by James Axler
Unbeknownst to her, her thoughts echoed those of a disoriented J.B. as he searched for the hospital. The world was beginning to look as though he were seeing it through a distant heat haze. What the hell was in that damned dart? Dark night, but he needed to find Millie, and quick. It was now obvious that there had been some kind of trank in that dart. Millie might be able to help him, but only if he could stay on his damned feet until he found her.
The hospital came into view. He began to move toward it, feeling as if he were wading in quicksand. The faster he tried to move, the slower he seemed to progress. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he reached the door and crashed into the frame. There, on the floor, he could see a short woman with spiky hair, lying unconscious.
There was no sign of Millie. He leaned heavily on a bench, gasping for breath and cursing to himself.
What the hell had happened to her?
MILDRED WYETH HAD ONLY one thing on her mind: find Ryan, then round up the others. She knew that the one-eyed man had been billeted with Horse and so headed for the sec compound. As she approached, keeping an eye out for any pursuers, she could see the dreadlocked sec chief walking away from Ryan, who was obviously lost in thought about whatever exchange had just taken place.
Mildred looked around. If she was being followed, then the sec orders were to trail her and not to stop her. Which meant that Ethan wanted to see what they would do. Okay, let the bastard play his games for now. It crossed her mind that she preferred barons who liked to flaunt their power in strong-arm tactics. At least you knew exactly where you were with them and didn’t have to play ridiculous paranoid mind games, which is how she felt right now.
Ryan was about to turn away to walk from the sec chief’s shack when he caught sight of Mildred, running toward the wire that encircled the compound. Her face was set and grim.
Somehow, Ryan had been expecting to see one of the companions like this, and he felt a weight lift from him. The balance had been tipped from reacting to what was around them into acting. Now the first move was made and they could try to set the pace.
Ryan jogged over to meet her. “What’s going on?”
Mildred told him all that she had learned from the healer, and how she had left her. She also outlined her suspicions about being followed. Ryan cast his eye over the territory at her back. There were no signs of any sec men, just the residents of Pleasantville going about their business. But he didn’t doubt her judgment.
“Fireblast, I’m sick of waiting for something to happen.” His voice gritted. “Let’s get the others rounded up.”
Without pause, the one-eyed man started to scale the wire. If he used the main gate, he may have to try to explain himself to the sec guards, maybe even take them out. This would be quicker, as the wire around the compound was a purely visual barrier, being only ten feet high. He flipped over the top and landed next to Mildred.
“Right, we should stick together now,” he said.
“No complaints from me on that score,” Mildred agreed. “Who’re we going to pick up first?”
Ryan grinned. “Jak would want to hear all this, don’t you think?”
JAK LAUREN LOOKED out the window at Jonno’s house, feeling bored but still wired, like a coiled spring waiting to explode into action. All his instincts screamed that danger was imminent. The small signs in Jonno’s actions and attitudes toward him spoke of a man who was biding his time before going in for the kill.
The fat man was in his kitchen area, frying cured pork. He seemed to spend most of his time in the house in the kitchen, which explained his huge gut. He was singing—tunelessly—an interminable song about a gaudy house with mutie sluts who could do impossible things. Jak doubted if the fat man ever got to do what he was singing about. The song was about as close as he would get.
But at least he wasn’t on Jak’s back, taunting him. It was almost as if he wanted to goad him into action. No chance. Jak had more patience than the fat man could ever imagine. It was on that thought that Jak caught sight of Ryan and Millie moving toward the house. They weren’t bothering to be cautious and were moving quite openly.
Something had happened. It had to be. No need for caution, then. Jak allowed himself a small smile and moved toward the kitchen. He was so quiet—and the fat man so absorbed in his food—that Jonno didn’t hear Jak pick up the skillet. He probably didn’t even feel it hit him on the side of the head. He just knew oblivion.
Time for Jak to join his companions.
KRYSTY WAS BORED out of her skull. She had cut, stored and sold cloth until she never wanted to see another roll of material again. The smell from the dye pots at the rear of Angelika’s house-cum-warehouse, where she added her own touches to the bales that were brought from traders or woven in Pleasantville, was beginning to catch at the back of the Titian-haired woman’s throat, making her want to gag anytime she went near the back of the building. As if this weren’t bad enough, she had been unable to find out anything about the real business of the baron, the multicolored merchant staying firmly silent on that point.
She was supposed to be cutting enough material for a dress. Instead, she was looking out the window. She had to blink when she saw Ryan, Jak and Mildred coming toward the house without taking any precautions to disguise their movements.
“Krysty, are you finished with the cutting yet? I have dye pots to empty, and they’re too heavy for one,” Angelika said as she came into the room. She stopped when she saw Krysty gaping openmouthed out the window. “What is this that is happening?” she asked, coming over to look. She, too, stopped dead when she saw the trio approach. She looked at Krysty. It was a look that asked what were they doing out in the open like that and what was Krysty going to do when she was supposed to stay here?
Krysty shrugged and answered in the only available eloquent manner. She hit Angelika on the point of her jaw with one well-judged punch, rendering her unconscious. Then she ran back to her room, grabbed her weapons and made for the door.
“What in the name of Gaia is going on?” she asked in a bewildered tone as she left the house. “Shouldn’t we be playing it triple-red?”
“Mebbe it’s not the time for that,” Ryan answered. “Mebbe this is the time to goad Ethan into showing his hand. Have you got your blaster?”
Krysty nodded. “You guys?”
Mildred smiled thinly. “Yeah. Guess we always remember that…all of us,” she added, not knowing that the Armorer was at large with only his Tekna, having had no opportunity to take his own weapons from the Pleasantville armory before making his break. “And then there were two,” she said to Ryan. “Who’s next?”
“Doc’s nearer than J.B., so I guess he should be our next pickup,” the one-eyed man replied. “Let’s get him.”
DOC TANNER TOOK the tape out of the old video player, slid it into its case and placed it back on the shelf from where he had taken it. He felt sick at what he had seen, and even sicker at what he suspected Ethan had in store for the companions.
“Oh, dear, I do wish you hadn’t done that. I may have been able to persuade Ethan that you were too old to take part and that you would be better off here, helping me with the research. Now, I fear I shall have to report you to Horse, and the whole matter will be out of my hands.”
Doc turned at the sound of Bones’s voice. The bespectacled man was standing in the doorway, still holding the screwdriver and soldering iron with which he had been working on the old comp.
“You knew I would be curious, of course,” Doc stated calmly, keeping an eye on the still hot soldering iron. If he had to get past Bones to make a run for it, the iron was the thing he would fear most.
Bones shrugged. “I would have been disappointed if you had been anything but. It’s a shame, as I truly thought I had found someone whose thirst for knowledge would keep me company in the years I have left to me. A companion to accompany me on my way. I’ve never met anyone like you—someone who has the same thirst.”
“Same thirst?” Doc
questioned, suddenly enraged. “Thirst for what? For the blood that you record on the machines you restore? The senseless slaughter?”
“And are you so innocent?” Bones fired the question back. “You are so without blame, without any stains? You have never killed?”
“Of course I have. We all have. That is the way of things, the way of survival. If there were another way, then it would be different.”
“And you think it is gratuitous for us?”
“That is necessary?” Doc asked, flinging an arm out to indicate the videos.
Bones’s gaze followed Doc’s arm to the racks of videotape. “For survival, as a means of making—”
The sentence was cut short. Doc had deliberately sought to divert the bespectacled man’s gaze away from his person and toward the tapes. Figuring that the man’s eyesight was so poor that his peripheral vision would be less than zero, Doc had wanted to distract him for long enough to act. So as soon as Bones looked away, Doc seized his swordstick from where it stood against the table and tossed it in the air so that he had hold of the bottom. Swinging it in an arc, the silver lion’s head crashed against the side of Bones’s head, cracking with a sickening thud against his temple.
The weight of the cane’s end was enough to make the blow a telling one. There was no chance for Bones to finish the sentence as consciousness left him. He hit the floor with a thud.
“Oh, dear, I do hope that wasn’t too hard,” Doc said to himself as he stepped over the prone man. He felt for a pulse. When he found it, he was relieved to find that it was still strong. For, despite his revulsion and the protest he had made, he could in some degree see that Bones was a prisoner of circumstance, especially considering his age and eyesight problem. Would another baron other than Ethan have been so generous?
Still, no matter, it was time for Doc to find Ryan and to round up the others. With a sense of urgency he made his way to the front of the house, making sure he had his LeMat loaded, just in case there were sec men on guard.
The last thing he expected to see, as he opened the door, was the sight that greeted him: Ryan, Jak, Krysty and Mildred coming toward him, with no pretense at stealth.
J.B. FELT SICK. Sick like he was going to puke violently, and sick like he had nothing left in this spinning world that just wouldn’t stop moving around him. If it did, just for a moment, he may be able to pull some kind of coherent thought together to work out what the hell he should do next.
Dark night, if only the world would stay still…But if it wasn’t going to, then there was little he could do about it except try to make the best of it.
Feeling as if he were going to burn up, J.B. made his way to the door of the hospital. Behind him, on the floor, he could hear Michaela whimper as she began to regain consciousness. She wouldn’t be in any fit state to stop him, no matter how weak he felt, so he left her and concentrated on making his way outside. He was acutely aware that he had to look conspicuous, as he was having trouble staying upright or walking in a straight line, but there was nothing he could do about that. He felt as if he were burning up, but there was nothing he could do about that, either. The only thing he could do was try to reach Ryan. Mebbe Millie had gone there. Mebbe the others were trying to link up right now. Mebbe…
The Armorer was aware of the stares he was getting as he staggered down the street. He was also aware of the bizarre fact that no one seemed to be willing to help or to intervene in any way. They were just watching him, as though they had been expecting this.
Had they?
THE FIVE COMPANIONS were headed for the armory when they became aware of a disturbance back on the main street.
“Hold it,” Ryan said softly. “Mebbe Ethan’s got the sec finally ready to round us up.”
“So why haven’t they stopped us before now?” Krysty asked. “It’s all been a bit too simple, right?”
“Yeah,” Mildred stated coldly. “It’s like we’re rats in a maze.” Ryan looked at her questioningly and she shrugged. “Something they used to do in the old days, see how they’d react. I’ll explain it sometime. Point is, I feel that’s what Ethan’s doing…seeing how we’ll react.”
Ryan agreed. “Whatever, we need to pick up J.B. Jak, make a quick recce of the main street, check out if that’s something we should be avoiding before we carry on.”
The albino nodded and was gone. The remaining companions took cover and awaited Jak’s return. He wasn’t long in coming, and he looked even more grim than usual.
“No need look J.B., found him,” he said briefly, indicating the main street. “And he not looking good. Come…”
They followed Jak out onto the main street, where they came across a scene that was bizarre in its incongruity. While the crowds went about their everyday business, a small phalanx had formed around J.B., watching him as he attempted to make his way toward the sec camp, struggling with every step. They were watching with curiosity, but making no attempt to intervene or to help.
“What the fuck—” Ryan whispered.
“John! What’s wrong?” Mildred yelled, cutting a swathe through the crowd to reach J.B.’s side.
The Armorer looked up at her as he stumbled and fell to his knees. He felt her strong grip take him by the elbow, stopping him from pitching face-forward onto the road. She was appalled to see how pale he was, sweat spangling his brow and running in rivulets down his sallow cheeks. His eyes were pinprick pupils that were struggling to focus.
“Millie…been looking for you…tried to get away from Scar, reach rest of you…chased by sec men…weird thing is, just shot me with a dart…don’t know what that was about…” He laughed feebly and shook his head.
Mildred inhaled deeply. She knew what it was about. A dart could carry a culture that would infect J.B. And there were plenty of disease cultures hanging around Pleasantville, pillaged from the remains of the city beyond. That much she knew from what Michaela had shown her.
The others had joined them, the watching crowd dissipating at their arrival. Rapidly, Mildred relayed what the Armorer had just told her and also her suspicions of what had been in the dart.
“What the hell is the point of that?” Ryan snapped.
Mildred shrugged, but Doc looked thoughtful. “I fear I may have an answer,” he said slowly. “I suspect that, if I am correct, this would be an action that could qualify as, shall we say, an enticement.”
Mildred bit back her inclination to ask Doc to stop pussyfooting and spit it out. That would take longer than letting him get to the point in his own way.
“Why would that be necessary?” Krysty asked gently.
Doc looked at her with disarmingly clear and innocent eyes. “My dear girl, if you had seen what I had seen…why I was endeavoring to join you when…But no, I must try to put this concisely.” Doc paused briefly and took a breath. “There is a whole wall of old videotape in the house where I was staying. Curious to find out more, I watched one when I myself was not being watched. The business of this ville, on which their wealth is based, is the staging of hunts for those who can afford to pay—in jack or trade, I assume—in which humans are the prey. I fear that is why Ethan is so interested in us. He sees us as a big attraction, to bring in a lot of jack. And what if we should refuse? He can chill us, but what would that profit him? No, he could make us do it if there was an enticement…such as needing to save the life of one of our own, perhaps.”
Ryan had been listening intently to the old man’s words. “That makes sense, all right. Too much sense.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Mildred, do you reckon that you could find out what they’ve injected into J.B.?”
“If we take him back to the hospital and I take a blood sample. And if it was among the cultures that Michaela showed to me. If I was Ethan, I’d be pretty stupid to let her show me everything.”
“Yeah, but mebbe he’s underestimated her. Krysty, Doc, you help Mildred take J.B. back to the hospital. Jak, you and me have something to attend to.”
While D
oc assisted Mildred in helping the stricken Armorer to his feet, and in supporting him, Ryan gestured to Jak. The two friends began to stride purposefully toward the baron’s palace.
Krysty watched them go. “There’s something odd about this,” she said quietly to the others as they began to move J.B. toward the hospital. “Why isn’t anyone trying to stop us?”
Mildred and Doc paused, taking in the fact that very few of the passersby were so much as watching them let alone trying to stop them from acting.
“I’ve got a nasty feeling that this is more complex than we know,” Mildred muttered, “but we can worry about that later. First thing is to get J.B. somewhere where I can take a good look at what’s wrong with him.”
RYAN AND JAK approached the baron’s palace, with its maze of corridors linking buildings together, without bothering to disguise their intent. It was obvious that they were being manipulated—or, at least, that Ethan was attempting such—so there was nothing to lose from direct action.
“How take this?” Jak asked.
Ryan shrugged. “I figure the bastard’s watching us, waiting. Mebbe he won’t expect us to just charge in. If he thinks we’re smart, he’ll expect us to be cautious. Fuck that, let’s hit him before he has a chance to get his sec men on us. No blasters. Let’s try to keep it as quiet as possible.”
Jak agreed. That would suit him fine.
The corridors and covered walkways that linked the buildings of the baronial palace had doors interspersed at irregular intervals, allowing access to and from the palace. As with their prior journey along the corridors, there were no sec men standing guard. Entry would be simple. Once inside, the problems would begin. First, sec men had to be patrolling the corridors. Second, and perhaps more importantly, how to find their way? All Ryan could recall from their previous visit was how confusing the profusion of corridors had become.