by James Axler
“What the nuking hell is that? You guys have a bit of free time on your hands?”
The major barely glanced at the large statue. “Nope, it was here when we arrived. The citizens claim it’s the city’s mascot. They call it the Free City’s Blue Bear.”
Doc coughed, his head swiveling on his scrawny neck as he tried to look everywhere at once. “I must say, for your city’s location, I am surprised at the small amount of collateral damage. What with NORAD and Cheyenne Mountain so close by, surely Denver would have been targeted as a primary eradication site, and yet— Ow!”
Seeing the major lean forward to better hear Doc’s rambling, Ryan shifted his position, as well, using the movement to jab a swift kick at Doc’s shin. “Watch it, Doc. Don’t be talking the major’s ear off with your boring bullshit.”
Kelor’s muddy-brown eyes flicked from Doc’s seamed, lined face to Ryan’s impassive one, but he didn’t say anything. The old man rubbed his injured leg and remained silent for the rest of the ride. When he turned to watch the street passing, Ryan caught the major’s gaze and tapped his temple, then shook his head in the traditional “not all there” gesture. The major nodded slowly, but Ryan was pretty sure he hadn’t fooled the canny sec man.
“You said you came from the south of here. Whereabouts, exactly?”
“We were trading down near the border, but pickings were slim, so we thought we’d try our luck north. Our steam wag gave up the ghost about fifty miles south of here, and we been walking ever since. It was a good thing we came on Denver when we did. We were about to roast under that sun.”
“Traders, huh? What you dealing in?”
Too late, Ryan realized the subtle trap the major had laid. The sec man was far smarter than Ryan had given him credit for. Like recognized like, and he knew Ryan was anything but a trader. Any sort of regular trade goods would be a clear lie, given their appearance, and anything exotic like weapons or explosives would mark them as a threat.
“As I’d said, pickings were slim. We barely made it out of the last ville we entered with our lives, and had to leave a lot of stuff behind. Since then, we were more in the line of doing odd jobs. My friend there—” he pointed at J.B. “—is an excellent weaponsmith, able to fix just about anything. We’re all decent shots—” that was no lie, whenever possible, everyone who could get their hands on a weapon learned shooting early in the Deathlands “—so we were hiring on as sec for small villes, ranches, anyone who needed a few extra sec men.”
“But you ended up here instead.”
“Yeah. Not much to the south, either. Place called Colorado Springs is pretty much empty.”
“Hmm.” The major leaned back, leaving Ryan to wonder if his concocted story would hold up. He reminded himself to go over it with everyone else once they were alone.
They rumbled up to a multistory building that also had people bustling in and out of it through the revolving door and side doors, both civilians and those dressed in military fatigues. Major Kelor hopped out and held the door for the others. Once they had all exited, the major had another brief conference with the driver, then the wag took off down the street.
“You’re now in the heart of the Free City. Relax and enjoy yourselves. You couldn’t be any safer.”
“Thank you, Major, and please thank Mr. Carrington for us, as well. We look forward to dining with him this evening,” Krysty replied.
“Yes, a wag will be here for you at a quarter to the hour. For now, relax and enjoy yourselves. I’m sure you’ll find the Magnolia has plenty to keep you entertained.” The major smiled again, this one knowing. Raising two fingers to his brow, he gave them all a sly salute, turned and walked down the street.
“Cheeky one, isn’t he?” J.B. muttered out of the side of his mouth.
“Too clever by half. I don’t know how much he heard of Doc’s rambling, but I think it was more than enough.”
“Trouble?”
“Won’t know just yet. Might be at dinner tonight.”
Krysty watched the retreating figure as he rounded a corner and disappeared. “I wonder what the good major would do if we didn’t go inside.”
Mildred snorted. “Oh, I imagine we’re being watched this very minute, and if we were to go anywhere else, a mil wag and a very polite sec man or two would ‘escort’ us back right where we belonged.”
Another wag came to a stop in front of the hotel, and the passenger door opened to disgorge Jak. The albino teen’s face looked clean, and his left arm was in a sling, which he immediately removed and tossed back into the wag before walking over, his thin-lipped mouth set against the pain his arm was causing him.
“Sure hope he didn’t chill the healer,” J.B. observed as they all watched the skinny, ghost-faced youth approach.
“What waitin’ for? Let’s go.” Jak shouldered his way through and headed toward the doors.
Shrugging, Ryan followed. “Might as well.”
The interior of the place was smaller than he’d expected, with a lobby opening up to a bank of elevators ahead and to the right. Directly to their left was a long desk with three people behind it, and to the right was what appeared to be a curving staircase that led to the floor below. Like everything else in the city, the room was spotless.
Jak stood in the middle, his mouth slightly agape, staring at the shining yellow lights in the chandelier. “Got ’lectric here.”
Mildred frowned. “Yeah, so? It isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”
“Mebbe so, but—” Jak looked around to make sure no one overheard him, “Usually only redoubts, ya know?”
Ryan stopped as the implication struck him. Jak was right. Only the strongest and wealthiest barons had access to generators, but even then they usually only lit their own houses, letting the rest of the populace make do with smoky fireplaces, crude tallow candles or, if they were lucky, kerosene lamps. To have access to enough power to light a building like this meant they didn’t just have a generator, but some kind of power plant.
“Power indeed,” Ryan breathed. “Boy, we are all kinds of triple-stupe. That’s why Tellen’s so all-fired hot to move in here. With a plant like that under his thumb, he could dictate terms to anyone he wanted.”
“Can I help you folks?” one of the desk men, dressed in a white-collared shirt and threadbare but well-maintained vest, asked.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Ryan strode over to the desk. “Major Kelor said we’re expected. Name’s Ryan Cawdor.” He gave the names of the others, as well.
“Yes, Mr. Cawdor, you and your friends are expected. My name’s Carter, and it’s my pleasure to welcome all of you to the Magnolia. Three suites have been prepared for your group. Will that be acceptable?”
“Sure.” Ryan shrugged, since he and the rest of the group could sleep anywhere from a pest-hole bed to a hole in the ground and anyplace in between.
Carter was inserting three small cards into a machine on the desk that buzzed as it accepted each one, then he came around the desk. “I’ll be happy to take you up and show you around.”
Ryan placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’ve seen bedrooms before, friend.”
The young man didn’t take offense, but simply smiled. “Not like these you haven’t.”
His matter-of-fact tone made Ryan frown slightly, but he removed his hand. “Okay, let’s go.”
Carter walked to the elevators and pressed the button. The light above one, in the shape of an upward-pointing arrow, lit up. Ryan and the others moved over and waited for the car to arrive.
Doc reached out hesitantly and tapped on the door with the ferrule of his swordstick. “Pardon my lack of delicacy, my good man, but there, ah, has there been any failures of yon conveyance recently?”
The clerk’s confident mask slipped a bit at Doc’s odd phrasing of the question, but his intended meaning was clear enough. “We get that question a lot, and the answer is no, the elevator’s never failed. It has three separate stopping mechanisms
in case anything goes wrong with the machinery.”
“Most reassuring.” With an electronic ding, the doors opened as the elevator arrived. Ryan swallowed hard as he entered the small room. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but Jak’s words in the lobby had been right on target—electricity and elevators were the province of the mysterious redoubts that housed the mat-trans units that they used to travel around the Deathlands. Elevators sometimes meant trouble.
Mebbe this time it’ll be different, he thought, but his hand still sought out the holstered Sig Sauer at his hip, reassuring himself that it was still there.
The elevator traveled smoothly upward until it stopped with another ding, opening into a small hallway lined with a half dozen heavy wooden doors, with another at the far end. Carter led the way along a worn carpet, talking as soon as he stepped out into the corridor. “This is a treat. Mr. Carrington has these held only for very special guests of our Free City.” He showed everyone how to open the doors by inserting the key card into the slot above the door handle, watching as the light changed from red to green, then opening the door.
The interior of the rooms, however, were absolutely magnificent. Ryan doubted he had ever seen anything finer outside a baron’s bedroom, which was usually overdecorated with the gaudiest crap they could find, piled up everywhere until it overwhelmed the place. But this place—from the plush, clean carpet covering the floor to the huge bed against the center of the main wall, featuring a feather comforter and real sheets, to the marble-inlaid bathroom with what looked like a whirlpool bath large enough for two, if they were willing to get very cozy—was exactly like the clerk had said. It was truly like nothing any of them had ever seen.
Carter had more surprises in store, walking to the large floor-to-ceiling curtains and pulling them apart to let in the afternoon light. “You have an incredible view of the city from here, including the outskirts. It’s advisable to keep them closed at night, however. Some folks have been picked off by Tellen’s snipers, I’m afraid.”
“Can we see the power plant from here?” J.B. asked, his tone completely expressionless.
The clerk hesitated for the barest second before replying. “That isn’t visible at this location, but one of the best things it powers is.” He walked to a large cabinet that stood against the wall opposite of the bed and opened the double doors, revealing a large monitor. Pressing a button on a small machine underneath it, he waited for the red light to turn green, opened a small tray and placed a small golden disk in it, closed the tray and waited for a few seconds again until the screen lit up with pictures and sounds.
“We have a large selection of videos dating from the twentieth century for your viewing pleasure.” Carter turned to face them, his expression growing serious. “We do keep track of them whenever guests reside in these suites, however.”
“Like we can play ’em anywhere else,” Jak muttered.
“Of course,” Krysty said. “Everything will be left just as we found it.”
“Naturally. Are there any questions, or is there anything we can do for you? Clothes cleaning or mending, perhaps a new outfit altogether?”
Ryan and the rest of his group exchanged glance before Doc spoke up. “Now that would be heavenly. What is the procedure?”
“Once you’ve selected a room, simply use the phone besides the bed—” Carter demonstrated with the unit in the room “—and press the front desk button. Let us know you’re ready for laundry service, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“You’ll have them ready for this evening?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, otherwise we would be happy to outfit you in alternate attire, if you so desire.”
“Jeez, talk like Doc now.” Jak had torn his attention away from the wondrous video player to whisper to J.B.
Ryan spoke over the albino teen’s words. “Might take you up on that offer, thanks. For now I think we’ll just relax a bit until dinner.”
“Very well then. If you should require anything, the front desk button again will connect you. I hope your stay at the Magnolia is a pleasant one.”
Me, too, Ryan thought, watching the clerk walk to the door and leave, closing it behind him.
Chapter Eleven
As soon as the major rounded the corner of the Magnolia, his pace quickened until he was almost trotting down the street, nodding to civilians as he passed, tossing off quick answering salutes to fellow sec men.
“Bastard rank-and-file,” he muttered. Times like this—when he’d actually prefer to be inconspicuous—the uniform impeded him to no end. But going in civilian clothes would take too much time now. If he wanted to make his rendezvous, he’d have to hurry.
Stepping quickly to the back of the building, he saw the squat, hulking shape of the mil wag and driver he’d told to meet him here. “Where to, sir?” the sec man asked, about to turn the key.
“That’s a negative. I’m commandeering this vehicle myself. You’re to report back to your quarters, and tell no one about this. I’ll return this vehicle to the motor pool after I’m finished.”
The man’s salute was firm at first, but wavered as he heard his instructions. “Yes, sir. Um, sir, permission to speak freely?”
Kelor stifled a sigh and nodded. “Yes?”
“Given the recent attack, the regs say that no one should be out by themselves. Requesting permission to accompany you on your mission.”
Kelor smiled. It was all too easy. Just give the average man something to believe in, something larger than himself, and he’d gladly risk his own life to save another. “I appreciate your devotion to duty, Private Hanstead. Tell you what. I’ve got a turn in the Magnolia coming up, but as a reward for your adherence to the regulations, I’d like you to go in my place.”
The young man’s eyes goggled. “Sir, do you really mean that?”
Kelor smiled again, this one easy and real. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t, Hanstead. Why don’t you head back to barracks and get cleaned up. Once I’ve finished my business, I’ll head back here and arrange for that pass to be waiting.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Hanstead scampered off, and Kelor swung into the driver’s seat, hitting the ignition and easing the wag into gear. The vehicle balked a bit before accelerating, and Kelor frowned as he listened to the rough engine. Stores of gas are getting worse and worse every day, he thought. Got to see about tracking down more from somewhere. Need to get updated numbers on the summer crops and cattle, too. If that bastard Tellen keeps rustling heads, it’s gonna be a long, meatless winter.
His thoughts turned from logistics and supply problems to the new arrivals in town. They were stone-cold chillers, every one of them, even the old man. And that redhead was damn fine. But he’d bet she’d feed any man’s nuts to him if she didn’t want to play.
He’d been paralleling the main wall a few blocks to the west, but as he left he angled deeper into the city, away from the main fortifications and into the ring of houses still protected by the metal wall. He scanned the deserted streets, an ancient, creased map on his knee, looking for a tumbledown house at a particular intersection.
The wag sputtered as he rounded a corner, and Kelor fed it more gas to keep the vehicle going. The last thing he wanted to be was on foot this far out from the main cordon. Just because they were behind the wall didn’t mean there weren’t predators that found their way inside.
“Bastard place’s gotta be around here somewhere— Ah, there it is.”
The houses here were little more than crumbling ruins, ravaged by a century of harsh Rocky Mountain weather. One in particular, a weathered, pale gray ranch listing to one side, caught his attention, primarily due to the large, white X that had been painted on the door, looking fresh and clean as if it had been done the day before, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth.
Kelor grimaced as he pulled up to the worn curb in front of the house, checking that his Beretta PX4 .40-caliber blaster was secure in its hip holster before moving in. It was unnerving how the
y got inside the perimeter so easily, even with the random patrols through certain neighborhoods. After all, if one or two could get in here, what’s to stop ten, or twenty, or fifty? But he was in too deep now to stop—too much was riding on his ability to produce what was needed.
Halfway up the cracked sidewalk, he thought he heard a skittering noise around the left side of the house. Easing his blaster out of the holster, he pulled back the slide to chamber a round and crept to the corner of the house, raising his blaster before lunging around the corner of the building, pistol extended to aim at…
Nothing. Dried brown grass crunched under his feet, and a few yards away a weathered wooden fence stood, gaps in the barrier providing a glimpse into the next yard, but no signs of life. Kelor exhaled and raised his blaster, shaking his head. All that skulking around was making him paranoid.
Glancing around warily nonetheless, he walked back to the front door and listened at it before trying the knob. As soon as he touched it, the slab of wood fell into the room with a crash, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
As soon as the door hit, Kelor stepped inside and swept the room with the laser sight on his Beretta, looking for the slightest movement. Every time he went out for one of these meetings, he expected a double-cross to be pulled, with him chilled on the floor. So far the information he had provided had been invaluable, but Kelor wasn’t stupe enough to think his usefulness would last forever, especially given what his contact had in mind.
The living room was desert-dry, with a thick layer of dust on the carpeted floor, revealing two sets of footprints heading toward the entryway to the room beyond. Kelor approached the entryway on the right-hand side, skirting the perimeter of the room until he was next to the opening, close enough to see the faded white counters of a kitchen inside. Peeking his head in for a moment, the major established that no one was waiting in the room for him, then ducked through the doorway, checking each corner, just to make sure.
When Kelor was certain the room was empty and secure, he looked at the aluminum-legged table in the middle of the kitchen. Unlike everything else, the table-top was free of dust and debris. On it rested a rectangular, dark green box with a keypad and illuminated screen on the front, right next to a handset. Approaching it warily, Kelor picked up the handset and put it to his ear. “Hello?”