guy. Long hair, black gear. Nail any goons, but don’t nail him.”
He turned, brandishing his piece at Teague.
“Down, and make it snappy, fat man.” He said to Hunaker, “And for fuck’s sake do
something about those goddamned women. Anything!”
He watched as Jordan Teague clambered down the steps of the pyramid. As he
reached the floor he pulled the blue robe around him defensively. It didn’t meet
in the middle. Ryan went close, poked at the sagging gut with the LAPA’s barrel.
Teague’s beady little eyes shone with fear.
“You fat double-crossing bastard,” Ryan hissed. “I oughta take you apart.”
Teague wheezed, “I ain’t done nothin’, Ryan.”
“That,” said Ryan icily, “as someone said to me not too damned long ago…someone
who’s now dead!” And he spat the word at Teague, who waddled back two steps at
the violence of the sound, “is a double fucking negative.”
“I… I dunno watcha mean, Ryan!” Teague squeaked.
“It means, fat man, you have done something”
“Please, Ryan…” The man’s voice was a pleading whisper, and there were tears
rolling and bouncing down his cheeks. “Tell me.”
“You had our train nerved out, and you’ve got the Trader. And now I have you!”
Teague’s face shook, triple jowls quivering like a turkey’s wattles. He
muttered, “Uh…yeah. Cort did… say…” Then he croaked, “But I was against the
idea, Ryan, against it. Ya gotta believe me.”
“You wanted the train for nothing—you simply iced the whole…” A wildfire of fury
boiled through him suddenly and he rammed the LAPA barrel into Teague’s stomach,
yanked it back, flipped it and smashed the butt into the throat of the
tottering, gobbling figure. Teague fell back with a strangled shriek, sprawled
ludicrously half on, half off the bottom step of his pyramid throne, clutching
at his neck, his face scarlet. Ryan flipped the gun again and held it down at
Teague, aiming at his gut, his finger tight on the trigger, his face squeezed
into a frozen mask.
From across the room, though it seemed like much farther, he heard Hunaker say
softly, “Ryan.”
He breathed out slowly, lowered his piece. He said tightly, “When this is over,
Teague, you and Strasser…” He sniffed air into his lungs, threw his head back,
breathed again, this time gustily. He said, his voice less taut, “Who’s the old
man?”
“Old man?” Teague’s voice was a broken gargle.
“Old man, old man!” snarled Ryan. “The old buzzard you called Doc.”
Teague shook his head feebly.
“I dunno, Ryan. He just… appeared. One day. Came into town. Year back, maybe
longer.”
“Who is he, what’s he do, where’s he from?”
“Dunno. Dunno nothin’.” The words came out fast, a panic-stricken stream. “I
thought it’d be a laugh, you know, to have him around. Cort don’t like him,
makes him…do things. Said he was a doctor, acted real strange. Still does, goes
off in a fuckin’ dream, talks…I dunno, ‘nother language. Long words. Some guys
did somethin’ to him, took him off from someplace. But he never said where,
when, why. Can’t understand the guy sometimes, talks to ya like he’s talkin’ to
a buncha kids. Shit, I dunno, Ryan—that’s it.”
“What about this fog?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s lookin’ for a fog.” Teague tried laughing, but then thought
better of the idea. “Thass what he says, lookin’ for a fog, special kind of fog.
I dunno what the hell he means, Ryan. He says that on the other side life’s
better. He’s burned out. Rads’ve eaten his brain away.”
“Didn’t look like he had the Plague to me, Teague.”
“No, no. He’s fit enough, yeah. Brain-fucked is all.”
“Those two balls. Eggs.”
“S’all he had with him, Ryan, when he came into town. Y’gotta believe me. Didn’t
have nothin’ else. Some kind of metal, goes crazy when you take ’em off him.
Cort gets off on doin’ that, takin’ ’em away from him. Guy has a fuckin’ fit.”
Koll suddenly reappeared. His face was set.
“Nothing out back, but there are lights heading up this way.”
Samantha the Panther came through the curtains.
“J.B. says…”
“Lights. Yeah.” Ryan gestured at Teague. “Take him out front, where we came in.”
He ran back to the entrance hallway, then up the stairs to the second story.