him with a gesture, and Ryan approached, trying to keep his face inscrutable. Hellstrom’s face was a bland mask. He linked his long fingers in his lap and leaned forward slightly.

“Few things ever change.” His voice was no longer the strident roar of the night before, but it contained a note that lifted the hairs on Ryan’s nape.

Ryan cocked an eyebrow at him, saying nothing.

“Even when building a world ordained by holy prophecies, there are always low-order swine who cannot understand and wish to tear it down. Regardless of your abilities, Cawdor, there is the stench of the sty about you.”

Two men materialized out of the shadows and hit Ryan simultaneously, pressing him between them. They clawed at him, raking their hands over his body. Leather tore and his SIG-Sauer was gone. He was twirled about and thrown face first against the far wall. A quick frisk followed, with a knee positioned dangerously near his testicles. Then he was released and allowed to turn around. The entire process had happened so quickly that he hadn’t even found time to blink.

Rearranging his clothing, Ryan looked around the saloon. Dog and Suds smirked at him, though with Dog it was hard to tell. He glimpsed the opening behind the jukebox and understood the sudden appearance of the two men.

Outwardly Ryan remained calm, but inwardly he was raging furiously at himself for being such a gullible stupe. He realized now why he had been provided with a hearty breakfastto relax him, to throw him off guard. It was an old trick, and it had worked perfectly.

“What was the manhandling all about, Hellstrom?” he asked coldly.

One of the men behind him grunted, but Ryan didn’t bother to turn. He knew who had made the sound.

“During your stay here,” Hellstrom intoned, “several of my people recognized you and remembered you, especially from a little killzone called Snakefish.”

“So?”

“I’ve also heard quite a bit about you, Cawdor. You’re almost a legend, because you’re not a child of Deathlands. You are a privileged pig, the son of a man who was one of the most powerful barons on the East Coast. You traveled the country with the swine-scum thief called Trader, stealing, plundering and terrorizing. Many of the people who suffered at your hands have ended up here.”

Ryan snorted. “I ask you againso?”

“So I think you’re here to steal Helskel’s bounty and sell it to East Coast barons so the Beforetime system can be rebuilt, so the power pigs can again rule the country.”

“You psi-scanned me, didn’t you?” Ryan demanded. “Did you find anything in my mind that led you to this conclusion?”

“You’ve got a mind mutie running interference,” Hellstrom replied. “I can’t be sure of the impressions I received.”

“You’re an insurgent,” Fleur spit. “Admit it.”

“You’re a maniac,” Ryan threw back, his temper getting the better of his judgment. “Admit it.”

Ryan caught a blur of movement from behind him and he wheeled, sucking in his gut just in time to only partially suffer the punch that was intended to pulverize his right kidney. Still, the fist bouncing from his rib cage hurt, but so did the elbow he whipped up into Dog’s windpipe.

The scar-faced man staggered back and dropped to the floor, gagging and clutching convulsively at his throat.

Suds swung at Ryan with the barrel of the SIG-Sauer. The one-eyed man bobbed to one side and lashed out with a right foot that struck squarely on Suds’ kneecap. The cracking of bone was loud and ugly.

The man pitched forward, howling and plucking at his maimed leg. Ryan wrested the SIG-Sauer from his victim’s nerveless fingers and leveled it at Hellstrom just as Fleur lunged forward, her hand drawing the Beretta from her holster.

“Tell this chill-crazy bitch to freeze,” Ryan snapped.

“Freeze, Fleur,” Hellstrom stated, a fraction of a second before Ryan squeezed the trigger.

The woman froze, her blaster only half-drawn, but Ryan kept his automatic on Hellstrom all the same.

“You’re taking a big gamble,” the white-clad man said. “Touch me and you’re dead. Every hand in Helskel will turn against you, and every one of those hands will have a knife in it.”