James Axler – Zero City

“Coldheart who wanted leave ruins,” Jak said, holding his side and wincing.

Gathering the dropped blaster from where it fell, Doc inspected the dead man’s blaster. “Excellent piece, fine condition.” He cracked the cylinder and checked the ammo. The bullets were reloads, but very well done. “Any more in his pockets?”

Expertly, Jak rifled the dead man’s clothing. “Nope. Just spoon, can opener, cig lighter.”

“I’ll take the lighter,” J.B. said, and Jak tossed it over.

“Four rounds is it, then,” Doc said, and, walking to the front of the Hummer, slid the blaster into the map compartment. “Never hurts to have a spare.”

“How did he get the drop on you?” J.B. asked curiously, tucking the butane lighter into his munitions bag.

“Jumped on hood from overpass,” Jak said, making a face. He had been caught unawares like a stupe, and the Cajun felt embarrassed. “Shoved blaster my face. No choice but obey.”

J.B. could read the teenager’s expression. “I would have done the same myself. What did he want from us anyway, food or blasters?”

“Fuel. Wanted leave bad. Kept looking sky.”

“Watching for our winged muties, perhaps?” Doc inquired.

“Yep. Called them demons.”

“Good name,” J.B. admitted, starting to light his cigar stub, then forcing his hand away. “They’re the nastiest bastards I’ve encountered since Larry Zapp.”

“Well, he does not need to fear their arrival anymore,” Doc said, raking the street with his hand and tossing some sand on the man. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Where shall we dispose of the body?”

“River,” Jak suggested practically. “Water carry to ocean.”

“Exemplary, my young friend. Let us be off.”

“Wait, I have a better notion,” J.B. countered, chewing the stub from one side of his mouth to the other. “Let’s drop him off in a vacant lot a few blocks from here with a nice block of C-4 under his ass. Might get a few muties or wolves that way.”

“Sounds good,” Jak agreed, then he winced as sweat touched the cut in his side.

“Hey, are you hurt?” J.B. asked in concern.

“Just scratch,” Jak said dismissively, showing the minor wound. “But how Dean?”

“The same.”

“Oh.”

“By the way,” Doc asked, “where are Ryan and Krysty? Any news on the whereabouts of the medical kit?”

Quickly, Jak told them what happened.

“So they tracked him inside the ville,” J.B. said, crossing his arms. “Damn, I don’t like the fact that we have no way of contacting them, or even keeping track of their progress.”

“Perhaps there is a way,” Doc said unexpectedly, studying the cloudy sky. It was difficult to gauge the hour with the heavy blanket of storm clouds blocking the sun. His pocket chron was working fine, but since they didn’t know where they were, it could be hours fast or slow in regard to the local time. They didn’t even know if this was still America.

“Four, maybe five, hours of light remain,” Doc said. “Not nearly enough for my plan. Gentlemen, I suggest Jak stays with Dr. Wyeth to bring her up to date, while John Barrymore and I drop off our guest, and then reconnoiter a few stores to see if we can find some barbed wire for the internal defenses.”

Something moved in the cloudy sky and the companions drew their weapons, dropping into combat crouches. The lone sting-wing circled overhead, then moved off.

“Here,” Doc said, passing the teenager the G-12. “The Uzi and my LeMat should be sufficient protection for this brief sojourn. But if there is trouble here, you will need the extra firepower.”

Accepting the rifle, Jak weighed it judiciously. “Feels light. Ninety rounds?”

“Eighty,” Doc said. “I was a bit overzealous eliminating your unwanted passenger.”

“Shot him, not me. No complaints.” Jak laughed, resting the stock on his hip.

“Thank you. Most kind,” Doc said, wiping off the blood on the front seat before climbing into the wag. “Tomorrow morning, we shall go back to the redoubt and load up on all the fuel we can find. Then we go hunting.”

“For the muties?” J.B. asked, starting the engine.

“Better,” the old man replied, then explained as they drove off.

WIPING THE DIRT off his hand, Gunther breathed in the rich fragrance of the greenhouse and stopped for a moment to admire the beautiful green plants surrounding him in rows upon rows. The shafts of corn were thickly golden, with rich chaff almost bursting to get out. The new tomatoes were small, but growing steadily larger, and the carpeting of soybeans underneath the tall plants was so thick the leaves had a bluish hue.