But not for long.
Chapter Six
Ryan’s dreams were wild nightmares of falling, then suffocating, load noises, pain, laughter, bad smells and now endlessly rocking
The Deathlands warrior awoke with bright sunlight shining in his face, and he sat up to see where they were only to slam his head against something hard. Trying to rub the spot, Ryan found his hands were bound with ropes. He tried to break the strands, then realized it was some of the plastic rope from the Pegasus . Fireblast! So those dreams had been real. They lived through the crash, only to be taken prisoner.
Gathering his wits, the one-eyed man saw he was in an iron cage on the back of a wooden cart, the steady sound of horse hooves on stone coming from the front. As his vision cleared, Ryan saw he was traveling through a ville full of people. Streams of men and women were moving past the cart on both sides, children were playing in the mud, barking dogs running about, farmers selling produce from wheelbarrows and in the distance he could hear a muted work song from slaves. Then the cart rolled by the bloated corpse of a woman hanging from a rope, Disobeedeant scrawled on a placard hung around her swollen neck.
Ryan checked his clothing, but his blaster and gun belt were missing. Along with his backpack, panga and everything else. Even his eye patch was on backward and his clothes in disarray. He’d been searched, and anything that could possibly be a weapon was gone.
Surreptitiously, Ryan checked the laces of his combat boots and was pleased to note the laces were still tied with the double knot he regularly used. Okay, not completely unarmed then. But nothing he could reach fast.
The thick bars of the cage cast most of the interior into shadows, so Ryan crawled across the cramped quarters to check the other passengers. Rolling over a man, he saw it was J.B., with everything gone but his glasses. That was odd. It had to mean something important, but what?
Lying nearby were Doc and Dean, in a similar state of disarray. They had each been stripped clean; even Doc’s walking stick was gone. Fireblast, they had to have found the sword inside.
But the rest of the companions were missing. A flood of blood pounded in his temples, and Ryan fought to control his terrible temper. Whatever was happening to his other friends, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.
Going over to J.B., Ryan placed a hand on the man’s mouth and shook him awake. Instantly, J.B. flicked open his eyes and reached for a blaster, his hands jerking to a stop by the ropes binding his wrist to his ankles.
“Stay quiet,” Ryan whispered into his ear. “We’ve been captured.”
J.B. nodded in understanding as Ryan scooted around for Doc, but the scholar winked at him and slowly sat upright.
“I, too, am alive,” Doc rambled softly, wincing as if with a terrible headache. “But only technically, I assure you.”
Patting the man on the back, Ryan checked Dean and found his son also awake, only pretending to be unconscious.
“How are your boots, Dad?” he said eagerly. “Mine are okay!”
The man shot the boy a stern look, and Dean blanched at the stupid mistake he’d just done. What a feeb! They were in a cage and the unseen driver could probably hear everything they said. Hot pipe, he might have already given away their only chance at escape!
“They’re both okay,” Ryan said, pointing overhead, then pressing a finger to his lips.
Awkwardly shuffling to the bars, J.B. studied the lock, then turned away in disgust. There was no lock, just a length of steel chain bolted in place. No way he could open that from the inside, even if he had a wrench big enough to do the job.
Looking at the passing ville outside, he saw the houses were predark, rebuilt into decent condition. The road was paved, broken sections patched with pieces of sidewalk giving the roadway an odd checkerboard appearance. Chained slaves were everywhere, small children whipping a crippled old man who was trying to sweep a dirty floor with his bare hands. A squad of sec men marched a badly bleeding man toward a hangman’s gallows. In a tavern, a young girl stood silently weeping with her serving tray held high as the drunken customers pawed at her budding breasts.