Way of the Wolf

by James Axler

  "Cawdor!" Wyatt screamed from below. "Why don't you come out and play, you one-eyed bastard!"

  The big circus wag ground gears out in the street, bullets pinging from its metallic skin.

  Ryan looked at Jak. "Get that rope ready. We're going to need it."

  The albino nodded, then strapped his gear around him. He coiled the end of the hundred-foot rope they'd scavenged from the hotel's stockrooms around his waist, then took a running start at the side of the building.

  Blessed with uncanny acrobatic skills and a sense of balance, the albino sailed across the intervening gap to the next building nearly twenty feet away. With the hotel being the tallest structure in Hazard, the building next to it was only two stories tall.

  Ryan watched Jak drop onto the opposite rooftop, landing lithely and rolling to keep from injuring himself. The albino was up in seconds, pulling the slack out of the rope as Dean fed it through to keep it clear.

  "The wag in the alley?" J.B. asked.

  Ryan nodded. "We make a run for the horses Dean and Jak stashed, they're going to hand us our heads."

  Blasterfire sounded from inside the hotel, letting Ryan know the two groups had found another battleground.

  "Go!" Jak called, twanging the rope to show that he had it taut.

  Even with him tying it to the other side of the building below, the descent grade was steep.

  "Cawdor!" Wyatt shouted again. "We got an account to settle up."

  "Over here!" someone yelled from below. "They're trying to get off the building!"

  "Mildred," Ryan growled.

  The woman nodded and ran over to the side of the building facing the alley. She took careful aim with the ZKR 551 target pistol and began to bang off shots.

  Ryan went to the front of the building, scouting for the wag with the rocket launcher. He spotted it with difficulty, but watched Wyatt waving it forward.

  Settling in behind the sights of the Steyr, Ryan shot through the wag's front tires. The vehicle went out of control and slammed into the front of the general store, coasting through the main window. The men aboard scattered at once, bailing out with their equipment. Ryan sighted on the man carrying the rocket launcher and put him down with a bullet between his shoulder blades that ripped through the front of his chest.

  His next rounds were directed at the RPG-7. At least one of the rifle bullets ricocheted off the rocket launcher before another jacker grabbed it and hauled it to safety.

  "Fireblast!" Ryan cursed. He turned the Steyr on the circus wag and banged off two rounds that kicked the open door against Wyatt. The man was completely hidden by the armored door—except for the hand on the door.

  Ryan grinned coldly, then sighted through the scope. A moment after he squeezed the trigger, he saw blood spray from the jacker leader's hand.

  Wyatt withdrew into the cab of the circus wag, screaming in pain and rage.

  "Handsome!" Ryan yelled over the rooftop. "You might want to think about coming up against me again. You're running out of fingers, you stupe bastard!" He pushed up from the roof and ran to the alley side. "Get across the rope, Dean. You can help some of the others on the other side."

  His son nodded, then wrapped a leather thong around the rope and jumped over the side. The rope bowed with his weight, but the thong slid freely.

  "Doc goes next," Ryan said as Dean hit the rooftop, cradled partially by Jak. "Then Mildred, Albert, Krysty, J.B. I'll bring up the rear."

  "My dear Ryan," Doc started, gazing across the expanse between the two buildings, "truly I wish you thought of another—"

  "Get on with it, Doc. You're going to get someone chilled by hesitating."

  The old man wrapped his leather thong around the rope, then leaped over the side with a harsh yell of "Geronimo!"

  "A little more quiet would have helped," J.B. said.

  The other companions and the dwarf quickly slid along the rope, as well.

  Just as Krysty swung out over the alley, the first of the jackers reached the rooftop. The man opened up with his blaster, slamming bullets into the rain barrels atop the roof. Ryan threw himself to one side, then swept up the SIG-Sauer from his hip. He drilled the man three times, dropping him to his back.

  "Blow the building," Ryan told J.B.

  The Armorer nodded and jerked the radio-controlled device from his jacket pocket. He flicked off the plastic protective cover, then depressed the plunger.

  The roar of the erupting plas-ex charges was deafening in spite of the calliope music still sounding in the street below, and the wild bursts of blasterfire.

  The hotel trembled, swaying far more than Ryan had figured probable with the amount they had used for the demolition work.

  For a moment he was certain they had managed to blow themselves up when a huge section of the rooftop collapsed in the center of the hotel. Then the rumbling died away.

  J.B. took the rope and leaped across the alley, with Ryan following almost right on his heels. They hit the other rooftop almost at the same time, letting go to drop the final distance.

  Ryan pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the painful scrapes he'd gotten on the side of his face and along one arm. He fisted the Steyr and ran for the side of the building facing the hotel. Broken glass and debris from the structure littered the rooftop they stood on. Fires raged inside the building, licking at the gaily patterned curtains.

  At the side of the building, he looked down and found the small wag still sitting below. One of the men was down, covered by a section of the building that had popped his skull like an overripe tomato blistered by the sun. The driver struggled to get out from under the debris.

  Ryan brought the Steyr to his shoulder and shot the man through the head. J.B. burned down a couple of stragglers trying to recover from the blasts. Shouldering the Steyr, Ryan slipped his panga free. "Get Jak to pull the rope to the other side of the building. I'll get the wag, bring it around over there and we can board."

  "I'll give what cover I can."

  Ryan slashed the panga through the rope, watching the free end jump away as he held on to the other end. He leaped upward and grabbed a fresh hold. The twenty-foot span across the alley would put him closer to the ground as the rope dropped.

  He leaped over the edge of the building and swung toward the hotel. Lifting his feet, he caught himself parallel to the side of the hotel, then dropped to the ground.

  Fisting the SIG-Sauer, he sprinted to the wag and yanked the dead driver from behind the wheel. Seating himself, he pressed the starter button patched onto the console in front of him.

  The engine turned sluggishly at first, then caught. It gave a throaty roar, then he let out the clutch. Debris fell away from the wag. Men poured out of the hotel behind him, dust covered and injured. From the looks of things, the jackers were winning over Kirkland's sec forces.

  Ryan roared around the building, handling the wag with brute strength across the ruts. A wag came at him from the left, catching him from his blind side. It rammed into the pickup, carrying enough weight and speed to lift Ryan's wag from the ground for a moment.

  The driver of the other vehicle fed more power to his machine, a reconditioned jeep that had seen hard times.

  Ryan drew the SIG-Sauer and blasted the man from almost point-blank range. The bullet blew the back of the jacker's head out in a gush of brains. Metal shrieked as Ryan swerved around the corner and found his friends taking up positions in the alley.

  J.B. and Jak climbed onto the wag's running boards and shoved the rest of the debris out the back. The Armorer took the shotgun seat while the others piled in back.

  Krysty sat behind Ryan, one hand touching his neck.

  Ryan took the shortest course out of the ville, putting the accelerator to the floor. The wag's engine sent them surging forward.

  "My dear Ryan," Doc called from the back, "I am afraid we have not quite escaped the ville without notice."

  Ryan had to glance over his shoulder, as the wag had no mirrors. He spotted the w
ag pulling into their dust trail. Jak and Krysty had already opened up on the vehicle, with Dean joining in a heartbeat later. But it was Mildred with her steady hands and keen eye that put a bullet through the driver's chest.

  The trailing wag slewed sideways, giving up the chase.

  Ryan kept his attention on the narrow, twisting road. With luck they would be back at the redoubt in under an hour. He glanced back at the ville one last time, seeing how the streamers of black smoke were gathering above it.

  "That ville," Doc announced, "was aptly named."

  "No," Dean stated. "Needs a new name. Longer than the original. Mebbe call it Hazardous."

  Doc laughed delightedly. "Ah, young Master Cawdor, your education has not been for naught, has it?"

  Ryan ignored the merriment in the back. The redoubt was tucked away so that most people couldn't find it. But Handsome Wyatt had been with War Wag One and the Trader when they had looked for nothing else.

  And he had to wonder if Hazard had been the only thing to bring the man to the area.

  Chapter Eighteen

  For a time Ryan didn't think the wag would have enough gas in it to take them to the redoubt. The needle, if it was accurate, hovered just above the quarter-tank mark and stayed there. But it was the road that finally gave out, getting passable only on foot or by horseback.

  Four miles out from the redoubt by estimation, he pulled the wag over to the side. The steep grade allowed them to easily tip the wag into the gully below. They spent a few minutes gathering brush to cover it up, hacking it free with their knives.

  "Dust line headed this way," J.B. called. He squatted farther up the hill, binoculars to his glasses.

  "Didn't figure it would take them long to catch up," Ryan said. "How far out?"

  "Four miles, mebbe five. The wind's blowing this way, so it might actually be a little ahead of them."

  "Are you sure it's them?" Ryan checked his gear. The ammo J.B. had scavenged from Tinker Phillips's gun shop had been split up on the way over.

  "Still got balloons tied to the bastard circus wag," J.B. said laconically.

  "Thought all be bust in firefight," Jak said.

  "Such are the vagaries and whims of the gods," Doc stated.

  "Got no time to waste," Ryan said, feeling the miles evaporate between them and the wolves chasing at their heels. "Jak, Dean, take point. Figure we're operating on condition green and nothing's going to be ahead of us."

  Both boys hurried ahead, already knowing where the redoubt was because they were in familiar territory.

  "Doc, you and the short man go next. Albert, if you can't keep up, you can't go. And Doc, if I see you trying to carry him this time, I'm going to shoot you myself."

  The old man fired off a snappy salute. Albert set himself to match Doc's pace.

  "Mildred, you and Krysty go next. Walk a secondary drag. J.B. and I will bring up the rear a couple hundred yards behind. If we have to, mebbe we can buy some time."

  THE FOUR MILES WENT quickly as they followed the sun to the west. Even Albert was able to stay the course.

  Ryan watched the dust cloud trailing them draw closer, pausing now and again to study Handsome Wyatt's collection of jackers as they milled around where the road ended.

  "More like jackals than jackers," J.B. commented as they crouched in the brush farther up the rough terrain than the wags were. "Running around in packs."

  "Dangerous enough, though," Ryan said. "There's some who would say we were cut of the same cloth as those people back there. And like Kirkland."

  "Mebbe. But we know where the difference is. You've seen the difference between a pack of jackals and a pack of wolves, Ryan," the Armorer said. "Jackals, hell, they'll kill just for sport. But a wolf pack, they hunt for food, shelter and some form of security. That's the way of the wolf. And that's the way Trader taught us. Lot of difference between a wolf and a jackal."

  Ryan nodded, knowing it was true. "Hooray for the difference, but let's put some more distance in there, too." He turned and faded back into the brush.

  LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES later, Ryan watched a band of jackers peel away from the wags. He counted twenty-three men in all, counting Wyatt, who had one hand bundled up in bandages.

  "No way that bastard stupe finished raiding Hazard before he came after us," J.B. said.

  "Kirkland's people could have managed to dig the jackers back out of the ville," Ryan replied.

  "You really think that happened?"

  "No."

  J.B. shook his head. "So that means he's burning up our backtrail looking for a quick dose of get-even."

  "Mebbe. And mebbe he talked to somebody about that anesthetic we brought in," Ryan said. "Could be he figures we found a major stockpile."

  "Man's making a big mistake leaving those wags with so few guards."

  "Yeah. Well, let's just make sure we don't make any right along with him. The sooner we get back to that mat-trans unit, the sooner we're out of here."

  RYAN HAD TO SLOW a little to give his friends the room they needed to reach the redoubt ahead of him and J.B. If the Armorer noticed that he was hanging back, he didn't say anything.

  But the decrease in speed allowed the jackers to draw closer.

  "Going to be a near thing," J.B. said.

  "Yeah, but we're on the downhill side of it now." Ryan kept moving, and kept his attention spread out across the forest. The grade was gradual now, sliding into the valley where the redoubt was housed. More than anything, he needed sleep. Fatigue ate into his bones and joints like acid rain.

  KRYSTY STEPPED into the small stream and followed it against the current to the base of the towering silver-leafed maple the companions had chosen as a marker to remember the trail. She carried her .38 in her fist. Liberty and his gang might no longer be a threat in the area, but they had spotted mutated beasts in the forest.

  Jak and Dean were far ahead of her. She glanced back in Ryan's direction, but didn't see him or J.B,

  "They're okay," Mildred said quietly. "Would have been shooting if they hadn't been."

  Krysty nodded. Her sentient hair coiled tight against her scalp. Perhaps it was from the cold, and maybe even from the dread of the coming jump. A trip through a mat-trans chamber was never any of the companions' idea of a good time.

  She stepped out of the stream under the maple and walked along the bank. Her wet socks reminded her of the holes she had meant to have mended while in Hazard. Then she remembered that there were a few extra socks from that mall in the Carolinas where they'd picked up some necessities.

  A little farther on, she found Doc and Albert waiting beside the stream. Frogs croaked in the wide spillway beneath moss-encrusted boulders towering thirty feet above the ground.

  The dwarf wheezed hard, coughing a little as he tried to regain his breath. He excused himself in a squeaky voice as the two women approached.

  "You did good, little man," Mildred complimented. "This is rough country."

  "Been a rough life," Albeit wheezed. "Had to get hard or die." He glanced around. "How much farther?"

  "We're here," Krysty answered.

  Albert appeared puzzled. "You've got to be joking." He waved at the rock and trees surrounding them. "This is a box canyon. Those jackers following us will leave our corpses out here for the animals."

  "We won't be here by the time they get here," Dean said. He stood on a shelf of rock twenty feet up the rock face. His Browning Hi-Power blaster was in his hand.

  Krysty noted with satisfaction that the hammer on the blaster wasn't rolled back into the ready position.

  Five minutes later J.B. and Ryan joined the group. "They're still behind us," the one-eyed man said. "Be here in a couple minutes."

  Even now, with her mutie sensitive hearing, Krysty could pick up the sounds of men talking and breaking through the brush. They were careful men and didn't make as much noise as most, but if a listener knew what to listen for, the sounds were evident.

  "Jak," Ryan said, "take us in. Co
ndition yellow. Light up a torch. Krysty, you take up a torch, too. Make sure we can see where we're headed."

  Krysty followed Mildred, climbing up onto the rock to a narrow shelf just below where Jak and Dean stood. Both the boys had already disappeared into the crack that sundered the wall of rock from top to bottom.

  There had been a tunnel at one time, Krysty knew, but it had most likely caved in after the nukecaust. However, even as warped nature had taken away, it had also provided in the form of the crack that ran deep into the heart of the hill.

  Krysty turned sideways and eased into the crack. The dim sunlight, already blunted by the leafy canopy overhead, darkened quickly to full black. She felt her way along cautiously, using her mutie senses, as well as her hands and feet.

  "When those jackers get here," Albert said, "all they're going to have to do is cover us over."

  "My dear, diminutive friend," Doc said confidently, "trust in us and fear not. For this path truly is our salvation from this grievous situation we currently find ourselves embroiled in."

  "Still feel bad not knowing where we're headed," the dwarf replied.

  Krysty felt along the wall, glancing back in time to catch sight of Ryan filing into the crack behind her. A cool wind breezed from the depths below.

  Another dozen steps and the constricting crack opened up. Light flared in front of her as Jak cracked a self-light and ignited the oil-based torch they had set up after their arrival. The redoubt hadn't been stocked much in the supply department. Everywhere they had looked, there had been signs of looting and scavengers who had known their business. They had, however, managed to find several useful items. A collection of skeletons remained below, three of them with their skulls bashed in.

  "Krysty," Jak called, holding out another torch. The light from the one he carried lent a yellow parchment color to his features.

  Krysty took the torch and slipped a self-light from her pocket. She cracked it to life with her thumbnail, and the sulfurous fumes flooded her nostrils. She applied it to the oil-soaked material of the torch, and the warm flame crawled all over the sheet remnant they had used.