“Trouble is, I don’t think it’s Murphy’s men that we’ve got to look out for.”
Dean frowned. “Then who?”
“Good question, young’an. Mebbe I can give you an answer.”
Both Krysty and Dean froze at the voice from behind them. Sure, it was possible
that one of them, in the noise and confusion of the storm and the fighting, may
have missed the sound of an approach from the rear, but for both of them to miss
it entirely bespoke a silent enemy to be reckoned with.
“Now, if you want to draw more than one more breath, I’d suggest that you drop
those there blasters and turn around real slow, like.”
Dean and Krysty both complied, the woman’s hair curling tightly and protectively
to her neck.
“Say, looks like you’re a mutie, lady,” said their captor wonderingly.
“Does it make a lot of difference?” she asked, her voice tight with the tension
that coursed through her.
“Mebbe, mebbe not,” the voice replied. “Guess it doesn’t matter a damn. Not
really. Just curious. Now, if you’ll be so good as to turn around…”
“Guess we don’t have much choice,” Krysty muttered as both she and Dean turned
slowly to face their captor.
He was a giant of a man, nearly seven feet and at least four hundred pounds. The
homemade blaster he held in both hands was a gigantic weapon fashioned of what
seemed to be two old motorcycle exhausts welded together and bound with wire.
The stock appeared to be a burned and scarred old lump of timber, and the
trigger was like a rusty old nail.
It seemed to be the sort of device that would explode in its user’s hands when
the slightest pressure was applied to the trigger. The trouble was, with a
blaster that size, the surrounding area would also get wasted. And that included
them.
“Okay, now that we’re all friendly, like, I suggest we get the hell out of here
before that hell-spawn catch up with either us or you—depending on who they’re
after.”
“Oh, it’s us all right,” Krysty said.
“Well, now, I guess that’s not up to me to decide.” There was something about
the way he said it as he looked them up and down that made Krysty’s skin crawl.
Then he continued in a less disturbing tone of voice. “Those sure are nice
blasters you got there. Be a shame to waste them, so why don’t you just pick
them up by the wrong end and carry them stretched out in front of you, like.”
He waited until they had done so. “All right, so let’s move on out of here.”
“What if the sec men from the redoubt attack us now?” Krysty asked.
“Then you get chilled. So the sooner we head out, the better.” The giant
chuckled cheerfully to himself.
“That makes me feel so much better,” Dean mumbled as they began to walk.
The sounds of blasterfire and shouting decreased in frequency and volume as they
trudged the few hundred yards to where Ryan was waiting at the head of the only
track out of the enclave. Like them, he was covered by an antique and
home-repaired blaster.
Ryan exchanged questioning glances with Krysty, who tried to convey to him in a
simple gesture that she couldn’t figure out what was going on, either.
J.B. and Mildred emerged from the opaque blanket of swirling dust and dirt,
carrying between them what appeared to be a bundle of rags. The giant covering
Krysty and Dean shook his head and clicked his tongue softly.
“Wouldn’t like to be them,” he said softly.
Krysty took one look at the face of the man with the bayoneted Lee Enfield who
stalked behind Mildred and J.B. and agreed silently.
Before the Armorer and Mildred had a chance to say anything, Jak emerged from
the storm, followed by a squat man whose blaster was trained in the middle of
Jak’s back.
“Okay, let’s move out,” said the man covering Ryan, his eyes darting sharply
across the dust-shrouded enclave.
They all noticed that Doc was missing. Jak shrugged as their eyes asked the
question.
Chapter Eleven
Doc emerged from unconsciousness with a groan. It had been a coma so deep,