by James Axler
‘They’re what their name may suggest. They come mostly in the night, though not exclusively. They’re painted in the colors of the forest, and they move with stealth and silence. This is also the way in which they strike. They are upon us before we have a chance to defend ourselves. They use knives and swords, mostly, but also they have blasters that some have the noise contained, so that they are almost silent.’
‘Must be mostly handblasters or assault rifles. Few SMGs have silencer capability,’ J.B. murmured. He noticed that Affinity was looking at him strangely. ‘Just trying to figure out what we’re up against,’ he added.
The young man nodded briefly, then continued. ‘We have little hope of catching them when we attack, and we have little in the way of fighting skills. Thus we seek to comb the forest before nightfall, perhaps hoping to keep them at bay by making it hard for them to approach Memphis unseen.’
‘Seems a risky way to try to insure your safety,’ Ryan pointed out.
Affinity shrugged. ‘True enough, but there is little else we can do, and the attacks have less frequency since we first took these measures. It would seem that we have some success, if not, perhaps, enough. On which note I shall cease, for I think that I may have answered all your questions. Except for why we attacked you, but I think that is obvious—we mistakenly assumed you were Nightcrawlers, and attempted to withdraw when we discovered our mistake…at least, those of us who were able,’ he added ruefully, fingering his jaw and looking askance at Mildred.
‘Hey, what can I say? It had to be done,’ she said, holding up her hands.
Affinity nodded. ‘True enough, but you can’t blame me for wishing that it had been one of my fellows and not myself who suffered at your hands.’
J.B. turned to Ryan. ‘I don’t get some of this. Unless my calculations are out, I don’t remember any big ville being in that direction last time we were in this area.’
‘True enough,’ Ryan agreed, turning to Affinity. ‘You’re familiar with the whaling fleets along the coast, and the ville of Claggartville from where they come, right?’
The young man looked at him blankly and shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard of this place, and we know nothing of what occurs along the coast. I should, perhaps, explain that Atlantis has kept itself secreted since the nukecaust, and deals as little as possible with outsiders. Most of the food and cloth is generated from within the ville, and other supplies are taken from the ancient ville of Trenton. This looms large in our legends from before the nukecaust, when those who knew what was coming prepared for the long winter of the soul. It’s all we know, and is why we traveled along those old roads when we sought to build a home away from Atlantis.’
‘So you’re living in the ruins of Trenton, New Jersey, and Atlantis was built apart from that?’ Mildred asked. When Affinity nodded, Ryan could see that Mildred was confused and he shot her a questioning glance. ‘Hell, I don’t know,’ she said by way of reply. ‘I don’t remember Trenton being that close to the coast.’
‘Could be the shape of the coastline has changed,’ J.B. answered, ‘or mebbe they think it’s Trenton and it’s not. Hell, we used to see signs that we thought gave us the name of an old ville then turned out to be a signpost all the time when we were traveling with Trader, right?’ he directed to Ryan.
The one-eyed man nodded. ‘Could be a whole lot of reasons,’ he said to Mildred. ‘Kind of irrelevant now. The fact that they’re close together and warring with us in the middle is all we need to really know.’
‘I would agree with you. I know not of the places of which you speak, but I do know that the night will soon be upon us, and to be out here in the unprotected forest would be a bad thing,’ Affinity said softly.
Ryan looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to sink and it wouldn’t be long before twilight became dusk became night.
‘Can we make it to your ville before the sun goes down? And if we did, would they welcome us?’ he asked.
‘As to the latter, I can assure you that the earlier conflict would be forgotten if you brought me home in one piece. It would be, as it were, an act of faith on your part, and accepted as such by my people. But as to the former, I’m not so sure. This is a dense forest and it is easy to lose direction.’
‘So what are you saying?’ Mildred asked. ‘That we should make a camp here and wait for these Nightcrawlers to sniff us out?’
‘It’s not, I agree, an ideal solution. It is, however, a preferable one to roaming the forest at night. At least we can mount some kind of guard if we stay in the one spot,’ Affinity answered.
‘Seeing as we don’t know exactly who we’re dealing with, then that might be the best thing,’ Ryan agreed.
He signaled to Jak, who appeared as if from nowhere. The albino had been up a tree, keeping a watch on the surrounding area, and had been able to pick out every word that had been spoken. Relieved that there was little need to fill in the details, Ryan selected a watch and, as usual, took the first for himself.
The companions made a small fire in as much of a clearing as they could muster in among the twisting growths. There was little space in which they could comfortably bed down together, yet it was important that they weren’t split up. Their proximity to one another was vital for security.
As Ryan began to recce the darkening surrounding woods, Doc sidled up to Affinity.
‘You interest me very much,’ he began in an undertone. ‘I find the names of your villes, and your name, of much interest. Also your garb. I suspect that there is some purpose to the coloring of your robe, which on the face of it would seem absurd to wear while on a hunt. The red and white combined are elements that ring distant bells in the recesses of my memory, and things begin to come back to me. I suspect that it ties on very well with the use of the names Atlantis and Memphis. I wonder, could it be possible that this construction on which you were once enslaved has something to do with the idea of being prepared for those who have been waiting to rise again?’
Affinity eyed the old man shrewdly. ‘Are you seeking to play tricks upon me? I am sure that I mentioned the idea of the people from which I come waiting to be claimed—’
‘Ah, yes, but you did not mention the idea of rising again…having once been of this land, and then sinking below before awaiting the moment when they can once more come to the surface and claim what is rightfully theirs.’
Affinity narrowed his gaze, as though seeking to peer inside Doc’s mind. When he spoke, it was slowly, with every word measured carefully.
‘You seem to know a lot about our old legends. I wonder how this could be, as we have always been taught that none outside of our closed community had ever heard them. Your mode of speech, and your seeming knowledge, what do you know of the lost continents and—’
Doc quieted him with a gesture. ‘Not here and not now. Perhaps when we reach your ville on the morrow. There is much I would ask of you, and perhaps much I will be able to assist you with if you can but assist me in turn. But first we must have some privacy. There are things to which my companions are not privy.’
‘I believe I understand you,’ Affinity said carefully. ‘I shall speak to you more of this when we are in Memphis.’
Doc smiled and left the young man alone. It left Affinity uneasy. He was in the middle of the forest with people he didn’t know, one of whom appeared to be plotting against the others. And although he had seen at firsthand their fighting skills, he was still uneasy at spending the night outside of the safety of his ville. He knew the quality of the Nightcrawlers. There was a part of him that suspected he would never get the opportunity to find out just what it was exactly that the old man knew of the history of his people.
As Ryan kept watch, Affinity tried to settle to sleep. But try as he might, he couldn’t. Instead he focused on the sounds of the one-eyed man who was their leader checking out the immediate area. Even though the forest was deathly quiet because of the lack of wildlife—the secret of which he was sure the old man had guessed—h
e could hear Ryan’s movements only as the slightest echo of a whisper. He was good, there was no denying that.
But it was still enough. The Nightcrawlers made no sound.
And it was more than likely that they were out there right now, advancing toward where he lay with the unsuspecting others.
Chapter Six
First watch passed without incident, and the exhausted Ryan was only too glad to hand over second watch to Mildred and J.B. It was unusual to take a watch in pairs, but both had agreed that neither would rest that easy in the forest that night. Both were aware that they didn’t share Krysty’s and Jake’s heightened senses. This being the case, both figured that doubling the watch would make detecting any intruders easier in a strange environment. The density of the woodlands and the maze-like nature of the paths that could be forged was a major concern.
Yet this seemed a concern that was a thousand miles away as they both prowled the silent forest. The night above was clear, the stars lighting up a sky that was further illuminated by a wan half-moon. Yet much of this light couldn’t filter through the canopy of foliage cast by the forest, so that underneath, where the companions kept camp, it was a world of gray shrouded further by deepening shadows.
The lack of anything living—other than themselves—meant that the shadows were still and it should be easy to detect any movement within. The only sounds were the distant rustle of the foliage in night breezes.
Despite this, both J.B. and Mildred were on edge. They had little doubt that Affinity had been serious and accurate in his description of the Nightcrawlers they had to guard against. Every slight rustle, every trick of the shadows that seemed to move or to deepen that little more, became something that made their nerve endings jangle.
For much of the watch they avoided each other, dividing the area around the camp into two 180-degree arcs that they would take individually. Each knew the other’s footfall, the sound of each other’s breathing and movement so well that they were able to filter out those sounds that they knew to emanate from the other.
It didn’t make the watch any easier, and after nearly two hours, both felt that they were at breaking point. As their patrol arcs came close to each other, Mildred moved across into J.B.’s territory.
‘What is it?’ he demanded sharply as she approached. His voice was too low to carry farther than a few yards, but the fact that she was close enough to catch his words gave him cause for concern.
Something she was swift to allay.
‘Chill, John. There isn’t a problem. I’m just getting a little too strung out on my own. Kind of think that I’m going to be believing my own breathing is a freakin’ Nightcrawler if I’m not careful.’
The Armorer gave a wry chuckle. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. I haven’t felt this paranoid since I was left alone with a bunch of stickies on human fry night.’
Mildred gave him a bemused look. ‘John, what the hell are you talking about?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I figure this is really getting to me, so that I don’t really know what I’m saying. Have you thought that we might just be talking to reasure ourselves of the fact that we’ve actually got some company and aren’t just here in the forest completely alone?’
‘You mean that the total lack of anything else resembling a human being is getting to you, too, right?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘It’s too quiet. If they are out there, then we should be able to hear them. But if they’re not, then…’
‘The sooner morning comes the better, I figure,’ Mildred muttered. ‘This is playing hell on both our nerves.’
J.B. shook his head. ‘You can say that again.’
THEY COULD HEAR someone in the forest. Someone who was other than those they sought. The runaways who had established the rogue ville of Memphis were too scared to be out in the forest at this time of night. And yet there were so rarely strangers who traversed these lands. Atlantis had deliberately been established so that it could hide from the prying eyes of intruders, far into the forest and near to the coast, where there were no major routes that would bring convoys and invite unwelcomed attention.
Whoever these people were, they had taken a lot of trouble to come this far. It was a shame that they couldn’t take the extra trouble to be quiet and to protect themselves.
A vulpine grin crossed the face of the first warrior. This would be easy. They were making their position clear by their lack of concealment, and they would never hear a sec force as experienced in the sounds of the forest as the Crawlers. He turned and looked back, his night-adjusted eyes picking out the seven others in his pack. No one else would be able to spot them in this darkness, but he knew where they would be, was so used to the shadows that he could pick out the most infinitesimal change on depth and width of blackness, and had a sense of smell so highly attuned to the forest floor that he could even smell them.
Like his fellows, he was covered from head to foot in mud and paint, his tight-fitting tunic dyed to blend with his decorated skin. His hair was oiled and smoothed back to his scalp, and in his eyes he wore lenses that had been made by craftsmen. They were of a darkened glass, so that his eyes wouldn’t reflect light. Each time he wore them they wore away at his eyeball a little more, so that he would have immense pain and blurred vision by the time that he was five years older. But it was worth it, to serve the greater cause in this way; and he would be rewarded, as all surviving Crawlers were rewarded. While others slaved at construction, the Crawlers were awarded a pension for the services they had offered to their people. The more recaptures and kills they had to their name, the greater the pension.
So far, his pension was good. That was why he was group leader, in charge of the operation. He had left it until the stiller watches of the night as he was aware of the juvenile efforts of the Memphis sec to keep his people at bay by mounting their ridiculous patrols. They offered no real threat, but a few Crawlers had been injured during skirmishes and the irritation they caused was something that the Crawlers could do without. They had stopped day attacks, but, as they were too scared to be in the forest at night, all they had achieved was to make their enemy concentrate on the time when they were at their most dangerous. In a sense, they had served the Crawlers well. Fools.
This contingent of Nightcrawlers had five men and three women. All were dressed identically, with camou robes, laced leather thongs dyed black and soled with rubber, body paint and dark lenses. All had their hair slicked back. Those whose natural hair color was lighter had dyed it dark, and those with long hair had it plaited. They were armed with blades. Blasters were too loud, and stealth was their watchword. Of course, carrying a blaster didn’t mean that you had to use it. But in an extreme situation, the temptation may prove to be too strong, and subterfuge was paramount. So they carried Tekna and Wilkinson Sword hunting knives, as well as machetes and pangas. Each blade was sharpened and polished, with the resultant shine being dulled by the same kind of camou paint that they used on their bodies. The sheaths were oiled and tied to their bodies to prevent accidental collision and clanging of blades.
They moved independently of one another, hugging tree boles and moving at a crouch between the cover. They knew the forest well, and knew that—as there was no animal life to disturb it—the contours of the forest changed little with the seasons. In fall they had dry leaves underfoot, and this made it the hardest time of year to ply their trade; but now, with a canopy overhead adding to the dark, and little on the surface of the woods to make a sound beneath their footfalls, it was easy for them to move quickly.
They weren’t totally silent. That was impossible for anything that took breath. But they were as quiet as it was possible to be. They were sure-footed on the ground, placing their feet where they would make the least noise on ground they knew almost as intimately as their own bodies. They avoided overhanging branches that would rustle if disturbed, and had no need to communicate with sound. Each Nightcrawler trained hard with the others so that they built up an almos
t preternatural degree of understanding with their fellows.
Eight pairs of ears identified the direction of J.B. and Mildred’s conversation. Eight pairs of eyes focused in the almost pitch-black darkness on the area they had to cover. Even in this poor light, and with the strangers’ earlier fire having been extinguished, they were able to discern different levels of dark as they saw the two move together, talk and then move apart.
The leader stopped grinning. Even his teeth would stand out in such absolute blackness. Nothing would break the shadow of his face, even though he was still smiling wolfishly on the inside as he began to move toward the companions, knowing without even looking back that his fellow Crawlers were on his tail.
These people wouldn’t know what had hit them.
KRYSTY WAS HAVING a nightmare. Trapped in the tentacles of an octopus that was dragging her beneath the waves. She lashed out and it jetted a stream of dark ink into the water as it sought to protect itself from her blows. The darkness engulfed her in a swirl, the cold water becoming so dark that she no longer knew which way was up and which was down. But she knew that she was sinking into the dark.
She woke with a jolt and could feel her hair tight around her head and throat. It was more than the nightmare that was making her feel this way. There was a stirring in her bowels, a knot that only came when true danger beckoned. She sat up and looked around her. She could hear J.B. and Mildred talking in a low whisper and, as her eyes adjusted to the faint light, she could see them. They appeared to have everything under control, and yet…
Something had hit her right in her doomie sense; she didn’t know what, but it was there.
And she wasn’t alone. As she watched Mildred and J.B., she became aware that Jak had also stirred. She made to speak, but he stayed her with a gesture. His red eyes burned in the darkness, the faint light making his white, scarred face translucent and ageless as his brow furrowed in concentration.