He replaced the magazine on top of the pile, then looked over at Norman Bauer, who was waiting patiently to be spoken to or dismissed. “What else do you have for me?”
Bauer turned the page of his ledger, but before he could speak, Grunwold, the sec chief, came in through the open door. The man was dressed in dark blue fatigues that were in good condition, and two rows of 12-gauge shells in bandoliers crisscrossed his chest. A Mossberg Persuader 500 shotgun rested in a holster belted to his thigh. It looked to be in remarkable condition.
“What is it?” Fox asked, knowing it would have to be urgent for Grunwold to walk in on him unannounced.
“A scout team spotted a group of seven outlanders approaching from the north, mebbe heading toward the falls,” Grunwold reported.
“Are they armed?”
Grunwold nodded. “Each has a blaster, mebbe more.” He paused a moment, then added, “They look like they know how to use them, too.”
“Women?”
“Two. One black, one white.”
Fox inhaled a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling as he wondered what the best course of action might be. From the sec chiefs report, it sounded as if these outlanders might be better left alone. He’d learned from experience that there was a big difference between scooping up families riding in convoys headed to the eastern villes and taking on seasoned outlanders who had learned to chill attackers on sight. While he’d gained plenty of farmworkers ambushing wag trains, he’d also lost a lot of good sec men to outlanders who preferred death over enslavement.
“Have them followed,” he said. “If there’s an opportunity to take the women, do it.” He waved his hand in the air. “Otherwise, let them go.”
“Yes, sir!” Grundwold turned on his heel and left the office.
“Two new women,” Bauer said, looking over his ledger and likely figuring out what that might do to the farm’s monthly output of offspring.
“Yes,” Fox said, picking up the mag once more and opening it up to his favorite spread. “They’ll make a nice addition to our breeding stock.”
Chapter Three
When they reached the top of the rise, Ryan used the ancient brass telescope he’d found a while back and spotted a ville some distance to the south. There were several tall buildings, and one strange structure looked as if a wag wheel cover had been impaled on a panga.
“Mildred,” Ryan said, “do you recognize that?”
Mildred Wyeth stood by Ryan’s side. “Looks familiar, but a lot of villes had towers like that.”
“Okay. We’ll head for it. Stay alert, people,” Ryan said.
The companions moved on, and at the bottom of the rise they came across a predark road overgrown with weeds. It was still tough going, but easier than walking through dead forests and across weed-covered fields. After a half hour on the road, they came upon fields of flatland dotted with dead trees whose stumps were lined up in neat rows.
“Predark farmland?” Krysty queried as they approached the skeleton of a large glass house that had only a few panes, out of what were once hundreds and hundreds, still unbroken.
“That’d be my guess,” Ryan agreed.
“Orchards,” Doc said. “Apples and pears, it looks like.”
“Acres and acres of prime farmland poisoned by rad dust, and chemical fallout, skydark, nuclear junk…” J.B. said.
“And who knows what else?” Mildred commented.
“The irony is rather precious, isn’t it?” Doc said.
“How mean?” Jak asked.
“These were once magnificent farms, with fresh food as far as the eye could see…but now the muties here think my old and somewhat withered body is a gourmet meal.”
Jak chuckled, but stopped abruptly when there was movement in the ruin of the glass house to their right. The friends stopped in their tracks, all eyes on the glass house looking for another glint of light or shift of shadows.
“J.B., Krysty and Doc, right side. Mildred, Dean and Jak with me. And mind the cross fire.”
Without another word the companions neatly split into two groups and approached the glass house from each side. As Ryan neared, he was able to see through the jagged teeth of the broken panes to the inside of the glass house. Tall green vines grew inside, stretching from the ground to the ceiling, twisting and tangling about as if each vine were trying to choke off the other. Ryan decided that there was nothing else living inside the glass house and what he’d seen was simply the wind twisting its way through the vines. But then he noticed several leaves twitch as if something were slowly moving through the vegetation— close to the ground.