“Plenty of outlanders have scars like that.”

“Yeah, but this one is unique. Sec chief Robards thinks this Ryan may be the same outlander who chilled Baron DeMann’s brother a few years ago in a gaudy house in Spearpoint.”

Baron Schini suddenly appeared more interested in DeMann’s outlanders. If their leader was the one who chilled the baron’s brother, then he was also the one who chilled her son in the very same gaudy house firefight.

“And if this is the outlander who killed the baron’s brother, what does that candy-ass Robards plan to do about it?”

“Why, chill the scum and his friends on behalf of Baron DeMann, of course.”

The woman shook her head.

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all,” the baron said. “It’s just that if this one-eyed outlander is the same one who killed the baron’s brother, then he’s also the one who chilled my son, Luca. And if that’s the case, I damn well intend to be there to watch the bastard die.”

Other titles in the Deathlands saga:

Neutron Solstice

Crater Lake

Homeward Bound

Pony Soldiers

Dectra Chain

Ice and Fire

Red Equinox

Northstar Rising

Time Nomads

Latitude Zero

Seedling

Dark Carnival

Chill Factor

Moon Fate

Fury’s Pilgrims

Shockscape

Deep Empire

Cold Asylum

Twilight Children

Rider, Reaper

Road Wars

Trader Redux

Genesis Echo

Shadowfall

Ground Zero

Emerald Fire

Bloodlines

Crossways

Keepers of the Sun

Circle Thrice

Eclipse at Noon

Stoneface

Bitter Fruit

Skydark

Demons of Eden

The Mars Arena

Watersleep

Nightmare Passage

Freedom Lost

Way of the Wolf

Dark Emblem

Crucible of Time

Starfall

Encounter:

Collector’s Edition

Gemini Rising

Gaia’s Demise

Dark Reckoning

Shadow World

Pandora’s Redoubt

Rat King

Zero City

Savage Armada

Judas Strike

Shadow Fortress

Sunchild

Breakthrough

Salvation Road

Amazon Gate

Destiny’s Truth

Skydark Spawn

Damnation Road Show

Devil Riders

Bloodfire

Hellbenders

Separation

Death Hunt

Shaking Earth

Black Harvest

DEATH LANDS®

James Axler

For Evan Hollander, fellow warrior

Is it sin

To rush into the secret house of death,

Ere death dare come to us?

—William Shakespeare,

Antony and Cleopatra

THE DEATHLANDS SAGA

This world is their legacy, a world born in the violent nuclear spasm of 2001 that was the bitter outcome of a struggle for global dominance.

There is no real escape from this shockscape where life always hangs in the balance, vulnerable to newly demonic nature, barbarism, lawlessness.

But they are the warrior survivalists, and they endure—in the way of the lion, the hawk and the tiger, true to nature’s heart despite its ruination.

Ryan Cawdor: The privileged son of an East Coast baron. Acquainted with betrayal from a tender age, he is a master of the hard realities.

Krysty Wroth: Harmony ville’s own Titian-haired beauty, a woman with the strength of tempered steel. Her premonitions and Gaia powers have been fostered by her Mother Sonja. J. B. Dix, the Armorer: Weapons master and Ryan’s close ally, he, too, honed his skills traversing the Deathlands with the legendary Trader.

Doctor Theophilus Tanner: Torn from his family and a gentler life in 1896, Doc has been thrown into a future he couldn’t have imagined.

Dr. Mildred Wyeth: Her father was killed by the Ku Klux Klan, but her fate is not much lighter. Restored from predark cryogenic suspension, she brings twentieth-century healing skills to a nightmare.

Jak Lauren: A true child of the wastelands, reared on adversity, loss and danger, the albino teenager is a fierce fighter and loyal friend.

Dean Cawdor: Ryan’s young son by Sharona accepts the only world he knows, and yet he is the seedling bearing the promise of tomorrow.

In a world where all was lost, they are humanity’s last hope….

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Epilogue

Chapter One

Ryan Cawdor let out a gasp and cracked open his eye.

“Everything all right, lover?” Krysty Wroth, Ryan’s titian-haired lover looked concerned.

Memories of a jump nightmare swirled around his head.

Even though the jump had been tough on him, Ryan was in top physical condition, and his ability to recover from the mat-trans jumps was better than most in his small band of travelers. He’d experienced a bad jump dream, nothing more than that.

“Been better, but I’m okay,” he said. “You?”

“I’ve been worse,” Krysty answered.

Ryan believed that to be true. Her gorgeous mane of bright red hair, which usually lay flat against her head and shoulders after a jump, was full and thick, and cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall.

She gestured to her right with a nod. “Doc didn’t do so well, though.”

Ryan looked at Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner, a tall and skinny man dressed in an old and worn frock coat. To the casual observer, he appeared to be in his sixties, but it could be argued that the man was actually hundreds of years old. Ryan knelt next to Doc and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You with us, Doc?”

“‘Is this a dagger I see before me—’” Doc muttered.

“Can you hear me, Doc?”

“‘—the handle toward my hand?’”

J. B. Dix, the group’s armorer and weapons expert, removed his spectacles and rubbed his head. “What’s Doc talking about now?”

“It’s Shakespeare,” Dr. Mildred Wyeth replied. “Macbeth.”

“Sounds…interesting,” Krysty commented.

“Sounds crazy,” Jak Lauren said.

The teenaged albino usually fared the worst of all the members in the group after a jump, but this time he looked as if he came through unscathed.

It was Doc who’d had the hardest ride.

He’d be out of it for a while, his thoughts rambling and erratic, but he’d be all right in time.

Ryan shook one of the old man’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“What?” Doc said, shaking his head as if the brain inside were shrouded in cobwebs.

When he saw the one-eyed man standing over him, Doc gave Ryan an angry scowl. “I say, my dear Ryan, if you’d like my attention I suggest you use the nomenclature provided for me upon my birth, meaning you can call me Theophilus, or Theo, if you like, or you can simply use the more vernacular terms Doc or Doc Tanner. There is no need to wrench my shoulder from my body!”

Ryan grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Doc massaged his aching shoulder.

“Where this place?” Jak asked, turning slowly to study the walls.

Ryan looked around the chamber as well, but didn’t recognize the purple-blue tint of the armaglass walls. The colors were similar to several chambers they’d been in before, but none had had this exact pattern or shading.

“Only one way to find out for sure,” Ryan said. “Triple red.”

He put his left hand on the handle that would open the door to the chamber.

For a moment the inside of the chamber was filled with the sound of the friends’ blasters being unholstered and cocked.

Then, silence.

Ryan turned the handle and pushed against the door. Slowly, the door swung open.

And then it stopped with a loud creak.

At the same time, the stench of death wafted into the chamber, causing several of the friends to cough.

“Is it blocked?” J.B. asked.

“Can’t tell,” Ryan answered.

He pushed against the door and felt resistance. He stopped a moment, reset his feet and tried it again. This time, with the help of J.B. and Jak, he was able to force open the door.

Mildred, Krysty and Doc’s blasters swept across the open doorway, but found no one outside the chamber waiting for them.

Ryan and the others pushed the door all the way open. It came to an abrupt stop with a grinding halt, metal against metal, and it was obvious to them why the door had been so hard to open. The steel had been bashed and scarred on the outside and several of the hinges were gone, either torn away from the door or just smashed beyond recognition.

“Blasterfire?” Jak asked, putting the tip of his index finger into a large pit in the outside of the door.

“Yeah, and mebbe some grens,” J.B. added. “Recent, too.”

“And all other manner of weaponry as well,” Doc offered.

There’d been a firefight in the redoubt, that much was obvious. There were blaster marks on the walls, and entire sections of floor and walls that had been scarred by blasters and who knew what else.

“Thought redoubts nukeproof,” Jak stated.

J.B. turned toward the albino teenager. “They are, but that’s when the nukes go off on the outside. From the looks of this damage, there were bombs or grens going off in here.”

“Then how come the chamber wasn’t damaged?” Mildred asked.

Ryan tried to close the door to the chamber, but it wouldn’t swing back. He left the door where it was, hanging open at a strange angle. “Inside wasn’t damaged. Outside was blasted to hell.”

“So it held together just long enough,” Mildred continued, “to receive one last band of jumpers.”

J.B. nodded again. “Looks like it.”

They inspected the outside of the chamber more closely for several moments.

“Ryan, over here,” Krysty called from a corner of the control room.

As Ryan made his way over to her, he became aware of the stench of rotting flesh.

“Bodies,” Krysty said. “Lots of them.”

There were at least a dozen bodies strewed across the floor near the wall. They’d been cut down by blasterfire and had died where they’d fallen. There were skeletons at the bottom of the mess, but some of the corpses on top didn’t look that far gone.

Krysty suddenly raised her hand.

The rest of the friends went silent.

“Someone’s coming,” Krysty announced, her hair tightly wound around her head and neck as an added indication of the danger.

Ryan signaled the rest of them to scatter and find cover, and then he waited in silence for the sound of footsteps. At last he could hear them, softly padding feet approaching their position at a modest rate, seemingly walking without purpose.

And then he saw her as she rounded the corner to the room surrounding the chamber. Or perhaps more correctly, saw it.

It was a young, pale-skinned girl. Her hair was a dusty black and her body was covered in fresh red scars and bleeding sores. She wore only a pair of shorts, and the tiny buds of her breasts told Ryan she was younger than twelve.

Ryan stepped forward, and the rest of the friends followed, stepping out of the shadows. “Hello,” he said.

She didn’t answer. Instead she just looked at him and smiled. “You got bang?” she said.

Ryan wasn’t sure what the right answer was, so he said nothing.

“Want bang.”

Ryan shook his head, then looked to the rest of the friends for an answer.

Mildred stepped forward. “Are you all right, girl? Is someone you know hurt?” Mildred looked confused. “What’s bang?”

“Gimme bang,” she said, turning to Mildred.

“I’m sorry, child, but I haven’t got any… And from the sounds of it, I don’t think I want any, either.”

“Gimme bang!” she demanded, louder this time.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The girl didn’t answer. Instead she ran toward Mildred and leaped into the air, a knife glinting in her hand.

But as the girl soared through the air, there was a sharp crack of a blaster and half of her head vanished in a spray of blood-red mist.

Mildred wiped a bit of the child’s blood and brain matter from her face. “Damn! Thanks, Jak.”

“Yes, well done, Master Lauren. Quick, decisive and an expert shot,” Doc said. “As always.”

“What did she want?” Krysty asked.

“Bang, whatever that is,” Mildred answered. “I don’t think she was hurting.” She knelt over the body and examined it. “Most of these scars have been healed over for weeks. The fresh ones look like she’d been picking at them.”

“Mebbe was crazy,” Jak said.

Mildred ignored the comment. “Well, whatever bang is, she wanted it pretty bad.”

“Think it’s a drug?” Ryan suggested.

“That would be a good guess.” Mildred got up from beside the body. “Can’t be sure, though.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s a good bet that there are other people in the redoubt,” J.B. stated.

Ryan nodded. “Triple red, people.”

The chatter going on behind Ryan died down, and his companions followed him through the redoubt in silence.

As they moved up and down stairs, along corridors and through holes blasted in the walls, they could find nothing of value left inside the redoubt and no evidence of anyone else living inside it. Most items left behind had been destroyed, or had otherwise been rendered useless. Two sections of the redoubt that had been cleaned out were the medical lab and the kitchen. Everything inside those rooms had been carted away, with pipes and wires neatly cut from the walls rather than torn out in a hurry. Somebody was making use of the equipment, and likely using it for more than making meals and treating the sick.

They continued searching the redoubt for anything of value, and as they turned the corner at the end of a long corridor, Ryan saw a light in the distance.

It was a dimly reflected light, and had to be checked out.

“Jak,” Ryan said.

The albino teen moved to the front of the line and came up by Ryan’s side.

“See where that leads,” Ryan commanded.

Without a word, Jak headed down the corridor toward the light. The others had their blasters trained on the end of the hallway, covering him just in case.

They watched the teen’s body get smaller and smaller until all that could be seen was his stark white hair growing brighter the closer he got to the light source. And then, all of a sudden it was gone as he turned the corner into the light. Minutes later he reemerged, and when he neared, it was obvious that he had some good news.

“Outside,” he said, gesturing down the hall.

“People?” Ryan asked.

Jak shook his head. “No.”

“What’s out there, then?”

“Sky. Rolling fields. River.”

“Anything else?”

“What more want?”

Ryan and the others walked toward the light and exited the redoubt to a hot, sunny day, the sky tinged by a slight purple hue with streaks of green and orange throughout. The surrounding fields were barren, or else overgrown by weeds, but they seemed to roll with the irregular undulation of foothills, suggesting they might be somewhere in the Midwest.

Jak tapped Ryan on the shoulder and pointed to the south. “River, near trees.”

Ryan took out his marine telescope from a pocket in his coat, extended it to its full length and brought the lens up to his eye.

After making several adjustments to focus, he said, “About an hour away on foot. We can make camp there, mebbe catch something to eat in the river.”

“Sounds like a plan,” J.B. said.

And then, without another word, the friends were off, heading south in single file to cover their tracks in the earth, Ryan leading the way, J.B. bringing up the rear.

They didn’t know what to expect.

But together, they were ready for anything.

Chapter Two

When they got to the river’s edge, Mildred did a quick rudimentary test of the water to see if it might make them sick. “It’s pretty clean,” she said, holding up a test tube of the clear liquid.

Ryan nodded. “Let’s make camp, then. Krysty, Doc and Mildred set up a perimeter. Jak, you and J.B. see if you can catch us something to eat.”

In silence, the friends split up and took their positions.

Meanwhile, Ryan gathered a few dried branches and set them in a pile for a fire. He’d light it later, depending on how lucky J.B. and Jak were in the river. If not, they’d have to eat the last of their rations and hope to find something else to eat in the morning.

His stomach growled and churned at the thought of it.

“Help!”

It was a woman’s voice coming from somewhere downriver.

“J.B.?” Ryan called.

“Heard it. ’Bout a hundred yards south.”

“Let’s move.”

Almost as one, the friends picked up and headed south through the trees, always sticking close to the river’s edge. Ryan could barely see the others through the brush, but he instinctively knew that Jak and J.B. were to his right, spaced about ten yards apart, while his left was flanked by Doc, Mildred and Krysty, with one of them, maybe two, hanging back slightly to cover their rear.

Another scream came from up ahead.

It was a woman’s voice, but a different woman than before.

Jak, the best tracker in the group, stopped and signaled to J.B. and Ryan to do the same. Ryan sent the message along to the others and together the friends slowly closed in around a large clearing by the river.

Two women, naked. They were either swimming or just spending some time alone together by the water. One was young, tall and blond, her body lean, taut and muscular. The other was older and a bit shorter, with long dark hair that was streaked with gray. Her flesh sagged a bit, her belly distended slightly, but she was more mature and full figured than old and fat.

The two women were surrounded by four muties similar to the ones the friends had seen in the redoubt. They were dirty and scraggly, their bodies covered by the same sores the girl in the redoubt had.

“Bang,” one of the men said.

Another one lunged forward at the women, then stepped back in fear. “Gimme bang.”

“More crazies?” Krysty said under her breath.

“There are stranger things in the Deathlands,” Ryan answered evenly.

“Want jack.”

“Need smash.”

“What are they saying?” Krysty asked.

Ryan shook his head. “I’m not sure, but it sounded like jack…”

“And smash.”

“What happened to bang?” J.B. asked.

“We don’t have any to give you,” said the taller of the two women. “Check our clothes, and you’ll see it’s the truth.”

Two of the muties riffled through a small pile of clothes on the riverbank, then threw them to the ground in disgust when it was obvious that it was just the women’s clothes and no more. “Nothing.”

“There has to be something there, check the pockets again.”

“There’s nothing, I tell you!”

“What about blasters!” the leader demanded.

The two men began to search the ground around the clothes, then check under a pile of neatly stacked rocks. In no time, each was lifting what looked like decent-quality remade blasters. “Whoo-eee! Look what I found!”

All four of the muties were laughing now.

“These we can trade for bang!”

“You can have them,” the older woman said. “Just leave us alone.”

The leader stepped forward. “We’ll be taking them all right, but before we go, we’ll be wanting something else from the two of you…” He leered as he approached the smaller woman. One of the others put a remade in his free hand and he pointed it at the younger woman as the other mutie neared.

She trembled in fear and wanted to run away, but there was no place for her to go. They were surrounded.

“Should we do something?” Krysty asked.

“Not our fight,” Ryan answered.

“Yeah, but I don’t like the odds.”

After a moment’s silence, Ryan said, “Me neither.” He carefully leveled his SIG-Sauer at the leader, who was now gesturing to the others to help him.

“Hold her down so I can give her a—”

The man never finished his sentence. His last words died in his throat as a thundering round from Doc’s huge LeMat blaster took out the man’s neck and a large chunk of his shoulder.

The mutie holding one of the blasters turned and squeezed off a single round before he was cut down by blasterfire from Mildred Wyeth’s Czech-built ZKR 551. The onetime Olympic target shooter caught the vile man with a perfectly aimed round that hit him between the eyes and slightly above the eyebrows.

With two of their fellows down, the survivors looked scared and confused. They turned to run, but were torn apart by blasterfire from the rest of the friends. Jak’s powerful Colt Python struck one of them in the shoulder, sending him tumbling heels over head into the river. And the last mutie fell to a round from Ryan’s SIG-Sauer that caught him in the back of the neck. Although it was impossible to know if it was a round from Ryan’s blaster or Krysty’s Smith & Wesson .38 that actually took the sorry man’s life, one thing was for certain—he was chilled and on the last train west before he hit the ground.

In the moments after the volley of blasterfire, all that could be heard were the muted sobs of the two women, who had gone from nearly being raped and killed, to being rescued by a band of outlanders, all in a matter of seconds.

“Anybody hurt?” Ryan called out.

At first no one answered, and then, “Yes.”

Ryan looked at each of the friends, searching for the wounded one.

“It’s Jak,” Mildred said. “Caught him in the shoulder.”

Ryan ran to where Mildred was kneeling down beside the white-headed teenager. Even though Ryan could see Jak had suffered a wound in the shoulder that was leaking blood and causing him pain, he deferred to the doctor for a better assessment. “How bad?”

“Bad enough,” Jak answered.

Ryan waited to hear from Mildred.

“Bullet went through the shoulder and tore up the flesh pretty good. Can’t be sure if there’s any damage to the bones unless I get a proper look. I can close the wound easy enough, but there’s always a chance the flesh could turn.”

Ryan nodded.

“Be fine,” Jak said, grimacing in pain as Mildred began giving the wound a field dressing. “Not worry.”

Ryan turned toward the two women and saw Doc stepping into the clearing. “It is okay,” he said. “You two are going to be all right.”

The older of the two women picked up her clothes and covered herself in modesty.

“Ah, excuse me, my good woman, I did not mean to offend,” Doc said, turning away slightly. “By all means take a moment to cover yourself if you wish.”

The older woman nodded, then hurriedly slipped into her clothes, a pair of loose-fitting pants and long-sleeved sweater with repair patches on the elbows and a picture of a mouse stitched into the fabric over the breast.

The younger woman got dressed more slowly, watching Ryan and the others warily as they slowly moved into the clearing. “Who are you people?” she asked.

“Just passersby,” Ryan said, joining Doc and the two women. “Who are you?”

The older woman put a hand on her chest, then gestured to the younger one. “My name is Eleander, and this is my daughter Moira.”

“Strange you’d be out here with just the clothes on your back and a couple of remade blasters.”

“We were on our way—” Moira began, but she stopped abruptly when her mother put a firm hand on her shoulder.

“We were out for a swim,” Eleander said, smiling. “It was such a beautiful day that we thought it would be nice to come out to the river and enjoy the good weather.”

“Alone?” Ryan questioned.

“With marauders around?” Krysty asked.

“Foolish of us, I know, but life is hard in the ville and sometimes it’s worth the risk just to get away and enjoy life…even if it’s just for a little while.”

Ryan suddenly became aware of some movement in the trees behind them.

The friends turned in time to see three sec men standing at the edge of the clearing. They had large-caliber longblasters and a few handblasters. All of their weapons were trained on the friends.

“Put down your blasters,” the man in the middle of the three said, obviously the leader of the small group of sec men. He stood under six feet tall and was bald on top with a ring of long black hair circling the back of his head. He had a thick black mustache that framed his mouth and hung down a few inches from the bottom of his chin. He wore a khaki-colored T-shirt that exposed his thin but muscular arms.

“Sorry, friend,” Ryan said, not even considering putting away his weapon. “There are seven of us, and we’re all good with blasters.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” the short man said matter-of-factly.

“No matter how fast your men can get rounds off,” Ryan continued, feeling he was still in a strong bargaining position, “we’ll chill two of you before you get one of us. That’s a promise.”

There was silence for several moments as the wind swept through the trees. Behind them, a large mutie fish jumped somewhere in the river.

“Impressive, outlander, but if me and my men aren’t back to the ville in thirty minutes, a team of twenty-four sec men will be out looking for us. They’ll be shooting first and asking no questions.”

“Won’t stop us from chillin’ you now,” Ryan said.

The man with the long black hair paused, as if reassessing the situation, and realizing Ryan and the friends weren’t about to be intimidated. “Who are you?”

“They saved us,” Eleander offered. “Moira and I came out for a swim when we were attacked by a gang. These people chilled them all.”

Again the man was silent, as if considering what Eleander had said. Finally he looked at her and scowled. “You know you’re not allowed out of the ville unescorted.”

“We know, but it’s such a nice day, and the water is so clean and blue that we didn’t want to wait to get permission.”

The short man looked at Moira suspiciously.

“It’s true,” she said. “I made my mother take me for a swim. We were planning on coming back before anyone even knew we were gone. Sorry to trouble you.”

After another long pause, the short man said, “Then we’ll escort you back to the ville.”

He turned to look at Ryan. “And you’re welcome to join us. The baron will be pleased that you not only chilled four troublesome muties, but saved two of our ville’s fairer citizens from a fate worse than death.” He smiled in a way that wasn’t exactly friendly. “I assure you the baron rewards such favors handsomely.”

Ryan didn’t move.

J.B. came up behind him. “Think it’s a trick?”

“Can’t say,” Ryan said out of the corner of his mouth. “If there’s a ville near here, it’d be better to be a friend of the baron than an enemy, seeing as we’re so low on supplies.”

“I believe Master Cawdor is right,” Doc commented. “Refusing such a gracious invitation would likely anger the baron, or at the very least arouse his suspicions about us.”

Ryan raised his head to address the short man. “We keep our blasters.”

“Of course. The baron will want to reward you for your actions, not punish you.”

Mildred stepped forward. “How about some help for Jak?”

Ryan nodded. “We’ve got one wounded.”

“We have medicine that will help him,” the sec leader said.

“What kind of medicine?” Mildred asked suspiciously.

“What kind?” Ryan asked.

“Something called penicillin.”

Ryan arched a brow in disbelief.

“That’s a good one,” Mildred said. “But I have to wonder—”

“We accept,” Ryan said.

“Excellent,” the short man stated.

The weapons of the two sec men behind him were slowly lowered and put away.

Ryan and the friends put away their blasters as well and began walking toward the woods where the sec men had been standing. At first J.B. and Mildred tried to give Jak a hand, but the proud teen was determined to make it on his own.

“How far away is the ville?” Ryan asked Eleander.

“A few klicks.”

“You walked all this way just for a swim?” Krysty asked.

“It’s the nicest spot on the river,” Moira offered.

“For an ambush by muties,” J.B. interjected.

Krysty and J.B. were right, Ryan thought. It was an awful long way to go for a swim, especially with muties roaming around. Conditions in the ville had to be horrible.

As they walked, Ryan watched Doc move up beside Eleander.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, patting away some of the dust and straightening the lapels of his worn frock coat.

“My name’s Eleander,” she said.

“Yes, of course, Eleander,” Doc stammered. “My name is Theo… Theophilus Algernon Tanner. But everyone calls me Doc, or Doc Tanner.”

“Doc,” she said inquisitively.

“I was just wondering, and excuse me if I am being far too bold to suggest this, but if we are to be guests of the baron tonight, then perhaps I might have the pleasure of talking with you at some length…”

“Talking? About what?” Eleander asked.

“Oh, about all manner of things, from the dawn of man to the setting of the sun.”

“I’d like to, but I’m not sure I’ll be allowed.”

“But I assure you, I mean you no harm, and I have no ulterior motive than to spend a bit of time with a woman who—and I say this with only the best of intentions—is closer to my own age than my usual company.”

“If the baron allows it, then yes.”

“By the Three Kennedys!” Doc said, barely able to contain himself. He bowed slightly. “Thank you for giving me something to look forward to.”

Eleander just shrugged.

The younger woman smiled at the older one, and shook her head.

Krysty came up beside Ryan. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, lover?”

“That Doc is attracted to Eleander.”

“Well, besides that.”

Ryan thought for a moment. “That something’s not right here?”

“You got it.”

“Any ideas?” Ryan asked. Krysty could be prescient at times and often got a bad feeling just before things were about to go wrong.

“So far nothing solid, but I’ll let you know.”

They neared the group of waiting sec men and as they did, Ryan was better able to gauge the size of the sec leader. He was about a foot shorter than Ryan, but was probably close to Ryan in actual body weight. He was armed with a 9 mm Heckler & Koch MP-5 machine blaster. It was a small, elegant weapon that was an excellent blaster for close-in fighting, but was far less effective out in the open. He probably used it a lot inside the ville rather than in the surrounding country. However, it wasn’t the man’s choice of blaster that impressed Ryan, but its condition. It was pristine, as if it had just been taken out of the box. It was possible that the blaster had once been part of the cache stored in the redoubt they’d just exited, but even so, it would have shown some signs of wear by now.

“You noticed it, too?” J.B. asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Nice condition,” Ryan nodded.

“Ammo looks good, too. Not new but good quality reload stuff.”

“Mebbe the baron’s a big-time trader,” J.B. suggested.

“Trading what?” Ryan wondered.

J.B. shrugged now that the sec leader was within earshot.

“Welcome,” the short man said. “My name is Robards. I’m sec chief for Baron DeMann.”

“Name’s Ryan.” He pointed his way around the group of friends. “This is Jak, J.B., Doc, Mildred and Krysty.”

“Pleased to meet you all, and I know I speak for the baron when I say he will be delighted to meet you as well.”

Eleander and Moira walked past Sec chief Robards, their heads down as if in shame. The other two sec men fell in line behind the two women, as though they were going to keep an eye on them all the way back to the ville.

“My dear Mr. Robards, as you might have noticed, I am getting on in years and I am not ashamed to say that I am not quite up to a long walk under this stifling sun.” Doc wiped a bony hand across his forehead to emphasize the point. “And of course, young Jak’s not doing so well, either. I am curious to know how far it is to this ville of yours because if it is any great distance, I would rather take a rest now and make the journey all in one go.”

“Not to worry old-timer,” Robards said with a smile. “You’ll all be riding to the ville.”

Robards led them through the trees, and as the forest first thinned and then came to an end, they came upon a large dirty yellow wag. There was no glass in any of the window frames and the sides had been reinforced with steel plate, but there were plenty of seats inside for all of them.

“It’s an old school bus,” Mildred said in disbelief.

“That looks as if it might do the job quite nicely,” Doc said, nodding in appreciation.

“Wags, too,” Ryan muttered when he was out of earshot of the sec chief.

“Whatever he’s trading,” J.B. commented, “he must trade a lot of it, or be a really good trader.”

“Good, ruthless or dishonest,” Ryan said.

Chapter Three

The ride in the wag was bumpy, but the vehicle made good time on the washed-out dirt roads and open fields that led back to the ville.

Ryan had hoped to have the chance to talk with Moira or Eleander along the way, but the two women had been placed in the seats directly behind the driver and across the aisle from Sec chief Robards. No one was more disappointed with the seating arrangement than Doc, who had tried to take the seat next to Eleander, only to be politely told to move toward the back of the wag by one of the sec men.

“Don’t tell me you’ve taken a shine to the woman,” Mildred said, as Doc made his way back to where the friends were sitting.

For a moment Doc looked stuck for words. Finally, he said, “I find the lady attractive, yes. Any woman who ventured this far from her ville just to enjoy the pleasure of a naked swim in a cool river is…intriguing to say the least.”

“Sure is curious,” Mildred acknowledged. “Maybe even a bit strange.”

“Lots strange about ville,” Jak said through slightly clenched teeth.

J.B. was just about to comment when the wag crested a rise and the ville suddenly appeared before them.

It was a fair-sized ville in two distinct parts. On the edges were all manner of run-down and ramshackle dwellings, and several areas made up of tents. Ryan recognized a few of the structures as gaudy houses and canteens, and guessed that the rest were flophouses and shelters for the ville’s bottom-feeders. Past the outlying ghetto was a section of the ville that was fenced in by a wall of burned-out wags, piles of broken cinder blocks and bricks, and rusty and twisted steel girders. If there had once been a city on this spot, its remains had been pushed, pulled and dragged into a mile-long circle of eight-foot-high rubble. The front gate of the ville was a ten- or twelve-foot gap in the wall, which was closed off by a pair of thick wooden doors that swung freely on two massive hinged wooden posts. Most likely they served as telephone poles in pre-Dark days.

A lookout in a crow’s nest set atop the pole on the right acknowledged the driver of the wag as it approached, and the doors swung open slowly to let the vehicle inside the ville.

As the gap between the doors inched wider, Ryan studied the buildings inside the wall. Like the structures on the outside, most of the buildings inside looked slapped together, with a few looking as if they’d been made from the cargo containers. Windows had been cut into the sides of the big square boxes to make living quarters, while others had been fitted with pipes and exhausts that suggested to Ryan that the ville’s baron was more of a manufacturer than a trader. In the distance, toward the back of the ville, Ryan could make out large glass houses similar to the kind once used on pre-Dark farms. So, in addition to making items for trade, the ville grew its own food. That would explain the well-maintained wag and a well-armed and organized sec force.

There were obviously things worth protecting inside the walls.

The wag pulled up in front of a stack of square steel boxes, each set on top of another like bricks. The door to the wag opened and one of the sec men got out, followed by Eleander and Moira. Doc and the others got up to exit the wag along with the women, but Robards put up a hand to stop them. “They get off here,” he said. “You’re going somewhere else.”

The friends sat down.

Robards stepped off the wag and spoke with one of his sec men. When he was done, the sec man double-timed it down the road. Then the sec boss got back on the wag and it lurched forward as it slowly got back underway.

Jak let out a slight groan of pain as the wag was jostled by a bump in the road, then quickly said, “Not hurt.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Mildred responded.

The wag pulled up in front of another series of stacked steel boxes and Robards turned and pointed to Jak. “This is where he gets off. There are people inside who can help him. They know he’s coming.”

Jak got up from his seat.

Mildred stood up as well.

“Are you injured, too?” Robards asked Mildred.

“No, but I’m going with him,” Mildred said.

Robards seemed to consider it a moment.

“She has some experience as a healer,” Ryan said at last. “Especially with blaster wounds.”

Robards nodded, a bit reluctantly, and stepped off the wag. He led Jak and Mildred inside one of the stacked steel boxes and the rest of the friends waited several minutes for him to return.

“Think Jak will be all right?” J.B. asked.

“Be back good as new with Mildred looking after him,” Ryan answered.

“Knowing Master Lauren as I do, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he had several women fussing over him by nightfall, each one offering him their virtue more passionately than the one before.”

Ryan smiled at that.

The door to the steel box opened and Robards returned to the wag. “He’s in good hands now.”

Again the wag lurched as it began to move.

On the left side of the roadway, Ryan noticed a strange sort of paddock area. It was basically an empty space with old oil cans, concrete barricades and several fences serving no apparent purpose scattered across the grounds. It looked like an obstacle course, and Ryan thought it might be used to train the baron’s sec force.

On one side of the paddock was a high and wide concrete wall that had been pockmarked by blasterfire. Ryan had seen such walls before and knew that they were used mostly for executions. That would explain the darkest stains on the wall, but there were other stains—bright yellows and oranges, and even a few of them green—on the wall and all over the enclosure that defied explanation.

“What do you make of that?” Ryan asked J.B.

“Firing squad?”

“Mebbe, but who bleeds green?”

The wag began to slow as it approached a brick-and-stucco building that towered three stories over the rest of the surrounding structures. There were plenty of blown-out windows, and large cracks in the walls that ran from the top all the way down to its foundation. The building had obviously survived the shock wave from a big blast miles away that had wiped out the rest of the ville. But while the building was still standing, it looked as if one more good bang would bring the whole thing crashing down. At least that’s the way it looked from the outside. But despite the damage, the building was by far in the best condition of any inside the ville, and it was obviously the place where the baron lived. However, judging by the size of it, there had to be plenty of others who lived inside as well.

“Last stop,” Robards announced.

“The baron lives here,” Ryan said.

“Yes, and so will you for the next few days.”

The muscles along Ryan’s back tensed at the words. “You make it sound like we’re prisoners.”

“Not at all,” Robards said. “That’s merely the usual duration of the baron’s hospitality. He grows tired of guests who don’t capture his interest, but I have a feeling your group will be allowed to stay for as long as you like.”

“When will we meet the baron?” Doc asked.

“He’s tied up with a business matter at the moment, but he’s assured me that he will be attending a small reception being held in your honor prior to this evening’s dinner.”

“A reception?” Doc quipped. “And I left my formal dinner jacket at home.”

Krysty let out a slight laugh.

“Don’t worry, Doc,” J.B. said. “The food will taste the same.”

“This way,” Robards said, leading them into the building.

THE INTERIOR of the steel box was hot and smelled of rust and urine, feces and blood. The sunlight shining in through the open door forced the man chained to one of the walls to squint to protect his eyes.

Baron DeMann, dressed in an immaculately clean lab coat, entered the steel box and pinched the end of his nose to fight off the stench. “I thought you said this stinkhole was hosed down.”

“Done last night,” the sec man on the baron’s left said.

“I want it clean just before I enter, understand?”

None of the sec men answered him.

Then one of the men said, “Mebbe he emptied his bowels this morning when we told him you’d be visiting.”

The rest of the sec men laughed, but the baron wasn’t impressed.

The laughter quickly died.

Baron DeMann stopped several feet from where the prisoner was chained up by his arms. They’d hoisted him up onto the wall just high enough so that his feet were off the floor, and his arms had to carry all his body weight. After a few days in that position, his arms had stretched enough for him to get his toes onto the floor, relieving some of the load on his arms, but not the pain.

The baron looked at the man’s feet touching the floor of the box. “Crank him up another six inches,” he ordered.

Two sec men turned a winch handle that reeled in several links of chain, lifting the prisoner higher up on the wall.

The man screamed in pain, but even in the echo-filled steel box, the cry sounded weak and feeble.

Beaten.

“Now, you little rad-blasted bag of scum,” the baron began, “have you had the chance to think about what you did?”

“Been thinking a lot…” the prisoner gasped.

“Yeah, about what?”

The prisoner’s head shifted to the right, and he opened his eyes against the invading sunlight. His dry, cracked lips parted, and his tongue appeared over his bottom lip like that of a lizard. He tried to spit at the baron, but his mouth and throat were too dry to produce any moisture.

The baron just shook his head. “You’ve got a bad attitude, Des.”

“Fuck you!”

The baron sighed. “And that disappoints me,” he continued, as if the prisoner wasn’t even there, “because I like you. Anyone who thinks they can get away with skimming jack off the top of my operation has either got the biggest pair of prunes in the entire ville, or he’s the stupidest rad-blasted fuck alive.”

The prisoner, Des, turned his head to the side, as if he’d heard the baron’s spiel before.

“I know you’re not stupid, because if you were, that would make me stupid for putting you into a position to rip me off. That means you’ve got to have Grade A plums in that scrotal sack of yours, and I like that.”

Des said nothing.

“I like that, but it’s not exactly a good thing for you to have. See, if by now you had told me you were sorry, I would have had to think about forgiving you. And if I’d forgiven you, then mebbe you’d already be dead, instead of hanging around inside this steel box waiting for me to let you die. But since you still haven’t come around to being sorry for what you’ve done, I’ve gotta make an example of you so no other sec men get any bright ideas about trying to cut themselves a piece of my pie.”

Des tried to spit again, but all that came out of his mouth was dry air that hissed as it passed through his lips.

“I guess that means you haven’t changed your mind.”

“Fuck you, you ass…” The man’s words trailed off without being completed.

“You really want to live, huh? Hang in there as long as you can?” Baron DeMann laughed at that.

The sec men surrounding him laughed as well.

“Well, I’m gonna make sure you hang in a long, long time, asswipe.” He turned to the sec man on his right. “Bring it here.”

The sec man moved forward, carrying a clear plastic bag filled with a clear liquid. There was a pale white rubber hose coming out of one end of the bag and a needle connected to the end of the hose. “This will keep you hydrated, Des. It’ll be like you’re drinking, but you’ll never have the pleasure of feeling the water sliding down your throat.”

The baron moved forward, climbed up onto a step provided for him by a sec man, then jabbed the needle into a vein in the prisoner’s arm.

“No.” The word escaped the man like a sigh. There was fear in his voice. Real terror.

“Oh, yeah. I’m going to keep you alive as long as I can, just to hear you scream.” The baron moved in close to Des so there were just inches between their faces. “And when I get tired of that music, I’m going to add some junk to the bag, stuff I’m experimenting with that will eat away at your brain until there’s nothing left but goo.” He paused, savoring the moment. “Finally, when it’s more work than it’s worth to keep you around, I’m going to put a few crazed muties in this box with you and watch.”

“No!” Des screamed loudly.

“Ah, that got your attention, eh?” the baron said, climbing off the step. “Good. Think about those muties crawling all over your body, looking for junk.”

“No, no. I’m sorry…sorr-ee,” Des screamed, his voice echoing eerily off the walls of the box.

But the baron wasn’t listening anymore. He had turned his back on the prisoner and was on his way out of the box, followed by a half-dozen sec men.

When they were all outside, the sec men closed the steel doors in silence, all of them listening to the screams of a man who had just started down a very long and painful road toward his own death.

It gave them all something to think about, especially since Des used to be a sec man, just like them.

AT THE OTHER END of the ville, a door opened on a large steel box. From somewhere inside the box came a gnawing, high-pitched mechanical whine that rose in pitch, and then suddenly settled down into a staccato hum.

People outside the box turned to look in the direction of the sound.

And then all at once the sound lost its reverberation as a man atop a motorized, two-wheeled wag suddenly burst from the opening. The wag’s engine whined as the vehicle sent a plume of dirt and dust into the air behind it.

The gate to the ville opened slowly, and for a moment it appeared as if the man on the wag would crash into it, but by the time he reached the gate there was just enough space for him to slip through the opening.

The wag’s small engine rose in pitch again, screaming like an instrument of terror now as it raced toward the western horizon.

In seconds, the driver and wag were little more than a trail of dust in the distance.

The cry of the engine began to fade.

In minutes they were gone from view.

Chapter Four

Jak and Mildred were led down a long dark corridor that smelled—if Mildred remembered correctly—of disinfectant. That, of course, was impossible, since the manufacture of such things as disinfectant and household cleaners died with the nukecaust.

Still, she sniffed at the air and caught the unmistakable scent of pine.

“Smell good,” Jak said. “Clean.”

“I guess we won’t have to worry about conditions being sterile,” Mildred commented.

When they reached the end of the corridor, the sec man guiding them opened a door that led into a white room that was well lit by windows and portals cut into one of the walls.

“A healer has been sent for,” the sec man stated. “He should be here in a few ticks.”

Mildred nodded her thanks. She helped Jak up onto a wooden bed covered with linen and, when he was comfortable, she took a look around.

The room was small, but at first glance it appeared to be well stocked. Mildred made a closer inspection of the room and saw a variety of bottles and vials that were labeled with names of medicines and drugs she hadn’t seen, or even thought about in a long, long time.

There were bottles of cyanide, which she knew could be made from the seeds and pits of apricots, peaches, apples and wild cherries. Next to the cyanide were several vials of a whitish powder that Mildred guessed was arsenic trioxide. She turned one of the vials and read the label, proving herself right. Seeing the two poisons on the shelf gave Mildred a bad feeling, but further study revealed that this was a shelf storing nothing but poisons. There was another shelf in the room that appeared to be stocked with a variety of dried herbs that were often used for medicinal purposes.

She suddenly felt better about the setup.

The first one she picked up was dried echinacea, which was good taken internally against infections and externally for skin abrasions. Next to that were dried elder flowers, which were also good for skin ailments. Farther along were dried ginkgo leaves, good for a half dozen or so diseases, especially those to do with the mind. She continued down the shelf past Ginseng and Hops, Kava and Lemon Balm, St. John’s Wort and Valerian. These were all wonderful herbs and useful for the treatment of mild ailments, but none of them were strong enough to fight off an infection from a bullet wound.

Mildred looked for something stronger, and found it locked inside a cabinet in one corner. The doors to the cabinet were wooden framed panels of chicken wire. Just behind the wire she saw jars of dried hemp leaves, more commonly known during pre-Dark times as marijuana or cannabis, which could be used as a sedative or a postoperative painkiller. Next to the hemp were containers full of poppy seeds, which were an essential ingredient in the production of opium, as well as painkillers such as morphine and codeine.

These were more of the types of medicine Jak would be needing.

Behind the poppy seeds, Mildred saw several bowls filled with large green and yellow fungi, some of them excreting a yellowish fluid from the ridges and folds of their surface. If Mildred remembered her botany and biology correctly, penicillin was basically an antibiotic compound taken from molds of the genus Penicillium. If she was right, and she was sure she was, then she was probably looking at the medicine’s raw material.

“Seeds and leaves,” Jak said, lying back on the bed, exhausted.

“They may just be seeds and leaves to you, Jak, but to someone who knows what they’re doing, they can be made into powerful drugs.”

“Jolt and dreem?”

Mildred shook her head. “There’s no sign of that, but if the baron knows how to make good drugs like penicillin, then he can probably make the bad ones, too.”

“Not want drugs,” Jak said.

Mildred came over to his side and opened up the pressure bandage she’d put over his wound. “I think that’s wise, Jak, but you might not have a choice in the matter.”

“Make sure safe.”

“Don’t worry, my young friend,” Mildred said, patting Jak on his good shoulder. “I’ll look after you.”

Just then, the door to the room opened and a tiny older man dressed in a clean lab coat came into the room, moving to Jak’s side quickly. He had a thick mustache and thinning black hair combed over his hairless pate. “What’s the problem?” he asked, almost sounding irritated.

“He has a flesh wound that needs some attention,” Mildred answered for Jak.

“Playing with knives, eh?”

Jak looked at the man for a moment and wondered if he knew something about Jak’s talent with throwing knives. “Mutie shot me,” Jak said.

“Is that so?” The man unlocked the doors to the cabinet, then opened up the chicken-wire doors. After a moment’s consideration, he took out several containers and began mixing items on a shiny steel square that sat on top of the counter. “Being stupe outside the wall, were you?”

Mildred noticed Jak reaching for one of his leaf-bladed throwing knives and put her hand out to stop the teen from doing anything foolish.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, “but we’re outlanders who came across a group of muties who were about to rape and chill two of this ville’s women.”

“Which women?”

“Eleander and Moira.”

The man stopped mixing herbs and turned to face Mildred. For a moment, he just looked at her and Jak in turn, then he said, “My name’s Katz. I run the ville’s pharmacy, so if there’s anything you need, I’ll see that you get it.”

Mildred was startled by the sudden change in the man’s attitude, but was glad he’d come around because now Jak would be less inclined to chill him where he stood.

“What are you preparing for him?” Mildred asked, doing her best to sound curious, but not reveal any of her medical knowledge.

“An antibiotic for the wound,” Katz said, “and a painkiller to get him through the night.”

Mildred was confused. “Aren’t you going to fix the hole in his shoulder?”

“I’m what you’d call a chemist,” Katz shrugged. “If he takes these medications long enough, he’ll probably recover from his injury.”

“No offense, Katz, but I’d like to be a little more sure than just probably. Do you mind if I work on him a bit first before you give him the drugs?”

“If you think you know what you’re doing, then great. Easier for me.”

“I’ll need a few things.”

“Like I said before, anything you need, I’ll see that you get it…as long as we have it here in the ville, of course.”

Mildred nodded. “I’ll need a good strong needle.”

“We’ve got plenty of those.”

“Some thread or fine string, some boiled water and maybe a few sterile cloths.”

Katz shook his head. “Not a problem.”

“And then when I’m done, you can give him the antibiotics.”

“What about a painkiller?” Katz asked.

Jak looked at Mildred.

Judging by the look in the teenager’s eyes, he could use some.

“Maybe a small dose of morphine for now, just to see how he reacts to it.”

Katz nodded. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“WE HAVE FOUR ROOMS for guests,” Robards said, opening the door to one of them. “I’m sorry we don’t have more, or larger, or better rooms for you, but the baron isn’t in the habit of hosting so many people at one time.”

“This is fine,” Ryan said, wondering what Robards was talking about. The rooms were better than anything they’d seen in months.

“First-class accommodations!” Doc exclaimed. “Five star!”

Robards smiled, and nodded. “Very well, then. The baron will be meeting with you in an hour. Spend the time as you wish.”

The sec chief turned and walked back down the hallway in the direction they’d just come, leaving Ryan, Krysty, Doc and J.B. to examine their new surroundings.

The walls along the hallways outside their rooms also had stress fractures and cracks in them. It was possible that the only parts of the building that were cracked were the inside walls and outside bricks, and that the interior steel superstructure was undamaged, but that was unlikely. While the building would remain standing for as long as they’d be staying there, a single large blast in the right place and the whole thing might come down like a house of cards.

“Think it’s safe?” Ryan asked J.B.

“Been standing for a hundred years, so it should be safe enough for the next few days.” J.B. lifted the brim of his fedora and ran a hand over one of the cracks in the wall. “I wouldn’t want to be a permanent resident, though.”

Ryan nodded. “We’ll leave as soon as we’re resupplied.” Then he continued inspecting their living quarters.

Their rooms were small and dark with sturdy wooden beds topped with mattresses made of dried corn husks and covered with old, but clean, blankets.

“Hey! There’s a bed in here,” Krysty said. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve slept on a bed.”

Meanwhile, Ryan and J.B. were busy examining the rooms for booby traps and locks. There was no evidence of either, which meant they couldn’t lock their doors, but they wouldn’t be locked into the rooms by their hosts, either.

“Impressions?” J.B. asked.

“Looks good so far,” Ryan stated.

“Too good, you think?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“Gentlemen, I, too, am astounded by our good fortune, but how many times have we rescued damsels in distress only to have that noble act of extrication be punished by imprisonment, threats of death and bodily harm or simple misfortune? Is it so inconceivable that for once in this forsaken hell of a land there might be someone who is actually grateful for our good deeds and wants to thank us with a reward that is actually in line with the magnitude of our deed.”

J.B. looked strangely at Ryan.

Ryan glanced over at Doc and smiled. “I think he might have a point.”

“Mebbe, but I’m still being cautious. In Doc’s time there might have been people who were friendly like this, but I haven’t seen many in the Deathlands. My guess is that the baron wants something from us, and it’s not the pleasure of our company.”

“So we’ll be on alert and no one goes anywhere alone, or without a blaster.”

J.B. nodded.

“Sage advice, my dear Ryan,” Doc said. “In the meantime, I am going to take full advantage of the amenities. I want to be well rested for the reception.”

“You expecting Eleander to be there, Doc?” Krysty asked.

“You read my mind, Krysty. What an absolutely charming gift you have.”

Ryan stepped into the room he and Krysty would be sharing.

In the second room, Doc lay down on the large bed in the middle of the room, the only bed in the room.

J.B. cleared his throat.

“If there’s something caught in your throat, John Barrymore,” Doc said, “I believe there is water in that jug on the table over there.”

“Mildred will be back soon.”

Doc looked at J.B. a moment, then glanced down at the bed he was lying on. “Oh, right,” he said. “I shall take one of the other rooms.”

J.B. nodded his thanks.

Doc stepped into the third room that had a single large bed—just a tad smaller than J.B. and Mildred’s—and closed the door behind him. Then he lay down on the bed and fell asleep with thoughts of the lovely woman Eleander swirling through his head.

SEC CHIEF ROBARDS caught up with Baron DeMann when the baron returned from his visit with the prisoner.

“How is my old friend Desmond?” Robards asked.

“He’s in terrible shape,” the baron responded with a smile. “I think I’ll let him live a little longer…till he begs me to let him die.”

“It’ll be a lesson for the rest of the men,” the sec chief commented. Then added, after a pause, “We have visitors.”

“Yes, I saw the wag come in. Who are they?”

“Outlanders. They happened upon Eleander and Moira down at the river.”

“The river! What were they doing down there?”

Robards hesitated, knowing that telling the truth would likely warrant punishment from the baron, but also knowing that the truth couldn’t be avoided. “Moira says she asked Eleander to take her swimming. They had planned to be back before anyone realized they were gone.”

The baron abruptly stopped walking and turned to face the sec chief. “How did they get out?”

“I have men checking on that.”

The baron nodded. “Were they really swimming?”

The sec chief nodded. “Moira said it was her idea.”

“Do you believe her?”

The sec chief shrugged. “No, but they were naked, and in the water. They had no provisions with them other than two remade blasters.”

“Perhaps they were using the outing as a test of the walls and of your sec force’s brand of security.”

Robards was silent, knowing there was nothing he could say in his own defense.

“Obviously you failed.”

More silence.

“But even though they got outside the ville undetected, they can’t leave. They need to be close to the ville for the rest of their lives.”

Robards waited for the baron to punish him for being so careless with the ville’s security.

“Eleander must be punished,” he said at last.

“Thank you, Baron,” the sec chief said, acknowledging the order. Then he said, “When the outlanders came upon them, the two women were about to be raped by a gang of muties.”

“Muties? You’re supposed to take care of them as well.”

“We did our usual sweep, Baron. They must have found new places to hide, or these scum were new muties.”

The baron sneered, obviously disappointed with his sec chief’s performance. “So these outlanders saved them?”

“Chilled the muties like they were chilling flies.”

“Then I suppose we owe them a debt of thanks.”

“I’ve conveyed as much to them.”

“Good, give them some jack and send them on their way.”

Again the sec chief hesitated. It was the best he could do to let the baron know that he didn’t exactly want to follow the order.

“What is it?”

“I’ve offered them a place to stay for a while. And you’ll be meeting them in an hour at a reception.”

The baron sighed. “I don’t want to waste my time with outland garbage.”

Robards lowered his head. “Your feelings on the subject are well known, Baron, but I would like to keep this group close by for the next few days.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one, I’d like to test my men against them.”

“Yes, I suppose that might be fun. I’ll see if it can be arranged. What else?”

“The leader of the group is somehow familiar to me. I’ve sent a man to Indyville to check on something for me. He should return in a day or two.”

The baron looked at his sec chief with an inquisitive eye. “All right, Robards. I trust your judgment enough to let you play this out. But, in the meantime, would you mind telling me what all this is about?”

“I’d rather not until I’m sure. Could be right, could be wrong.”

“Will I like what you have to tell me if you’re right?”

Robards shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Then don’t tell me until I need to know.”

Chapter Five

Ryan lay back on the cot watching Krysty strip to the waist. There was dirt and grime on her skin, darker on her arms and shoulders, lighter but still present on her back, belly and breasts.

“No running water in here, lover,” she said, running her hands gently over her body. “But they did leave us a few jugs of water, washcloths and a washbasin big enough to stand in.”

“Very kind of them,” Ryan said, admiring the firm shelf of Krysty’s chest and the perky nipples placed high on each breast. The Deathlands had made her body hard, but it was hard and sculpted in all the right places.

“Would you like to wash my back?” she asked, slipping out of the rest of her coveralls, exposing her exquisitely shaped buttocks, and powerful thighs and calves.

Ryan knew that if Krysty felt comfortable enough here to wash up, then they were probably safe for the next little while. Ryan too felt safe for the moment, and he also knew that the feeling wouldn’t last. It was best to take advantage of the moment and enjoy it while it lasted.

“How could I say no?”

He got up from the bed and approached Krysty from behind. She gathered her fiery red hair in her hands and pulled it forward around her neck and away from her shoulders to expose the base of her neck and top part of her back.

Ryan picked up a washcloth and dipped it into the lukewarm water. After squeezing out the excess water, he dragged the damp cloth across Krysty’s shoulders and watched as the dirt and dust of the day flowed away, leaving her smooth, unblemished, and clean skin behind.

“Mmm.” She sighed. “That feels good, lover.”

Ryan said nothing in response. Instead, he rinsed the washcloth and continued bathing Krysty, moving down her back, over her buttocks and inside her thighs.

And then she turned so he could do the front.

Ryan started at her neck and shoulders again, moving slowly down her body, spending extra time on her breasts, enjoying the way her nipples responded to his touch, and that of the water. Next came the reddish thatch of hair between her legs, which she parted slightly to give him better access to her legs.

“You’re right, lover,” Ryan said. “This does feel good.”

“Your turn now,” she said, smiling.

Ryan stripped down, keeping the SIG-Sauer and Steyr within arm’s reach. The water felt cool on his skin, and Krysty was careful to wipe gently over his scarred flesh to make it feel more like a lover’s touch than a bath.

“Does that feel good?” she asked.

Ryan didn’t answer at first.

Instead he turned around and let her see the aewas having on him.

“Oh, lover,” she breathed.

Ryan took Krysty in his arms and carried her to the bed.

THERE WAS a knock at the laboratory door.

Eleander was hard at work in the lab, making insulin for an East Coast baron with diabetes.

“Just a minute,” she said, trying to free her hands to open the door.

But before Eleander could answer it, the door burst open and Sec chief Robards was standing in the doorway. There was a look of evil on his face, as if he intended to hurt someone.

Someone like her.

“What is it?” Eleander cried, shrinking from the doorway. “What do you want?”

The sec chief took a few steps forward, pushing her backward and forcing her to crawl away from him, but running out of room in the tiny lab.

“You know why I’m here,” he said.

“We were swimming, I swear.”

“A good story for the outlander trash, but not good enough for me, or the baron. We know you were testing possible escape routes.”

“No, that’s not right,” Eleander insisted. “Moira just wanted to get away for a little while, just the two of us, alone. How could I refuse her?”

“You’re supposed to have an escort anytime you leave the ville. You know that as well as anyone.”

“And with the way your sec men look at us, who will protect us from them?”

The sec chief’s hand came out of nowhere, hitting her hard on the cheek and knocking her off her bed. The flesh stung, but the sec chief was too good at administering beatings to ever let a mark show on her face.

“After so many years, I still can’t believe you need to learn your place here,” Sec chief Robards said.

“I’m a chemist, and Moira’s mother—”

“All of which means nothing to me.” Robards grabbed her arm.

“No, please don’t…” And then she cried out, “I’m sorry,” even though she hadn’t done anything wrong.

The sec chief laughed. “Oh, now you’re sorry. Your little adventure made a fool out of me in front of the baron.”

“It was never meant to. I only wanted to spend some time with my daughter.”

But the sec chief was no longer listening. He reached into a pocket on the thigh of his pants and took out a tiny syringe.

Eleander saw the needle and cried out, “No, please… I’ll cooperate. Whatever you want.”

But it was too late to change her mind.

The sec chief jabbed the needle into the base of her neck.

Almost instantaneously, Eleander’s body went limp.

Robards tossed the needle aside and removed his belt.

“Teach you to fuck with me,” he said, as he delivered the first blow.

MILDRED WYETH MADE one last check on Jak’s wound. Although it wasn’t much more than a flesh wound, there had been some tearing to the muscle tissue that had to be repaired before she could close up the hole in his shoulder.

Luckily, Katz had been able to provide her with a local anesthetic that deadened the area enough so that Jak wouldn’t be in too much pain while she worked. He’d jerked his body a couple of times when she hit a nerve, but there were no major problems considering where they were and the conditions the surgery had been done under.

Jak wanted to sleep now, but Mildred wanted to join up with the others before letting him doze off. In a few hours his shoulder would feel as if it had been hit by a gren, and by then he’d be a lot harder to move.

Mildred turned to Katz. “I came here with Jak and four others. We’re supposed to be guests of the baron—can you take us to where my other friends are staying?”

“I’d be happy to,” Katz said. “Anything you need.”

“Thanks.”

“They’re probably in the old sec men’s quarters in the baron’s mansion. I’m going there anyway.”

Mildred helped Jak to his feet and together they exited the building and started walking down a dirt road that knifed its way between rows of small clapboard houses and large steel shacks.

“You do good work,” Katz said as they walked.

“Thank you,” Mildred answered.

“Mebbe you were a healer once?”

“I know some.”

“Bet it comes in handy out there in the Deathlands.”

“Couple of times.”

“You know, if you’re tired of being an outlander, and mebbe wanted to settle down somewhere, I know the baron would be thrilled to have someone like you around.”

Jak, who had been struggling to keep pace, let out a slight laugh.

“You think?” Mildred said.

“Oh, I know it.”

“Well, I’ve had similar offers before, and I’ve always turned them down. I’m not much of a healer really. More like a dabbler.”

“A good one.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve been with my friends awhile now and we’ve become sort of a team. I’m not ready to break it up just yet.”

“I understand,” Katz said, nodding. “But if you ever change your mind, you’ll be welcome back here.”

“Thanks,” Mildred said politely. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Here we are.”

They came upon a pre-Dark-looking structure made of bricks. Its three floors rose up from the ground, towering above everything else around it as if it were a fortress.

“Very nice,” Mildred said.

“This is the baron’s residence. The baron lives here, of course, but your friends are staying here, too.”

“Very nice.”

Katz caught the attention of a sec man outside the front door of the building. “They’re guests of the baron as well. Take them to the others.”

The sec men nodded. “This way.”

Mildred said thanks and goodbye to Katz, then she and Jak followed the sec men inside, down several dark corridors until they came upon three rooms at one end of the building.

As they approached, the middle door opened slightly to reveal J.B. standing there with his Uzi in his right hand.

“Just us, John,” Mildred said.

J.B. opened the door wide.

The sec men left Mildred and Jak in the hallway, then headed back to their post.

J.B. opened the door to the third room, where Doc was asleep on his bed. He helped Mildred take Jak to the bed on the far side of the room. The albino youth grimaced several times as he was eased onto the bed, but once he was stretched out, he closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.

“How is he?” J.B. asked, as he and Mildred exited the room.

“Sleeping like a baby now.”

“He’ll be all right, then?”

Mildred nodded. “He’ll have some pain in a few hours, and there’s always a risk of infection, but he should be as good as new in a couple of days.”

J.B. entered their room and put down his blaster.

“Were you expecting trouble?” Mildred asked.

“Not really. Just didn’t want you to interrupt Ryan and Krysty while you were looking for a room for Jak.”

“Uh-huh,” Mildred said skeptically. She listened closely, and beneath the sound of Doc’s snoring, she could hear the soft moans of pleasure coming from next door. “That sound been giving you any ideas?”

J.B. just smiled.

Mildred began to get undressed.

AFTER A SEARCH of the residence, Katz found Baron DeMann tending to some of his open-air plants behind the mansion. These were special projects that the baron was experimenting with. Most of them were new plants he’d grown from seeds traded for on their last trip to several eastern villes. Half the seeds had been planted in the glasshouses, while the other half had been planted outside in an attempt to see which conditions best suited which plants.

Based on the size of the outside plants, growing them inside the glasshouses seemed the only way they could be grown large enough to extract sufficient amounts of active ingredients.

Katz cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Baron.”

Baron DeMann steadied himself on one knee and looked up from the leaf he was examining. “What is it, Katz?”

“I’ve just come from the clinic.”

“One of the guests was wounded, right?”

“Yes, Baron, a shoulder wound. He was tended to by another one of the outlanders.”

“And he’s doing fine now, I take it.”

Katz nodded. “The dark woman who looked after him…”

“Yes?” The baron got up to his feet.

“I think we could use her talents.”

“She wants to stay with us?”

“I made suggestions about it, but she politely resisted.”

The baron considered this, then smiled. “Not to worry. They’re not going anywhere for a while. I’m sure you’ll have the chance to ask her again under more favorable conditions.”

Katz smiled at that. “Thank you, Baron.”

Chapter Six

“Time to go,” the voice said.

Ryan stepped up to the door and pulled it open enough to look out. A sec man was standing in the hallway, one Ryan hadn’t seen before. “Time for the baron’s reception.”

The one-eyed man nodded and closed the door.

Krysty stretched lazily on her cot, getting the blood circulating again after a short but contented sleep. She turned to Ryan and said, “Can’t we stay here a bit longer, lover?”

“Yeah, but I’m curious to meet this baron, and to find out how he keeps his ville running.”

“I sure could do with something to eat,” Krysty said. She rose up off the cot and ran her fingers through her long red hair as if they were combs.

Ryan moved out into the hall where J.B., Doc and Mildred were already waiting.

“What about Jak?” Ryan asked.

“Sleeping,” Mildred said. “He’ll be out for another couple of hours. I’ll stay with him if you want.”

Ryan considered it.

“We’re just going down to the basement,” the sec man offered, overhearing their conversation. “You’ll be free to come back and check on your friend anytime you want.”

“I’ll come down with you to meet the baron,” Mildred said. “Then I’ll come back and stay with him. Maybe bring him some food.”

Ryan nodded, then noticed Doc shifting nervously from side to side behind J.B. He looked strange, different, as if he’d just passed a comb through his hair, then pasted it back with some sort of grease. His frock coat also looked cleaner, as if he’d hung it on a line and beat it with a stick to get all the dust out of its fibers.

Krysty was studying Doc as well. “Lookin’ good, Doc,” she said, joining the others in the hall.

“Thank you for noticing, my dear Krysty.”

The sec man gestured to Ryan’s SIG-Sauer and Krysty’s Smith & Wesson and said, “You won’t be needing your weapons.”

J.B. shook his head as if to say he knew the story would be changing.

Ryan looked hard at the sec man. “We don’t go anywhere without our blasters.”

“All right by me.” The sec man shrugged. “But the baron might have something to say about it.”

Ryan said nothing. The baron could say all he wanted, but they wouldn’t be giving up their blasters without a firefight.

The sec man led them down the hallway.

AS PROMISED, they were led into the basement of the mansion and into a large room that was set up as a dining hall. Paintings hung from the walls, and the floor was covered with a carpet around the edges and a hardwood floor in the center. There was a long, rectangular table on one side of the room with settings for twelve people.

On another table off to one side were pitchers full of fresh water and juices, and carafes of both red and white wine. There was also a series of small finger bowls, each one filled with different colored tablets. “Make yourself at home,” the sec man said. “The baron and the others will be here shortly.”

When the sec man was gone, the friends went to the table and sampled the water and wine. Both were clear. The water was tasteless, while the wine seemed a bit strong.

“What do you make of these?” Ryan asked Mildred, pointing to the bowls of multicolored pills.

Mildred shook her head. “I don’t know. Don’t recognize any of them.”

“Considering that these items are offered in conjunction with some truly excellent wines, I can only assume that they must be stimulants of some sort,” Doc said. “Perhaps even depressants.”

“Recreational drugs,” Mildred said. “In pre-Dark times, ecstasy was the drug of choice, especially among young people. Kids thought it was cool, but of course it was nothing but bad news.”

“So the baron’s a drug lord,” Ryan said, holding one of the pills, a yellow one, between his fingers. “Fireblast!”

Krysty eyed a tablet that was almost as red as her hair. “That’d be my guess.”

“Can’t say it comes as all that much of a surprise,” Mildred said. “He’s produced a lot of healing drugs. If he can do that, no reason he can’t make junk like jolt and dreem.”

“By the Three Kennedys, that would explain what bang is…and smash!”

“And now we know why his sec men have such good blasters,” J.B. offered.

“We’re leaving,” Ryan ordered. “Let’s get Jak.”

The friends turned to leave the dining room, but the doors at either end of the room opened up and sec men with blasters and scatterguns filed in.

“You can’t leave yet,” the baron said as he entered the room behind his sec force. He wore an immaculate lab coat and his clothes beneath it looked just as clean and fresh. “We haven’t even met yet.” There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, making it sound as if he were being sincere.

“We don’t associate with drug lords,” Ryan stated.

The baron put up his hands, almost in surrender. “It’s true, I do deal in drugs, but I assure you, only healing ones.”

Mildred gestured to the bowls of pills on the table. “Expecting some big headaches?”

“Ha, a sense of humor. I like that in my guests.” The baron moved toward the table holding the pills. “I’m merely trying to be a good host. Since I didn’t know what you liked, I simply offered you all that I have. I’m actually glad you don’t want to sample any of the drugs, since I don’t like them, either. Makes articulate speech rather difficult and compromises one’s judgment, two things I can ill afford as baron.” He waved his arms as if he were swatting unseen insects. “Take them away.”

A sec man hurried over to the table, picked up the bowls and carted them away.

“Now, if you’ll forgive my small mistake, let’s all share a meal, shall we?”

Ryan wasn’t in favor of joining the baron for dinner, but even if they wanted to blast their way out of the situation, they wouldn’t get very far. The sec men surrounding them could throw up a wall of fire heavy enough to cut down a small forest. There would be a fight, Ryan knew, but this wasn’t the time or place for it.

Reluctantly, he put away his blaster. The others followed his lead.

“Thank you,” the baron said.

The sec men also lowered their weapons.

“I better check on Jak,” Mildred said.

“Not to worry…” the baron’s voice trailed off.

“Mildred,” the doctor offered.

“Not to worry, Mildred. Your friend is fine, I assure you. Of course, you’re free to return to him whenever you like, but I wouldn’t be much of a host if I didn’t encourage you to eat at least a little something first.”

“I’ll take it back to eat in the room.”

“Fine, fine, now let’s get started. I’m starved.” The baron sat at the head of the table. Ryan and the friends took seats on either side of him.

At that moment, Moira entered the dining room, wearing a sundress and leather sandals.

“Ah, here she is now, the lovely Moira,” the baron said, “who I believe you’ve already met, down by the river.”

The friends watched the young woman enter the room.

J.B. leaned close to Ryan. “Sounds like they’re more than friends.”

“Mebbe she’s a big jack gaudy slut,” Ryan pondered.

“Isn’t she a thing of beauty,” the baron said, gesturing for Moira to take the seat next to him.

Moira appeared to hesitate, then reluctantly joined the baron at the table.

“She’s charming,” Doc offered.

Moira smiled in Doc’s direction.

Ryan had to admit that she was a good-looking young woman, especially now that she’d had a chance to clean up and put on some clothes. And the fact that Moira was the baron’s mistress explained why they had been treated so well since entering the ville. Any man would be grateful to the people who saved his lover from a gang rape. Still, if Moira was the baron’s lover, then why had she been so afraid of Robards and the sec men at the river? Ryan had never met a baron’s woman who didn’t act as if she ran the baron’s ville for him.

“Now that she’s here, perhaps we can begin eating.”

In minutes, a man and a woman were bringing in trays of food for them to sample. Most of it was grilled vegetables such as eggplant, zucchini and red and green peppers, but there was also some fresh corn bread, dried nuts and one small sausage each, the meat of which smelled like chicken but could have been anything from possum to snake.

Ryan was famished, and when the food began appearing on the table, he looked forward to eating his fill. However, something didn’t seem right with the picture.

Doc pointed out the problem to all of them.

“Uh, excuse me Baron DeMann,” Doc said, trying to be polite.

“Yes, sir,” the baron answered.

“Oh, I appreciate the compliment, but I assure you I’m not a member of any House of Lords. My name is Theophilus Algernon Tanner.”

“Theo…”

“Most people call me Doc.”

“Doc? Are you a scientist?”

Ryan looked at Doc, curious to hear his answer.

“Not exactly,” Doc said. “I have some knowledge of old sciences, and I dabble a bit in the new ones. I suspect I earned the nickname because I’m the only one in the group who can divide three-digit numbers without the use of a stick and patch of sand.”

The baron laughed at that.

J.B. seemed to find it funny as well.

“All right… Doc. What is it?”

“Well, when my colleagues and I saved your lovely, uh, mistress from certain harm, she was with another, older woman…”

“Yes.”

“Moira here referred to that woman as her mother…” Doc’s voice trailed off, leaving the question unsaid.

The baron nodded.

“Well, if she is her mother, and we saved her from the muties as well this afternoon, I just thought that, well, it would be nice if she could join us, too.”

The baron looked inquisitively at Robards.

“She’s not feeling well,” the sec chief said.

“But she was fine when she got off the wag this afternoon,” Doc said.

“Yes, bring her here,” the baron ordered. “I’m sure she’d enjoy the company.”

The sec chief slowly got up from his seat. “I’ll see if she’s feeling any better.”

“You do that,” the baron said.

“Thank you.” Doc nodded graciously.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mildred said, piling some vegetables on a pair of metal plates, “I’ve got to check on Jak. If he’s awake, I’m sure he’ll be hungry, too.”

“Give your friend Jak my regards,” the baron said.

“I’ll do that,” Mildred responded, collecting a bit more food for herself and preparing a tray for Jak.

The baron turned his attention from Doc to Ryan. “Am I right to assume that you are the leader of this group?”

“Name’s Ryan.”

“Then you are the leader?”

“You can assume that if you like.”

The baron said nothing for a moment. “As you’ve probably noticed, I’ve got a decent sec force here with plenty of well-trained men and some of the best blasters around.”

“We noticed.”

“Hard to come by,” J.B. interjected. “Some of those blasters look right out of the box.”

“Baron DeMann,” Ryan said, “this is J.B. He’s the weapons expert of our group.”

“A man who appreciates fine craftsmanship and design, no doubt.”

“Did you get your blasters new?” J.B. asked, avoiding any mention of the redoubt.

“I can’t be sure,” the baron replied. “I sell drugs. Good drugs that people need to survive. And when people are dying, they can get rather desperate. I can pretty well name my price for my drugs. I know that may sound hard, but I’m a trader and traders don’t give their wares away when they can hang on to them and get top jack.”

Ryan nodded. He’d seen top traders in action, and the baron’s assessment was right on.

“So, if I’m in the market for anything, be it blasters or blankets, I make sure I get the very best available. The best blasters, the best blankets, the best food, wine…”

“Wags,” J.B. said.

“Everything,” the baron responded. “The best that jack can buy.”

The baron paused and everyone took the opportunity to take a bite of food.

“I also like to think I have the best sec force of any ville in the area. They’re the best equipped and well trained, but one can never be sure about such things.”

“I’ve seen plenty sec men,” Ryan said. “Yours look as disciplined as any.”

“But are they the best?”

“Won’t know that until they’re tested in a firefight.”

“Exactly,” the baron said. Then he went silent, staring at Ryan a moment, as if expecting the man to comment.

“Not sure I follow you,” Ryan said.

“I have a favor to ask of you and your friends.”

Ryan shrugged. “No harm in asking.”

“We have an obstacle course we use for training sec men. In addition to blaster practice, I also use it for pitting sec man against sec man in order to see where they should fall in terms of rank.”

“Must make for a lot of dead sec men.”

The baron laughed. “No, not at all. I have blasters that fire tiny balls filled with colored water. They’re just like regular blasters, but can’t chill people. A good tool for training, and for turning poor sec men into good ones.”

“Point to all this?” J.B. asked.

“Well, my sec chief was wondering if you and your group might agree to test several of his best sec men in a contest.”

Ryan shook his head. “No, thanks. We’ve had plenty of real firefights out in the Deathlands. We don’t fight for sport.”

“I can appreciate that, and I would have the same opinion if I were in your shoes.”

“Then you know my answer.”

The baron said nothing for a while, thinking through the problem. “Ah, you need a reason to fight.”

“That’s right, usually it’s to keep from getting chilled.”

“A wise position, but I’m not about to try and chill you just so you’ll participate in my test. However, might I suggest that you agree to participate in exchange for the hospitality I’ve shown you and your friends.”

Ryan gestured to the food on the table. “We didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Quite right.” The baron nodded. “Then what if I said that if you bested my sec men, I’d be willing to provide you with as much ammo as you need when you leave my ville, as well as any medicines and supplies, uh, Mildred, might want to take with her. I’m sure those sorts of things are still useful to you in your travels.”

Ryan looked to J.B. “Running low all around.”

He turned to Krysty.

“Who knows?” she added. “Might be fun, firing a blaster and not chilling somebody for a change.”

Ryan sighed. “All right, we’ll play your game, but J.B. checks all the weapons before we begin, just to make sure we’re all using the same ammo.”

“Of course.”

“When?”

“Is tomorrow afternoon too soon?”

ROBARDS WALKED slowly down the street to Eleander’s residence. Thanks to one of the outlanders, he now had to bring the woman to the dining hall and have her eat and talk to the baron’s guests.

Dammit!

This was an unfortunate turn of events, but not a problem.

There were ways…

The sec chief turned to the sec man following him. “Go find Katz. Tell him what the problem is and bring him to Eleander’s home. And make it fast.”

The sec man turned and ran, double time.

MILDRED TAPPED on Jak’s door with the toe of her boot.

“Who there?” Jak asked. His words were followed by the sound of his .357 Magnum Colt Python being cocked.

“It’s Mildred,” she said. “Brought you some food.”

There was a metallic click on the other side of the door and Mildred knew it was safe to enter.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” she said, pushing open the door and entering the room.

“Guessed right,” he answered. He was sitting up on his cot, one arm hanging limply from the shoulder, the other rubbing a hand in circular motions over his empty growling stomach.

She put the food on the rough wooden stand next to the bed, then sat on the empty bed next to him.

“How’s your shoulder? Does it hurt?”

“No.” Jak shook his head. “You fixed good.”

Mildred lifted the dressing and saw that although there were still a few wet spots to the wound, it was generally healing nicely. She touched the bruised flesh with the point of her finger and Jak grimaced.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t say many words, you’re not a very good liar.”

Jak smiled.

“I’ll clean the dressing later. Right now you should eat. Build up your strength.”

“Food good?”

“Oh, yeah.” She placed a plate on his lap and gave him a fork. “Best we’ve had in months.”

THE WAG HAD PERFORMED flawlessly, taking its rider across the rad-choked land between the two villes in less than six hours. He had stopped twice along the way, once to refill his tank with alcohol, the other to refill himself with food and water.

Now he was approaching Indyville, the engine still running smoothly as the dusty miles fell beneath his wheels.

The ville’s lookouts would have spotted him by now, and the entire ville’s sec force would be on alert. That was good, because by the time he arrived there, the baron would be aware of his approach and curious to know what he wanted.

Now, as he neared the ville’s perimeter, the road got rougher. The surface of the road was spotted with holes and was covered with rocks and chunks of asphalt. He slowed the wag by half, the engine’s song falling from a high whine to a throaty growl.

The gates to the ville grew larger in his sights. Sec men stood on either side of the rolling door made of rusty rebar and sheet metal. One of the sec men signaled to him to slow down by waving both his arms over his head.

He waved back with just his right hand.

The entrance to the ville was less than a quarter of a mile away, and he slowed the wag further. Closer in, there were dead things on the road—the carcasses and bones of long-dead animals, fallen trees, strategically positioned rocks and the odd corpse of a mutie who made the mistake of trying to get into the ville. It was a strange way to protect the outer edges of the ville, but it was doing a good job of it.

The driver was forced to slow to a crawl, just to find a way through the maze of death and ruin.

But at last he was at the gates of the ville. He brought the wag to a stop, but left the engine running just in case it might not start again.

“What do you want?” the sec man asked. He was armed with little more than a pointed stick, but in the towers on the other side of the gate were several batteries of large-caliber automatic blasters, some of which were aimed directly at his head.

“Greetings from Baron DeMann.”

The sec man said nothing.

“I need to speak with Baron Schini.”

“About what?”

“Sorry, but I must speak only with the baron.”

“She’s not seeing anyone tonight.”

The driver nodded. He’d been told that he might be refused at the gate, and that’s why he’d been given a gift to present to the baron.

“I’ve brought a quarter pound of bang to give to the baron.” He took the small sack from his shoulder bag.

“I’ll take it.”

He quickly snatched it away before the sec man could grab it. “Sorry, it’s for the baron only.”

The sec man licked his lips, then sighed. He turned and raised his eyes to the top of the gate. “He’s got bang for the baron—let him in.”

After a few moments of silence, the large steel door started rolling to the left, giving him just enough room to enter the ville.

KATZ LOOKED at the body of Eleander lying on a cot in a corner of the lab. She seemed dead and lifeless, as if she wouldn’t become conscious for another few hours yet.

Robards was rearranging her clothing, hiding the slight welts, in order to make her presentable enough to bring to the baron.

“I can wake her up, but there will be a dangerous mix in her system,” Katz said. “If she takes anything else in the next twelve hours, it could chill her.”

“I’ll watch over her,” Robards said, his voice emotionless.

“And of course, there will probably be some slurring of her words—that is, of course, if she can speak coherently at all.”

“I’ll tell them she’s been drinking.”

“That’s probably best. She’ll seem drunk, might even feel like it, too.”

“Rad-blasted outland scum,” Robards said. “One of them took a liking to this bitch. Asked the baron if she could join them.”

“And the baron agreed?”

“The outlanders wanted to leave, and I instructed the baron to keep them here for a couple or few days, till my rider comes back from Indyville. And so when the old-timer asked to see her, the baron had no choice but to agree.”

“You could always say she’s turned in for the night.”

Robards shook his head. “Tried something like that, but this outlander was persistent. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Probably come here to see her if she doesn’t join them over there.”

Katz produced a large plunge-type syringe from his bag. “This will bring her around,” he said, then sighed. “But she’s your problem after that.”

Robards put a hand on his blaster and said, “Just do it!”

Katz gave Eleander the jab.

At first nothing happened, and then her eyelids fluttered open. “Where, what…” She put a hand on her forehead. “Headache.”

“Thanks,” Robards said.

“Don’t thank me,” Katz replied. “You’re on your own. I want nothing to do with this.”

Robards snickered. “You’re already involved.”

Katz shook his head. “You mention my name, and the baron will get the full story. About the others, too…” He closed his bag and left the room before Robards had a chance to respond.

At the sound of Katz’s departure, Eleander’s eyes opened wider. When she realized Robards was standing over her, she instinctively tried to move away from him, crawling backward like a spider.

“Relax,” Robards said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She looked skeptical.

“The baron wants to see you. Apparently, one of the bastard outlanders has taken a shine to you.”

A sleepy smile broke over Eleander’s face.

“Tidy up,” Robards said, pulling back the blanket. “I don’t want to keep the baron, or the outlanders, waiting.”

Chapter Seven

Baron Schini was a strong, powerful woman who had risen to power in Indyville by virtue of her cunning and keen sense of picking the right person for a job. Her sec force was strong and well trained, and led by a meticulous sec chief named Viviani who left nothing to chance and no detail overlooked.

But the baron was also a wealth of knowledge and information. Her memory was like a strongbox, and anything that she might have trouble remembering was filed in a collection of journal notes. The notes were part of a vast library housed in the center of the ville. Untouched by the nukeblast that devastated much of Indyville, the library had been the first thing the baron had sought control of when she was newly assigned to the previous baron’s sec force. Schini found that by controlling knowledge she also had power, and by acquiring more knowledge, she would acquire even more power. And so the library grew and grew, adding valuable books on subjects as diverse as basket weaving and blaster design. There were books on how to have better sex, and how to fight without blasters, knives or swords—even books on how to chill people with poisons…if you happened to have the right poisons.

The baron had a dozen librarians reading through the texts in the library, each one with a special area of expertise, such as geography, geology, chemistry, biology and history. Every so often, one of the librarians would be called upon to solve a problem pertaining to their area of expertise and, over the years, Indyville had become a very powerful barony, selling knowledge to those who needed it.

Like Sec chief Robards…

“So,” Baron Schini said. “The sec man at the gate says you brought me a quarter pound of bang in exchange for some information.”

“That’s right, Baron.”

“Well, what does Robards want to know?”

The sec man sent by Robards cleared his throat. “Baron DeMann is playing host to a group of outlanders—”

“I thought he hated the scum?”

“He does, but he’s holding them for a reason.”

Baron Schini nodded slowly.

“One of the outlanders, their leader in fact, goes by the name of Ryan. He’s rather distinctive looking with a large scar on the right side of his face and a black patch covering his left eye.”

“Plenty of outlanders have scars like that.”

“Yes, but this one is unique. His band of six includes an albino teenager, an old man, a black woman, another woman, fair skinned with flaming red hair, and a thin man who wears wire-rimmed spectacles and a fedora.”

“A motley crew to be sure, but why the fuck should I care?”

“Sec chief Robards thinks this Ryan may be the same outlander who chilled Baron DeMann’s brother a few years ago in a gaudy house in Spearpoint.”

Baron Schini suddenly appeared more interested in Baron DeMann’s outlanders. If their leader was the one who chilled the baron’s brother, then he’s also the one who chilled her son in the very same gaudy house firefight. “What makes Robards suspect this outlander is the one?”

“Well, he remembered hearing something about a one-eyed outlander working for a man they called Trader, and he knew it was one of the Trader’s men who chilled the baron’s brother while the Trader was at Spearpoint working on a deal with Levi Shabazz.”

“Why not just ask the outlander if he’s the one? Or just chill them all and be done with it?”

“These outlanders are dangerous, and he didn’t want to let them know he suspected who they were until he was sure they were the ones.”

“And so he sent you here to me.”

“Correct.”

“And if this is the outlander who chilled the baron’s brother, what does that candy-ass Robards plan to do about it?”

“Why, chill the scum and his friends on behalf of Baron DeMann, of course.”

Schini shook her head.

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all,” the baron said. “It’s just that if this one-eyed outlander is the same one who chilled the baron’s brother, then he’s also the one who chilled my son, Luca. And if that’s the case, I damn well want to be there to watch him die.”

Robards had warned the sec man that this request was a possibility. “As you wish, Baron.”

The baron smiled politely. “But first we need to know we have the right man, eh?” She turned to one of her sec men. “Take him to the archives and look up the journal entries on Luca’s death. And keep me informed as to what you find.”

The sec man nodded and led the messenger away.

THEY WERE ALMOST finished eating when Eleander entered the dining room.

“Ah, here she is,” Baron DeMann said. “The mother of the beautiful Moira.” It was obvious he had none of the same feelings for the older woman as he did the younger.

Eleander stepped slowly into the big room, as cautious as if she were walking over broken glass with naked feet.

“She was resting soundly,” Robards offered in explanation. “I was sorry to wake her up, but when she knew she had been asked for, she insisted on joining you.”

Doc smiled broadly, his eyes stuck on the older woman.

Ryan had never seen Doc so smitten by a woman before, though he had had a few liaisons. He had spoken countless times of the wife and children who had been left behind when Operation Chronos snatched him from his own era and brought him forward in time. But while he spoke of his dear wife Emily with fondness, romance, love and respect, he seemed to eye Eleander with a lust that was somewhat uncharacteristic of the man. But with his mind shaken so badly from the jumps in time, and emotional scarring, a person could never be sure of Doc’s mental state. Ryan was glad that this time he appeared to be affected by lust, instead of the usual madness that bordered on lunacy.

“There’s an empty seat here next to me if you like,” Doc said, pulling back the chair and patting its seat as if that would make its hard wooden bottom more comfortable.

Eleander walked slowly toward Doc and took the chair with a slight nod. She smiled broadly at him.

“Right,” the baron said, acting as if the woman wasn’t even there. “I imagine you and your weapons man might want to look over the blasters you’ll be using tomorrow.”

Ryan nodded.

“I would like that very much,” J.B. added.

“Let’s go have a look, shall we?”

Ryan and J.B. got up to leave with the baron. Ryan looked to Krysty to ask if she were joining them.

“I think I’ll stay behind with Doc.”

Ryan glanced at the old-timer, who was already making conversation with Eleander. “I don’t think he needs a chaperone.”

“No, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him.”

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