James Axler – Trader Redux

“Yeah. Both here, Trader. Need a hand?”

“Need a couple of fresh legs, Ryan. Mebbe a new set of lungs. And I admit, between you and me, that the old dick isn’t quite as good as it used to be.”

They went toward the voice, each putting an arm around Trader, helping him into the shelter. Ryan felt a passing shock at how frail the old man seemed, more like a bundle of dried branches held together with whipcord.

“Got a knife in the ribs, but it went shallow and long. Nothing serious touched. Bled some. Burns like fire. Another of the stupes missed me point-blank with a Kentucky musket. Flash blinded me, and the fuck-head broke the butt across my left thigh. Near broke my leg. And I fell in a bastard ditch and swallowed five gallons of gnat piss.”

“Apart from that, Mrs. Lincoln, what did you think of the play?” Ryan said, using one of Doc’s favorite jokes.

But Trader didn’t laugh, preoccupied with his own wounds and exhaustion.

“Go outside, J.B., and see if I was followed. I heard dogs. Reckon they might be trailing me. Hope to pick us all up at once.”

The Armorer eased himself through the gap in the shattered door. Ryan knelt by Trader.

“You got your blaster?”

“Course. Nearly right out of ammo for it. Your SIG-Sauer fires 9 mm rounds, don’t it, Ryan? Pass me some spares.”

“Yeah. I got a full mag and about half a dozen more. Won’t last long.”

“J.B.’s got a few rounds for the M-4000. Not the best of blasters to use in a siege situation.”

“No nines?”

Ryan shook his head. “Plenty up with Abe.”

“Then we best get back to the camp.”

“Could be that Abe’s on his way.”

J.B had come back inside the tower, overhearing the last part of the conversation. “Hope so,” he said. “Because we got some company coming.”

ABE WAS in a ferocious temper. Back at the farmhouse there had been four of them to handle the harnessing of the quartet of jet-black mares for the hearse. Even then it had proved difficult and complex. Now, alone, he was finding that trying to cope with four horses was close to impossible.

“Stand still, you bastard!” he screamed, spittle flying from his open mouth. The animals reacted against the blind anger in his voice, stamping nervously, backing away from the traces, one of them getting hooves tangled in the trailing harness, kicking out so hard it nearly broke one of the shafts.

“For the sake of bleeding Christ, keep still,” he moaned, almost in tears at his own helplessness.

The light was gathering with every wasted second, and he could see no hope of getting the rig ready for at least an hour. Abe shut his eyes and attempted the technique for calming himself that Krysty had tried to teach him, slowing his breathing and counting backward from twenty, trying to clear his mind and focus on a white-painted wall.

Gradually he felt self-control seeping back.

TRADER OFTEN SAID that life came down to two choicesrun or fight. With his injuries, running anywhere away from the water tower was out of the question, and the deteriorating ammo situation was making the prospect of a successful defensive fight of the ruined building seem increasingly remote.

Thirty or forty of the ragged hunters spilled from the southeastern flank of the devastated ville, pursuing the trio of outlanders with the powerful weapons. There was also a pack of eight or nine lean mongrels, baying their eager hatred to be set free to harry thek enemy.

“Should have brought the Uzi,” J.B. said, watching the approach of the posse from an upper window.

“And the Steyr rifle,” Ryan agreed. “Anything to hold them off.”

Trader sat on the floor, holding the gash in his ribs. They’d bandaged it with strips of rag, but he’d lost a significant amount of blood and it was obviously hurting him. The twisted ankle had become stiffer and more painful, so that he could hardly hobble.

He looked up at his two colleagues. “Man weeps over spilled milk gets blinded by the tears,” he said.

“Empty words,” Ryan snapped. “No time for it. We can’t hold them off for long, even if you have all the bullets for the Armalite. Unless they’re triple stupe, they’ll hear the noise and know we’re down to one blaster.”