by James Axler
"Now?" Krysty asked, curious.
"Used to have some other names, but Adam called me Sky and that's what I am now."
Traven waved a hand and beckoned his little flock tighter around him. "See you later, Sky," he said. "Have a nice day."
They walked off, the sparkling mirrored jacket catching the eye as Traven moved along the path toward the center of the ville.
Sky bounded toward the start of the ride, dragging Doc behind her. Dean went next, eyes alight with excitement, Mildred and J.B. following him more slowly. Krysty smiled and began to climb after them, with Ryan at her heels. But Kelly caught him by the arm and stopped him.
"A word, outlander," the sec man said quickly and quietly. "I seen Traven a lot. Know him. Keep your boy from him and get away from here as quick as you can."
"I saw his face. But—"
Kelly was very close, so that Ryan could feel his breath on his skin. "Bad things happen here since that little prick arrived. I told you. Boss won't lift a finger, Ryan. Just watch the boy. Watch him close."
HIS MIND RACING, Ryan climbed the steel steps, following the stocky figure of the sec man, joining the others on the platform that was lined with mock hieroglyphics.
Dean was waiting for him, grinning. "Come on, Dad," he said. "Let's go."
Chapter Twenty-Four
DESPITE THE LOOSE connections, the showers of bright rust and the rattling and vibrating, Ryan enjoyed one of the most amazing afternoons of his entire life.
As they waited on a narrow platform with painted instructions to Stand In Line and Only Two To A Car, they heard a grinding of gears and a whirring rumble of oiled chains. Then the line of linked capsules came lurching into sight.
Each was painted to look like the sarcophagus of an Egyptian mummy, with tiny antic figures and dog-headed gods.
"Goodness!" Doc exclaimed in misty-eyed awe. "Look at the god-headed dogs."
Nobody took any notice of him.
There was a barely audible warning about keeping arms inside the cars, which was overlaid with some strange Eastern music of reed pipes and a slack-skinned drum.
Ryan climbed in, adjusting the holster on his SIG-Sauer, patting the thin-gauge metal of the carriage with his hand. Krysty sat beside him, pushing her hair back off her face. A heavy restraining bar, its padding leaking in white nodules, pulled down over their shoulders and locked into place.
"If Traven or Larry Zapp wanted to take us out, this'd be a good time and place," Ryan muttered.
Dean and Kelly took the second car, with Mildred and J.B. behind them. Doc and Sky squeezed into the fourth and last Egyptian carriage, the girl giggling at something the old man had said to her.
"Don't know what you mean, Doc, but you sure speak funny. You aren't like some of the other wrinklies that—" She stopped as though she'd been on the verge of saying something she shouldn't have.
The moment passed as the recorded voice of a man dead a hundred years warned, "Enjoy your corkscrew journey into the past of old Nile. And say 'Hi' to Cleopatra for us."
There was a terrifying jolt as the little train began to move along the twin rails.
"I read about things like this," Krysty said, having to raise her voice above the noise of the ride. "Never thought I'd ever get to go on one."
"Me neither… Fireblast!"
They gave a lurch to the right and then the left as the cars climbed up a steep rise. On either side there were panels, some of them torn and splintered, that had once portrayed extraordinary scenes from the imagined life of old Egypt.. Most of them seemed to have shown ladies with enormous breasts and men with large swords.
"Moral there, lover," Krysty said, the words jerked from her by the vibration of the whole teetering structure.
Ryan gritted his teeth as their car paused on the brink of the hill, inching forward.
"Oh, Gaia!" Krysty gasped, gripping Ryan's hand in both hers.
Ryan closed his one eye, wincing at the sight, his last sentient thought a flaming anger that he'd been so easily trapped by Zapp. He'd actually sat in his own execution vehicle and locked himself snugly in.
As they bottomed out and roared up the next slope, he had a moment to realize that the drop hadn't been more than a hundred feet and they'd been completely safe all the way.
Behind him he could hear the whooping of his son and Kelly stringing out a monotonous recital of florid curses.
There was a yell from farther back that he suspected might have been Doc Tanner, but the noise of the roller coaster overwhelmed everything.
They rushed through the warm air, faster and faster. The cars dipped and rose, the g-forces quadrupling and quartering within fifteen seconds. Some of the time it felt to Ryan as if his head weighed a ton.
"Why…call…corkscrew?" Krysty yelled, her fingers digging painfully into his arm.
"Don't know," he managed, the two words jarred from his midriff.
A moment later he knew.
It was the nearest thing Ryan had ever experienced to making a jump through a gateway. His brain flopped loosely around inside his skull, and the snack meal he'd eaten an hour or so earlier came rising before him like the ghosts of dead enemies. He managed to clamp his mouth tightly shut, swallowing hard. Pressure clawed at his ears, and his eye felt swollen in its socket.
They went around twice through three hundred and sixty degrees, then they were back the right way, powering along through another set of tight curves and dips and rises.
The hydraulic hiss of the tram's braking system was magic to Ryan.
He lifted off the upholstered safety bar and climbed back onto the platform. Krysty, smiling, got out after him.
"Around the world and home again, lover," she said. He noticed that the sentient crimson hair had curled itself into a ball at the back of her neck.
"I wouldn't ride that triple-bastard again for all the jack in Deathlands," he said, hoping he wasn't actually going to throw up.
It was a relief to see from the heightened pallor of J.B.'s face that the Armorer hadn't relished his first encounter with an antique roller coaster, either.
Mildred was grinning all over her face as she got out. "Boy, did that bring back some wonderful memories," she whooped.
Doc was being helped out by Sky, struggling to keep a glassy smile in place.
"Interesting," he said. "The double corkscrew is something that I will recall for many long winter evenings."
Kelly got out, chewing gum, looking utterly unchanged by the ride. Dean didn't move, sitting in his seat, eyes as big as pinwheels, head moving a little from side to side, as if he were listening to the entrancing melodies of the piper from the gates of dawn.
Ryan stooped over his son. "You feeling all right, Dean?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah. Again, Dad. Again, please!"
The second time wasn't quite as bad as the first. Only Dean and Ryan took a car, with Mildred on her own in the rear carriage.
She took a rain check on the third trip around Pharaoh's Curse, and father and son rode it alone. It was just about as bad as the first time.
With extreme prejudice, Ryan kept the boy company for a fourth—and last—ride.
ALTOGETHER KELLY TOOK them onto five rides, all different in their effects. One had diminutive electric-powered miniwags painted in bright colors. All you did was go around and around a slightly banked circuit less than two hundred yards in circumference.
"At least it doesn't send your stomach on a journey of exploration to your back teeth," J.B. commented, recovering a little self-possession.
Paraglide Paradise was the most fun, even though the machinery seemed remarkably hesitant to function and J.B. kept telling them how frayed some of the main support cables were.
"Rusted clean through," he called to Ryan, who was pressed with Dean and Krysty in one of the metal baskets.
"Where?"
"Just above you."
Ryan chose not to look where the Armorer was pointing, just below the tattered parachute.
J.B. and Mildred were standing close together in a second carrier, while Doc was whispering intently into Sky's ear in a third one. The girl, who only looked about fifteen, kept giggling and shaking her shoulders.
"Hope Doc knows what he's doing there," Krysty said. "Could find himself out of his depth."
Kelly stayed on the ground, operating the controls that hoisted the three metal baskets high into the air over the park. Once they reached the top, they remained there for several seconds.
It gave Ryan the opportunity to recce the park and the surrounding land.
He could see the central tower where they'd been given their royal audience with Larry Zapp. Near its entrance was a group of people who looked like the oldies from the Rainbow's End Retirement Complex. Away to the east, leading off a winding blacktop, he saw a number of small buildings, with the hollow remains of several swimming pools nearby. Ryan guessed that they might be the secure compound of homes for the wrinklies.
There was nothing beyond it but the limitless expanse of gently waving green that was the swamps. Here and there he could see the glint of sunshine on water, and in a few places, far off, there were rising pillars of smoke from cooking fires, where the Cajuns lived.
"Over…" he began, swallowing his words with a gasp of shock as Kelly threw the control lever that released the dangling capsules.
The first forty feet or so were in plummeting free-fall. After that a checking mechanism came into effect, slowing the descent.
Cables creaked and groaned, and the carriage came to a final shuddering halt just above the ground.
"Liked that," Dean said. "Can we go on it again? Please?"
Kelly caught Ryan's eye. "One thing you have to remember," he said. "Boss Larry used to be a techno genius. Greatest I ever heard of. He found all this and made it work. Back in Centerpoint there's all kinds of radio and vid devices. Boss made them run."
Doc came over in time to hear the end of the conversation, with Sky hanging on his arm, a stoned smile on her lips. "I notice that you seem to be employing the past tense in your description, Mr. Kelly."
"What?"
"You tell us how it was. How it used to be. What the baron was like. How are things now?"
The sec man took in a slow, hissing breath. "There was a wife. Before my time. Before anyone's time. Some say she was a whore, near Dallas. Boss used to cut through the years to the very night it happened. Fight with a crazy out the swamps. Woman took a knife meant for Boss Larry."
J.B. and the others were all standing around now. The Armorer gazed up at Paraglide Paradise. "Things started to slip, huh?"
"Could say that. But he was still sort of hanging on the edge until…" The noncom looked meaningfully at the girl, Sky, who was whistling to herself and staring out toward the dominating silhouette of Gamelot Castle, a tottering Gothic ruin with minarets and crenellated towers with slitted windows. She was oblivious to Kelly's unspoken message.
"So we best be careful what we ride, in case it all comes down around our ears," Mildred said. "Glad you didn't tell me that when we were swooping up and down on the Curse of the Mummy's Tomb, or whatever it was called."
"We'll go around the castle and maybe try one other ride. The big loop's one of the safest. Or the Helter Skelter."
DEAN DIDNT THINK very much of the rambling ruin of Camelot Castle, though some of the rescued holo-vids were impressive enough.
As they walked through the lonely, echoing corridors, with floors of crumbling plastic and rotting arches over the roof, the alcoves on either side were pits of midnight shadow.
Kelly held up a hand. "Keep close. Parts of the floor aren't too safe, so don't wander away."
Ahead of them they heard a whisper of sound, like the last fall leaves being gathered in by Harlequin's broom.
"Something wicked this way comes," Doc breathed, making Sky squeal in fright.
The first alcove became fitfully illuminated as they neared it, showing a tall man in full armor, who proclaimed that he was Sir Gawain and welcomed them to the castle of Camelot, home of chivalry and shrine of the Round Table and the Holy Grail.
A second hologram figure was a woman in a long dress who twirled as she spoke. Sadly the sound had totally gone and her lips moved and smiled in total silence.
"Must be Guinevere," Doc suggested, but only Mildred nodded.
After a few minutes Dean began to get restless. "Boring," he said. "Can't we go on one more ride?"
Kelly looked around at him. "Sure. There's Helter Skelter working. We nearly finished. Haven't been in here for an age. Boss Larry likes it. Comes with his muties some evenings."
Only one more alcove remained.
The first of the group tripped the floor contact that set the hologram into operation, a ball of shimmering light that slowly resolved itself into the head and shoulders of a man—a man who was immensely fat, with long silver hair. As he moved a hand in regal greeting, rings glittered on every finger. He wore a tiny golden crown perched on the top of his head, looking like a wedding ring on a side of beef.
"Boss Larry," Dean said.
Kelly was equally surprised. "Yeah. This wasn't here last time I came through. I told you the guy's a techno brain."
"I am Arthur the king, baron of Greenglades and lord of England. Arthos the Bear. Uther Pendragon. Monarch of all he surveys. And ruler of… ruler of fucking nothing."
The recorded voice slurred and faded.
But the 3-D imagine remained, gazing blankly out at them. Kelly coughed. "Guess that's it, people."
But Larry Zapp hadn't finished.
"Enjoy your time in this magic park."
The image leaned forward, blurring, making Dean take an uneasy step back.
"Clap hands if you… if you want to be happy. I wished to carry the sword into the sunset and light a light this day that shall— Once she'd gone I stopped caring." A tear shone on the face of the ghostly monarch. "I am Arthur, last of the line. The last."
The hologram finally faded away, and the corridor became dark and silent.
Doc broke the stillness. "On the mere, the wailing died away," he said very quietly.
It was a relief for all of them to get outside again into the sunshine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE HELTER SKELTER was a tall tower painted in flowing, hallucinogenic stripes of brilliant colors. It had been decorated more recently than any of the other rides in the park.
"Climb up inside, and when you reach the top you just sit down and slide the polished chute. Who wants to go first?" Kelly looked around the group for a volunteer.
"Looks boring," Dean offered, catching a glare from his father, adding quickly, "but I'll give it a go first."
"I went on things like this," Mildred said. "I'll keep you company."
The sun was behind the clouds, and the shallow-sided bed of the chute gleamed dully like pewter.
Doc was shaking his head. "I fear that these old limbs are beyond such frivolity, my dear Sky. You go, and I shall remain here below and wave encouragingly."
"Ryan?" Krysty said.
"No."
Kelly glanced at his wrist chron. "Better get moving, people."
Dean went first, with Mildred at his heels, then Sky and Krysty last. Ryan positioned himself at the bottom of the ride, looking upward into the dull sky. The Helter Skelter loomed over him, its fluorescent colors bringing back a moment of dizziness. He could just see Dean, waving a small fist to him as the boy sat on the top of the ride, ready to push off.
"Here I come, Dad!" The voice was small and faraway. Ryan waved a hand.
Mildred was also in sight, pressing a hand to her temple, making Ryan wonder if she was suffering from one of her occasional migraine headaches.
The sun came out, slicing across the park, bringing every detail of the ride into clinical detail. The bottom of the chute now shone like silver, and near the last curve Ryan suddenly noticed other pinpoints of diamond light. He leaned forward, vaguely aware of his
son's yelping voice speeding nearer to him.
What could gleam so brightly, looking like tiny slivers of jagged, razored steel?
"Whooooo!" Dean was only one single turn away from the last stretch.
"Stop! Stop there! Hold the sides!" Ryan managed to keep his voice clear and sharp, avoiding a note of panic, which might have freaked the boy.
Fortunately ten years of surviving in Deathlands had given Dean excellent reflexes.
He grabbed at the edges of the run, bracing himself with his new boots, the soles squeaking at the fierce pressure.
Behind him the others had all heard Ryan's warning shout, everyone managing to stop without sliding into anyone else.
J.B. shook his head. "Old can tops and broken fragments of knives and chisels. Section of a crosscut saw. All drilled into the base of the chute. Someone really wanted to do some hurt."
Kelly, face pale, glanced up the Hejter Skelter, to where the sun caught the reddish hair of Sky.
"Best they come down slowly, and we'll help them all off. Safer than trying to climb way back up the, slide."
Dean was first away, swinging himself agilely into his father's arms, running around to look at the metal splinters, all angled toward anyone riding down.
"I'd have gone… Had my legs open and… Some sick bastards in this ville, Dad."
"Can't argue with you," Ryan said.
DOC WAS THE LAST to come into Ryan and Krysty's bedroom for supper.
"Sorry I'm a trifle tardy, my friends. I was somewhat detained."
Mildred was sitting at the round table near the front door to the suite, spooning at a thick fish gumbo. "Detained, Doc? How's the little girl?"
"Who?"
The black woman laughed. "Come on, Doc. One way of looking at it is that you're old enough to be her great-great-great-great—"
"Nonsense! Absolute hogwash and taradiddle, Dr. Wyeth. Admittedly Sky is somewhat younger than I am. But age is no deterrent."
"You're joking us, Doc?" J.B. said, breaking a fresh-baked sourdough roll in half and reaching for the butter.
"No. I think not. The young lady is far from happy with being a member of Adam Traven's posse. As the diminutive psychopath calls it."