“Bridges,” Jak growled, curling a lip. “Not trust.”
“With good reason,” Mildred agreed, remembering those terrible days in West Virginia. “I say we follow the shore and hope to find something useful— a wreck, maybe. Or a fishing ville.”
“No, we’ll head for the bridge,” J,B. said, passing the telescope to Ryan. “Check it out.”
The warrior adjusted the length to focus, and a faint smile came and went on his scarred face. “Bridge it is,” he stated, collapsing the telescope.
“Ville on the other side?” Krysty asked, staring that way.
“Something is on the other side, that’s for damn sure,” he said, starting to walk. “There are a couple of big cats, cougars maybe, tied to leashes in front like guard dogs.”
“Indeed,” Doc said, the salty breeze rustling his long silver locks. “Then it most sincerely behooves us to discover exactly what these feline Cerebusi are protecting.”
“Cerebus guarded the gates of hell,” Mildred corrected.
Striding along, Doc frowned. “Too true. But let us hope for better than that, dear lady.”
STIRRING FROM its nest, the mutie scampered into view and stared dumbfounded. The food was leaving! This had never happened before in its long memory. Always they came to the dead place, started moving slow, then toppled over ready to be gathered.
Wiggling his hairy body from the cool darkness of the hole under the tree, the mutie started after the two-legs, staying far behind them, darting from tree to bush. But always ready to charge at the first hint of them slowing down as the invisible sickness took them.
No food had ever escaped before! Nor would this.
Chapter Four
The companions were still a good distance from the bridge when the cats rose to their legs and started to growl.
Stopping about fifty yards away, Ryan calmly studied the animals and the bridge behind them.
The structure stretched across a channel of choppy water, with open sea on either end. The bridge itself was a box trestle, the design used for railroad tracks. However, the surface was paved, the asphalt badly cracked and dotted with deep potholes. The strutted girders were dark with corrosion, but still looked strong. Small patches of black paint still showed through the decades of rust.
“Acid rain probably helps it stay clean,” Krysty commented. “I’ve seen it wash rust clean off steel.”
“Flesh, too,” Jak added without humor.
Beyond the bridge were the gutted remains of a roadway, sections of concrete visible through the windblown dirt. It meandered off out of sight into the hills of pine and bushes.
Wary of crumbling land, Ryan moved to the edge of the island and glanced into the channel. It had to have been low tide, as the shoreline mark was a good fifty feet above the surface of the choppy water, the bare rock sides of the yawning passage exposed. Schools of rainbow-colored fish darted about in the clear water, and a short way off, a glistening coral reef was heavy with the sleek shells of clams, while fat crabs scuttled about in a shallow tide pool. Whatever else, food was abundant here.
“How odd,” Doc stated softly. “Those are cougars, not exactly a tropical cat. I would have more expected panthers or cheetahs.”
Staring hostilely at the companions, the snarling cats were straining at the leash, padding back and forth in their desire to attack the norms. One turned its head to chew on the confining rope and released it immediately, spitting and sneezing, its pink tongue lashing madly.
“Wondered why not chew through,” Jak said thoughtfully. “Now know. Chem on rope. Smart.”
Ryan could see that each cougar possessed two tails, both lashing about in restrained hatred. But aside from that minor deviation, they seemed quite normal otherwise. Just big. And with lots of scars disturbing their sleek tan fur.
“Think they’re here to keep out people or muties?” Dean asked, glancing back toward the steaming jungle.
“Only muties we’ve seen are those condors,” Krysty said. “And they’d just fly over.”
“Must be people, then,” J.B. agreed, tilting back his hat for better visibility.
“People without blasters,” Ryan said, holstering his SIG-Sauer and easing the longblaster off his shoulder. He hated to waste two live rounds on chilling chained animals, but there was clearly no way past the huge cats and onto the bridge without getting within reach of those deadly claws.