Standing, J.B. went over to pat the long ventilated barrel of the M-60. “Then we’ll just have to reason with them the old-fashioned way,” he said grimly.
“WENT NORTH,” Jak said, brushing back his snowy hair. “Wind going muddle tracks. Go now.”
“Agreed.” Ryan climbed into the Hummer and started the engine. “We’ll circle around and approach from the west, so the guards at the tunnel won’t hear us.”
Taking their seats amid the cargo, Ryan kept the Hummer in low gear to be as quiet as possible as they drove along the zigzagging maze of streets until finally reaching the park just west of the great skyscraper.
“Thank Gaia for that building,” Krysty said. “Without street signs or maps, it’d be easy to get lost in here. But just check the angle of the sun and you have a location.”
“Like a sundial,” Dean said, chewing over the notion. “Pretty smart.”
She smiled. “Your father taught me that.”
“Stop,” Jak said, leaning way out of the wag, studying the ground.
Shifting into neutral, Ryan eased to a fast halt, and the Cajun hopped out, walking back a few yards to bend low to the ground and brush his fingertips across the smooth sand. To Dean, there didn’t appear to be any marks on the sand, but Jak stood and pointed decisively.
“Eight,” he stated, then pointed down an alleyway. “Six.”
“Damn alley is too small for the Hummer,” J.B. noted, estimating the opening. “Want to circle around again?”
“Too close,” Jak said, frowning. “Hear and run.”
“And we don’t want to go chasing them all over the ruins,” Krysty said. “There are far too many places they can reach that we can’t.”
“On foot, then,” Ryan said, leaving the wag. “Krysty, stay with the Hummer. We’ll follow the six.”
“If you come back running, I’ll be ready,” she promised, handing over the Steyr. “The M-60 might reduce dinner to hamburger instead of steaks, but at least it’ll be us on the outside digesting them, instead of the other way around.”
Snorting a laugh, Ryan bent close to exchange a fast kiss, then checked the longblaster and ammo belt. Satisfied, he started across the street. “Full weapons, everybody, and stay close. Packs fear other packs.”
With Jak in the lead, the companions eased into the alleyway, following the trail of faint depressions in the loose sand. The next street down came into sight, but the two companions conferred and took a side alley. Coming out a block to the east, Jak raised a hand, then closed it into a fist. The group froze and got ready for combat.
Just a block away was a smashed store window, the only gap in the endless seam of white store windows that lined the street.
Spreading out, the companions eased toward the gaping hole, Dean and Mildred watching the windows above for any signs of snipers. It could be another trap, and better safe than dead.
Above the smashed window, words were chiseled into the marble lintel of the building, but time and the winds had worn the engraving down to vague unreadable squiggles. But recently somebody had neatly painted the huge single word across the stone lintel.
” ‘Supirmarkit,’ ” Doc quietly read in disgust. “Not only thieves and liars, but illiterates, as well.”
Mildred scowled in agreement while Ryan studied the crude sign. Another bastard trick for travelers in the city. Solos or explorers looking to loot would find this open food store and naturally go inside to check for canned goods. That’s when the wolves charged and the victims would get herded straight to the ville like sheep.
“Hopefully not to the slaughter,” J.B. whispered, obviously having the same train of thought.
Jagged daggers of glass jutted like teeth ringing the opening. From their vantage point on the sidewalk, they could see bare floors inside, a bank of linked carts to the left, registers to the right and rows upon rows of shelves stretching out of sight. A fine sprinkling of sand lay over top of everything for yards, and the rear of the store was masked in darkness.
Signaling for silence, Ryan tapped his eye and gestured at the store. Rifle in one hand, he drew his SIG-Sauer and knelt on the sidewalk, listening for any sounds of movement inside. The ghostly moan of the desert wind whispering down the street was discernible, but nothing else. No dripping pipes, no ticking clocks, not a snarl or a cough.