miles of interconnecting corridors and passages, with stairs and elevators
between levels. The gateway was down on the fourth level, with the only viable
exit to the bleak outside six levels below that.
Though the group had done a great deal of exploring, there were still
considerable areas left where no one had been able to go.
“There be dragons,” said Doc Tanner, coming up behind Ryan and J.B. and pointing
with a scrawny finger at a blank area on the map.
“Dragons. What the fuck are they?” asked Ryan, straightening up from the table.
“Fire-breathing mutie lizards is the best explanation that I can offer, sir.”
Behind the old man, J.B. raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.
Since they’d been in the redoubt, Ryan had suspected more than once that Doc’s
sanity was returning. But often his behavior wasn’t very encouraging.
“You never been up here before, Doc?”
“Never that I recall. But I fear that some of my brain cells have somehow become
displaced. I can no longer remember all I might.”
“Got to go, Ryan,” said J.B., walking briskly to the door. “See you, Doc.”
The door hissed shut. Ryan folded the maps and tucked them into an inside pocket
of his coat. “Fireblast! We’ve been here six days. Could stay here the rest of
our lives if we wanted.”
“But do you want?”
“Don’t know. Good place.”
“Is it really, my dear Mr. Cawdor? If I may be frank with you, I confess that I
have my doubts.”
“Why?”
Doc moved closer to Ryan, his boots creaking. He half smiled, showing his oddly
perfect set of gleaming teeth. His voice was its usual deep, rich tone.
“This redoubt raises so many questions in my poor, fuddled mind. Why only three
survivors after a hundred years? And such an odd trio. Quint, Rachel and the
dumb child, Lori. He is the Keeper. That’s a hereditary position, and such
positions bestow power without responsibility.”
“You know he doesn’t read, Doc?”
“Yes.” The stovepipe hat dipped forward as Doc stared down at the floor. “Where
are the others? He knows how to keep this place functioning by ritual and by
rote. That is all.”
“That’s nothin’. Most of the Trader’s men couldn’t read or write. But if you
showed them somethin’, they could do it. It’s the way War Wag One was run.”
Doc nodded. “And yet… so many closed doors, are there not, my dear young
friend.”
“Yes. We’ve tried to spring ’em but they’ve got good sec locks on ’em. If we
blow ’em, then Quint would hear it. What do you reckon’s behind ’em?”
“More of the past? More of the future? Surely, precious little of the present. I
do not know, Mr. Cawdor.”
“Mebbe we should find out. But I tell you, Doc… I’m blocked to the back teeth
with this place. This afternoon I’m goin’ to get out and see some sky.”
“There are muties aplenty.”
“I know, but I’ve got security,” he said, patting his guns.
“Cawdor,” mused Doc, laying a forefinger alongside his thin nose. “Why does that
name produce a distant and tiny murmur of a muffled bell?”
Ryan stared at him with his good eye. Unconsciously his hand strayed up to the
livid scar that ran down his chillingly pale blue right eye, then moved down to
tug at his lip on the same side.
“What…some legend of a great and powerful baron out East, beyond the Blue
Ridges. Twin sons and a dreadful feud that ended… How did it end, Mr. Cawdor?”
Showing a sudden ferocious glint of intelligence, Doc’s eyes were bright and
piercing as a mewed hawk’s. For the first time since he’d known Doc Tanner, Ryan
realized that the old man had once been a grim force to reckon with.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Doc. Your legend doesn’t mean
a thing to me.”
“If it doesn’t have… doesn’t have…? Upon my soul, but it’s gone again. What were
we talking about?”
“The gateways, whether you’d found any clue how to work the bastard things.”
Doc shook his head. “I fear not. I have discussed the matter with Mr. Quint, who