“Many, but only three are signed up so far.”
“So that makes four altogether, Mog and his loyals.”
“Yes,” Brody said.
Ryan nodded. “Then our chances are good.”
GANLEY GOT THE BOATS back on the water shortly after the sun came up on Erie Lake.
“With any luck,” he said, “tonight will be the first of many we spend with our new mates.”
A cheer erupted from the two boats, but then quickly died down as the sec chief settled into the regular rhythm of, “Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!” that would have them on the north shore by midafternoon and then on to their destination by nightfall.
THEY USED the Rainbow Bridge to cross the river below the falls, but if they had a wag with them on the way back they would have to try a different route. The Rainbow had been twisted and broken by movement caused by the skydark nukes on either side of the river. The bridge could handle people on foot, but anything heavier, especially a wag, and the whole bridge could collapse into the gorge below.
The Whirlpool Rapids Bridge farther downstream was a possibility, but J.B. didn’t like the creaking sound the steel girders made whenever the wind blew with any strength.
“So even if we find a wag, we might not be able to get back with it,” J.B. stated.
“No, there’s another bridge farther south,” Clarissa reported. “It’s stable and strong. It’s the one Baron Fox takes on his way to the eastern villes all the time.”
J.B. was satisfied.
After crossing over onto the American side, they found the ruins of Niagara Falls Boulevard and took the road east, followed by an ever present gang of muties.
The ville on the American side had sustained more damage than its Canadian counterpart. The houses, all made of wood, had burned to the ground in a firestorm, and the few remaining buildings were scorched black. A fine dust covered the ground and anything that had remained on the street.
They crossed a highway and saw on their left the remains of an airport. They were mostly small planes with single engines, none of them with any weapons. J.B. had often wondered if he could get such a vehicle running, and perhaps even take it into the skies one day, but he knew that such thoughts were best suited for another time, perhaps when the companions were done roaming the Deathlands and he had the time and the patience for such tinkering.
“The museum’s just on the right,” Clarissa said.
J.B. adjusted his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. “Looks like a big gaudy house.”
“It might have been at one time,” Clarissa agreed. “If ‘mall’ is another word for ‘gaudy house.'”
Doc cleared his throat. “In my day a mall was a large area, usually lined with shade trees and shrubbery and used as a public walk or promenade. But I believe in later years it was used to describe a large retail facility containing a variety of stores, restaurants and business establishments, often housed under a single roof.”
“They had stores for wags and blasters in predark times?” Dean asked.
“No,” Clarissa answered, “but they had lots of space inside for a museum.”
“Why no one else find?” Jak asked.
“The museum is cleaned out, but not by people looking for wags. It’s all in storage below ground.”
J.B. nodded. “If the people who ran the museum knew skydark was coming, they might have moved the museum pieces to protect them from damage.”
Clarissa picked up her pace. “This way.”
They started down a ramp that led to a large roll-up door. A sign on the right read Deliveries Only.
J.B. pointed to the sign. “I guess we’re just going to have to break the rules.”
Doc shook his head. “On the contrary, John Barrymore. Whatever we find down there will help us deliver Ryan, Krysty and Mildred from a life of slavery.”
J.B. gave Doc a thin smile.
Clarissa lifted the large roll-up door until there was a foot-and-a-half gap between the bottom of the door and the pavement. “That’s all I can open from the outside.”
“More than enough,” Jak said, rolling into the garage.