Axler, James - Deathlands 60 - Destiny's Truth Page 11

  "And there's no chance of me trying to chill Jak," Jon added.

  J.B. allowed himself a small smile and nodded. "How are you handing out the laser blasters?"

  "Some of the women have been using them for a little while, getting used to the way they feel and fire. It's kinda weird at first, but after you've used them for a while…the only problem I've had is working out how long the charges last, 'cause one hasn't run out yet to give me some kind of indication."

  "Problem is, even if it did, you wouldn't know how long it had been in use before it was taken by your people," J.B. pointed out.

  Jon agreed, adding. "I've made sure all those with the laser blasters have others weapons, as well, just to make sure. Anyway, you can't use those damn things safely in a confined space."

  "Too true." The Armorer nodded. "Need a hand?"

  Jon grinned. "Yeah, sooner we get these handed out, sooner we can go, and no blasters are leaving this wag unless they're checked."

  "Good man," J.B. said, joining Jon at his task.

  By now, Tammy and her scout parties had departed on horseback, leaving the packhorse to be loaded and reined, and the now-equipped Gate warriors to mount the wags ready to depart.

  "I hope Nita doesn't get spotted or get herself chilled before Tammy gets there," Gloria said to Jak.

  "Why should she?" the albino asked as he checked his blaster.

  The queen looked up from her own blaster, the lightweight Vortak Precision Pistol, and fixed the albino with a stare.

  "You are kidding, man," she said. "You've seen her—big, blond, all arms and legs and shit clumsy. I swear someone must have left her outside the camp one night, 'cause she don't fit with the rest of us."

  Jak laughed, a rare thing. Gloria felt her spirits rise at seeing her lover laugh, as she was acutely conscious that under his camou jacket, more weals and blisters were starting to rise.

  Which made speed of the essence.

  Ryan was waiting for Gloria on the lead wag as the queen finished her final round of the wags, sparing a few words for each of the groups of warriors, and indicated to her that they should leave. She assented as she mounted the wag, and the convoy took off for the ville of Crossroads.

  Traveling in wags spread across the convoy, each of the companions marveled at the manner in which the men driving the wags were able to pilot them through the narrowest of channels in the woodlands, and scout around the hill where the landslide had taken place. A journey that had taken them days on foot was shaved to a few hours by the extra speed of the horse-drawn wags and the innate sense of direction of the tribe's men.

  Mildred was on a wag about halfway down the procession, as far as she could tell. Doc was with her, while Dean and Jak were traveling ahead. J.B. was on the armory wag with Jon. Krysty wasn't traveling with the wags. She had joined Tammy in the advanced recon party that had gone ahead on horseback.

  "Tell me, Doctor," Doc began suddenly, breaking into Mildred's reverie, "do you honestly think that we have a chance?"

  "Of stopping the Illuminated Ones or saving ourselves?" Mildred countered.

  Doc shrugged. "Either, or, neither, nor…"

  "I don't know," Mildred said after some thought. "I reckon we can whip their asses, frankly, but I really couldn't call it over whether we survive."

  Doc nodded, almost to himself. "I would have said the same. I just hope that, at the very least, we can be in at the kill…as it were."

  In an attempt to make this deadline, the recon party had now reached the edge of the ville, where Nita came to meet them.

  "What's happening?" Tammy asked without preamble.

  The tall blonde looked at the small warrior and shrugged. "A lot of nothing, by the looks of it."

  "You fuck-wit, don't talk in riddles, just say it," Dette screamed at the blonde from another horse.

  "Look, get off my back—" Nita began before Tammy cut in.

  "Shut it, both of you. Save that shit for if we ever get time." The Gate number two raised an eyebrow toward Krysty that spoke volumes, before continuing, "Now tell me what's happening in the ville, and keep it brief."

  Nita nodded slowly, taking a second to compose herself before beginning. "Okay, well, the sec posts have either been deserted or wiped out this end, as the wags just swept in. I dunno about the other three roads. But the wags are in the center of the ville, down the main drag. They're just sitting there at the moment, picking off the enemy and soaking up the Crossroads fire."

  "What about the ville sec and the inhabitants?" Krysty asked.

  "Far as I could tell from where I was, they've just all grouped together along each side of the drag and are trying to blast the wags without realizing that they can't hurt them."

  Tammy thought about this for a moment, looked up at the position of the sun, then turned to the others.

  "Okay," she began, "by the time that the main party gets here we'll have a couple of hours of sun left before nightfall. They shouldn't be that long, but I want a full report ready for Gloria. We need to know the full situation for all the sec posts around the ville, so we'll split into four and take each point of the compass. Report back here soon as can." She then divided the recon party into pairs to take each sec post position on the four blacktops before adding, "Nita, saddle up with Dette…and you put up with it and keep your mouth shut, lady."

  She turned to Krysty. "That should keep those two quiet. Now let's do it."

  The recon party split and headed at a gallop for the sec posts that were situated at the edge of the ville on each of the four blacktop roads. Leading by example, Tammy headed for the farthest, whipping her horse into a gallop, closely followed by Krysty. At the point where they had met Nita on the road, they were about half a mile from the sec post on that particular blacktop road, and so traveled around the ville at a half mile radius to the sec posts at each point in and out. It gave them a degree of safety lest anyone be manning those posts, but made the journey longer. It also made it hard to tell what was happening in the ville, the distant sounds of blasterfire that drifted across the empty arable pasture being drowned out by the sound of the horses' hooves.

  Krysty felt her hair blow free, billowing out behind her as the horse galloped toward the sec post. The very fact that her hair was so free flowing at this point suggested to her that they would find no one present at the post, and nothing to suggest any danger about to befall them.

  "It's over there," she shouted toward Tammy, pointing across the empty fields toward a clump of vegetation where the signs of a sec post were clearly visible. The fact that the camouflage was so poorly disguised at this stage suggested that it was deserted. Nonetheless, both women slowed their horses and drew their blasters, ready for any eventuality as they approached.

  But the post was deserted. There were no chilled sec men, nor was there any sign of a firefight. But the deserted post did look as though it had been vacated in a hurry, and a single tire track, suggestive of a motorbike, led away toward the ville.

  "Looks like someone came for them in a hurry," Tammy commented.

  Krysty agreed. "I figure they wanted all hands— and all blasters—back on that main drag as soon as possible. Let's hope they've done that on all the posts."

  "Yeah," Tammy agreed, "it makes it a lot easier for us if they're all in the one place—provided we can actually get something done before they run out of ammo, or get themselves all chilled."

  Krysty assented. "I'll second that. Let's get back there and find out."

  With which they turned their horses and headed back toward the point where they had agreed to rendezvous. When they came in sight, they could see that the other recon pairs had returned from their nearer targets, and were waiting for Tammy and Krysty to reach them. Looking toward the distant hill, Krysty could see the Gate convoy approaching.

  "Listen up," Tammy said as she drew near to the others, pulling up her horse. "Our sec post was empty, and it looks like they were pulled back rather than getting into a firefight and
retreating. No chilled, either. Reports?"

  The other pairs relayed that they had found a similar situation on all the posts bar the one that lay on the road immediately before them. There, three of the four sec that regularly manned the posts were chilled, with no sign of the fourth, who may have managed to retreat and warn the ville of the approaching danger.

  "Okay, so we're clear on all points, and all our action is concentrated down that main drag," Tammy said in summary. "Guess Gloria and Ryan will have a few ideas about that."

  Krysty, without pondering the matter or speaking up, was sure that Ryan already had a germ of a plan in his mind. And she suspected that she knew what it might be.

  The first of the convoy wags rolled up, with Ryan and Gloria dismounting before the horses had even come to a halt. The Gate queen demanded a report of Tammy, who gave it concisely. Gloria then turned to Ryan.

  "That's how it stands, then. Two sides of Crossroads, with the scum fuckers in the middle, waiting for them to run out of ammo. Any ideas on how to stop the wags?"

  "Yeah," the one-eyed man replied with a grin on his face. "We play this right, and we can help out Robertson and his shit useless sec, as well as getting ourselves a way to get into the redoubt."

  Gloria raised an eyebrow. "This had better be good, Ryan."

  "It is," he replied, "but we really need to get our shit together and quick. Gather everyone around."

  And when the warriors had dismounted and were gathered, Ryan outlined his plan.

  Gloria laughed. "If we don't get ourselves chilled first, it might just work."

  "It'll have to," Ryan answered, '"cause if it doesn't, we're gonna run right out of time."

  THE GATE CONVOY SPLIT into two sections, with the mounted recon party riding beside them. They were well briefed on what they needed to do to get into position, and from there they would be able to communicate on some manner. But first they had to attain that position. Heading off in opposing directions, the split convoy headed out to the blacktop roads that ran at right angles to the one on which they had stood. To travel out and then loop in past the empty sec posts, they would approach the ville from either side of the main drag, and arrive at the rear of the bars and gaudies that lined the street and from which the Crossroads dwellers were mounting their defense.

  They knew for a fact that the Illuminated wags had approached alone, and that there were no scouts to let them know of reinforcements approaching. So their only danger lay in an overzealous defense from any Crossroads sec that may be guarding the backs of the bars and gaudy houses.

  The wag with Ryan and Gloria headed one way, accompanied by the wag that included Mildred and Doc. Dean, Jak and J.B.—still on the armory wag with Jon—headed for the other side of the main drag, with their sec outriders including Tammy and Krysty.

  There was little chance for any immediate communication as the wags and horses ate up the distance between their original arc of travel and the outskirts of the ville. As they entered the ville itself, it was like a ghost town. The plowed fields and the residential dwellings were deserted, and it was only as they approached the main drag that the sounds of activity began to assert themselves.

  As they passed the hospital, Mildred thought of Hector, and wondered how he had been coping, and if he had succumbed to the disease himself. Come to that, was he even there now, or was he with the others trying to protect their ville.

  "Couldn't cover a fart with a tin can," J.B. commented to Jon, unconsciously echoing Mildred's thoughts as the armory wag approached the rear entrances to the main drag.

  On the opposite side, Ryan felt the same. "They've left the rear totally exposed. If we'd wanted, we could have come and mopped them up before they even knew it."

  "Shit, they really do need our help," Gloria commented.

  At the last, a token defense was offered. A few desultory shots rang from the rear of some of the bars as those inside realized that they were being approached from the rear. But the blasterfire was so spare and inaccurate that the convoys were able to take cover with ease, and incur no casualties.

  "Stop firing, you stupe bastards," Ryan yelled from cover. "We've come to help you, dammit!"

  "Ryan? That you?" Yardie waddled from the rear of one of the buildings and came over to where the one-eyed warrior and Gloria were sheltering. His expression as he saw the Gate queen would have been worth a laugh under different circumstances. "Where the fuck did you all come from?" he asked in a small voice.

  "No time to explain," Ryan replied briefly.

  "There's more of us on the other side. Listen, we have some weapons that may disable those bastards, but we'll need your help to make it work."

  ON THE FAR SIDE, J.B. was outlining the same plan to Robertson, the baron leading his people by example.

  "But I don't understand why you want to try and take one of the wags," the baron said, confused. "Shit, with those blasters like theirs, surely you can just whomp shit out of them."

  J.B. shook his head. "Not that easy. For one, we can only fire at the unprotected parts of the wags. The lasers'll just whizz off the rest of the wag like any normal shell. You think they wouldn't protect their own wags against weapons like theirs? And for two, we need to take one of the wags so we can carry out the next part of Ryan's plan."

  "That's what I don't get," the baron began, but the Armorer cut him short.

  "Doesn't matter right now. If we don't get this bit right, then there won't be the next bit. Are you with us?"

  Robertson nodded. "Like we have a choice?"

  YARDIE HADN'T even bothered to argue with Ryan's plan, and the Gate warriors and companions were in the middle of spreading themselves along the bars and gaudies, using the back entrances to slip in and explain the plan of action to the defenders while adopting offensive positions.

  "Think the others are in position?" Gloria asked Ryan as they watched the Illuminated wags sit malevolently in the street outside.

  "Should be," Ryan answered. "Let's find out."

  The one-eyed warrior slipped out the back way to the bar, and ran to the end of the drag. There, beyond where the wags sat, was an alleyway. He arrived and looked at the alleyway opposite.

  It was empty.

  "Shit," he muttered, and settled to wait. Within a few minutes, J.B. arrived in the empty alleyway. He signaled to Ryan that everything was set. The one-eyed man pointed to his wrist chron and held up five fingers.

  The Armorer nodded, then disappeared. Ryan watched him go, then ran back toward his own post, poking his head into each back door and yelling the countdown to those within, knowing that J.B. would be doing the same. All the while, he noticed that the constant stream of blasterfire from both sides of the main drag was answered only by intermittent laser fire that took chunks out of walls, but wasn't directed to chill.

  Mebbe they want to run us dry and then take us out to use for the disease, he thought. He shuddered, all the more determined to beat the Illuminated Ones.

  He reached the last of the bars and gaudies. The task accomplished, he returned to his post next to the Gate queen.

  "Okay?" she asked.

  "All set." He checked his wrist chron. "We go in three and a half minutes…"

  Chapter Seven

  "Now," Ryan Cawdor said under his breath as his wrist chron clocked up the fifth minute. Along the main drag, the firing from the bars and gaudies ceased, a sudden silence reigning along the road.

  He counted under his breath, giving his wrist chron the barest of glances as he watched the two Illuminated wags sit in the middle of the street, dark and oppressive in their silence. By his reckoning, the longer the ceasefire continued, the more jumpy the fighters inside the wags would be getting—and the more likely to make mistakes. From past experience, he knew that the Illuminated Ones weren't fighters, and could imagine that the silence was playing heavily on their nerves inside the wags. They would have no idea what was gong on.

  He kept counting…

  As soon as firing h
ad ceased, the Gate warriors with laser blasters had relinquished some to the companions. Of the remainder, some had detached themselves from the bars and gaudies and headed out the back way, moving swiftly on each side of the drag toward its northern end. As they did this, the companions also moved out—Mildred and Doc moving slower because of their symptoms, Jak's speed as yet unimpaired— and headed toward the alleyways at the southern end of the drag. Ryan was the exception; he planned to stay until the last, launch the attack and then retreat to join his people.

  Those Gate warriors who still had laser blasters positioned themselves so that they could get a clear shot at the wags from the windows and doors of the gaudies, the barrels of the laser blasters—with their distinctive rounded snouts housing the laser jewel— being held back until time was up.

  At each end of the main drag, looking across the roadway from the facing alleys, the groups of Gate warriors and companions faced each other, gesturing their recognition and checking their counting off of the time until the first offensive.

  Ryan kept counting through clenched teeth, his attention fixed on the two wags in front of him. He didn't look across at Gloria, but knew that the Gate queen would be likewise absorbed in her task.

  The count was over. Ryan reached the limit he had set, gave his wrist chron the briefest of checks and nodded almost imperceptibly to himself. There had been more than enough time for the two offensive groups to reach each end of the main drag, and more than enough time for the Illuminated Ones cocooned inside the wags to lose whatever nerve they may have.

  Ryan raised his Steyr and took aim at the underside of one of the wags. The laser blaster he had been given was still on his shoulder. Time enough for that when he had raced to the end of the drag. The Steyr was to be the signal shot.

  He gently pressured his index finger, depressing the trigger until the rifle kicked back and unloaded the first shell of the attack. In the silence of the late afternoon, with the tension that hung heavy in the air, the shot seemed to echo around the room, around the drag, around the ville. There was a whine as it ricocheted off the metal protectors that covered the tires of the Illuminated wag, but this was lost in the melee of sound that suddenly engulfed the bar in which he stood. Not just that bar. From every bar and gaudy along the drag came a volley of conventional blaster shots and the hum and heat of laser blasterfire.