by James Axler
Jak had been strong, and even now she could sense that he was fighting the urge to scream and thrash about. The drug had given his mind and body the equivalent of several hard kicks from a steel-toed boot, but Jak refused to allow it to push him down. But even he had his limits and if the medicine didn’t arrive soon, Mildred was worried that Jak might suffer serious harm.
Just then, sound began coming from the upper floors. There was obviously some great commotion going on up there, and Mildred responded by raising her target pistol and aiming it at the room’s lone doorway.
If the baron’s men were storming Bennett Johnson’s home, they wouldn’t be taking Mildred or her patient without a fight.
Boots on the stairs, shouts.
A figure appeared in the doorway.
“Don’t shoot!” It was one of Johnson’s children, out of breath and struggling to speak. “I have the medicine for your friend.”
Mildred breathed a sigh and holstered her blaster. “Are the others here?” she asked.
The young woman stepped into the room, shaking her head. “No. My father got out of the ville first, and he gave the medicine to me. I ran all the way here.”
Mildred took the antibodies from her and opened up the containers. She was glad to see they were in liquid form and would be absorbed into Jak’s system more quickly through his bloodstream than internally through his stomach.
She had a sterile syringe in her med kit, so injecting the antibodies wouldn’t be a problem, but how much should she give him? Too little and Jak might not recover, or suffer more than he had to. Too much and she might kill him. And how could she even be sure these antibodies were safe? After all, the nearest analytical laboratory was a hundred years and a nukecaust away.
The truth was she couldn’t be sure.
She would have to trust that Bennett Johnson was a man of his word, that Baron DeMann made antibodies as well as he made jolt and dreem, and above all she had to trust her instincts.
But even if her instincts told her it was too risky to give Jak the antibodies, in the end she’d probably have to give them to him anyway because Jak didn’t really have a choice.
If he didn’t take them he’d likely go mad.
But taking the antibodies would at least give him a chance.
Mildred took the syringe from her bag and decided to start slowly, drawing just ten units into the syringe.
Then she found a vein in the pale white skin of his left arm and injected the antibodies.
She would monitor his vital signs closely over the next hour, and if he was showing any signs of improving, or less intense fits of terror, even longer stretches between each one, then she’d give him another dose.
But for now, she watched, and waited.
J.B. LOOKED BEHIND HIM, expecting to see Doc climbing up the wall at any moment.
But he wasn’t there.
There was more blasterfire coming from the baron’s residence and surrounding area, but J.B. couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.
“Where are the others?” Per Johnson asked him.
“They must be pinned down by more blasterfire.”
J.B.’s attention was now focused on the rocket launcher the man had over his shoulder.
“I didn’t see this before. What make bazooka is it?”
Per Johnson lifted the long tube up in front of him and looked at it with pride. “M-1. My brother and sister have an M-9 over there.”
J.B. turned and saw the two young people holding the rocket launcher together on their shoulders.
“These would help get my friends out of there.”
“I was thinking of using one of them on the two men at the top of the building, but I had to make a third fin for this rocket and I can’t be sure it’s going to go where I want it to.”
J.B. took at look at the building and the men on the roof and agreed with the man’s assessment. Hitting the top floor and knocking those men out of their position would be next to impossible with a single shot.
The repaired rocket needed to hit something bigger. Much bigger, that would cause all sorts of damage. And J.B. knew just the target.
SEC MEN and civilians were dying all over the street. The combination of fire from overhead and behind was too much to combat.
“Might have to make a run for it!” Ryan shouted over the roar of blasterfire.
“Too risky,” Krysty responded.
“Might be our only chance.”
Just then a loud boom emanated from the wall.
Ryan and the others turned to see some sort of rocket slicing through the air headed toward the baron’s residence.
A moment later the rocket slammed into the side of the building about two floors up, exploding in a brief fireball and then sending up a huge cloud of bricks, shattered glass, dirt, dust and mortar.
A few seconds later the dust cleared enough for them to see the damage.
There was an entire corner of the building missing as a bite about ten feet across was taken out of the wall and the third floor. A fire had started deeper in the building and was gaining strength as it burned.
But for all the noise and commotion, the blasterfire from the rooftop hadn’t abated.
“Great shot!” Krysty said, sarcasm in her voice.
“Give it time,” Ryan answered. “I think I know what J.B.’s doing with those rockets.”
And then, as if on cue, a second rocket shrieked over their heads and smashed into the building about a dozen yards from the point of impact of the first rocket.
An explosion every bit as powerful as the first ripped into the building, sending a second cloud of smoke into the air and making the air around them acrid and full of dust.
“Cover up!” Ryan said, as he pulled a kerchief around his neck and over his nose.
Krysty and Doc did likewise, although Doc took the extra time to fold his kerchief neatly before tying it tightly behind his head.
The blasterfire from the rooftop suddenly stopped.
Ryan looked up and saw the two men trying to gain their footing.
The building was trembling beneath them.
The blasterfire elsewhere on the street stopped, too. Everyone’s attention was focused on the baron’s residence as they all wondered if it was going to fall.
All except for Ryan and the friends.
Ryan stood straight, leveled his blaster on the sec men behind them and fired into the group.
Bodies jerked and spasmed, sec men fell to the street.
Dead.
Soon, Krysty and Doc had joined in on the slaughter, and the few sec men who had survived the opening barrage of fire had turned and ran.
Some were able to get away.
Most died before they could take a step.
“Let’s move!” Ryan ordered.
The three friends turned and ran for the wall.
Behind them, and then all around them, the ground began to rumble.
And a moment later, a great sound of breaking concrete, twisting steel and shattering glass boomed out from the baron’s residence.
Ryan glanced just once over his shoulder and saw the face of the building falling away, slipping onto the street.
Screams mixed in with the sound of the crashing building as people on the street and in the building were crushed beneath tons of rubble.
The friends kept running, and then climbed the wall.
J.B. was there to meet them at the top.
“Nice shooting,” Ryan said.
“Never mind.” J.B. grinned. “I almost missed that first time.”
Ryan turned back again and saw that the rest of the building had fallen as well, taking the new baron, her sec force and just about everyone else in the ville who lusted after power with it.
“Come on,” Ryan said. “Let’s see how Jak’s doing.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The sun was up by the time they reached Bennett Johnson’s place.
Behind them in the distance, a cloud of d
ust floated up over the ville in a column of gray and black. Small fires burned, too, lending a reddish cast to the gray haze that shaded the sky over the ville.
They were greeted by one of Johnson’s daughters, who led them to the dining area and served them a hot meal of sausage, egg and plain cornmeal bread.
Upon hearing of their arrival, Mildred left Jak and went to meet with the friends.
“How is Jak feeling at this hour?” Doc asked.
“He’s going to be fine,” Mildred responded. “I wasn’t sure about the antibodies, so I started him on them slowly. Turns out their quality is pretty good, and I’ve been increasing his dosage. He’s pretty sleepy at the moment, but he’s ready for visitors.”
“That’s great news,” Ryan said, stuffing his mouth with sausage and bread.
Mildred took a chair. “How did it go inside the ville?”
“Been on worse missions,” Krysty said.
“Baron’s looking for a new place to live,” J.B. stated.
“Ville might even be looking for a new baron,” Ryan added.
Mildred turned to Doc. “Did you run into your lady friend while you were in the ville?”
Doc swallowed a mouthful of egg, then gently wiped the corners of his mouth with a clean bit of an old shirt that had been made into a napkin. “Alas, I did not. But as more time passes I suspect that while our paths crossed for a brief moment in time, I believe we were never destined for more than that.”
Doc scooped up another forkful of egg.
“She was a lovely woman and she might have been just what I needed at the time, but I cannot help feeling now that there was something about her that was not right. I do not think she would have fit in very well with our group…” He shrugged. “And now that our ordeal inside the ville is over I feel that it is probably for the best that I did not find her.”
The room was silent a moment.
Then Doc said, “Besides, no woman can ever replace the deep and abiding love I bear for my dear Emily. Our time together was as close as any man can come to heaven on Earth.”
Doc looked up at the ceiling, his eyes glazing over in a blank and vacant stare.
“I am a fool to have loved and forgotten, and I vow never to commit such transgression again.”
Doc’s voice trailed off and he began to weep.
“What wrong with him?” Bennett Johnson asked.
Mildred came to Doc’s side. “Nothing. He needs some rest.”
Johnson signaled to two of his sons. “Take him to my room and make sure he’s comfortable.”
The two men helped Doc from his chair and escorted him out of the room.
“Let’s go see Jak,” Ryan said.
THE FRIENDS GATHERED around Jak’s bed in the bowels of Bennett Johnson’s underground home and waited for the albino teen to notice they were in the room with him.
They didn’t need to wait long.
The young man’s left eyelid began to flutter, then opened fully. The other eyelid followed, fluttering like the wings of some butterfly for a moment, then opening wide like that of an eagle.
Jak was alive and aware of his surroundings.
“Hi, Jak,” Krysty said.
Ryan put a hand on Jak’s shoulder. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“Had us worried there for a while,” J.B. chimed in, flashing an uncharacteristic smile.
Doc, recovered from his spell of confusion, had joined them in the infirmary. “Worried? I should say so,” he commented. “Why, without the help of our gracious host, Mr. Bennett Johnson, we might never have been able to gaze into those pale red eyes of yours.”
The rest of the friends made themselves comfortable, knowing that Doc would be talking for a while.
“And all the while you were no doubt oblivious to the battle being fought on your behalf.” Doc shook his head. “Each one of us nearly boarded the last train west several times during our ordeal, and all for the sake of one life.”
Doc was smiling now.
“But we’ve all been close to death, have we not? I am reminded of a quote by Frederick Scott that goes, ‘So often have I met death face to face, his eyes now wear the welcome of a friend’s—’”
“Doc,” Jak said, struggling to get the word out. “Doc!” Doc prattled on for a moment, then realized Jak was trying to say something.
“Not think I say this,” Jak said. “Glad hear your voice.”
The friends laughed.
Even Doc cracked a smile.
HOURS LATER, with Jak resting soundly, Bennett Johnson asked Ryan what the friends’ planned to do next.
“Depends on what Mildred says about Jak.”
Mildred, sipping a hot cup of tea, said, “He’ll need a day, two at the most, before he’s strong enough to travel.”
Ryan shrugged. There was Johnson’s answer.
“Then you’ll all stay here as my guests. I’m sure you have more than enough stories to pass the hours.”
“Weapons could use stripping, oiling, repair,” J.B. said.
Johnson beamed. “My workshop and all my resources are at your disposal.”
J.B. nodded. “Appreciate that.”
“Then you’ll stay?”
Ryan thought about the possibility of having two days without having to look over his shoulder every minute for someone who wanted to chill him. He thought about two days with Krysty, reenergizing their relationship while getting some much-needed rest before they once again took up their journey through Deathlands.
“If you’ll have us,” Ryan said. “We’ll stay.”
“Deal.”
Epilogue
The roar inside the box had faded long ago.
All that remained was a faint echo, like the sound of the ocean inside a seashell or cupped hand.
Robards hung limply from the wall, the chains around his arms and ankles holding him upright and in place. His body ached, and blood dripped from the cuts the shackles had made on his skin.
Something big had happened outside. It has sounded like what he always thought a nukeblast would sound like—loud, powerful, destructive. The ground had shaken and dust had fallen from the ceiling of the box, covering his body in a fine layer of grit.
For all Robards knew there might be nothing left of the ville.
The thought made him laugh out loud.
The whole stinkin’ ville wiped off the face of the planet, and the poor bastard chained inside the box makes it through alive.
He kept laughing. Serves the rat bastards right, locking him up. Him, Baron Robards…
The thought of revenge kept his mind busy making plans for when he got out of the box. First there would be Baron Schini… He’d string her up by her ankles and do evil things to her with every power tool and cutting blade he could find in the ville. And any asshole who helped her would get the same.
Then it would be the backstabbing sec men who used to be under his command. He would chill them all personally. And if anyone had something to say about it, he’d chill them, too.
He’d chill them all.
Even the outlanders.
If he ever came across an outlander again, any outlander, he was going to rip them a new hole and fill it with grens…
The excitement of it all was too much for Robards to handle, and he found himself sliding in and out of consciousness.
And the new ville, Robardstown, would be his and it would be filled with people who were loyal to him. They would share the wealth with him…not all that much of it, but enough to keep them all happy.
He passed out again.
Only to wake up later with a young boy of about ten poking him in the leg. The boy was dirty, wearing torn clothes. His hair was long and wild, and his fingernails and teeth seemed as sharp as claws, deadly as fangs. He looked up at Robards with a pair of eyes that were crossed and dim. “Hey, mister.”
Robards opened his eyes. “Huh!”
“What did you have to do to get locked in here?”
> Robards hadn’t eaten in more than a day, and his brain was having trouble processing his thoughts.
“Nothing,” he said. “I was trying to save the ville from what happened, but the bad people put me in here.”
The boy just looked at him, his eyes slowly glazing over.
“Do you have any food?” Robards asked.
“Huh-uh.”
“If you get me out of here, I know where to get some.”
The boy thought about it.
Then he grabbed a rock lying at the bottom of the steel box and climbed up on the step in front of Robards. He raised the hand holding the rock and readied it to strike against one of the chains.
“That’s it,” Robards said.
He couldn’t believe his luck. The boy didn’t know who he was, and was going to help him get out of the box on the promise of some food.
The boy held the rock in his hand, poised to bring it down against one of the chains.
He began to drool from a corner of his mouth.
“C’mon,” Robards said. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”
“Want bang!” the boy said.
And then the boy brought the rock down hard…
Onto Robards’s head.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-7333-0
BLACK HARVEST
Copyright © 2005 by Worldwide Library.
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