by James Axler
“Perhaps they were,” Doc said mildly, looking to the rear of the group. “It may be ostensibly quiet, but I would direct you to where we have ended up after that little fracas.”
Ryan and Mildred both turned to see what Doc had meant. The area where they had been hiding out was some distance away, and their chances of making it back there to cover were less than zero. The reason for that being apparent from the shimmering presence of other people on the floor of the canyon—real people, not phantoms. That was clear from the way that they moved slowly and cautiously, using what little cover there was on the ground, both rock and shadow, to slowly advance without leaving themselves open to attack.
“Well, look at that,” Ryan said quietly. “Real live sec this time. Guess the weird shit was less to try to chill us than to give them cover to get down here.”
“Uh-huh,” Mildred agreed. “And I’ll tell you something else. That covering shit has cut off any way back to our little hidey-hole. We’re out in the open here, whether we like it or not.”
“They knew where we were,” Doc said flatly.
“If they knew, then why didn’t they take us before?” Ryan said, backing his companions slowly into the cover of shadow provided by the overhanging lip of the ledge.
“Because they didn’t know before.” Doc sighed. “It was only a matter of time before the others gave us away.”
“Doc, cut that shit,” Mildred snapped. “They wouldn’t do that.”
“Not willingly,” Doc murmured. “But perhaps they had little choice. We only have an indication of what these coldhearts can achieve, but is that not enough? They’ve had our friends long enough to inflict the necessary damage.”
“Doc’s right. We’ve got to face that,” Ryan agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that we don’t get them back.”
“Oh, heavens no,” Doc replied. “However, we may not find them as we would wish… And furthermore, I would contend that if they have revealed where we were able to take cover, then they may also have revealed other things. Perhaps it would be as well to not go about things in our usual way, as they may be expecting that. To be a little circumspect would be politic, I think.”
“Wise words, if long-winded.” Ryan grinned.
“Hell, I’ll second that,” Mildred said.
“Then we take them, but we don’t do it the usual way,” Ryan said. “Fuck strategy, let’s surprise the bastards.”
Chapter Sixteen
There were six of them. With no moon to speak of, it was difficult to see out there, but the moving shadows were regular enough in their progress to give themselves away.
They had fanned out across the valley floor so that they were closing in slowly, surrounding the three companions against the wall of the canyon. From where they were sheltering, it seemed to the friends that the sec force was more intent on taking them alive—for whatever purpose—than simply chilling them. A quick spray and pray into the area they had surrounded, if coming from all six sec men, would soon chill anyone within the area.
“Want to take them all out, or mebbe keep one alive to question?” Ryan asked, a feral grin spreading across his features as the adrenaline began to pump.
“If we can get one, then it would be useful,” Doc muttered, his jaw set hard. “I have a few tricks of their own that I can throw back, and it may get us some useful information.”
“Okay, then,” Ryan said. “If you get a chance, take one out and keep one alive. But don’t worry too much about it.”
Without another word, they began their assault. Reasoning that the sec force would expect them to behave in a careful and strategic manner—as they usually would—it was obvious that the only way to approach taking on the superior odds would be to use tactics that seemed random. It was a stupe and crazy way to fight, but somehow seemed entirely fitting to the madness that had beset them from the moment they crossed the line between the wastelands and the entry to this canyon.
Thus, it was the last thing that the sec force expected when Ryan charged out of the shadows, across the valley floor, firing random shots toward the area where he had seen two shadows move. It was only when he heard the crack of return fire that he hit the ground and rolled, coming up firing toward the area where he had heard the shots. He was gambling on their lack of skill with a blaster, and the fact that the other four sec men would be otherwise occupied.
Which they were.
Mildred was as direct as Ryan, but perhaps even less subtle, if that was possible. Stepping out of the shadow for a moment, before stepping back, she took range and distance, and lobbed underarm the two grens that Ryan had passed to her before his own charge. They were frag grens, and she had sighted the movement well. Her only concern was her ability to throw the correct distance.
She needn’t have worried. The grens floated through the air begging to be shot down by a dead-eye. Mildred herself would have had no problem picking them off. The panicky volley of fire emanating from the target area, with no discernable result, was another matter.
Standing back in the shadow, Mildred counted and then grinned as the night lit up with the double explosion. In the light of the blast, the fragments of spreading metal seemed visible in a way that they never had in daylight, and she could see where the two clouds of shards overlapped, leaving little room for escape.
One of the sec men perished in the blast. For a fraction of a second she could see him, lit up in relief as he stood to run before the blast evaporated him in a rain of blood, flesh and bone fragments.
That left the other sec man. He was able to make a partial escape, as she saw him run, outlined by the light of the blast. It seemed as though, on the fringe of the blast area, he had been able to escape. But not quite. Some of the fragments caught him, throwing him forward. He writhed in the air as the hot metal penetrated him, his screams lost in the explosion.
Mildred was out of the shadows and across the ground before the afterimage had even faded from her retinas. She had pinpointed where he had fallen, and although it was doubtful that he would be any kind of a threat, she was in no mood to take that chance. With the injuries he had to have received from the blast, there was also no chance of him being any use to them. Another one down.
* * *
RYAN’S HEAD-ON ASSAULT, reckless and stupe, had been exactly what the sec men had been briefed wouldn’t happen. As a result, their shocked fire, compounding their lack of skill and practice, had been high and wide, enabling the one-eyed man to hit the ground and return with a greater degree of accuracy. He didn’t hit either of the enemy with his first rounds. He knew that because there was still fire from either location he had pinpointed. That was okay. They were no closer to getting his range than before, as the rising clouds of dirt from the pockmarked earth on either side and in front of him would attest.
He scrambled to his feet and started to run again, the Steyr held across his chest. He had been using the longblaster because of its greater accuracy at distance, but now that he was getting closer, he wondered if it was going to be too clumsy for close-up combat.
He didn’t have to worry. His charge had scared the hell out of one of the sec men, who rose from the shadows in panic, shaping to fire with two hands clasped on his handblaster.
“Too much time,” Ryan whispered to himself as he whipped the Steyr around and, while still in motion, loosed off two quick shots. The kickback from the longblaster held at that clumsy angle made his wrists ache, but regardless he was able to steady it enough for the shots to hit home. The sec man jerked in the air, his own blast going up into the sky as his fingers squeezed too late.
One down, then, with the other taking heed of his companion’s fate and staying in the shadows.
“Right, you bastard, let’s draw you out,” Ryan snarled, taking the cover that had been vacated by the hiding sec man�
�s now chilled companion. As the one-eyed man dived over the sparse cover of rock and shadow to take up the empty space, a slug whined off the rock, chips thrown up by the impact cutting into his leg. Despite himself, he yelled, as much in surprise as pain.
The inexperience of the sec man sent to hunt the outlander showed itself and sealed his fate. Taking the yell for a sign that he had a man down, the sec man came out of cover, moving swiftly across the space between the two outcrops of cover.
Ryan was waiting for him. This was a chance to take one of the bastards alive and hand him over to Doc. The one-eyed man lay back until the sec man cautiously edged around the rocks, reaching out with his foot to prod the prone man. Then, with a swift and savage kick that jarred pain in his cut leg, Ryan lashed out and took the sec man’s standing leg from under him. Unbalanced, he stumbled and fell. Ryan disarmed him of his blaster and straddled him, ready to strike down with the butt of the Steyr.
He lashed out. It was clumsy and uncoordinated, but it was effective. Somehow, his foot came up high enough to catch Ryan between the shoulder blades as the one-eyed man pulled back his arm. The combined momentum of both actions gave the contact enough force to knock Ryan from his perch, and he pitched sideways, landing so that the Steyr slipped from his grasp. He rolled onto his back so that he could see what the sec man was doing. Scrambling to his feet, the panicked sec man was breathing hard and loomed over Ryan. Before the one-eyed man had a chance to move or to prepare himself the sec man had fallen awkwardly on him, trapping one arm beneath the one-eyed man’s body with his weight.
The sec man was wild-eyed with fear and panic, and was lashing out with no thought. Blows rained down on Ryan, hitting him full in the face and on the temple as he turned his head to avoid them. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth, and could feel it trickling down the back of his throat from a blow to the nose, making him gag. Lights flashed as one indiscriminate blow to the temple caught him hard. With his free hand he tried to ward off the blows and land some in return, but he had no purchase. He struggled to free the hand beneath him, but it was starting to go numb as his own weight cut off the circulation.
And then the sec man found his throat. Ryan tried to lower his chin and make it as hard as possible, but still the sec man managed to gain a hold, thumbs on either side of his windpipe, feeling for the carotid artery. Even in the grim light, it was possible to see the wild eyes, and the grin of realization and triumph that spread across the sec man’s face.
If he couldn’t do something, then this was how it would end for Ryan. Desperation made him struggle harder, but it seemed to be futile. He could only pray to whatever he believed in that something in his luck would turn.
The sec man shifted his position, the better to gain a hold on the one-eyed man’s throat. In so doing, he lifted his body for a fraction of a second.
It was all Ryan needed. Momentarily freed from the weight bearing down on him, he was able to lift his knee, jerking it up with all the force he could muster. And, because he had lifted himself to shift his weight, the sec man had left himself exposed. Ryan’s knee caught the sec man squarely between the legs, causing him to yell in pain and surprise, pushing him forward and over the one-eyed man’s head. He landed in a crumpled heap three feet or so from Ryan, still in shock and clutching at his throbbing testes.
That gave Ryan all the time he needed. Before the man had even landed, Ryan had scrambled to his feet and had pulled the panga from its sheath on his thigh. Screw taking this bastard alive, he was too lucky. It was best to nullify the threat right now. Ryan took one step toward him and yelled wordlessly.
The sec man, his eyes still clouded with pain and confusion, turned at the sound, looking up. It exposed his throat perfectly. One flick of the wrist, and the panga blade sliced through skin, tendon, flesh and bone. Back to the spinal cord with one razor blow. The sec man’s eyes flashed fear, then faded and went to black as the life spurted rhythmically from him and splashed onto the ground.
Ryan stepped back to avoid the grue as it hit the dirt, and turned to where Doc should be.
While Mildred and Ryan had been full-frontal in dealing with their foes, Doc had been a little more circumspect. Partly because to vary the approach would, he felt, cause more confusion; and partly because he didn’t trust that the others would be able to take one of the opposition alive, given their methods of attack.
So it was that, as the others caused chaos and confusion in their chosen direction, Doc began to move slowly in the shadows. The LeMat was cradled in the crook of his arm, and his strategy was simple: draw out one of the coldhearts so that he may take the shot and be nullified. And the other would be wounded, captured, and then let Doc play their little games back at them. A grim smile played at the corners of his mouth as he kept low and made his way to the edge of the shadowland.
The two sec men in his third of the arc remained hidden. There was no attempt to go to the aid of their fellow sec men. Good. This meant that their directive was to take out one of the three intruders, and they were sticking to this. No doubt their lack of experience when it came to combat was leaving them in some doubt as to the best thing to do.
Doc decided on a diversion to draw them out. He picked up a rock and threw it away from himself and out into the light. It landed with a dull thud, eliciting a sharp crack of blasterfire from one nervous sec man. The flash of the blaster enabled Doc to pin down his position. He was hidden by a small outcrop with some scrub on it. Doc grinned to himself as he withdrew a bullet from his pocket.
He opened the cartridge and rolled it across the ground toward the sec man’s hiding place, taking two rocks and striking sharply for a spark. It took several attempts, but he worked quickly and trusted to fate. The spark came and leaped onto the powder, fizzing a bright trail across the path it had made.
Of course, it was pointless from the point of view of attack. There would be no power of any kind in it. It merely acted as a firework. But attack wasn’t the purpose. Doc gambled that the sec man wouldn’t realize its futility.
He was correct. The cartridge continued rolling, the fizzing light of the fuse it made catching up with the source. The sec man, believing it to be some kind of bomb, stood in panic, firing wildly into the shadows and making himself a target silhouetted against the canyon’s empty floor.
All of this took only a fraction of a moment, but it was enough for Doc to aim and fire. The standing sec man’s scream was lost in the noise of the firefighting that was going on around, but there was no mistaking the way that he crumpled and fell backward, killed by the impact.
Even as the sec man fell, Doc was already hitting the ground himself, throwing himself away from what would now be a target area for the remaining sec man. The returned fire spattered against empty space and rock.
Doc was already half crawling, half running. He was at the edge of shadow once more, and would have to risk coming out into the open. There was no other way, as they had all been pinned back into the only cover—shadow—that had been available. The psychic force had done well to maneuver them into such a place, but the inexperience of the sec force sent to deal with them had given lie to that effort.
The sec man was still firing into empty space before he realized that Doc had moved around to flank him, and was now in plain sight. He moved to adjust, but was too slow for the wily old man. As the sec man turned to fire, he opened up his body enough for Doc to get a good view of his torso.
Doc snapped off the shot from the LeMat, barely stumbling as he took the impact of the recoil in a stride.
His aim was true. The .44 round hit the sec man in the shoulder, shattering the pin of the joint and causing him to howl in agony as his arm flew at an unnatural angle before hanging uselessly at his side. He was pitched backward, his blaster flying away from him.
He had barely hit the ground before Doc was on him. The old man could
see that he was in great pain. The last thing Doc wanted was for the injury to cause him to lose consciousness, so he took a kerchief from his pocket and stuffed the material into the wound, to try to staunch the flow of blood. While he did that with one hand, he quickly frisked the sec man for other weapons, throwing them away from him without any other concern than distance. That done, he slapped the man around the face, causing his captive’s rolling eyes to suddenly focus.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me,” Doc hissed. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”
He checked the man’s wounds and looked him over. Yes, he would live. The flow of blood had been staunched, and although the ball socket of the shoulder joint had been smashed beyond repair, and the man’s arm would be useless if he was given the chance to recover, it wasn’t by any means a fatal wound.
By this time, the noise of the firefights around had subsided, which Doc took to mean that some kind of conclusion had been reached. He had little doubt which way it had gone, and so didn’t even bother to look up when he heard footsteps approach. He knew it could only be Mildred and Ryan.
“Anyone else alive?” he asked as they approached.
“Had to chill mine,” Mildred answered.
“Same here,” Ryan stated, “but I can see that you got lucky.”
Doc snorted. “Luck, dear boy, had nothing to do with it. Your methods were necessary, but hardly conducive to taking prisoners. I considered it my role to preserve the life of one of these miserable wretches…at least for long enough to question him.”
“Looks like he’s in a bad way,” Mildred said. “I don’t have any pain meds in my bag.” She dropped to her knees beside Doc to examine the captive. “You sure you can get anything out of him?”
“Trust me, I can,” Doc said with a steel in his voice that momentarily took Mildred aback. She rarely heard that tone from him. Doc continued before she had a chance to frame any further questions. “Ryan, what is happening up there?”