“Food,” Jak said.
“Exactly, my dear Jak. The fruit we traded for had to have been contaminated in some way, either naturally by radiation poisoning, or on purpose by sec men with a plan.”
“Sec men with plan,” Jak decided.
“I think you’re right,” Dean said. “I’ve never been so tired in my life.”
“Nor have any of us,” Doc commented. “So don’t blame yourself, John Barrymore. You couldn’t have helped it.”
“Rad-blasted sec men and their baron are gonna have hell to pay,” J.B. said through gritted teeth.
“That’s the spirit,” Doc cheered.
“Let’s move,” J.B. said, leading the way.
Chapter Eleven
Sec chief Ganley supervised the raiding party that was assembling on the shores of Erie Lake. He had spread word about the raid through Reichel ville, being careful to explain why it was necessary and the dangers the raiders would encounter.
They would be taking two of their sleekest fishing vessels. Each one measured roughly eighteen feet long and was powered by paddlers, four to a side. That meant the ideal number of raiders would be eighteen, giving each boat eight paddlers and a navigator. But while eighteen raiders would move fastest across the lake, they would need more than that when they reached their destination. Ganley decided on twenty-four, which gave each boat ten paddlers, a navigator and a lookout, which was something important to have considering there were plenty of mutie creatures out in the deeper waters in the middle of the lake.
Yet despite deciding on twenty-four raiders, Ganley had no trouble filling out the ranks. He’d selected twenty-three so far and now had to decide on the final spot with five volunteers to choose from.
The first was a boy who was obviously too young. “Sorry,” the sec chief said, “but I need some to stay here in Reichel ville to protect it while I’m gone.”
The boy was disappointed but not surprised.
Next was an old man whose prime years had come and gone long ago. He walked with a cane, but carried a mint-condition blaster. The blaster would be handy to have with them on the raid, but not if he could only use one hand to fire it.
Ganley shook his head.
The old-timer seemed relieved, as if he’d volunteered simply to save face.
The final three were all women, which mattered not to the sec chief. His only concern was that they be able to fight, and he’d seen women who were every bit as capable as men and often were even more cunning.
The first carried a remade blaster that looked as if it were held together with glue, baling wire and string. She seemed to be uncomfortable holding the weapon in her hand, as if she were afraid it might go off while she held it.
“Let me see you change clips,” the sec chief said, pointing to the blaster.
“That’s the thing that holds the bullets, right?”
Ganley nodded.
She fumbled with it, then said, “I’m sorry, it was my man’s blaster. He never showed me how to use it because it was always by his side.”
“Mebbe you can stay here in the ville and learn.”
The woman nodded and walked away.
The next woman was young and lithe, and was dressed in little more than rags. Her only weapon was a sharpened stick, but there looked to be bloodstains on the end of it.
“Is that the only weapon you have?” the sec chief asked, getting up from his seat.
The woman nodded.
“The place we’re headed will have plenty of well-armed sec men. I need blasters.” He reached for the stick with his right hand.
In a blur of motion, the woman swung the stick away from his grasp around the back of her neck and ended up with the pointed end directly under the sec chiefs chin. She pressed the tip firmly against his flesh, until a single drop of blood ran down the shaft.
“But there’ll be plenty of close-in fighting, too,” Ganley said, “and sharp sticks can kill just as easily as a round from a blaster.”
She pulled the point from his chin.
“You’re in.”
Ganley looked for the last volunteer, but she had already turned and was well on her way back home.