“Maybe I’ll do that when the time comes.”
“My guess is tomorrow.”
“Mine, too.”
Just then the door to the examination room opened, revealing a sec man standing in the doorway.
“Can I help you?” Mildred asked, her hands on her hips.
“Keep the door open,” he said. “So I can hear what you’re saying.”
“I was just telling her that her female parts are in fine working order and that’s she’s going to make the champion one happy man.”
The sec man smiled and turned away from the open door.
JAK AND CLARISSA COOKED the fish steaks over an open fire near the entrance to the underground garage.
As usual, there were muties hanging around on the other side of the garage door, but they’d all gorged themselves on the sturgeon carcass in the river and were now just waiting for instruction from their goddess, Clarissa.
J.B. had managed to free the 37 mm cannon from the P-39 and was now in the process of stripping it to check for dampness and rust.
“Will it fire?” Doc asked, peering over J.B.’s shoulder.
“I think so.”
“Any thoughts on how you might mount such an infernal weapon?”
“Thinking about bolting it onto the side of the wag, but there’s not much solid steel to mount it on,” he explained. “If we had any more than sixteen shells to fire, the cannon’s recoil would eventually tear the whole side off the wag. Should hold together till we’re done with it, though.”
“What about aiming it?”
“I’ll have to point the wag where I want the round to go. Probably have to use a round or two to calibrate the cannon, mebbe put an X onto the windshield marking the target at a hundred yards or so.”
“Ah, a precision weapon, I see,” Doc teased the Armorer.
J.B. smiled. “In some ways it’s like your LeMat, Doc. With this thing, all I have to be is close. The half pound of hot lead will do the rest.”
Doc smiled, knowing J.B. was in his element. “When do you think it will be ready?”
“Not tonight,” the Armorer said with a disappointed sigh. “I still have to mount the .50 calibers and then test the guns, and that should be done during the day. So I’m afraid Ryan will have to wait one more night.”
“I could do with another night’s sleep myself,” Doc said. “That and a bite to eat.” He turned in the direction of Jak and Clarissa, who had now been joined by Dean. “I say, Master Jak, is dinner close to being served?”
“Not yet,” the albino said. “Take time if want taste like chicken.”
Doc was forced to go hungry another fifteen minutes, but forgot all about the wait when he discovered that sturgeon steaks did indeed taste like chicken.
And very tasty chicken at that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
There was a carnival atmosphere in the air.
The slaves had gotten off work early and many of them had broken out their private stocks of booze, most of which the baron had given them as reward for good breeding.
An eight-point ring had been mapped out in the courtyard about fifty feet across, with tall wooden stakes being pounded into the ground and connected to each other by a length of medium-gauge chain. Each stake was topped with a red flag, and the chain was painted bright red to clearly denote the perimeter of the circle.
Slaves and sec men gathered around the outside of the circle. Those eager to be spattered with sweat and blood sat on the dry, hard ground just a few paces back from the chain, while less bloodthirsty spectators kept farther back of the makeshift arena, sitting on an assortment of crates, boxes and chairs.
Baron Fox appeared on the wooden stage that had been constructed years earlier for such outdoor spectacles and addressed the crowd.
“This is a happy time at Fox Farm,” he began. “We have birthed more offspring in the past month than in the previous three months combined, and it’s all because of you!
“So, as a small token of my appreciation for so many jobs well done, I have arranged a special entertainment for this evening. Like gladiators from a long ago time, these men will be testing their strength, courage, desire and spirit in a fight to the finish. Ten men will enter the circle…”