Skydark Spawn

by James Axler

  She stepped into the hallway, closed the door to her room and set out to find Mildred. If something was going terribly wrong, they’d have a better chance of surviving if they were together.

  WHEN CLARISSA REACHED the entrance to the part of the hydro-electric tunnel she called home, there were still several muties waiting outside. They seemed happy to see her, and even happier still when she opened up a bag of leftover fish and uneaten scraps for them.

  “Gather the tribe,” she told them as they ate.

  “Series?” one of the muties asked.

  He’d meant to say “serious,” but it had come out wrong. Of course it was serious, but what was the best way to explain it to the triple-stupe brain-damaged muties so they would understand. “Yes,” she said in the end. “Triple-big serious.”

  The muties seemed to respond well to her words, but she decided they needed to be even more excited about what was going to happen.

  “Tonight. All you can eat.”

  That did the trick.

  The muties cleaned up the fish scraps, then scrambled away to gather the tribe.

  “I DON’T SEE ANYBODY out working the orchards,” Dean said as he crouched amid a tumble of weeds. “All I see is sec men walking up and down the rows between the trees like they’re looking for something.”

  “Someone,” Jak said.

  Dean looked at Jak. “You think someone escaped?”

  Jak nodded. “Ryan.”

  “But if no one’s out working, how will we get a message to my dad, Krysty or Mildred?”

  “Don’t know. Mebbe give signal.”

  “What kind of signal.”

  The albino shook his head. “Don’t know yet.”

  SEC CHIEF GANLEY brought the raiders to a rest atop a rise north of the ruins of the city that had been labeled Clifton Hill. From here they were able to see the waterfalls, what had once been Niagara Falls and, more importantly, the thriving farm complex. Behind the perimeter of a wire mesh fence was the wealth of breeding men and women that Reichel ville desperately needed to survive.

  “Is that the place?” someone behind the sec chief asked wearily. They had been carrying fish to offer in trade for hours over the rough terrain, and many were close to the point of exhaustion.

  “Yes, it is,” Ganley answered.

  “It’s fenced in, and there are sec men on patrol everywhere.”

  It seemed madness now to think they could trade their meager fish for slaves, but that had been their plan from the start and Ganley was determined to try trading first. If he succeeded, they might be able to trade for breeders on a regular basis, and if he failed, then they would return to try to take what they couldn’t get in trade.

  “I’ll need two to come with me,” Ganley said. “The rest of you can rest here until dark.”

  Rhonda was the first to step forward, followed by several men.

  The sec chief put a hand on Rhonda’s shoulder. “No women. They’d take you as a slave in a second. Besides, I need you here to lead the raid if I don’t return.”

  Rhonda looked disappointed, but understood.

  “Franz and Ruznicki,” he said.

  The two men stepped forward and picked up the fish they’d be offering in trade.

  Ganley turned to the rest of the raiders. “If we’re not back by dark…We hope we won’t meet you on the last train heading west.”

  And then they were gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Emon Kauderer walked the fence to the west and north of the main building. Along with the other sec men in his squad, he’d been walking the orchards all morning, searching them tree by tree for the one-eyed outlander. But as thorough as their search had been, there’d been no sign of him. It was if he’d simply vanished into the misty morning air.

  Grundwold was feeling the heat from the baron over it, too, and Kauderer hoped they found the outlander soon. If they didn’t, then the sec chief would be chilled, enslaved or sold off at auction, and who knew which one of the sec men would take over. One thing was for sure, anyone who desperately wanted the job wouldn’t be right for it; anyone good enough for the position knew enough about the baron not to want it. For a moment Kauderer thought of putting his name in for consideration, but then thought of the fate of Grundwold hanging on the search for this one man, and thought it better just to be an ordinary sec man for a little while longer. The jack wasn’t all that much, but the food was good. It wasn’t all that tough a job, and he could rut as often as he liked with the skags in the sec men’s lounge. It wasn’t a bad life, all things considered.

  Suddenly Kauderer felt a sharp burning pain in his right leg. He looked down and saw a piece of metal embedded in the muscle of his thigh.

  Shouting in pain, he dropped his blaster and tore open his pant leg to get a good look at his wound. A leaf-bladed knife protruded from his flesh.

  Where in the rad-blasted Deathlands had it come from? Kauderer wondered. No one was in sight. Maybe he’d been caught flat-footed by the one-eyed outlander, sneaking up on him from a stand of trees, stabbing him in the leg and retreating again, as invisible as the wind.

  The blood was running freely down his leg now, and he was beginning to feel weak.

  Fillinger came up behind him and grabbed Kauderer’s shoulders to steady him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Been stabbed.”

  “Where?” Fillinger asked. “By who?”

  “In the leg…by the outlander.”

  “We better get you to the nursery. The healer there’s pretty good with wounds. She’ll fix you up.”

  Fillinger summoned a few nearby sec men to take Kauderer away. Then he moved a couple of squads from the east side of the farm to the west.

  They’d be sure to find the outlander now.

  DEAN LAY CLOSE to the ground next to Jak about twenty yards from the fence surrounding the farm. “How can you be sure they’ll know that’s the sign?”

  “Knife,” the albino teenager said. “Know leaf blade.”

  “I still can’t believe you got the knife through the fence, and hit the sec man in the leg.”

  Jak nodded. “Good throw.”

  “But the gap in the fencing couldn’t have been more than six inches across.”

  “Was enough.”

  They remained behind long enough to see the sec man being taken away, then started back to the wag so they could make a report to J.B.

  “MILDRED?” Krysty called out, entering the nursery.

  The woman was nowhere to be seen.

  Krysty went back out into the hall and noticed the door across the hallway was open. It was the door to the armory.

  She approached the door cautiously, sensing something was amiss.

  Then the door suddenly sprung open and Krysty found herself at the wrong end of a Czech-built ZKR .38-caliber target pistol aimed directly at her head by one Mildred Wyeth.

  “Hello, friend!” Krysty said.

  Without a word, Mildred pulled Krysty into the armory and loaded her up with the several boxes of ammunition. “Bring them into the nursery.”

  “What about our weapons?” Krysty asked.

  Mildred removed the tape covering the lock on the door, then closed and locked the door to the armory behind her. “I’ve already got all our blasters back.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Safe in the nursery, until we need them.”

  Just then there was a commotion on the stairs. Two sec men were carrying another who was bleeding badly from a wound on his leg.

  Krysty dumped the ammo boxes into an empty bassinet and covered them with a blanket.

  “Bring him to the table over there,” Mildred instructed.

  They carried the wounded man, now unconscious, and lifted him on the table. “He was stabbed by the one-eyed outlander,” the sec man on the right of the wounded man said. “You better be able to save him.”

  Mildred ignored the threat and set to work, motioning for Krysty to stay in order to give her a ha
nd.

  When the sec man protested, she said, “She knows how to prepare field dressings and clean wounds. Your friend can live with her helping me, or take his chances with me working alone.”

  The sec man reluctantly nodded, and took a step back.

  Mildred cut away what was left of the man’s pant leg and gasped audibly at what she saw.

  “That bad?” the sec man asked.

  “No,” she answered. “He’ll be fine.”

  The sec man left the nursery a moment to inform the other sec men milling about in the hall.

  Krysty tied off the man’s leg with a tourniquet, and Mildred gently pulled out the leaf-bladed throwing knife. “Well,” she said, “either Ryan has done the impossible and finally learned how to throw one of these knives, or a certain teenage albino has just sent us his card.”

  RYAN SHIVERED in the cold water of the tower.

  He’d been hidden for hours, listening to sec men come and go around him, most of them eager to chill him and collect the big jack being offered by the baron.

  But for all their efforts, they hadn’t once tried looking in the water tower. There had been a few close calls, with sec men hanging around the base of the tower awaiting new orders, but Ryan had remained still, making no sound, and eventually the sec men were sent to some far corner of the farm.

  And then, twenty minutes earlier, there’d been some action. Judging by what he’d heard, Ryan figured that a sec man had been wounded on patrol. They were crediting Ryan with the deed, but that only made him smile. Ryan knew that it meant his friends were at work, either on the inside creating a diversion or on the outside preparing to break them out.

  It had been quiet around the base of the water tower for the past ten minutes, and if Ryan was going to get out of the tower before dark, now was the time to do it. After the sec man had been wounded, the bulk of the sec force had hurried to the western fence looking for him, leaving only a shadow force around the main complex. If he could make it to the slaves’ quarters unnoticed, then he could spend the rest of the day there in warmth and comfort waiting for dark.

  Ryan lifted himself up to the top of the water tank and took a look over the rim. In the distance he could see the sec men patrolling the fence and searching the trees. There were a few sec men closer in, but they were headed west to join the search with the others. Ryan turned to scan the eastern stretch of the farm and spotted a pair of sec men walking the fence, looking more as if they were patrolling rather than searching. One last quick look around and Ryan was convinced that it was time to move.

  He lifted himself over the top of the tower and climbed down the ladder to the ground. His clothes had left a wet trail down the side of the tower and on the ground beneath his feet, but with any luck the midday sun would dry any tracks he left behind.

  The slaves’ quarters were about fifty yards away, across a stretch of fine, tan-brown dirt. To the left were patches of grass and weeds that would cover his trail but would add another twenty-five yards to the distance he had to travel.

  He decided it was better to hide his tracks.

  But instead of running, Ryan walked slowly, almost casually, as if he, too, were looking for the one-eyed outlander. Hopefully, if anyone saw him from a distance, he would look like just another sec man out on patrol.

  He was halfway to the closest cabin when he heard voices shouting loudly.

  “Do you see him?”

  “I think so!”

  Ryan wanted to run or dive for cover, but he was out in the open. He heard no more voices, and he thought that he’d be hearing blasterfire at any moment, but no one fired a shot.

  He took another look and saw two sec men standing near the main building. They were pointing at something out past the main gate.

  “That’s a mutie, you triple-stupe bastard!” one of the sec men said.

  “It could have been the one-eye.”

  “Yeah, and I’m Baron Fox.”

  Ryan picked up the pace slightly and reached the cabin without further incident. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. It was unlocked. Without another moment’s hesitation he opened the door and slipped inside.

  “Who the—?” a man said.

  “Don’t stop now, baby!” a woman urged.

  Ryan stood motionless inside the doorway as a man and a woman halted their rutting and lifted their heads to see who had just joined them.

  “Afternoon,” Ryan said.

  The woman smiled. “It’s the outlander.”

  “Hey, they’re looking all over the place for you,” the man said.

  Ryan reached over his right shoulder to touch the hilt of his panga just in case these slaves thought about turning him in. “I thought I would hide here for a while. Till dark.”

  The woman’s facial expression turned coy, and she ran a hand over one of her full and heavy breasts. “You’re welcome to join us if you like.”

  “No, thanks,” Ryan said. “I’ll just wait till dark.”

  “We heard something might be happening tonight. Something big,” the man questioned. “Is that right?”

  Ryan was glad to hear it. Krysty and Mildred had done a good job of spreading the word. “You heard right.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to stay,” the man said. “The sec men have already been here twice today.”

  Ryan nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Maybe we should help him,” the woman said.

  “After.”

  “All right.”

  Then the couple turned and looked at him.

  “Don’t let me interrupt you,” Ryan said.

  They got back to rutting.

  Ryan took a look around the cabin and found that it was little more than a single room with a bed set against one wall and wash and toilet facilities against the other. He picked out a comfortable spot near the door and sat on the floor. Then he tried to rub out the cold ache the water had left in his legs, but his joints and muscles were still stiff and would need more time to recover.

  Luckily, several hours remained before darkness fell, and judging by the way the couple was going at it on the bed, they would be busy for the next little while, giving him enough time to rest and recover.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Traders at the gate,” the sec man said.

  The baron stood at the north window of his office watching the sec chief and his men search the orchards. “Where are they from?”

  “Someplace called Reichel ville. It’s on the south shore of Erie Lake.”

  “Are they armed?”

  “Yes.”

  “With what?”

  “Remades and handmades.”

  “Are there any breeders among them?”

  “No.”

  “What have they brought to trade?”

  “Fish.”

  The baron wrinkled his nose at the thought of fish, but knew that it wouldn’t hurt to supplement his slaves’ diet with an alternate source of protein. “Are the fish fresh?”

  “No, baron. Preserved with salt. Some are smoked.”

  “And what do they want in exchange for their fish?”

  The sec man hesitated.

  “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

  The sec man cleared his throat. “A breeder.”

  Baron Fox laughed heartily. “A breeder, for salted fish?”

  “Yes, Baron.”

  “Number One,” the baron said to Norman Bauer. “Trade them some fruit and vegetables and send them on their way.”

  Norman nodded and left the baron’s office.

  The baron turned to the lone sec man left in the office. “Find sec chief Grundwold and tell him I want an update.”

  WHEN THE COUPLE had finished rutting, the woman got up from the bed and walked naked across the room to the wash facilities, where she towel dried the sweat from her body and combed her hair. The man lay back on the bed and watched her.

  “So,” she said, approaching Ryan, “what’s happening tonight?”

&
nbsp; Ryan wondered if they could be trusted, but realized that if they were loyal to the baron they would have turned him in hours ago. “Some people will be coming to get me and my friends.”

  “What people?”

  “Other outlanders.”

  “An escape?” the man asked from the bed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can we come with you?” he said, sitting up.

  “I won’t be taking anyone with me, but you’ll be free to leave if you have the chance.”

  He looked up at the woman standing in front of Ryan, and it was obvious that they had something more in common than just rutting.

  “What can I do to help you?” she asked.

  “I need you to let my friends know where I am.”

  “Sure. Where are your friends now?”

  “One’s a healer working in the nursery. The other is the redhead, and she’s staying in the visitors’ quarters.”

  The woman nodded. “I can get to the nursery easy.”

  “What’s your name?” Ryan asked.

  “Debby. He’s Maurice.”

  “All right, then, Debby, here’s what you need to tell her when you get there,” Ryan said.

  A BREAKER HAD CUT OFF the electricity flowing through the main gate. Norman Bauer had stepped through the open gate to negotiate the trade, and it was still open.

  “We don’t trade breeders for anything but blasters,” he said, the ledger open in his hands. “From the looks of the remades you’re carrying, you don’t have anything we want. Not for a breeder, anyway.”

  “We’re from a small fishing ville,” sec chief Ganley said. “All we have to trade is fish, and we need new breeders to keep the ville alive.”

  “Not my problem,” Bauer said. “You want to trade fish, we can give you some fresh fruit and vegetables for them.”

  Ganley nodded. “If we bring blasters to trade next time, might we trade for breeders then?”

  Bauer was impressed. Obviously this was a man who understood the nature of trade. Established trade partners got better deals than new ones. “Your chances of taking a breeder back to your ville would be better, yes.”

  “Then we’ll take your fruit and vegetables now, and return another time for a breeder.”

  The two men shook hands, exchanged goods and went their separate ways. The fish went straight to the cafeteria, where it would be included in the next meal. Most of the fruit, however, was dumped by the raiders while on the way back to camp, since it was too heavy to carry such a distance when they’d be needing all their strength and energy for the raid later that night.