by James Axler
* * *
Four of the Last Heroes lounged outside the temple, leaning on their two-wheel wags, watching as Ryan and Doc approached them.
"Going far, outlanders?" Kruger croaked, tapping on the polished gas tank of his hog with the tips of the knives in his glove.
"Just collecting a friend," Ryan replied, moving easily into the stance of a gunfighter prepared to draw.
"Straw hair?" Rat giggled. "She's sort of busy right now."
"We're going in anyway."
Riddler moved to block the entrance to the temple. "Could be better if you went back to Ma Rainer's and waited, Ryan. She'll be along later."
"No. Going in now. You and the brothers aiming to stop us?"
Riddler looked at his companions, seeing no signs of support against the ice-eyed outlander. He shook his head. "Guess not. But it's a wrong move, Ryan. Believe me."
"I believe you. Come on, Doc."
"Right with you."
They walked together up the path toward the side door of the large building. "Sure you want to do this, Doc?"
"No, Ryan. But I'll do it anyway. J.B. had it right about there being things a man can 'easy ride around.' Conversely there are also things that a man can't ride around. This is one of them."
The door was on the latch and Ryan pushed it open, his right hand dropping naturally to the butt of his SIG-Sauer. He glanced behind him to make sure that the Heroes weren't following, but all four had remained by the gate, leaning against their bikes. One or two townspeople had also appeared and were watching the temple.
As soon as they were properly inside the gloomy building, Ryan knew that his suspicions — and those of Doc — were about to be justified. He could hear the rhythmic jingling of small silver spurs, the heavy panting of a man's breath and a woman gasping and moaning.
"Lori," Ryan whispered.
They crept closer.
The soft-bodied young man lay flat on his back, in front of the snake altar, his pants hooked around his ankles. His head was turned away from them, his arms stretched out wide.
Lori was riding him, her own legs spread apart, the bells of her high red boots clicking on the polished wooden floor. Her head was thrown back and her long blond hair almost reached the thrusting cleft of her buttocks. Her hands were on Joshua Mote's chest, nails digging crimson furrows in his skin.
She was naked apart from her boots. Even in the dim light inside the temple, Ryan could clearly see that the girl's nipples were hard with her own driving passion.
"Bit longer, Josh... One time more... Don't stop now... don't... Come on, baby, come on..."
"Now," Ryan shouted his loud voice bursting into the coupling.
"Who the fuck!.." Joshua exclaimed, trying to sit up and see around the girl's body.
Lori ceased her pleasuring but didn't bother to turn around.
"Got the old dribbling fucker with you, Ryan?" she asked. "Guess you have had. Now he can see how many a real man could get on fucking. Can't you, Doc? Can't you, Doc?"
"Come with us, child," Doc urged, his voice quiet and controlled. "You deserve better than this imbecile, Lori."
Joshua pushed her off, fumbling as he tried to pull his pants up over his suddenly limp penis. His face was flushed with anger. "Who're you calling names? You're dead, old man. Dead. Nobody does this to Joshua Mote and lives."
"Shut up, boy," Ryan ordered. "Talk's cheap. Action costs. Get dressed, Lori."
"Why?"
"Just do it. I'm not here to argue. Get your clothes on, or I'll drag you naked down Main Street. Come on, girl."
There was an icy tautness in Ryan's voice that convinced Lori to do as she was told. She stood, deliberately not bothering to hide herself from either man.
"Quickly," Ryan snapped.
"I'll wait outside," Doc said quietly. "I need some fresh air. It's stuffy in here."
For a moment it seemed as though Lori were going to make some smart-ass crack at the old man, but she caught Ryan's eye and kept silent.
"I'm going to my father," Joshua spit, feeling more confident now that he had his pants on. "He'll see to you, outlander."
"I'm shaking in my boots, boy. Just go on home, now."
The door slammed and Ryan was left alone with Lori. She'd nearly finished dressing, and her mouth was set in a stubborn, angry line.
"You don't understand, Ryan." Her voice was pitched so low that it scarcely reached him.
"You're wrong, Lori. I understand. We all do. Even Doc does."
"It's just that... I don't want to be hurt him. He's being very kind to me, Ryan."
"Hell, I know that. But he's got a lot of goodness in him, Lori. He's generous and brave. Braver than you could ever know. You shouldn't have treated him like that."
"Guess not. Maybe he and me can pick some times to speak with it. After. When we leave the ville."
"You won't stay with Joshua Mote?"
She smiled, and Ryan saw how very beautiful the girl was. And how young she still seemed. "No. Double-big cock. Double-small brain."
"Often the way, so I hear," he replied as they walked out.
Joshua Mote yelled a parting shot as the three friends walked toward the Rentaroom.
"Going back to grandpa, you gaudy slut?" he bellowed. "You fucking wait! We got the power in this ville, you useless, dry bitch. We'll give you to the snakes."
"Yoursnakes!" Lori screamed, wildly provoked. "We'll chill them all like we chilled your fucking big Azrael!"
There was a brief moment of utter stillness after the revelation.
Chapter Thirty-One
"None of them tried to draw on you?" Krysty asked.
Ryan shook his head in remembered disbelief. "No. Thought that was going to be it. Had my blaster half out its holster."
"I believe that they were too surprised to do anything," Doc offered. "There was a great dropping of jaws."
"I'm real sorry, people," Lori said from where she sat on the bed. "But he didn't should have called me them names. The dirty hot-cocked bastard pig!"
Ryan laughed. "Yeah. That's telling them, Lori. What you did is done. Can't take it back. Like a bullet on its way out the barrel."
"What we gonna do?" Jak asked, standing by the window and peering out from behind the curtains at the street. Since the hasty return of Ryan, Doc and Lori, the ville had appeared to be suddenly and peculiarly deserted.
"Lines are drawn now," J.B. answered. "Like it or not, there won't be any running now. They know we did for their pet idol. Just the excuse they wanted to come at us. Could be best we go at them first. Ryan?"
"Could be. We're too few. There won't be anyone in the ville we could look to for help. They'll either back the Motes as the power or they'll stand off and wait and watch."
"Why can't we leave?" Rick asked. "Would they try and stop us?"
"Course," Krysty said. "What J.B. says is right. Running time's gone."
"I saw an old movie the day before they froze me. Can't remember much, but there was a line about how dying time had come. Is it like that now, Ryan?"
"Don't be a stupe, Rick. We've got the blasters. More important, some of us know a lot about chilling. People don't realize that killing is an art like any other. You have to learn it."
"Not me. Sorry and all that, guys. I'll help and do what I can. But I won't kill another human being. Sorry." Rick was adamant.
* * *
It was dusk before the first move was made.
"Mote's son an' Zombie," Jak called to Ryan from his place by the window.
J.B. was covering the rear of the building, but with darkness falling it would be easy for the enemy to approach undetected and hit the Rentaroom from any side. Ryan's plan was to move outside as quickly as possible, once the last shreds of light were gone.
"Tell J.B.," Ryan said. "Could be a feint out front here."
"Chill 'em?" asked the albino teenager, his snowy hair tinted crimson by the bloody light of the tumbling sun.
It was tempting
to try to get rid of Zombie, possibly the biggest threat on the other side. But Ryan preferred to wait.
"No. Keep back. See if they got something to say to us."
They had.
Joshua Mote stopped about fifty yards away, half hidden by a dusty sycamore on the far side of the street. Zombie stood at his shoulder, carrying a large piece of ragged white cloth that was tied to a broom handle. Nervously he waved it at the watchers in the room.
"You gonna let us near?" Joshua shouted, his voice cracking with nerves.
Ryan eased the window open a few inches. "Could've chilled you by now if I'd wanted to!" he yelled. "Come closer. Say what you got to say. We won't open fire."
"Don't trust them!" Rick whispered, leaning on his stick at the other side of the window. "They'll try to trick you."
"No. They got no reason to. We're here. They know we aren't going anywhere. Not yet. They can wait us out. I figure there's a ring of armed men all around us right now. How can they trick us?"
"I don't know. Wouldn't trust them, Ryan."
It was such a stupid and naive thing to say that Ryan ignored it, concentrating instead on the two men in the street. Joshua Mote flourished a sheet of paper.
"Message from Pa and Ma. They say someone's gotta pay the blood price for Azrael. That's the law here. They say it's time for a new baron."
"Wouldn't be Baron Norman Mote, would it, son?" asked Ryan.
"You shut your..." Zombie said something Ryan couldn't hear, and Joshua spit in the dirt. "You give us the two women and leave, and you forfeit your blasters to the ville. You get an escort to the limits."
"And a bullet through the back of the skull," Krysty whispered.
"Yeah. I know it." Ryan raised his voice. "What happens if we don't accept?"
"Y'all get chilled and handed over to the snakes. They like a lotta fresh food."
"We got long to think this over?"
"One hour, starting now."
Zombie advanced a couple of paces. "We got the place ringed, One-Eye."
"Figured you would have."
"You got no chance."
"No."
"It's a good deal. Best you got. The women won't suffer none. Be over quick. Rest of you ride off without a care."
"We'll think on it."
"One hour, outlander!" Joshua yelled. "Then we come in after you."
Ryan had an almost overwhelming temptation to send the arrogant young man off to buy the farm. His finger actually itched to squeeze the trigger of his G-12. But that would mean having to play the hand out on their terms. It wasn't worth it for the passing satisfaction.
The two men vanished into the flourishing darkness and the street was quiet again. "We got an hour to move," Ryan said.
* * *
Carla and Baron Edgar arrived at the rooming house a half hour later. Ruby had made a hasty departure even before Joshua delivered the ultimatum. By now Ryan's group was spread out in defensive positions: J.B. was outside the back door; Jak stood just inside the windows of the first-floor rear; Doc and Lori were covering the two sides of the building; Ryan and Krysty watched for a main frontal attack up the street. The streetlights on Main Street had been switched off, but the companions could hear the throbbing of the ville's generator. The sweet smell of gasoline told them that the processing plant was still working full out, beyond the ruins of the old theme park.
Carla was wearing her riding breeches and a dark maroon shirt. She carried an unidentifiable .32 pistol with polished walnut grips in her belt. Baron Edgar had aged ten years in the past twenty-four hours. His clothes were stained and creased, and he hardly seemed to know where he was.
"We had to come, Ryan. I know they plan to chill us both. We had no choice. Where's John?"
"Out back. Keep away from the window. Let Edgar sit a spell on the bed, by Rick. You're welcome. Things have changed some."
"They know we killed their pet rattler," Krysty told her.
"I heard. I also heard that they say they want you and the blond girl as sacrifices. Josh'll want her for his own use first. And they said they'd let the rest of you go."
"That's what they say. We know what they mean."
"What are you going to do, Ryan?"
When it came down to it, there were only two choices: stay and fight defensively or go out into the night and fight offensively.
The gateway wasn't all that far away, but with the freezie in tow, the journey wouldn't be easy and it wouldn't be fast. But if Mote and his army were attacked, there was a chance that enough of them would be chilled to allow the companions to break free. And to discourage pursuit.
They had discussed it as soon as Ryan, Lori and Doc had returned to the Rentaroom. It had been J.B. who had made the vitally important point.
"Saw them at the feeding, and when the stickies made their move out in the desert. Take out the bikers and one or two others, and you got a pack of white-bellied runners. Most men in the ville can stand behind a wall and pull a trigger. Put them against someone who knows what he's doing and half'll run scared."
It was true, Ryan reflected. Despite overwhelming numbers, Mote didn't have many fighters. The Trader used to say that he'd rather have five men with fire-fight experience than a hundred without.
"Ryan," Carla repeated. "What can you do now?"
"Do?"
"Yes. Can you explain your plan to me?"
"Lady," he said, "I don't have the time."
"But..."
"All right. We go out. Attack the bikers and the Motes where they're set up. Hit anyone hard who gets in our way. Try and burn out the old theme park there, then move out. How's that sound?"
Carla looked across at the baron. The old man was sitting hunched over, hands to his face, weeping quietly.
"Can we come with you? I can use this blaster, and I'll look out for Edgar."
"Why take so much trouble over a defeated baron? It happens all the time in the Deathlands. Barons come and go. You don't have to carry on being loyal to him now."
Her voice was very quiet. "He's my father. Is that reason enough?"
"Yeah. Guess so. Sorry that... Fireblast! You know?"
She half smiled and patted his arm. "Course I know. And now you do, too. You still didn't say if we could come with you."
Ryan nodded. "Whatever happens, I figure it'll be better than staying around for the snakes."
* * *
"Ten minutes of the hour left, lover," Krysty said. She sat cross-legged, her back against the wall of the room, resting. Her fiery hair was coiled tightly around her head, ready for the combat to come. She looked amazingly relaxed. "Jak!"
"Yeah?" The boy's voice floated up the shadowed staircase.
"Get J.B. up here. You come up, as well."
"Sure."
"You decided what to do, lover?"
"Yeah. I decided fifty minutes ago. Been examining the plan since then, looking for holes. Looking for anything better. Can't think of anything. So this'll be it."
When everyone had gathered in the room, he outlined his idea.
"Throw them off balance. We go down to the first floor and gather near the rear door. We wait and keep silent. They won't be totally sure if we've sneaked out or not. They'll be uncertain. Won't know whether to come in at us or not. Then, as soon as they finally make a move to attack, we go out like the hounds of hell. Make for the draw that runs parallel to Main Street and outflank them. We try to fire the Heroes' base, then double back along the far side of the street and into the brush. And away. How's that?"
The Armorer took off his fedora and scratched at the light brown stubble of hair. "Can't see anything wrong with it. Experienced sec men... they'd see it coming and cut us apart. Not those no-hopers and blankers. Yeah. Let's do it that way."
The passing of the hour was announced by a shout coming from one of the buildings across Main Street.
For the next twenty-eight minutes, nothing happened at all.
Then everything started to happen at once.<
br />
Chapter Thirty-Two
"Wag on the way," Krysty announced.
"Can't hear an engine. You sure, lover?"
She nodded. "Being pushed. I can hear men's feet and the sound of wheels on sand. They're aiming to get in the front under cover."
"Then it's time to move. Keep an eye on Edgar. Rick?"
"What? Sorry, Ryan. I was miles away. What is it? Are the black hats coming?"
"Yeah. They're on the way. Take charge of the baron, will you? Just keep him close. And keep your eyes open. It'll likely be kind of busy for the next few minutes."
His eye accustomed to the darkness, Ryan was able to see the armored truck that Krysty had picked up with her mutie hearing, the rectangular bulk blacker against the blackness. The pale faces behind it were heaving it ponderously forward. It was about eighty yards from the rooming house. Ryan could pick out men strung along the far side of Main Street, on roofs and peering from behind curtains.
"This is it," he said. "Let's go."
He led the way, followed by Rick and Baron Edgar. Krysty brought up the rear and quietly closed the bedroom door behind her.
Jak was at the top of the stairs and he turned, catlike, his red eyes seeming to glow with a smoldering fire.
"Now?" he asked, responding to Ryan's nod and taking the lead down to the first floor.
Doc and Lori waited there, one at the front of the long hallway, the other in the entrance to the kitchen, watching the rear of the house.
"Are the redcoats coming?" Doc asked in a hoarse whisper.
Ryan didn't try to guess at the strange allusion. The meaning of the question was plain enough. "Yeah. Out front. Hiding behind a big wag. Be at the front door in four or five minutes."
"Can't we blast some and stop them down?" Lori asked eagerly.
"No. Best plan is to keep them guessing. If it's dark and quiet and there's no sign of any of us, they'll be uncertain. That means frightened. Nobody wants to be first up the ladder or number one through a closed door. It'll slow them."