She kissed him then, her tongue darting into his mouth and probing deeply. Ryan returned the kiss, holding Krysty in his arms as tightly as his aching ribs allowed.
The crowd roared in approval.
Even the baron seemed pleased.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Night had fallen.
The underground garage remained illuminated by a few naked bulbs and smelled of cooked fish, machine oil and sweating bodies.
J.B. had finished arming the wag. It had .50-caliber blasters at the northwest and southeast corners of its cargo bed. Instead of fixing the 37 mm cannon to the side of the wag as he’d intended, the Armorer had to bolt it onto the hood of the wag. But in order to allow the huge blaster enough room, the wag’s windshield and rear window had to be removed, which allowed the breech of the cannon to sit in the cargo area where it could be reloaded with shells.
Jak and Dean would man the fifties while Doc’s job would be loading the cannon. That left J.B. the job of driving the wag, and, more importantly, aiming the cannon. Clarissa would ride up front bearing smaller arms. It would be her task to protect J.B. from any threat from close range. The Armorer would have his Uzi within reach, but his attention would be focused on driving and positioning the cannon.
“I must say, John Barrymore, that this time you have outdone even yourself. You’ve turned this wag into an awesome fighting vehicle, and you are to be commended.”
“Feeling better, Doc?”
“Yes, I am. The comforting ministrations of the young woman, Clarissa, did much to calm my nerves and rejuvenate my spirits. In a way I was reminded of my dear Emily. Why, it was almost worth catching cold just to have her make a fuss over me.”
The time traveler was beginning to ramble.
J.B. grabbed his arm and gave it a firm shake. “Doc!”
Doc stopped talking and his body shuddered slightly, as if he’d just been awakened from a dream. “Yes,” he said sharply.
“Get some rest. Mildred, Krysty and Ryan, they’re waiting for us. We leave at first light.”
“Yes, of course. Some rest might do me some good.”
MILDRED SAT on the cot she’d set up in the nursery and let out a long sigh.
She had sewn up Foghat’s arm as best she could, set it in a splint so he wouldn’t tear the stitches and given him something for the pain. Then she’d fixed up Brody’s leg and wheeled him over so he could spend some quiet time with Jasmine. After that, she’d watched over both of them for a few hours to make sure infection or any other complications didn’t set in.
Now with the lights in the nursery turned down and her charges asleep for the night, Mildred lay down and rested for the first time all day.
The moment her head hit the pillow she was asleep, and dreaming of her days as an young intern.
THE FIRE ON THE BEACH had been put out for the night, and guards were posted on the edge of the marauders’ camp. In the morning they would travel north to the falls. In the evening they would take up positions around a farm there. And during the night they would break into the complex and take men and women to breed with to insure the survival of Reichel ville.
Some of them wouldn’t be making the journey home, and the mood in the camp was somber.
“Rhonda!” sec chief Ganley whispered when he saw the young woman approaching. He’d been lying on his back, staring up at the stars unable to sleep. “Unable to sleep, too?” he asked her.
Rhonda nodded.
“Scared?”
Again she nodded.
“Me, too.”
She looked surprised.
“Do you want to talk about it?” the sec chief asked.
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“For you to hold me.”
The sec chief took her in his arms, their shared body heat keeping them warm through the night.
THE BIG CLAWFOOT BATHTUB in Krysty’s room was full of hot, steaming water. Ryan lay back in the tub, his arms stretched out over the sides, his body’s energy depleted and close to exhaustion. Krysty ran a soapy sponge across Ryan’s chest, cleaning away the afternoon’s blood and grime.