Looking into Doc’s twinkling, unfocused eyes, J.B. got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He thought for sure the old man’s brain had again come unstuck, and he was afraid he was going to start shouting and clapping for an encore. Something that was bound to give away their position. Before J.B. let that happen, he’d coldcock him. He balled up a fist and held it ready by his side. But Tanner dropped the crazy smile and refocused his gaze on J.B.’s angry face.
“My apologies, John Barrymore,” Doc whispered contritely. “I was momentarily overwhelmed.”
“Yeah, yeah.” J.B. turned to Mildred. “It wasn’t magic made that rig appear out of thin air. How do you think they did it? Some new kind of mat-trans?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said. “Safe bet, though, that whatever the process is, they used it to bring themselves, the black aircraft and the rest of that stuff here.”
“What do you make of the missile?”
“I suppose it could be predark,” she said. “From a distance, one missile looks pretty much like another except for the external markings. The markings on that one aren’t from any military I’ve ever heard of. Either it’s a century old and been repainted to look like that, or it’s new gear.”
“The wag that’s hauling it is definitely new,” J.B. said. “Never saw a design like that, with a crane attached. It’s meant to move nothing but that missile. I think you might be right about science still being alive, somewhere around here.”
“At least we’ve laid to rest the outer space connection,” Doc said, referring to the clearing of black helmets they’d witnessed and the heads visible inside. “Under that Stygian armor, they’re as human as any of us.”
“And they’re using some obviously derivative technology,” Mildred added.
“Stone chillers” was Jak’s only comment.
He got no debate there. What little was left of the cannie sniper lay soaking into the dirt of the street. Nearby, Ryan stood surrounded by black figures.
“We’ve got to do something to get Dad out of there before they hurt him,” Dean said.
J.B. raised the binocs again. He knew the boy was right. Trouble was, he couldn’t think of a single, rad-blasted way to save him.
The Armorer watched the black figure step behind his old friend and give him a push toward the middle of the road where the truck had appeared. Ryan stumbled forward into a hard flash of light. Thunder boomed, and the one-eyed man slipped into the tunnel that wasn’t there.
“Rad-fucking blast,” J.B. swore.
“Where’d he go?” Krysty exclaimed. “Ryan just vanished!”
As they watched, the figure in black who’d shoved him disappeared as well, stepping into a slit in the air. There was another boom as the opening slammed shut.
“They’ve taken him,” Mildred said.
“Well, we’re going to get him back,” Krysty retorted, pushing up from the rocks.
The black woman caught her by the arm. “Wait, Krysty. We’ve got to think this thing through.”
“Ryan’s still alive. We’re not going to abandon him. He would’ve never done that to us.”
“No one’s suggesting anything like that,” Mildred assured her. “We need a plan of attack, some kind of strategy if we’re going to have any hope of succeeding. What do you say, J.B.? What can we do?”
“Cannies didn’t fare too well against them,” he reminded her. “I’d say our odds are about the same.”
“That’s a big help!” Krysty said.
“I’m just trying to be realistic. Problem is, we don’t know how to chill these folks.”
“Anything that lives can be killed,” Krysty said. “It’s just a matter of finding a way.”
“A way that doesn’t get us all chilled first.”
“A plan, J.B.,” Mildred prodded.
The Armorer sucked in a breath and let it out slow. Then he picked up a stick and started drawing in the dirt. By the time he was done laying it all out for them, the sun was starting to sink into the bank of purple clouds to the west. Beneath the bank of clouds, chain lightning flashed over the high mountaintops. In the eye of the storm, the earth frothed and boiled under an acid rain downpour.