James Axler - Deathlands 27 - Ground Zero

by Ground Zero [lit]

  AS THEY DREW CLOSER to the entrance to the gateway, Jak called for them to stop. "Blood on floor," he said, pointing to a small cluster of black spots, touching them with his forefinger. "Not fresh. But only days old. Not years."

  "None of us had any injuries." Ryan stooped and examined the marks. "Yeah. Agree with what you say, Jak."

  The albino crouched down, examining them very carefully. "From shape you can tell which way moving." He pointed ahead of them, along the corridor, toward the mat-trans unit itself. "Person bleeding was walking that way. Dust's too messed up to tell more. Mostly our old tracks."

  As they rounded the bend, J.B., who was leading, held up his hand in warning. "Sec door's open. We closed it."

  "You sure, John?" Mildred looked at the Armorer, who simply nodded. "Yeah, guess we did. We always do."

  "Condition red," Ryan said unnecessarily, as everyone had already drawn their blasters.

  There was more blood on the green handle, smeared in a blurred handprint on the concrete wall at the side.

  "Woman or child," Jak said. "Small."

  The fact that the bloodstain was days old meant it was probably safe, but Ryan hadn't lived as long as he had by taking foolish chances.

  "I'll go in with J.B. and Jak," he said. "Rest of you wait here. Won't take long."

  It took less than five minutes.

  The control room and the small anteroom were all empty, and they could see through the sky blue arma-glass that the gateway chamber itself was clearly devoid of life.

  But they found something.

  J.B. spotted it, rolled under one of the desks near the entrance through to the chamber.

  "Look at this," he called.

  They all gathered around him as he bent and picked the object up, laying it on the control console.

  It was a helmet of archaic design, mounted with a carved bronze moon.

  "Samurai," Doc breathed. "That was the one worn by the fellow who had the bow and arrow. I recognize that lunar design on top of it."

  Ryan nodded. "Seems like the shot found its target, Doc. There's more blood around the side of it, and the throat strap's been cut. See the ragged ends. One of the pieces of buckshot from the Le Mat must've done that."

  "He was wounded and managed to get this far back. Then he must've jumped, Dad."

  "Right, Dean. I spotted more congealed blood on the handle of the mat-trans chamber."

  They stood in a silent circle, staring at the intricate workmanship on the helmet, engravings of big birds like storks, and flowers with frilled petals, an ornamental bridge between two little temples.

  "Beautiful," said Krysty. "Sort of thing you'd only see in a. What were those places called, Mildred?"

  "Museums."

  "That's it. Really lovely."

  Dean picked it up and tried it on, finding that it was a little too small for him. "Hey, the guy has a real double-shrunk head."

  "Take it off and leave it there," Ryan said.

  "Can't I keep it, Dad?"

  "No."

  "Why?"

  Ryan looked at his son, feeling a sudden welling of anger at the repeated questions, but controlling it. "Because the man who owns it might come back for it. Good enough reason?"

  "But he tried to chill Doc. Why can't I take a dump in it, Dad?"

  "Because we aren't animals, and I don't think that the man who owns the helmet is, either. Now leave it lie and let's get on with the jump."

  When he opened the door of the chamber, Ryan consciously tried to avoid touching the patch of clotted blood.

  "More inside," Mildred said.

  "Can you tell anything from it?" Ryan asked. "Kind of how bad it might be?"

  "No. Clusters on the floor where he sat down. I guess Doc's shot must have taken him high up. Face or neck and shoulders. At that range it would've probably starred out a lot. Not enough to show how serious the wound is, but it looks like it was getting worse. Might be the effort of returning here made the bleeding worse. That often happens."

  "Where in Hades did a Japanese samurai warrior come from?" Doc said. "Seems like they know how the gateways work. They come and go. And we've heard these strange rumors of gangs of them raiding around, all over Deathlands."

  "Guess we'll never know." J.R was picking his spot to sit down on the floor, avoiding the metal disks. "Unless we accidentally jump right on top of them, one of these fine days."

  "I can't hardly wait," Ryan said. "Come on, people. Let's get out of here. I'm sure I can feel that rad hot spot eating into my bones."

  The Armorer sat himself first, taking off his fedora and brushing dust from it, laying it on the floor on his left. He folded his glasses for safety and put them in a pocket of his jacket. The Uzi stayed in his lap, the big Smith & Wesson scattergun on the floor on his right, ready for his hand.

  Mildred sat next to him, the beads in her plaited hair rattling against the sky blue armaglass walls of the chamber, folding her hands in her lap and waiting patiently for the next jump to begin.

  Dean was next in line, wriggling to his left to miss the speckled spots of blood.

  "May I join you?" Doc asked with a small bow, smiling at the boy's nod. "Well, thank'ee, Master. Thank'ee. I shall attempt to avoid puking all of my last miserable meal up all over you, but don't blame me if-"

  Krysty pulled a disgusted face. "Do you have to, Doc? It's up to the elderly to show a good example to the young. Not teach them bad manners."

  "I stand reproached, ma'am," Doc said. "Or, to be more accurate, I sit reproached."

  Krysty was next to him, leaving a space for Ryan to join her once he'd safely locked the door.

  "Make sure you do it properly this time, lover. Don't fancy another jump like the last one. I'm sure a good part of my brain cells are floating around somewhere in the deep black heart of cold space."

  Jak sat next to J.B., completing the circle. His white face was set like stone, and he kept his ruby eyes downward, staring at the floor.

  "You all right?" Mildred asked.

  "Been better. Thinking of Emma. Never had chance. Mutie power like that can only chill you."

  "Guess that's right," Krysty agreed. "Might be she's better off, resting easy now."

  Doc laid his hand on his chest, a sure sign he was about to declaim. "It is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I ever known." He smiled gravely. "The excellent Mr. Dickens said that."

  "Nice," Jak said.

  Ryan looked around, handing the Steyr rifle to Krysty to put on the floor. "We all ready? Good. Then here we go."

  He closed the door, making sure that the lock had clicked securely into place, triggering the mat-trans system, beginning the jump.

  After sitting quickly next to Krysty, he stretched out his legs and leaned back against the wall, reaching his right hand to take her left hand tightly in it.

  There was the usual faint humming noise, and the disks in the floor and ceiling started to glow brightly.

  Ryan felt his brains beginning to blur and his vision grew dim. The familiar mist gathered high above him.

  He closed his eye.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The sick darkness was passing.

  Ryan steadied his breathing, conscious that the jump had been one of the easiest that he could remember. There had been none of the hideous gibbering dreams that sometimes swam out of the black horror of a bad jump.

  He felt slightly sick, there was a throbbing pressure behind his eye and his stomach felt as though it had gone ten rounds with a rabid mule.

  "Fireblast," he whispered to himself, still not risking opening his eye.

  Ryan was conscious that his hand was still being gripped by Krysty. That in itself was a sign that the mat-trans unit had functioned well.

  All he needed to know now was whether everyone was all right, and where the jump had taken them.

  He breathed in slowly, aware that the air felt very hot and moist.

  And green.

  Ryan opened his eye.<
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  The End