Salvation Road

by James Axler

  The medicated dressings were always useful, and Mildred had to decide which to take on the matter of size: were they easy to stash in her jacket? Would they be too small to be of any practical use? Taking all the larger ones was no answer, as once the seal was broken they were rendered useless and no longer sterile, so it would all too easy to waste so much.

  J.B. waited patiently while Mildred made her choices and placed them carefully in the pockets and bags sewn into the coat, turning it from just a protective garment into a walking repository.

  When she had finished, Mildred looked up at the silent Armorer. "Guess this'll be you tomorrow when you're in the armory, right?"

  J.B. nodded. "Different thing, same purpose," he said simply.

  RYAN DECIDED to shower before eating. Like J.B., he couldn't face the thought of Dean and Doc in the kitchens before relaxing with a hot shower—assuming that the water-heating system was still operative.

  The one-eyed warrior made his way to the shower rooms, noting the sound of running water as he drew near. It was unlikely that Krysty would be showering under a cold stream, so he felt assured that the heating system was fine.

  Entering the communal area where Krysty's clothes lay discarded, Ryan picked a towel from the pile that was stacked in an open cupboard space. He shook it vigorously, and a fine rain of dust was released into the air. It was an indication of the gradual failure of the air conditioning, but was nowhere near enough for any of them to worry about.

  "Come on in, lover, the water's fine," Krysty called from in the shower.

  "How did you know it's me?" Ryan replied, as he left the towel on the bench that ran around the walls and began to strip off his clothing, putting his blasters down first and unstrapping the panga from its sheath along his thigh.

  "Who else would it be?" Krysty replied with a laugh in her voice.

  "That's a fair point," Ryan answered as he stepped into the showers. A long stall with several showerheads supplying the hot water, some of them were partially stoppered with scale and so spluttered intermittently, while the majority sent streams of almost scalding water onto the one-eyed warrior's leathery skin. He shuddered involuntarily as the pinpoint needles of hot water hit his aching muscles, releasing the tension within them. Steam swathed their bodies as he moved closer to Krysty.

  "Feels good to get the sweat and dirt off, doesn't it?" she said, her mass of Titian hair plastered to her scalp by the running water, her strongly muscled but still shapely frame glistening with the wet.

  "Feels better to get the tightness out of my muscles and feel them relax," Ryan replied, turning his face into the jet stream of one showerhead and feeling it run down his face, his good eye closed against it, the water pounding a tattoo on his eyelid. "We need this now and again. Need this respite, this chance to relax and rest up."

  "Need it for a lot of things," Krysty whispered, moving closer to him.

  Ryan opened his eye and found himself looking directly into Krysty's green eyes, opening directly into her inner being.

  Ryan Cawdor was a man of action, a practical man not given to flights of fancy, but he knew that Krysty's mutie genes gave her abilities that were beyond everyday comprehension. One of the things Ryan had read in the fragments of old texts that he was sometimes lucky enough to find was something about eyes being "windows to the soul." It was a notion mostly too fanciful for the bleak realities of the Deathlands.

  But looking at Krysty, Ryan could believe that it was sometimes so, and that she could somehow see into him—whether he wanted her to or not.

  And right then he wanted her to.

  JAK HAD CHECKED the dorms and found an array of beds and also a supply of fresh clothing, untouched since before the nukecaust. Satisfied that they could all rest comfortably and refresh some items of clothing, he made his way back to the kitchens, his guts grumbling, reminding him that it was too long since he had last eaten.

  The four corners of the kitchens—large enough and well enough supplied to feed a full complement of personnel for an indefinite period in the event of a nukecaust—had been scoured. There was a plentiful supply of self-heats and bottled water, which would be plundered by all the companions in order to carry emergency supplies with them on a trek into the unknown. There were also other foodstuffs which, if not perishable, had a shelf life that would see them stale. Unwilling to use any of the self-heats, which were barely palatable, Doc and Dean had tried to concoct something edible from what was available to them. Neither was a particularly good cook, but between them they hoped to pull together a meal that would be both nourishing and, at least in some degree, palatable.

  Despite the fact that the meal was a bizarre stew of vacuum-packed rice, frozen vegetables of indeterminate origin and a meat substitute made presentable by a liberal use of spices and seasoning, it was good enough to keep the rest of the party happy. Even Jak, who had a propensity to complain about any food that came his way, was able to enjoy the meal.

  With the medical supplies sorted by Mildred, and the self-heats and water sorted by Dean and Doc, it just left the armory to be dealt with.

  "I'd like to get a look right now," J.B. said, stretching, "but I figure it'd be better if I showered and slept first."

  Mildred looked at the Armorer in amazement. "John, I never thought I'd hear you say that. Maybe I should look at you in a professional capacity."

  "That what you call it?" Jak commented.

  At that they parted company. Jak, Dean and Doc took showers and slept. Mildred and J.B. cleaned up before locating their own private room. Ryan and Krysty had already located theirs, and took the rare opportunity to make love before sleep engulfed them.

  IT WAS MORNING when they all awoke. Although the redoubts were artificially lit and could change from day to night at the flick of a switch, the companions had their wrist chrons to help them keep track of time in the outside world. They knew it was midmorning by the time they had risen and breakfasted on the remains of the edible food left from the night before. After finishing, they made their way to the armory.

  "Need plas-ex more than anything else except spare ammo for the blasters," J.B. commented as he punched in the sec code for the door, which opened with a purr. "But if we find any blasters that are more powerful and mebbe in better condition than ours, we should load up on what we can carry."

  As the door opened and the extent of the armory became clear, the normally taciturn Armorer pursed his lips and blew out a low whistle.

  "Bet this hasn't seen the light of day for a century," he said with a touch of genuine awe in his voice as he almost crept into the room, surveying the boxes of oiled rifles, the machine blasters still cased in their constituent parts, the handblasters that hung on the walls alongside the rows of grens and the boxes of plas-ex that were stored in one corner.

  Ryan stepped into the room behind him. "I know you could spend days looking over this, but I reckon that mebbe we should get up top as soon as possible, see if we can get out and find out where the fire-blasted hell we've landed up this time."

  J.B., snapped out of his reverie by his friend's words, nodded. "Yep, reckon so. Let's get loaded up here…"

  While the companions searched the armory for spare ammo to fit their respective blasters, J.B. restocked the body belts and pouches in which he carried enough grens and plas-ex to start and finish a small war, which sometimes he'd had to do.

  Ryan allowed him some time to pore over the weapons after the others had finished restocking their own supplies of ammo. Although there was a plentiful supply and variety of blasters, there was nothing that hadn't been seen before, and they each individually elected to stick with the weapons they knew and trusted.

  The one-eyed warrior gave J.B. extra time not just because he knew the Armorer was like a kid in a prenuke candy store with a fully stocked armory, but also because it gave J.B. time to asses the full range of the armory and pick out the weaponry with the maximum possible efficiency and use.

  Eventually, he f
inished his task and turned to Ryan Cawdor.

  "Okay, let's see where we are," he said simply.

  Chapter Three

  The sec door leading onto the outside creaked and groaned as it began to open.

  "Think it'll make it?" Dean asked his father.

  Ryan shrugged. "Should do. The corridors haven't been twisted enough to warp the frame. Mebbe some plas-ex if it gets stuck?" The last was directed, as a question, at J.B.

  The Armorer paused, squinting at the slowly rising door and at the surrounding tunnel. Ryan was right to a certain extent. After leaving the armory and making their way up to the top level, they had stopped and looked at each level. It seemed that there had been some earth movement within the redoubt, but not enough to cause any collapse in the tunneling, nor to cause any breaches or rifts within the redoubt. But right up at the top level, it seemed as though something had pushed against the entrance, causing the door to warp slightly, and making its ascent difficult. It wasn't from the inside.

  "Plas-ex could be tricky," J.B, said at length. "There's nothing inside, so mebbe the problem is on the outside. And if we've got a real heavy rockfall, then the blast could get directed inward."

  Ryan listened to J.B., trusting his judgment on the use of any weapons, and nodded as the Armorer concluded. "Okay, we'll see how far it rises first."

  There was a tense silence among the companions, relieved only by the glimpse of daylight that pierced needlelike through the widening gap, casting a swath of light across the mouth of the tunnel that was blinding in comparison to the muted electric light inside the redoubt.

  "No rockfall," Jak murmured, "so why door stick?"

  "That is a thorny question, my dear Jak," Doc replied. "A multitude of possibilities await, and yet how can we be prepared for any unless we prepare for all?"

  "Hot pipe, Doc, you talk some real shit sometimes," Dean muttered, standing beside the older man.

  Doc smiled ironically. "A trifle crudely put, young Dean, but you do have a point."

  "Well, I'd say we're about to find out just exactly what that problem may be—out of all the myriad of possibilities, of course," Krysty interjected with a touch of sarcasm.

  "One thing for sure, it was no rockfall," Mildred added, taking in the panorama before them.

  The door of the redoubt was now fully retracted. Before them was nothing more than an azure-blue sky, with little sign of any chem clouds within the area framed by the portal. A couple of large, dark birds circled at a height that would appear to have been several hundred feet, indulging in a complex series of maneuvers that presaged a savage battle.

  The sun was a burning orange globe surrounded by a haze that betrayed the fact that, although there were no chem clouds in sight, the atmosphere was still tainted by the remnants of the nukecaust. The swirling, skeetering figures of the large birds flew across the globe, lost momentarily in the light, far too bright to stare into. In less than the blink of an eye they were out the other side, and the ritual dance had ended.

  The bird at the front turned, whirling suddenly in the air in a tight movement that swung him around to face the oncoming assailant. But his attempt to catch the following bird was doomed. The second bird ducked beneath the first bird as it turned, moving underneath, then jabbing swiftly and sharply, its beak tearing at the momentarily exposed belly of the leading bird.

  The squawk of surprise and pain, harsh and guttural with an undertone of fear, carried across the still morning air, reaching them as the first bird began to fall, the slightest darkness in the sky betraying a rain of blood as something vital was torn.

  The fight was that swift, that sudden, that savage. As the first bird fell, the second bird wheeled in the sky with an almost deceptive leisure, heading for its falling opponent. It swooped beneath the plummeting bird, jabbing at it so savagely that it changed the course of its fall. It followed it down, slowing the momentum of the fall by pushing it from side to side, sometimes jabbing so savagely and with such force that it propelled the now chilled bird upward for the slightest moment. The corpse, which had given one last harsh cry, was now disintegrating as it fell, ripped apart by the attack of its rival.

  "Welcome back to the real world," Mildred murmured.

  Ryan walked to the lip of the tunnel and peered over the edge. The tunnels and corridors on the top level of a redoubt always sloped upward, but suddenly he realized that the angle of ascent had been slightly more than usual. Looking out over the land, he could see that it was a bare desert, with very little scrub cover, and the reddish-brown earth dry and loose. It was also some fifty feet below them, with a rock face that fell away from the mouth of the tunnel.

  J.B. joined him, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose as he looked down.

  "So it was a rockfall, but not how either of us reckoned," he observed.

  The one-eyed warrior assented. "Looks like this redoubt was another one set into a mountainside, and when some of that mountain moved—" he gestured to emphasize his point "—the redoubt moved up, and the road in moved down."

  "Still, it's not much of a climb. Even Doc should be able to make it."

  "Please do not mock me, John Barrymore," Doc said, eyebrow raised as he peered over the Armorer's shoulder. "It would seem to be a simple descent."

  "Probably, Doc, but we don't know how safe it is yet. If the rocks have settled loosely, then…" Ryan gestured how the rocks would part.

  "Then we are buzzard fodder," Doc finished. "A fair point."

  "Exactly." Ryan turned to the others. "We'll take it one at a time. I'll go first, then Krysty, Jak, Mildred, Dean, and Doc. J.B. last."

  "Sounds fine to me," Mildred stated, staring down at the steep slope of loose rocks. "Sooner I get down the better."

  "Then let's get to it," Ryan stated.

  The one-eyed warrior stepped off the lip of the redoubt entrance and onto the rocks, pressing hard with the ball of his foot to test the security of each rock before resting his weight.

  He turned and faced the rocks, using his hands to steady himself. The slope was deceptive. Although the descent seemed steep, the slope of the rocks was less sheer, the outcrops providing plenty in the way of foot- and handholds. The problems arose from the fact that the rock face was composed of many individual rocks rather than one slab. And until the descent had been made, there was no way of knowing how secure were the actual rocks.

  Ryan took the descent slowly, searching for handholds and testing each rock. His feet stamped rocks, knocking some away from the face, landing firmly on others and using them to define a path. He was watched intently from above by the others, all of them making a note of the path for when they would come to use it. This was made easier by the falling rocks that had been rejected as footholds, which almost outlined Ryan's route.

  It was slow but not difficult, and Ryan's progress was relatively easy. Despite that, he had to stop several times to wipe the sweat from his brow before it ran into his good eye, the occasional drop stinging his eyeball and making him blink furiously. He felt a sheen of sweat on his body, soaking into his clothes, and wondered how hot it would get at the height of the day.

  THE DESERT SEEMED to stretch indefinitely in every direction, and although they had good water supplies Ryan would feel happier when J.B. had taken some readings and worked out roughly where they were. They knew the characteristics of the Deathlands better than most trading parties, having traversed great distances with the help of the mat-trans units.

  If it was going to be this hot, then they would need to preserve water and work out the direction in which a ville or some kind of vegetation would be likely.

  All of this crossed Ryan's mind while the greater part of his attention was focused on his feet and hands. Any attack from around them—natural or otherwise—didn't bother him as he knew J.B. would be on triple red while he was so exposed. Neither did he notice how far he had reached, so it was a pleasant surprise when one foot, groping for a rock, hit dirt. Ryan stood at the bott
om of the rock face, looking up at the path he had created. Krysty had already begun her descent, following his trail. She was swifter, having only to follow the path rather than create it. She set foot on the bottom and turned to the one-eyed warrior.

  "So far, so good, lover," she said simply. Ryan nodded, watching Jak begin his descent. The rest of the companions followed in rapid succession. J.B. immediately took readings with his minisextant.

  "So?" the one-eyed warrior asked.

  "Some old stamping ground," J.B. said, squinting at the sun. "Not quite what they used to call New Mexico, but near enough. Kind of near to where they had that old fort—the Almo?"

  "The Alamo," Mildred corrected. "Then we're in what used to be Texas."

  "Yeah, which I guess means it's gonna get hotter," J.B. rejoined.

  "So we need to find some shelter, and soon," Ryan stated. "But where? That's the big question."

  Chapter Four

  Ryan had felt that they were in a no-win situation as they set out away from the remains of the hillside where the entrance to the redoubt had been situated. It was likely that their explorations would turn up nothing of interest, yet their boundless curiosity compelled the companions to investigate the area around the redoubts they jumped to.

  Ryan consulted the Armorer about their position. "We face the hill, it's east. Away from it's west. The rest is easy enough to guess."

  So, with a rough bearing and nothing in view of the horizon, the one-eyed warrior had to decide which way to lead his people.

  "Jak, you know the old New Mexico better than all of us, and I guess that's the nearest point we've traveled before. Much chance of us hitting hospitable land within a few days?"