Deathlands 067: Death Hunt

by James Axler

  Jak gestured his assent, not wasting words. He waited until the sec chief had signaled for two more of his men to drag away the unconscious blonde, and then started to walk toward a horse that had been saddled for him.

  “We’re going to take you out to where the hunt begins, and then give you a half hour head start before we let the other fuckers go,” Horse explained. “The paying guests will be with us, and Ethan will follow with the sec that accompanies your friends,” he finished with an ironic lilt on the last word.

  But Jak wasn’t listening. His attention was turned to the barons and traders who were on the stand, readying themselves to join him. His acute hearing was able to pick out at least some of what they were saying to each other.

  “Boy’s got no chance…” one of the barons said dismissively.

  “I’m not so sure. He looks too scarred to have no chance,” one of the traders countered with a wise shake of the head.

  “Meaning?” the baron queried.

  “Meaning that you don’t get that scarred if you lose fights,” another of the barons added. “You just get chilled.”

  They all laughed. Then the shortest and ugliest of the barons proposed a wager: “I’ll bet you that no matter how many scars the little runt has, he won’t be able to get past those ex-friends of his. They want him chilled, and they know him. He might be tough, but he’s outnumbered.”

  “I’ll take you on that,” one of the traders piped up enthusiastically. “He’s a tough little mutie—seen ’em down in the south. You can fill the shitters full of ammo, and they’ll still come running after your hide.”

  “You, sir, are on—what do you want to wager?” the ugly, short baron asked enthusiastically as they began to leave the stand to take their mounts and follow Jak and the sec guard, so that they would be in position for the beginning of the hunt.

  Jak’s horse took him out of earshot. But the words of the barons and traders echoed around his head. They were treating this like a sport: fair enough, that’s what it was to them. But it was more to him. And he was sure that he would make great sport out of chilling all of them if he got out of this alive.

  Horse and Riley rode in line, keeping Jak in the middle. They rode at a steady pace, and in silence. A silence that Jak felt no need to breach. He knew that the blond sec man was looking forward to seeing the companions rip one another apart, but he still wasn’t sure about Horse. The lean, dreadlocked sec chief seemed a decent man, a man of some principle. It was probable that there were things about this hunt that stuck in his craw, but his first duty was to his baron, and he would stick to that. But if Jak chilled the coldhearted bastard Ethan, what then?

  No matter, that was only idle speculation at this point, something to fill his mind while they rode.

  As they approached the edge of the ville, the crowds grew sparse. The majority of the population had gathered in the area between the hospital and the chain-linked compound to view the companions as they were prepared for the hunt. Was it also to make the paying guests feel good? Jak wondered idly. Out here, there were only a few people, going about their everyday business. They didn’t even stop from their tasks to watch the sec guard and Jak ride by. As the crowd noise grew more and more distant, the albino hunter could hear the horses carrying Ethan, the barons and the traders, and their own personal guard.

  The buildings grew sparse. They passed beyond the walled limits of Pleasantville and out through the small holdings and sparse farmland that surrounded the ville, forming the flatlands that stood between the forest and what passed for civilization. They passed the tracks made by the wild stickie pack less than two weeks ago, and Jak wondered in passing what Ethan had done to the caged creatures to make them act in a way that was so contrary to usual stickie behavior.

  The man was scum. Dangerous scum.

  They traversed the flatland easily, and within an hour were into the forest. At what seemed like an arbitrary point about a hundred yards into the woods, Horse stopped Jak and Riley.

  “Wait here for the baron and his customers…your audience,” he added to Jak. “Remember, you have all your weapons, but don’t get any smart ideas about trying to chill them. You’ve got your ex-friends on your ass, and the four-eyed guy and Mildred waiting on you back in the ville. You wouldn’t want any more of your people to be fucked over than necessary, would you?”

  “Could be fun,” Riley muttered, but said no more as Horse’s glare silenced him.

  Ethan and the hunt audience rode up.

  “You ready, boy?” Ethan asked.

  “Have to be,” Jak replied coldly.

  “Insolent little fuck, isn’t he?” the inbred baron asked.

  Ethan smiled, but with little humor. “As long as you remember what Horse was supposed to tell you,” he said simply, gesturing to the sec men.

  Riley dismounted and pulled Jak off his horse. He was hoping to catch the albino off guard and to make him fall: Jak was never off guard. He slid easily off the horse, his elbow shooting out and catching the sec man on the way. For the third time that afternoon, Riley hit the ground with his face damaged.

  Horse sighed. “You dumb fuck, Riley. You never learn, do you?”

  Jak ignored the glare that the blond sec man gave him from the ground, fixing his attention on Ethan.

  “You’ve got a half-hour start, so I’d run if I was you,” Ethan murmured.

  Jak shot him a look of pure venom and turned, disappearing into the woods at an easy pace, determined to map out his territory rather than rush.

  “Now, gentlemen, I suggest we proceed to the best vantage point. Horse will lead the way,” Ethan said brightly, gesturing to the sec chief. “This should be quite an interesting day’s sport.”

  J.B. DIX WAS LAID OUT on a stretcher. It had a folding wheel attachment that was made of light aluminum and fiberglass, as was the frame. It had obviously been salvaged from the same place the Pleasantville scavengers had found the cultures that were causing this problem, and Mildred was for once thankful that Bones had taught his search squads well. The wheels could come in useful, and give them a greater speed and mobility than if they had opted to carry J.B.

  For that was their plan. It was more than an even bet that Ethan would want to chill J.B., and he wouldn’t want it to be from the meningitis becoming full-blown, thus risking an epidemic. This didn’t give Michaela enough of a time frame to get to the ruins, find what she wanted and get back. It didn’t give J.B. enough of a time frame to recover sufficiently to defend himself even if she did. But it did give Mildred and Michaela enough uninterrupted time—if they were correct—to get a head start on a mercy run to the ruins.

  The two women were busy packing what little supplies they had for the run, both medical and in terms of food and water, while the Armorer slept fitfully. Mildred checked her ZKR and turned to Michaela.

  “Checked your arms?”

  The young healer shook her head. “I don’t have a blaster. I hate the things.”

  Mildred raised an eyebrow. “Nice thought, but not practical, especially now. You do know how to use one?”

  Michaela shrugged. “Guess so. Everyone does, don’t they?”

  Mildred sighed and took J.B.’s Uzi from where it was stowed on the stretcher with his other belongings. She tossed it at the spiky-haired girl, who caught it awkwardly.

  “Ever used one of those?” she asked. Michaela shook her head. Mildred moved over to her and showed her how to load, reload, set to single or continuous shot, and sight on the SMG. She stood close to the girl, her arms around her as she guided her hands over the metal of the blaster. While she took in everything that Mildred told her, Michaela also felt a thrill run through her as their skins touched.

  “Okay, we set?” Mildred asked, moving away and finishing her own preparation. Michaela nodded, trying to stop herself from trembling; both from fear and from lust. Despite what she was feeling, this was just not the time and place.

  Mildred went to the front of the hospital and re
cced the street outside. A single sec guard lounged against the stoop on the building’s veranda. He looked bored and inattentive.

  Good.

  Mildred found it astoundingly slack that Ethan would leave her with all her inventory and J.B.’s to boot, and with such a lack of sec to guard them. But then again, he wasn’t used to people going against him, and he had wanted to bluff the companions into believing that he was speaking the truth.

  Oh well, hopefully he’d learn just a little too late.

  One guard on the front, seemingly uninterested. Mildred moved from room to room, checking at every window for any signs of a guard. Unbelievably, there were none. Not even at the rear of the building, which would be an obvious first point of weakness in event of escape.

  It crossed her mind that this was a little too easy. Could it be that Ethan wanted her to make a break, so that he could legitimately chill her? But to what end? As baron, he could do what he liked, so why make an elaborate ruse of everything? No, it had been down to his own arrogance, and nothing more. He hadn’t expected her to attempt any kind of an escape, but to wait for J.B.’s alleged regular booster.

  Fuck him and his arrogance.

  Mildred returned to where Michaela was waiting by the stretcher.

  “There’s only the one lazy guard out front. We’ll take John to the back, I’ll make a quick area recce, then we’ll move out. Okay?” Except it was more of an order than a question. Michaela nodded, and they wheeled the Armorer to the rear of the building.

  Mildred cracked the door, then drew her ZKR. Holding the pistol muzzle down with both hands, ready to lift and sight at the slightest provocation, she darted out into the alley at the rear of the building, running lightly to each end of the alley to check for movement of any kind.

  The area was deserted. Mildred hurried back and indicated to Michaela that all was clear.

  The women lifted the stretcher down the back step of the hospital and set it on its wheels. Mildred had made sure that they were well-greased, and they moved easily and quietly on the dirt-packed ground. They ran the stretcher to the end of the alley, and a look of surprise came over the young healer’s face when Mildred turned to the left.

  “What are you doing?” Michaela whispered. “The old city is that way,” she added, gesturing to the right and the ville wall, visible over the low buildings.

  “We’re not heading there direct,” Mildred replied in a low tone. “Think about it—how are we going to get past any sec there with J.B. in tow? No, we need a little help with that, and we made need a little help getting around that city.”

  Michaela said nothing, but gave Mildred a questioning stare.

  The black woman grinned broadly. “Listen, sweetie, who has Ethan’s implicit trust and so wouldn’t get suspicion from any guards…and who knows more about the ruins and old tech than anyone else? I think that old bastard Bones may be more than a tad useful, one way or another.”

  “But he’ll be vidding the hunt, like he always does,” Michaela almost blurted loudly, realizing what Mildred intended.

  “Then we’ll just have to hope we’re quick enough to catch him before he leaves.” Mildred shrugged.

  “And if we’re not?”

  The grin returned. “Then we go to Plan B.”

  “What’s Plan B?” Michaela asked, perplexed.

  “I don’t know—I haven’t made it up yet,” Mildred replied with a chuckle that made Michaela’s blood run cold.

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Bones fiddled nervously with the screwdriver in his left hand, trying to balance the vid camera in his right while he screwed the battery pack into position. During the time he had spent repairing the old tech he had used the electricity supply that was fuelled by the gas-powered generator Ethan had given him for his sole use. The camera had been damaged during the last hunt, and it had taken the old man some time to get it repaired. Ethan wasn’t the most understanding of men, and so Bones had stalled for time when the baron had asked him if it was ready. He had hoped that he would be able to fix the problem without having to incur Ethan’s wrath by telling him of the delays.

  It was a delicate balance: Ethan’s threats and the possibility that he may find punishment before the hunt, against a certain chilling—and possibly a painful one—if it wasn’t fixed by today and the baron discovered this. It was a tightrope that the old man was loath to walk, but just lately Ethan had been getting far too intoxicated by the power and wealth that the hunts and the old tech had brought to him. He was starting to make plans to build an empire. Bones had shown him some old vids that he had taken from a house in the ruined city. Most tape had decayed over the time since skydark, if it hadn’t been eradicated in the nukecaust, but some, hidden in dark corners of old apartment blocks and offices, had survived by fluke.

  There were some vids that showed what life was like before the nukecaust. It seemed like a land of milk and honey to the old man, with limitless jack and tech to make life easy and comfortable. But there were some that seemed eerily prophetic of what life was like now, as if ancient seers had made these vids to warn the people of what could happen. In some of them, barons—not called that, but barons all the same—had taken over great tracts of land using that which they had plundered from the past. They ruled with a cruelty and a ferocity that was legend in their time. And they faced enemies like the ones Ethan was using for the hunt. Enemies who would wipe them out and restore a kind of justice.

  Ethan used these as a kind of template for what he wanted. He would come with Horse and sit in Bones’s house, watching these vids and telling Horse that this was how it would be.

  Bones had no idea what the sec chief thought of this. The dark man stayed impassive, made only the noises that Ethan wanted to hear. Why not? That was exactly what the old man did, as well. It was easier that way; but it became harder as Ethan’s ideas became more and more inflated, like his ego.

  What if these people he was using in the hunt were like the ones on the old vids? Those sent from the gods, almost…Those sent to bring him down and to restore some kind of natural justice.

  Not that the old man necessarily believed in natural justice. He need only to look around. But what if it was there? He stopped fiddling with the battery pack and tried to remember a word that he had read recently. One that went back to old legends in the mists of predark, before there was any tech at all to record these things. What the hell was that word?

  Nemesis.

  Yes, that was it. What if these people were like those on the vids. What if they were nemesis?

  That would be trouble. For everyone. Mebbe that was why Ethan had hit on the idea of using hypnosis and making them hunt one another. If they did that, then they wouldn’t be able to band together as they seemed to usually, and turn the hunt back on the baron.

  The hunt…Shit! Bones looked at his wrist chron. Ethan always gave him times according to the chron, as he spent so long inside working that he couldn’t track time by the sun. The trouble was, his eyes were getting so bad that he had to squint heavily at the chron. It was a vague worry at the back of his mind that if his sight got much worse, his usefulness would cease. Yes, Ethan wanted him to train people in using and repairing old tech, so that would give him a little longer. But, the truth was, once the people were trained, then, bye-bye Bones, time for you to buy the farm. You’re no use, and you know far too much.

  Time was getting on. He had to get this vid fixed and get over to the forest, meet with Ethan and the barons. He fumbled the screwdriver, cursed to himself and tightened the last screws.

  MILDRED AND MICHAELA had wheeled J.B. through the back streets of the ville with little difficulty. Whatever else she could say about Ethan, she had to admit that the man believed in keeping the ville living conditions as good as possible. Ironic that such cleanliness and order was built on blood and horror—a blood and horror that was shared by most of the inhabitants, as they all seemed to be clustered over by the sec compound, waiting t
o see what happened.

  That was okay. It meant that the two women and the prone Armorer were able to make swift and unimpeded progress. In next to no time, they were outside the house in which Bones lived and in which Doc had first learned the secret of Pleasantville. Mildred did a quick recce, scouting to see if Bones was still in the house, and if so, where. She gave a triumphant grin when she saw him through the window, trying to repair something that looked like an old camcorder. They’d always been a problem when they were new, back when she’d lived in the twentieth century. And it looked like it was the battery pack that had screwed him over, making him late.

  Some things never, ever changed. And right now, she was suitably grateful for that. She backed off to where Michaela was hiding with J.B. and explained that they were in time to catch the old bastard, and that she would go in alone. “You stay here and keep watch on John.”

  “You’ll be all right?” Michaela asked anxiously, trying to keep her concern for the object of her desire under control.

  Mildred looked at her oddly. “Sweetie, if I can’t handle Bones, then we may as well give up now.”And before Michaela had a chance to form a reply, Mildred was gone.

  She reached the back door of the house in a matter of seconds and tried the handle, careful lest it make the slightest noise. She couldn’t believe her luck that it was unlocked. What was it with the people in this ville? They seemed to have nothing in the way of security consciousness. Maybe that was why they let Ethan get away with so much. To live in this kind of security in these times would encourage you to cut a lot of slack for a baron.

  Still, all the better for her. She entered the house silently, careful for any noise she may make: it was unnaturally quiet inside and the lack of covering noise from outside wasn’t doing much to provide her with cover, either. She slipped through the kitchen and the back rooms until she was standing in the door of the main lounge area, where the old man was still bent over the camcorder. He wasn’t working on it, but rather as staring into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. Then he checked his wrist chron, muttered to himself and secured the battery pack before switching the camera on to record. Mildred had held her ZKR muzzle down as she’d walked through the house, but as he began to arc the camera, she felt an irresistible desire to ham it up. She raised the ZKR, sighting him.