by James Axler
They had moved across two corridors, Jak pausing only to check the layout ahead with the plan in his mind’s eye before choosing a direction, when they came across their first sec opposition.
Two men, both heavily built and carrying blasters that looked like H&Ks, were standing talking by a door into one set of buildings. They’d been immersed in their conversation and obviously not expecting to be disturbed. At the sound of running feet approaching, they both turned. The man on the left—a rampant jackal tattooed down one arm—stared openmouthed. The sec man on the right was quicker to react. He raised his weapon.
Jak launched himself forward, thigh and calf muscles straining, into a roll. He came up only a few feet in front of the startled sec man, who was now unsure which of the approaching fighters to aim at. The distance Jak had put between himself and Ryan made a cluster shot impossible. That hesitation would cost the sec man his life. As he stood openmouthed, vacillating, Jak’s hand shot out, fingers rigid, jabbing the sec man’s windpipe, the cartilage crushed by the force and hardness of the bony fingers. His eyes popped out of his skull as he suddenly found it impossible to breathe, and his fingers, now nerveless, dropped the blaster. Before it had a chance to clatter to the floor, Jak followed the blow with one to the sec man’s groin, delivered with his knee. The albino’s adversary doubled over, hands dropping to protect his injured groin, pain flaring hot through his lower body to join the agony in his throat. It left him exposed. Jak took his head between his slim, steel-strong hands, twisting on the muscular neck until the top of the man’s spine snapped.
All the while, the albino ignored the other sec man, trusting Ryan to handle him. And the one-eyed warrior had little problem in so doing. Seeing that the sec man who posed a danger was being dealt with, Ryan pulled his panga from the sheath along his thigh, bringing it up with the blade balanced in his hand.
The tattooed sec man was still slack-jawed, but he was showing signs of awakening into action. Almost in slow motion, he began to raise his SMG into firing position. Without slowing, and without breaking stride, Ryan drew back his arm and threw the panga. His aim was swift and true. Before the blaster was leveled at him, and before such an action covered the target area, the panga had cleaved into the chest of the sec man, who looked down with a startled expression at the protruding blade. He coughed and blood bubbled on his lips, dribbled down his chin. As he looked at Ryan again, making a feeble and hopeless attempt to squeeze the trigger of his SMG with fingers that would no longer respond, the light dulled in his eyes and he toppled to his knees. Falling forward, he pitched onto the hilt of the panga as it struck the floor, driving it farther into his chest.
Ryan reached the doors and turned the man onto his back, sightless eyes staring up at him.
“Fireblast, why couldn’t the bastard have fallen backward,” he grunted as he planted one combat boot on the man’s chest to hold him down as he pulled the panga free. It took a mighty heave and the panga slid free, slick with arterial blood, which the one-eyed man wiped clean on the sec man’s clothes before sheathing the blade.
“Nearly there,” Jak said, indicating the doors. “Next corridor, should be white doors.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to chill any more of these bastards before we get there. It’s taking too much time,” Ryan commented. “And that’s something J.B. hasn’t got.”
“LAY HIM DOWN gently,” Mildred said as they carried J.B. to a bed. They had made the journey unhindered, but none could shake the feeling that they were being watched. It was unnerving, uncomfortable, and made them each wonder what Ethan’s next move would be.
As the companions entered, Michaela, now conscious and on her feet, dabbed at the cut on her head with iodine and winced. She shot Mildred a glance that mixed confusion and fear.
“Don’t you worry, lady, you’re safe for now,” Mildred snapped at her. “But there are a few questions you’d better answer…”
Michaela’s glance followed the line of Mildred’s vision to where Krysty and Doc had laid J.B. on a bed. She took in his complexion, the sweat that poured from him and his almost delirious state.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—” she whispered over and over to herself, lips moving almost inaudibly.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Mildred cut in, steel in her tone to cast a cold shiver down the spine. “He’s been infected with something. And I figure that maybe you know what it is, seeing as you have all these cultures in your care. Now, I can take a blood sample and match whatever’s coursing through John’s veins with what we’ve got here, but that will take some time. And it looks to me like there may not be the time, either for John or for us. Or I could ask you nicely…and maybe not so nicely if you won’t cooperate.” Mildred’s brown eyes blazed with barely suppressed fury.
Michaela was in no doubt that Mildred meant what she said. The spiky-haired healer clung to the bench, still not fully recovered from Mildred’s earlier blow and unwilling to risk another attack. “Okay, okay,” she said quickly. “Look, it’s not that simple, Mildred. I didn’t want to lie to you, you know that. But I’ve got to live here.”
“Cut the crap, that doesn’t matter right now,” Mildred snapped. “Just answer the question.”
“I’m trying to,” Michaela yelled, regretting it as her aching head protested. “Look, I told you that all the diseases and cures were taken from a freezer facility in the old city, right?” She waited for a nod of assent, then continued. “That’s okay as far as it goes, that’s true. But it’s not the whole story. Bones restored the freezer facility we have here, but he also restored another one that Ethan has in his palace. And he had all the records from the old facility in the city. There were some things that Ethan had me look at, and that he wouldn’t let me keep here. I wondered why, but I didn’t want to ask. I think it’s pretty obvious now why that was.”
“Shit,” Mildred breathed. She was sure that the girl was telling her the truth. Thinking about it, if she was Ethan, there was no way she’d use such a bargaining tool and leave it so easily accessible. “Think, girl,” she said anxiously. “Can you remember what it was that Ethan kept with him?” She was hoping that it would be possible to synthesize an antidote from what she had in the lab, or at least alleviate the Armorer’s symptoms if she had some idea what had infected him.
Michaela closed her eyes, muttering to herself, trying to recall anything that could help. Despite the fact that Mildred had rendered her unconscious earlier, the spiky-haired healer felt that she would—if their positions had been reversed—have done exactly the same thing. And she was tired of living in fear of Ethan and his regime. Most people didn’t give a shit as long as they could eat well and live well, which the hunts enabled them to do. But she had had enough of it all. If there was a time to change sides, it was now. The companions had given her the courage to do this in her head, even if they were hopelessly outnumbered. Of course, she didn’t expect any of them to believe her, and she wouldn’t have wasted breath in telling them, but she was truly trying to remember what she had seen in the baron’s palace.
It wouldn’t come. It didn’t matter. What happened next rendered her train of thought pointless for now.
The door crashed open and five sec men barged through, shouting at one another. They were led by Horse. Jonno was among the other four. They had handblasters, ready to fire.
“Don’t move a fucking muscle,” Horse yelled, his dreadlocks still swinging from his momentum, even though he was now standing still in the middle of the room. All eyes turned to him. “You’re gonna follow me, now,” he said in a quieter voice. “Don’t fuck us around and you won’t get hurt.”
“What about J.B.?” Mildred barked. “He can’t be moved. Right, Michaela?”
The young healer looked at her apologetically. “No, but it doesn’t matter what I say. They’ll move him anyway.”
“Too right, bitch,” Jonno said with a sneer. “You’re a bit too friendly with this bunch for my liking.”
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��Shut it, fat man,” Horse snapped. “No one speaks unless I say so. You two,” he directed at Doc and Krysty, “take him and bring him with you. Where the fuck is One-Eye and the white boy?”
“I would not know, to be honest with you,” Doc replied with heavy sarcasm. So heavy that it was obvious even to the sec men.
Horse sighed. “Show him what it means to be a smart-ass around here, Jonno,” he said wearily.
The fat man smiled sadistically and stepped over to where Doc stood. A backhand swipe with his blaster hand caught Doc across the mouth, splitting his upper lip. Doc grunted in surprise and stumbled, helped to the floor by a blow to the back of his head with the butt of the blaster.
“No! He can’t fight back,” Michaela yelled, starting toward the old man.
Horse trained his blaster at her. “Guess we know which side you’re on now,” he mused.
The companions and the young healer stood and watched helplessly while the fat man kicked the prone Doc repeatedly in the ribs before stepping back, breathless and smiling.
“Get up, you old fuck,” he snarled. “You’ve got to carry Four Eyes out of here, yet.”
THE WHITE DOUBLE DOORS leading into Baron Ethan’s quarters came into view as both Ryan and Jak moved quickly down the corridor. They could see people moving in the daylight beyond the corridor walls, but there was no sign that they had been noticed and marked as hostile, and no sign of any sec men coming to intercept them.
“I’ll take the doors, cover you. You recce the room,” Ryan snapped, unholstering his SIG-Sauer and chambering a round.
Jak nodded, noting that blasters were now an option and taking out his .357 Magnum Colt Python. He allowed Ryan to get a few steps in front, and prepared to spring as the one-eyed man booted open the doors, the force from his strong thigh muscles ripping the lock from the wood of the doors as they sprang apart. As Ryan advanced, Jak somersaulted into the room, keeping low, moving fast and seeking shelter. He came to rest behind a chair and checked the area while Ryan stayed in the doorway.
It was an absurd situation—the room was empty apart from the baron, who was seated behind his desk, studying yet more papers. He looked up at the intrusion, but seemed to stay impassive.
“Gentlemen, I’ve been expecting you,” he said calmly. “I do hope that you haven’t done too much damage to those doors. And, by the way, I also hope that you haven’t chilled too many of my sec men.”
“Only two, and only because they got in the way,” Ryan said, walking into the room and keeping his blaster trained on the baron. “Jak, check that we’re alone.”
The albino moved to the other doors, opening and checking, ignoring the weary words of Ethan.
“If I wanted to have you chilled, it would have happened by now. But what would I gain from that?”
“What indeed,” Ryan mused, walking up to the desk and putting the muzzle of the handblaster under the baron’s nose. “But then, profit is the word that matters here, isn’t it?”
Ethan shrugged. “Isn’t it always? The only way a ville survives and a baron prospers is if it makes jack, trades goods. It has to have something to trade, you must realize that. I’m assuming, of course, that you know what we have to trade or sell.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said softly. “I know. And I also know that your sec men have infected J.B. You think that’ll make us fit in with your plans?”
Ethan calmly raised a hand and pushed the muzzle of the handblaster away from his face. Ryan had to hand it to him. He was cool in the face of a possible chilling. It would be all too easy for Ryan to squeeze the trigger and end his fireblasted life. The baron continued in an even voice. “Unless you want him to buy the farm without putting up some kind of fight, yes. And I don’t think you’re the sort of people who could do that.”
“It won’t work,” Ryan stated with a confidence that he couldn’t feel. “Mildred knows about the sort of shit that you’ve put into J.B., and she knows how to fix it. Your healer has told her a lot—”
“Yes, I thought she would,” Ethan murmured, unfazed by these revelations. “I’ve suspected for a long time that she isn’t what you might call one hundred percent behind my leadership. But doubtless she would also have told your Mildred that not everything that we salvaged from the old city has been stored in the hospital. Don’t you think that I would have to be extraordinarily stupe to have infected your friend with something that could be remedied that easily?”
“Mebbe not—but if you don’t hand it over, then I’ll blow your fucking head clean off your shoulders…and don’t think that I won’t enjoy it.”
“Ryan—sec approaching,” Jak snapped, his keen senses picking up oncoming trouble.
Ethan grinned. It was smug and self-satisfied, and for a second Ryan thought it would be worth firing just to see it wiped off and smeared all over the walls. But he couldn’t.
Almost as if he could read the one-eyed man’s thoughts, Ethan answered his unspoken questions. “You don’t know what the infection is, you don’t know where I’ve stored it. Chilling me won’t help you—in fact, although you may possibly be able to find the antidote eventually, the time it would take may prove to be fatal. Can you risk that? And that’s once you’ve had to fight off my men, keen to avenge my buying the farm…” Ethan smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think so, do you?”
Ryan knew he was right, but still kept the blaster trained on him, unwavering. Jak was facing the door from which the approaching sec could now be clearly heard. He had the Colt Python ready to fire.
“Ryan, take out?” he queried.
“No, this round belongs to him. But it’s not the war.”
Jak stepped back, lowering his own blaster. “How we know they not gonna just blow us away?” he snapped at Ethan.
“Wouldn’t do me much good if they did, boy,” the baron replied before raising his voice. “Come on in. They’re not trouble anymore.”
The doors opened and a posse of sec men entered the room, led by Horse and Jonno. The fat man was dragging Doc behind him, the old man stumbling and falling. He had lost his silver lion’s-head swordstick, and was covered in blood where cuts had opened from the beating he had received at the fat sec man’s hands. His face was a mass of puffy and split flesh, and from his stiff and stumbling gait he had been beaten severely about the body. Jonno pushed him forward with a grating laugh and the old man fell to the floor. Jak was beside him in a second, checking him for serious damage. The slightly built albino looked up at the fat sec man, his eyes flashing anger although his face remained impassive.
“Damaged Doc, you pay double, fat man,” Jak said with a cold simplicity that left little doubt in the mind of anyone present that, despite the disparity in their sizes, Jak was more than capable of following through on this statement of intent.
Horse ignored the albino and spoke directly to the baron, trying to deflect from the tension between Jak and Jonno.
“Everything okay here now?” he asked mildly, eyeing Ryan, who still had the SIG-Sauer in his hand, although it was now pointed downward.
Ethan nodded, then gazed at Doc. “Why did you beat on the old man?”
Horse shrugged. “He got a little uppity and Jonno got a little carried away.”
Ethan pursed his lips and shook his head. “I said that they were to be kept in good condition. Any of the others fucked up in any way?”
Horse shook his head, his dreads moving to a rhythm of their own. “They’re okay. They were in the hospital, like you thought, and Mildred had just figured out that she couldn’t save Four Eyes without our help.”
“That’s good. Then I take it that, like our friends here, they know that they must cooperate to help him.” When Horse assented, Ethan continued. “That makes beating on the old guy even more stupe. May I have your blaster, Ryan?”
The one-eyed man looked at the baron, surprised. He was in no position to refuse, but the fact was that he would have expected Ethan to just take it, not ask nicely. Confused, he nodded and
, temporarily dumbfounded, handed over the SIG-Sauer.
“Thanks,” the baron said simply. Weighing the blaster in his hand, he added, “Nice piece of hardware, actually. Good weight.” He lifted it up and sighted, as though target shooting. “Yeah, real nice.”
Before anyone had a chance to realize what he was about to do, he swiveled, took aim and squeezed, loosing off one shot at the fat sec man. Jonno’s face registered astonishment as the shell drilled a neat hole in the center of his forehead, the less than neat exit wound at the back taking a great chunk of skull with it, splattering brain and blood behind him. Still looking mildly bemused, the fat man slumped to the ground.
“Thanks. Shoots real nice, too,” Ethan added, handing the SIG-Sauer back to an astounded Ryan. “See, the fat man there broke the cardinal rule. I’m in charge here, and when I say I want something done, I expect my instructions to be carried out exactly. I didn’t want any of you to be harmed. Not for any altruistic purpose, but for the simple reason that I want you all in perfect condition for my next hunt. Now clear that fucking corpse away, and get someone to clean the floor before all that blood and brain leaves a stain on my wooden floors,” the fastidious tyrant added to his sec chief.
He gestured to some of the sec party who were still standing, astonished, to the rear of where the chilling had taken place. “Bring the old man over to the comfortable seats and put him there. And you and the albino go with him,” Ethan added to Ryan. “We have things to discuss.”
Ryan and Jak followed the sec men and Doc to the sofas where they had sat less than forty-eight hours before—a lifetime and world of difference away. Ethan sat opposite them and began to speak again.
“You seem a little bemused, and understandably so given what’s just happened. Let me put this simply. I work on a rule of supply and demand. The people who give us goods and jack want a good show. They want to hunt or to witness a hunt. And they want blood and variety. The first is easy, the second not so much…So when I come across an interesting bunch like you guys, then I start to think. You’re obviously good hunters, and by the same token, would be likely to make good prey. But are you going to do that? No, not without some kind of persuading. And what better than one of your kind being in mortal danger. Your friend J.B. was just unlucky in that he was the first to break cover. It could have been any of you, although mebbe not you two, come to that. You’re too valuable.