“Trouble?” asked the leader of the new group, a hand resting on the butt of his blaster. The others fanned out behind him to establish a greater presence of authority.
“Yeah, I think so,” the first guard murmured.
Ryan noted that several shops had closed their doors, and folks were avoiding this section of the street. He had a gren, and wondered how best to use it—blow up a greenhouse or try to kill as many sec men as he could. Both had their downside.
“Hey, Roberto!” called out a thin man eating an apple as he walked over from the market square.
The first guard scowled for a moment, then relaxed slightly. “Hey, Dawson. See what happened?”
“Sure. Crusher tried to roust the new guy,” Dawson said, munching contentedly. “Bad mistake.”
“Didn’t think anybody could take Crusher but the hunchback,” said one of the other guards.
Already the tension was starting to diminish, and Ryan felt the muscles in his arms unkink. Somebody had vouched for him, and as far as the sec men were concerned, the matter was already over.
“Did he, now? Fair enough, then. You want to kick him some more while he’s down?” Roberto asked, still brandishing his club. “Somebody attacks you for no reason, you get to pound them. It’s a law we got to discourage brawling.”
“Nah, he ain’t going to bother me none again,” Ryan said.
The second group of sec men seemed satisfied, and moved on, but one of the men stared hard at Ryan before leaving, as if trying to memorize his features, or worse, recall them.
Dawson finished the apple, then tucked it into a pocket. “Pretty good with your fists,” he acknowledged. “Got an assignment yet from Leonard?”
“Tomorrow. He was busy,” Ryan risked saying. Then on impulse, he threw back his cowl as if having nothing to hide.
Roberto laughed. “Yeah, the kid tries to run the whole ville. But then, he’ll be baron when Strichland dies.”
“Seems like an okay guy.”
Tapping the wooden club against his leg, Roberto frowned. “Don’t let that smiling face fool you, newbie. The baron would toss his own mother into the Machine.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Dawson added, his face as somber as the tone of his voice.
There was that word again. Ryan filed that phrase away, along with the sound of real fear in the guard’s voice. “Meant Leonard.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s okay. Pretty good in a fight, too. And smart. He’s the one who thought of the greenhouses. We call him the Brain in the barracks.” The club was brandished. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Hear what?” Ryan asked blandly.
A slow smile. “Quick. You’re very quick. What’s your name?”
“Finnegan,” Ryan replied, recalling an old friend who no longer walked the Deathlands. “Friends call me Finn.”
Dawson licked his sticky fingers clean. “Any good with a blaster?”
“Some.”
“Yeah?” Roberto scratched his head with the club. “Know how to turn a regular lead bullet into a dumdum?”
“Fucking carefully,” Ryan stated honestly.
Both men laughed. “You’ll do, Finn,” Dawson said, smiling. “After your stint in the muck, try for security. We always need tough guys.” He glanced at the supine form in the sand. “And I think you’ll fit right in.”
“Thanks.”
“Better than weeding,” Roberto added, as he turned and strolled away. “Or wall duty.”
“Yar, anything is better than that. Well, see ya later, Finn.”
“Later,” Ryan agreed.
Having said their piece and ascertained there were no problems, the sec men went back to their business, and the crowds flowed around Ryan again. The fight was over, and the disturbance in their ville had been settled. Life went on again.
Some kids darted out from the legs of the crowd and started going through Crusher’s pocket, and Roberto halfheartedly chased them away.
Retreating to the safety of the market square, Ryan looked for Krysty, but she was nowhere to be seen. Finding a gap between some of the buildings, he next studied the distant skyscraper. But without binocs, he couldn’t see any details and nothing seemed to be happening anymore. The fight either was over, or it had gone hand to hand. The muties! The building had to be their nest. Ryan flexed his hands, then stuffed them into his pockets and strolled away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help from where he was. He had to concentrate on the task at hand, get the med kit and get back. Until he got across the river, his friends were on their own.