Krysty shooed everyone out of the room, but not before they grumbled and cursed a bit. Ryan eased down on the bed, gingerly shifting so he wasn’t applying pressure to his shoulder wound. Krysty sat beside him and ran her fingers through his hair.
“I’m bastard tired,” he said.
“I’m not surprised. You’ve had a strenuous last few days.”
“No, not that kind of tired. Weary, I guess is the word. Weary of chill or be chilled. Weary of never knowing which one of us will be the next one to board the last train West.”
“That’s life, lover,” she said softly.
“Is it? Is life supposed to be this way?”
Krysty sensed his mood and bent over to kiss him. Feeling the warmth of her face against his lips, he could also feel the heat of her firm body through his clothes. He was desperate to feel more of that heat, so he peeled first his, then her clothes away.
They pressed together in a full, naked embrace. Lying down on the bed as afternoon shadows gathered outside the window, they clung to each other. They didn’t talk. There wasn’t time or the desire for conversation. As Krysty gasped beneath him, he thrust deep inside of her, relishing the passion she invoked in him and the sweet release of their union.
Afterward, they lay together, holding each other tightly. For a long time, neither one spoke. Then Ryan said, in a whisper, “I’ve made my choice.”
Chapter Nineteen
The day dawned white and ghostly. The AMAC rumbled across the barren plains, towing a four-wheeled trailer. Beneath a canvas covering were baskets and crates brimming with loaves of bread, ears of corn, wheat and even hand-loomed bolts of fabric. In the distance, across acres of thorny shrubs, towered Mount Rushmore.
Ryan glanced over at Mildred. She tried a jittery, reassuring smile on him, but he was too tense to even try to return it. He knew she was more worried about the people left behind in Helskel than what awaited them.
Hellstrom sat in the back with them and ten sec men. He had dropped all pretense of the relaxed, friendly host. He snapped orders to the man driving and the one operating the periscope. Everyone’s speech was faster and clipped, their movements tense, their eyes never still for an instant. They were like soldiers preparing for battle.
Ryan wore his long fur-collared leather coat. Beneath I was a combat harness, and from it hung four grens; two were V-40 minis, and the other two were DM-19 incendiaries. Though the SIG-Sauer was snugly holstered at his hip, a midsized Walther MPL submachine gun was clipped to the harness. The metal stock was folded side-ways to allow for carrying comfort, and the perforated barrel could spit out 550 rounds per minute. Four extra clips of the 9 mm ammunition were attached to the harness. He had decided against carrying his Steyr bolt-action rifleif any fighting was to be done, he figured it would be up close and dirty. The SSG-70 was strictly a long-range weapon.
His silk scarf with the lead weights sewn into the lining was wrapped around his neck.
Mildred was similarly attired and outfitted, with the same kind of grenades. Though she still packed her ZKR 551 target pistol, she had chosen, at J.B.’s recommendation, a Heckler amp; Koch MP-5 from Helskel’s impressive armory as her second blaster. It was a fairly lightweight and compact submachine gun, constructed largely of stamped metal parts and heat-resistant plastic. It used a 20-round magazine, and its eight-inch barrel was equipped with a noise and flash arrester.
Ryan had considered the MP-5, since he had fond memories of his Heckler amp; Koch G-12 caseless rifle, but he felt its fixed wooden stock would interfere with his movements. Still and all, he was glad Mildred had chosen it.
As the journey continued, Ryan found himself drifting off, lulled by the rocking motion of the AMAC. Despite the almost superhuman stamina he possessed, he had his breaking point. Too much tension, too much bloodshed, and even his endurance could drain away.
He kept replaying the scene with Krysty the afternoon before, when he had told her Mildred was his choice to breach the Anthill. He had been prepared for a long argument, and when it didn’t arrive, he felt a little let down.
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