Debbi heard shouting again. It was Ross. And he needed her.
She spun around in time to see a dead syker grasping Ross around the throat from the back. Debbi popped it with a black needle. Ross pulled away, spun, and blasted its head off.
She was back in the cellar. Ross was pouring a withering fire into the horde of undead that surrounded them. Fresh bodies were piled on the floor; Ross was saturated with ichor. His face was strained. How long had she been out? Ross eyed her quickly and returned to his business.
Debbi joined in the shooting. "Let's take the stairs before we're cut off."
Ross kicked free of rotting hands as he reloaded and the Rangers shuffled slowly back across the now slippery floor, slimy with pieces of the undead, both firing over and over in all directions. Ross blasted with his shotgun while Debbi roared away with her brace of Dragoons. Shells smashed into Legionnaires and tore through the smoked corpses. The retreating Rangers had to elbow their way past the suspended cadavers. Body after body began to swing to and fro, bumping its neighbor and setting up chain reactions of grisly pendulums that spread row after row across the shadowy chamber. Through them, swarms of undead came after Debbi and Ross, shoving their way silently through the creaking lines of swinging cadavers.
The two mounds of Legionnaires close to the staircase had unpiled and the sykers were forming into an orderly rank. They were getting organized, and soon they would have their powers too. They had been lucky so far. It was only a matter of time before luck ran out.
Quantrill watched, his eyes flicking impatiently from his troopers to the retreating Rangers as if afraid his prey might escape before he could deliver the kill shot.
Debbi and Ross fought off countless clutching hands and gnashing teeth. She pulled an empty black gun off one Dragoon and slapped on the spare as Ross bashed his way through swarming Legionnaires. The barrage of black needles left a weird tableau of temporarily frozen cadavers standing and kneeling in their wake like statuary in a horrible processional.
The hairs on Debbi's neck rose suddenly. She plowed into Ross and knocked him to the floor just as a syker blast burned through the air over their heads. The energy lance smashed into a pillar and tore a massive chunk out of the brittle stone.
Ross rolled and sprayed the attacking squad with his black gun. Ragged hands hovered over Debbi. She fired up with both the black guns and the Dragoons, knocking the undead sykers back.
Debbi and Ross scrambled to their feet and ran low toward the steps. She caught sight of another formed squad glowing green. She fired a grenade from the hip that exploded in their midst. Sykers and pieces of sykers tumbled and bounced off the ceiling and the walls.
The blast shook the room, sending down a shower of dust and debris. The Rangers kept their unsteady feet and reached the stone steps. A mob of rotting corpses followed close on their heels. Ross fired again with the scattergun, but then the gun clicked empty. He swung it like a club to batter sykers off the steps. Then he drew his Peacemaker.
Once again, a faint green glow rose from the shadows of the room. Quantrill made his way across the room toward the foot of the stairs, watching the Rangers with raw hunger. The undead sykers swarmed around him, blocking the dead pendulums and creating a clear path for their commander.
Ross backed up the steps to where Debbi waited, covering him with her Dragoons, although her black guns were empty. He fired again with his black gun, but it too hissed empty. The veteran Ranger pulled it off his six-shooter and threw it down.
Ross reached over and tugged a grenade off Debbi's belt. He looked her in the eye and she nodded. Ross triggered the grenade and tossed it down toward Quantrill. Meanwhile, Debbi fired two more at the stone pillars.
The explosions roared in a rolling succession that came like one massive eruption of fire. The walls shook. The Rangers were knocked to their knees. Sharp pain stabbed through their brains. The steps cracked under their hands. Large chunks of stone snapped off and fell with the wreckage. Smoke rose as great patches of the ceiling began to collapse. One of them dropped onto the General's faithful toady who cowered in the corner, and crushed him.
Through the smoke, Debbi saw Quantrill set his boot on the bottom step. She grabbed Ross's arm and yanked her partner to his feet. They charged up as the stones steps disintegrated beneath their boots. A rectangle of light shone dimly through the dust ahead of them.
Debbi and Ross burst into the kitchen, but before they could even contemplate being safe, they saw the tiled floor opening in a fissure under their feet. The roar increased. They stumbled through the filthy dining room, slipping along the filth caked floor. Debbi's knee twisted painfully and she heard something snap inside, but she refused to lose momentum in a frenzied haste to escape.
As they reached the long corridor outside the dining room, the house was still shaking. The wooden floor buckled. Ross reared up a booted foot and smashed it against a closed door. It flew open. He pulled Debbi after him as rafters dropped behind them.
Together they ran through the collapsing room and leapt out the window.
They landed on the hard ground, rolled, and came up together. Ross kept running. Debbi turned to look back at the mansion. There was a deep rumbling from inside and smoke poured from the window.
Ross yelled, "Get back! The place is coming down!"
Debbi only vaguely heard him through her ringing ears. She silently willed the asylum to stay up. Perhaps there were still some innocents inside and she didn't want them to die like they lived, at the whim of others. The roar of collapse faded into echoes although smoke and dust continued to pour out of windows in a dirty, brown wave. The house stayed up, for the most part. She exhaled in relief though she knew it had nothing to do with her.
Her immediate instinct was to go back in and search for those who needed help, but that hope was swept away like quicksilver. She and Ross were the ones in need of help.
General Quantrill appeared out of the dust cloud. With a roar and a sweep of his hand, Debbi was slammed to the ground by enormous force. She nearly blacked out, gasping for air. Quantrill was on her with terrible speed. He reached down and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off her feet. He glared at her with a face that was partially crushed. He raised a hand that glowed red. She struggled to regain her senses.
Debbi went for her holster. Empty. She couldn't reach the knife in her boot. Her fingers scrabbled for something to use as a weapon. They grasped a hard object in her jacket pocket. She drew up the slender tannis shard that Martool had given her. Debbi plunged it viciously down into Quantrill's head. The knife-like shard of rock penetrated his rotten skull with a soft sucking sound.
Quantrill roared in pain. His malevolent eyes boiled with anger. His hand, glowing and surging with heat, neared her face.
Suddenly a heavy shape surged into view. Ross plowed into Quantrill, seizing the General's glowing hand with a muffled cry of pain. The veteran Ranger and the undead syker tumbled aside leaving Debbi to drop hard to the rocky ground. Ross rolled on top of Quantrill and raised his fist. The General thrust his white-hot fingers into Ross's chest. The Ranger screamed.
Quantrill threw Ross aside and pushed himself up on one knee next to the struggling, insensible man. The General looked at Debbi, who was trying to climb unsteadily onto her unsteady hands and knees.
"Watch this," Quantrill spat at her. "It's the last memory you'll ever have."
Quantrill placed his hand on Ross's face. The Ranger yelled in agony, struggling to wrench off the syker's grip. Debbi pushed herself up and started toward them.
With a final shudder, Ross fell silent and limp.
Quantrill laughed.
Debbi watched the scene with disbelief as she sank to her knees. She saw Ross's head slip to the side, his tortured face fully visible, wisps of smoke rising from it.
She screamed. In horror and despair and fury. The scream ripped out of her lungs with physical force. It echoed in the wind.
Quantrill stopped laughing.
He stared at her and then looked around with uncertainty.
Debbi kept screaming. Even though she was out of breath, the wailing continued, growing louder and more powerful.
Quantrill tried to stand. He felt the ground shaking deep beneath his feet. He tried to focus a blow on the woman kneeling before him, but something was wrong. Behind the screaming, he heard a strange whine. No, it was a singing.
The General grasped his head. The singing reverberated inside his skull.
The tannis. The damned woman had put a shard of tannis inside his brain.
Quantrill ripped at his own flesh, trying to grasp the stone, digging deep into his scalp with bony fingers. The shard vibrated and echoed the singing that circled around him. Then all he knew was a sweet singing.
Quantrill stood motionless for a second, his hands still poised at his now liquefied brain. Then he crumpled to the ground. Finally dead.
Debbi's scream played out and she slumped forward to the ground, her lungs raw and voided, feeling the windswept chimes of the distant tannis surge through her. She couldn't exalt in it because she was staring at Ross's lifeless body.
Is this what it was like for him, watching her die? He must've been stronger than she ever imagined to carry on, because she only wanted to lie down and die next to him. It was only right.
Debbi crawled to him to touch him. He was still warm from Quantrill's attack. She put her arms around his limp shoulders and pulled his burned face into her lap. She folded herself around him and gently rocked him.
"Can't breath," he said in a muffled voice.
"Sorry." Debbi leaned back to give him air. Then she felt a bolt of electricity arc through her. She stared down into his pain-blurred eyes. "You're alive!"
"Yeah."
Debbi embraced him tightly once more. "Oh my God! You're alive!"
"Can't breath," Ross mumbled again, though not really caring. He tried to crack a smile despite the pain.
"Sorry." She held his head and watched her tears drip onto his burned face. Debbi heard the whining of the Stallion's thrusters approaching as the tannis' voice softened from thunder to a whisper and soon drifted away completely.
Ross licked his cracked lips and moaned, "Where's Quantrill?"
Debbi nodded to one side. "Over there. We got him."
The veteran Ranger closed his eyes. "Good job."
"Thanks." Debbi brushed his cracked lips with her fingers. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."
Chapter 16
The cemetery was a quiet place, which Debbi appreciated. Finally, all the graves were still and covered.
All but one.
She stood before her own tombstone and gazed down into the yawning plot. Everyone thought her morbid for coming here, particularly Ross. But to her, it held no memories. She had died at Castle Rock and woke up in Ross's room. Nothing about the cemetery even whispered a recollection to her mind. It was all a blank and therefore nothing to fear.
Leaning on her cane, she craned her neck to see the casket in the bottom of the hole. At least it was a decent one, mahogany with a satin lining. It must have cost a mint; most likely everyone had chipped in for it. She'd have to remember to thank the Rangers at some point.
Late winter was fading and bright sunshine filled the sky. The warmth felt good seeping into her aching muscles. Although she could actually dispense with the cane, the pain lingered. She'd swear every part of her was bruised. Badges of honor, she reminded herself. Shifting to ease a cramp in her slowly healing knee, she sat on the edge of the grave and stretched out her leg into the hole, hissing with relief.
Something caught her eye at the bottom. Something glittered in the sunlight. It didn't look like a piece of the coffin. Using the crook of her cane, she reached down and shoved the dirt aside, revealing a gold chain. Puzzled, she hooked it and brought it up to her. It was odd since she didn't own any jewelry. Whose was it? A small gold locket dangled from the thin chain. She brushed away the encrusted dirt. Sure fingers opened it. Her breath caught at the picture within.
Ross. It was a picture of Ross. The same young Ross from the photograph on the mantelpiece of his home on Earth.
He must have buried it with her, though Lord knows how it got outside the coffin and buried in the dirt. It was a miracle she found it. The town was getting ready to fill in the plot, public hazard or some such nonsense. If she hadn't come out here today, she'd have never found it. She might never have known of his small gesture.
It was a simple matter to undo the clasp and place it around her neck. A perfect fit. The chain was just the right length and the locket fell against her chest.
Debbi's eyes closed and her hand clasped the locket tightly. What he had gone through those months after her death and what he had endured by her resurrection, she couldn't begin to understand. But one thing she did know, his feelings for her went deep.
She doubted he'd admit to such a thing even if she asked him. Hell, it was doubtful he'd own up to the locket. She wouldn't have it any other way. When it was time, it was time. Her fingers dropped the locket down inside her shirt so it wasn't visible to anyone, but she could feel its presence.
Rising stiffly, she made her way to the gate with the cane resting on her shoulder in a jaunty fashion. She had made the rounds of fallen Colonial Rangers; Cass, Chennault, and Tsukino. It made her feel better to speak to them.
She neared the high, iron cemetery gate that creaked in the dusty breeze. Martool, Fareel, and Hallow waited outside the graveyard, the wind flapping their clothes. Debbi passed through the gate, feeling reinvigorated, and embraced the wizened shaman with more emphasis than normal. This was an important day.
Martool said softly, "We are leaving today, daughter."
Debbi smiled at the way the shaman addressed her. It had become Martool's fashion to call her "daughter" and she enjoyed it; it was a comforting part of a new life. Martool's new role didn't crowd Debbi's real mother from her thoughts. In fact, the shaman's familiarity brought her mother to mind in a kinder way. Debbi's thoughts of her mother were no longer a frantic woman racing back into a burning space station, soon to be dead. Now Debbi could recall times of soft kisses on her cheek and conspiratorial laughs over dinner. The terrible dreams had stopped.
Debbi replied, "I know. You've been away from your people a long time. Thank you for staying and helping me."
"Will I see you at Castle Rock soon?"
"Sure. As soon as I can get away." Debbi leaned over and slapped Fareel on the chest. "Take care of her, Fareel."
The warrior grunted and glared down at the woman, but not so angrily as he used to. He wore a long necklace of giant cat teeth.
Debbi then hugged the slightly resistant syker. "Good bye, Hallow."
The tall man smiled uncomfortably and pulled back, still uneasy with human closeness. That was part of the reason he was going to live with the anouks. However, Debbi knew he would experience as much, if not more, antipathy from them as he would from humans. But maybe he'd find some peace under Martool's tutelage.
Debbi turned back to Martool. "Where's Hickok? I thought she was flying you out."
Martool said, "She had to fly south on business of some kind. We'll walk."
"Walk? It's hundreds of miles."
"We walked here," Martool replied simply. "We can walk back. I'm not as old as I look."
"Do you want Little Joe to ride?"
"No." Martool hoisted a small bag of possessions onto her thin shoulder. "That chanouk is yours. He will serve no other." The shaman ran her leathery hand over Debbi's cheek. "I'll miss you, daughter. But we're always together."
Debbi's eyes teared up and a lump settled in her throat. She nodded without speaking. There was no reason to prolong this. Martool turned abruptly and started off into the desert, followed by Fareel and Hallow. The Ranger stood with the warm wind whipping through her hair until the three figures blended into the shimmering horizon. Debbi wiped her eyes and turned for town.
She passed throug
h the city gates with a wave to Captain Holt who manned the watchtower. She strolled up to Ranger headquarters where the streets buzzed with the heightened activity of a new caravan season. It seemed like eons ago when Debbi last experienced it.
Pausing to lean a hip and a shoulder against a wooden beam, Debbi took a luxurious moment to observe all that went on in the street around her on this late afternoon. Temptation was grinding its way back to its typical state. All was as it should be.
The familiar flare of a dark duster caught her eye and she grinned, straightening off the post and maneuvering as quickly as she could across the street. His face would carry Quantrill's mark forever, but thanks to Doc Dazy's amazing handiwork with the plastiskin, it wasn't jarring. In fact, the mild scarring gave him more character.
Ross regarded her approach with his trademark stern gaze as he limped along.
"Nice cane you have there," she remarked casually coming alongside him.
Grunting ever so slightly, Ross leaned again on his own cane as he took a step. "I'll have to find the man who sold it to me. Claimed it was one of a kind." He swept the street ahead of him for trouble as they walked.
"Seems to me you just know good quality when you see it."
"So long as it keeps my face out of the dirt, it'll do." He lifted his gaze back to her smiling face. She was staring at him strangely. "What?"
The grin didn't waver. "Nothing."
He looked away, but then jerked his head back to her since she was still staring. "What? Stop starin' at me."
Debbi turned aside her eyes with a shrug. She didn't need to look at him any more. After all, his picture bobbed against her chest. She could look at him all she wanted later.
"Stop yer smilin'," he growled. "It's unnerving."
"Yes, sir." But the grin refused to fade. She felt too good. They had won, against all odds and every horror they had won.
Gaining the sidewalk, they both paused and watched the steady river of people, animals, and machines parade by. Great shipments of wares and grains were once again marking their time in Temptation. Hagglers, venders, and hucksters were everywhere, their loud voices raised, and their money exchanging hands.
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