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“Here!” Jak yelled suddenly. He beckoned the others toward him. Ryan was closest and as the others struggled toward Jak, Ryan could see something poking up from the rubble where the albino was standing. As he got nearer, he could see that it was the end of a black cane.
Doc’s sword stick.
As Ryan reached the spot, Jak was already on his knees, clearing away the debris on the body. Ryan fell to his knees when he was close enough and started to move the rubble, shifting soil and rocks methodically. When Mildred and Krysty reached them, they, too, fell to their knees and began to dig.
Doc wasn’t moving under the rubble—come to that, they had no way of knowing if he was actually under there or if it was merely his sword stick.
Clearing the rubble around the end of the stick, Mildred heaved a sigh of relief when she found that Doc’s fist was wrapped stubbornly around the silver lion’s-head. More rubble found his arm uncovered, while Jak had managed to unearth his head and shoulders. It took some time to clear all of the debris from around and over him, but eventually Doc was completely clear.
Mildred examined him as thoroughly as she could. He was breathing shallowly but regularly, and there seemed to be no bones broken. But he was unconscious. Opting to move him clear of the area, Ryan and Jak took him between them and carried him clear of the area. The movement stirred him and he began to speak…almost inaudibly, with no real coherence.
“…when shall we three meet…parting is such sweet—such sweet what, do I wonder? My dear, you look so sweet tonight…. I thought I would never see you again, sweet Lori…. Or is it Emily? Did either of you really exist, I wonder, or were you little more than the fevered imagining of those sweet, immortal moments before death finally claims its own? Can it be immortal if measured against death, I wonder? Ah, what a dilemma for any philosopher…a problem so simple a five-year-old could solve it. Someone, pray go and get me a five-year-old child before it drives me mad.”
Ryan was glad when they were able to put Doc down on the flat earth and he was able to return, with Jak, to the rubble and his search for J.B. Mildred and Krysty remained with Doc, trying to nurse him back to full consciousness.
“Ryan, think Doc okay?” Jak asked as they returned to their search.
Ryan shrugged. “Mebbe.”
Jak looked at Ryan’s grim visage, the fire in his ice-blue eye, and he knew that Ryan wouldn’t rest until the Armorer was found: Jak agreed with that, but was also worried about how long they could keep going out in this heat, with little in the way of water and supplies.
Jak looked up to the sky, squinting at the sun. “Past noon—soon be too hot work. Dust bowl keeps heat. No good to J.B. if wipe us out.”
Ryan drew a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take the next two hundred yards, roughly, of debris, then rest up for a while. We’ll also need to work out what water and food we’ve got, see how long we can do this, though if we’re lucky we won’t have to hang around too long.”
“Yeah, mebbe,” Jak mused, noting that there was a note of doubt in the big man’s voice. Like Jak, Ryan was wondering if they would be able to find J.B. And like Jak, he was loathe to voice this doubt.
So they kept digging….
By the end of the day, as the darkness fell, there had still been no signs of the missing Armorer. There was still a vast area of uncovered debris to be raked, but they were sore and weary, muscles and bones protesting at the strain. Doc had been resting, his breathing still shallow and difficult from his problems prior to the cave-in, but the others had all bent their backs to the task. Using whatever scrub they could find, they built a fire and sat silently around it, eating from self-heats without once complaining about the taste. There was a gloomy, depressed aura around them.
“Think find him?” Jak said after a long silence, voicing the thought that the others had dared not.
Ryan looked across at the young man, the fire catching a reflection in his good eye, seeming to emphasize his mood. “We’ve got to. Can’t stop trying,” was all he said.
They mounted a watch through the night, taking it in turns to guard while the others caught some much-needed rest. Sleep came easily, as their bodies tried to recover from the rigors of the day. It was hard to rouse each other at the turn of the watch. But the violence of the earth movement had scared away any predators and there were no signs of the mutie dog pack that had caused them so many problems. Even the snufflings and shufflings of the small mammals that tried to eke a living out of this inhospitable terrain were few and far between.
Morning came, but the rising of the sun offered no release from their mood. Acknowledging how exhausted they all were, and that going full-tilt would benefit no one, Ryan organized a rota where they would divide up the remaining area. They would search in pairs, one on while the other rested. He excluded Doc, much to the old man’s initial annoyance. Although Doc’s breathing had improved, a turn in the sun would likely cause the old man severe problems as searching through of the rubble only stirred up more dust and dirt in the air.
And so the search continued. Grim, bitter, monotonous and depressing. The sun rose higher in the sky, burned down on their backs as they searched. There was no real shade, only that which they could construct with their coats and a few sticks taken from the surrounding scrub. The air was stifling. They were dehydrated, barely keeping their water levels up, striving to conserve the water they had left. On his off-time, Jak tried to search for any water holes that may be around for the wildlife. There had to be some sources of water for them to live in this harsh environment. But he drew a blank. Whatever source they had for their water was deep in the burrows, down where the water table existed, coming nowhere near the surface.
By the fall of the day, they were all beginning to give up hope. There was only a small area of the debris that hadn’t been combed; they had little in the way of supplies; and another day or two under the harsh Arkansas sun would fry them.
“We can’t stop,” Ryan said simply. “He’s got to be here somewhere. We were all pitched out here, so he must have been, too. We just haven’t found him.”
“But what are the chances of finding him alive now?” Mildred asked. “God alone knows I don’t want to think about this, Ryan, you know that. But it’s been two days. If he’s been buried and unconscious that long, under this sun….” She shrugged.
“We can’t give up now,” Ryan muttered tersely.
“I’m not saying we do. Just that we need to face the fact that we might not find him. And if we carry on looking too long, we’ll buy the farm ourselves,” Mildred countered.
Ryan’s face was grim. “You think I don’t know that? One more day, going through the last of the rocks. If he’s chilled, then we give him a decent burial, right?”
None could argue with that statement.
With the rising sun the next morning, they began again. Working once more in shifts, they searched the last area of debris. It was empty.
“Fireblast! What the fuck happened to him?” Ryan seethed with impotent rage. “He can’t have just vanished. Mebbe…mebbe he was thrown beyond us.”
“How could that have happened?” Krysty queried. “For Gaia’s sake, Ryan, look around you. Where else could he have been? There is nowhere else.”
Ryan slowly turned 360 degrees. Beyond the circumference of the debris there was nothing except flat dust bowl earth. Nowhere that the Armorer could be hidden, chilled or alive. The flat, dusty landscape seemed to mock him with its bland openness, hiding nothing and revealing nothing about where J.B. had gone.
“We’re here. All of us,” Ryan reiterated. “We got thrown out. J.B. must have been, too. He can’t have been left in there.”
“Ryan,” Krysty said softly, “it was a maze down there. It’s incredible that we all ended up in the same place. We could have been swept down any number of tunnels that didn’t immediately cave in. J.B. might still be down there.”
“I can’t leave it at that,” Ryan said with an irritated shake of his head. “We’ve got to search around here, just mebbe…I dunno, just mebbe…”
They divided into two parties, Doc joining Mildred and Jak, and they started to search the immediate area, moving out in a spiral to cover as much ground as possible.
It was a short, bitter search, fraught with frustration. All the while they walked under the burning sun, they knew it was useless. But it was something they had to do. They couldn’t rest until at least the token had been made. No matter how exhausted, no matter how dehydrated.
No matter how hopeless.
Eventually, they could search no more. They were low on supplies and water and they had to move on. Ryan acknowledged this when they came back together.
“J.B.’s gone,” he said simply. “Bought the farm. I guess we have to say that, now. We could stick around and keep looking, but where? As far as I can see, this fireblasted flatland is giving us nothing. It’s kept him down there, in a rock grave.”
No one else spoke. There was nothing to say. Ryan continued.
“Seems real weird having no body to bury, nothing to speak over, but I guess that shouldn’t stop me saying something. If he’s gone, then he deserves a send-off. I’ve known J.B. a long, long time. He seemed a strange kind of man when I first met him. I’d never met anyone who knew so much about the one thing and who was so intense about it. When I joined Trader, people talked about J.B. in a funny way. He didn’t have many enemies, but didn’t have many friends, either. He was a difficult man to get to know, but I did get to know him. And a better man I’ve yet to meet. Always at your back, always by your side. I’ll never meet anyone like him. That’s all….”
Ryan turned away. Strong emotions other than anger and fury were things that you didn’t let show. You couldn’t afford them, at least not outside of some kind of privacy. But losing J.B. was a time when he could let it show, just for a moment. Truth was, Ryan Cawdor had just lost a part of himself, a friend and an ally. And it pained him.
His back still to them, Ryan heard them all say something about the Armorer. Krysty and Jak were to the point: a good comrade lost. Mildred had a little more to say. J.B. had been the closest person to her since her revival from cryogenic suspension and to lose him was devastating. She whispered a few words, and then Doc had his turn. He, predictably, rambled on. He had good things to say, but a way of making them last forever. Ryan wanted to stop him, say they had to start moving on right now. But he owed the old man his right to say goodbye.
Finally, Doc petered out and Ryan turned to them.
“Okay. We’ve done what we had to do. Now we need to get the hell out of here. There’s nothing for us around here and it’s been a while, so I figure we should give this up as lost and head back to the redoubt. Mebbe we can jump to somewhere better than this.”
Mildred furrowed her brow, eyeing him up. “You sure about this, Ryan? We haven’t rested well since we were thrown out of the caves and we’re dehydrated. Are you sure we should jump?”
“The chances of finding a ville quickly are slim, Mildred,” Ryan replied. “And we can get some water at the redoubt. The water recycling was working okay a few day ago, right? We’ve jumped in worse states than this. It’s our best option.”
“You’re the boss,” Mildred replied cautiously. She wasn’t too sure of the wisdom involved. They had left the redoubt partly because they were worried about the air system, which cut out the alternative of resting up a night before jumping. How would Doc and Jak take a jump, given that they were the ones who suffered the most afterward?
Having said that, they had no idea how long it would take them to get to the nearest ville and it was obvious that Ryan was determined to leave the dust bowl behind. He had no intention of staying in the place that had claimed the life of his best friend. And she couldn’t, in all truth, disagree with that notion.
And so, taking their position from the time and placement of the sun, they struck out for the redoubt.
It was another grim day. The heat was oppressive. Each step seemed like an effort and in many ways it didn’t seem to matter if they ever reached their goal. They had lost one of their number and things would never be the same. Others had come and gone, but J.B. was different. And on a practical level, it meant that they had lost their ammo supplies, grens and plas ex. It didn’t matter right now, but it may wherever they landed.
The light was failing when they reached the area housing the redoubt. The fact that it had taken them so little time to reach the entrance was an indication of how far the earth wave in the tunnel had carried them.
It was quiet around the area and there was no sign of any life at all. It seemed somehow appropriate. Ryan found the hidden keypad, still recessed despite the rigors that had stripped the landscape, and tapped in the access code. The door groaned open.
They wearily entered the redoubt and made their way down the tunnel. There was nothing to make them keep alert. It was empty, just like when they arrived. Deserted for decades and likely to be deserted for an equal length of time once they were gone.
Which was why it struck Jak so hard. Something just out of the corner of his eye didn’t seem right. He looked again.
“Ryan, wait,” he said sharply. “Look.”
Ryan’s eye followed the direction Jak indicated. There, on the floor and partially up the wall, was a smear of blood with a small pool gathered beneath.
It was still wet.
“Shit! Someone else?” Ryan spun. There had been no sign of anyone approaching the redoubt from the outside and the smear was too fresh to have been left by the companions a few days before—even assuming that they had forgotten about it.
Ryan slipped the Steyr from his shoulder, gripping it in one hand while he drew the Sig Sauer and checked its status: fully loaded.
“Triple red, people,” he breathed. “We’ve got company.”
The others didn’t need telling. Already, they had blasters in hand and had snapped out of their torpor. It was a mystery how someone else came to be in the redoubt, but a mystery that was completely unimportant right now. All that mattered was locating the enemy before the enemy located them.
“Keep together—line out and stay hard,” Ryan whispered.
Stringing out in a line, with Jak taking J.B.’s usual point position, they began to make their way down into the lower levels of the redoubt. There was no sound to indicate where the intruders might be and no other signs of their presence. They cleared each room lining the corridor before progressing onward.
It was only when they reached a junction that things went haywire.
Ryan was first across, checking the corridor on the left. He got no further than the junction before blasterfire exploded out of nowhere. His momentum was carrying him forward into the firing range and it took all his strength to reverse his center of balance and pull back, large-caliber rounds pitting the walls of the corridor.
Mildred returned fire with a few shots squeezed from her ZKR.
“Incoming,” Jak yelled, snapping off a couple of shells from his .357 Magnum Colt Python as rifle fire started to pepper them from behind.
“How the fuck—” Ryan began, before realizing he was wasting breath. How had they managed to get behind the companions when they had checked all the rooms along the way? The only way would have been if they used the air-con shafts, which meant that whoever they were up against had a working knowledge of the redoubt.
Those firing on them from behind were keeping well in cover and return fire was pointless. They couldn’t turn left or right, in case they walked into a hail of fire. Their only chance was to head straight across and reach the end of the corridor, where it doglegged to the right. It was about fifty yards and they’d have to do it in shifts.
Jak kept the rear covered, while Ryan and Doc took the first run. On a count of three they flung themselves across the junction, Ryan firing to his left with the Sig Sauer while Doc was ready to pepper any fire from the right with the shot chamber on his LeMat. There was none, but to take that corridor, which ran for over a hundred yards exposed, would have left them open to fire from the rear.
When Ryan and Doc were over, Mildred and Krysty followed, with Jak between them, moving backward rapidly.
Once across, Ryan headed rapidly for the dogleg while the others covered the rear from follow-up attacks. The one-eyed man skidded to a halt as the corridor turned and recced around the corner, using the Steyr to draw any fire before risking a glance.
It was clear. He beckoned to the others and they followed.
They ran down the dogleg to the next level of the redoubt, only to find that their way was blocked by a closed sec door.
“Fuck it, they must know the codes to get that down,” Ryan breathed. “This door was up when we left.”
“Who the hell are these people?” Mildred asked, not really expecting an answer.
“People who know what they’re doing, my good woman,” Doc murmured. “You do realize that, with a minimum of firing and without showing themselves at all, they’ve forced us into a corner. And too damned easily.”
“You’re right, Doc. We’ve been triple stupe and let them run the play,” Ryan agreed. “Minds too busy elsewhere to get it together.”
“No time for recriminations, lover,” Krysty told him. “We’ve got to get ourselves out of this before we have the luxury to do that.”
“Yeah, but how? We don’t know how many of them there are or where they’re coming from. We’ve got our backs to a wall that could lift at any moment and we can’t lift it unless we want to expose ourselves.”
Ryan thought fast. There were two rooms on this leg of the corridor, both open and empty. To put themselves in one would give them cover on three sides, but would also imprison them.
Right now, cover was important. Even though he had a suspicion that this was what the enemy—whoever it was—had been directing him to, he still indicated that they should enter one of the rooms.
Jak kept watch while they built a barricade. His instincts were sharp, and were needed more than ever.
“I don’t get it,” Krysty said as they worked, the imminent danger echoed in the way her hair clung to her head and shoulders. “Why didn’t they take us out when they had the chance? Why are they driving us into this?”
“Perhaps, my dear, they wish to take us alive,” Doc mused. “This would be the best way. Force us here and then sit it out until we cannot go on.”
“But why wouldn’t they figure we’d come out blasting? Don’t they think we’d risk buying the farm?”
Doc allowed himself a sad smile. “We might, but that doesn’t increase their risk, does it? If we get chilled, we get chilled. This is, however, their best way of taking us alive with a minimum risk to themselves.”
“They’re here,” Jak said simply, pulling back into cover.
The companions took cover, blasters ready. Shapes flitted past the doorway to take positions on the far side and the companions fired. The roar of blasterfire and the stench of cordite was broken only by the screams of those they hit. From around the door, fire rained in on them. The barricade began to crumble.
“Have to take them head on,” Ryan yelled. “Otherwise we’ll be chilled meat anyway.”
They reloaded, ignoring the hail of fire around them as it ripped at their makeshift barricade and pit the walls with gaping holes of gouged-out concrete. They readied themselves for the attack. It was an almost suicidal charge, but they didn’t have the stomach to sit it out and wait to buy the farm.
“Ready?” Ryan asked. He was answered by gestures of assent.
One way or the other, it looked as though they were ready to join J.B., wherever the hell he may be.
Chapter Four
Nothing made much sense to J.B. as he lay in a pool of water, a stream gently trickling around him. Nothing except the pain he felt, as though every muscle in his body had been torn, every bone fractured, every ligament wrenched. Even the pumping of his blood sent liquid pain coursing through his veins. If he could see through the agony enough to think with any kind of rationality, he would be surprised that the levels of pain hadn’t made him black out. But everything was too painful, the world too red and full of pulsing lights for that: he had no idea where he was and only a few vague memories of how he’d gotten there.
His head—that had been the thing that hurt most to begin with. He had been in a tunnel and he vaguely recalled something to do with dogs attacking him. Then the walls have caved in on him and he remembered the crushing pain of being under their weight. And then…
And then it went really crazy. It seemed like the whole pile of rocks around him had just been picked up and flicked over, like some force had turned the world upside down. He could remember the strangest sensation, in the blackness, of feeling an immense wave of motion wash over him, pushing him forward and then sideways as he hit a solid barrier that drove the breath from his body. He was tossed around like a branch in a dust storm, hitting the sides of the tunnel that was crumbling around him as he felt himself fall. He’d hit his head again and had the idea that he was blacking out and coming to, blacking out and coming to. How many times he had no idea. All he knew was that he had kept falling down until finally he hit water.
It wasn’t deep and it wasn’t moving fast, but he still hit it so hard that it felt like falling against another wall of rock. But this one gave under him and he found himself struggling not to breath, not to drag water down into his lungs as his descent slowed until he hit the floor of the river. Some part of his brain that was working despite himself wondered about the river. He’d figured there had to be a water table at some point, but not that it would be so deep. Stupe, how the brain does this when he should be thinking about staying alive.
