by James Axler
“Hello?” J.B. called, cupping his hands and leaning toward the ground.
There was silence for a ten count before his voice finally echoed back to him, deeper and fuller.
Yeah, there was no passing this, not without climbing gear. Mebbe someone built a bridge somewhere, J.B. speculated. He turned and retraced his steps until the narrow corridor of rock opened up again, giving him new options to explore.
* * *
J.B. SPENT THE rest of the daylight exploring the mountains around Heaven Falls. He stayed alert to patrols, though he only saw one, and that was at such a distance that he could avoid it with ease. He was also careful not to stray too close to the walled settlement itself, checking his location by marking trees with his knife to create a kind of artificial border around the ville that he would not cross. He ate fruit and berries that he found in abundance on the trees and bushes, and washed and drank from a couple springs he came upon.
The day was cool but not unbearable, and it actually felt quite warm when he walked in the sunshine. J.B. followed a number of routes that fed into dead ends, either abruptly meeting a cliff wall or a drop that no human could survive. By 4:00 p.m. he had reached the conclusion that Heaven Falls was akin to an island, it was so remote. There was no easy way to leave the territory, or indeed to enter it, and short of climbing gear he was pretty much stuck here.
“Well, that explains the need to get the mat-trans working,” J.B. muttered, peering out across a wide chasm at the next nearest section of the mountain range. The wind whistled through that chasm, and J.B. noticed the rad counter he wore on his lapel was flickering close to red, which meant that whatever lay beyond was a hot zone. Probably a nuke had landed here and blasted new holes in the mountains, which went some way to explaining why the region had become so cut off.
J.B. clambered back across a shallow incline of slate-gray rock and slipped down to the grass beneath, leaving the chasm behind him. He was trapped here, the same way he had felt trapped in the ville of Heaven Falls itself.
Safe for now, J.B. halted close to the bottom of the outcropping and sat, pulling on his boots until he could slip them off. Having removed his boots, J.B. wiggled his toes and then, still on the rock, lay back and felt the sun beating on his face. He lay there awhile, feeling the tiredness in his weary feet, letting the sun’s warmth soothe them.
As he lay there he went over all that had happened in his mind. A man called William had placed an explosive in the mat-trans with the intention of blowing it up. The mat-trans had only been working a few hours or days, having been brought back into operation by the Trai. The logical conclusion was that William didn’t want the Trai using it for whatever they had planned, which meant he’d known what they were planning.
“He was an engineer,” J.B. said aloud, letting the thought sink in. It was the only thing that made sense—only the people of the engineering squads were allowed to visit the redoubt, and very few people would even know that the redoubt was there.
“Mebbe the Melissas, too, but the Regina said they were only women, so William wasn’t sec.”
So William had been part of the engineering crew, perhaps providing some muscle where the women couldn’t move something. That made sense—for one, it explained how William had known what the mat-trans was going to be used for, and how he had come to form his objection.
Question was... What was the mat-trans being prepped for?
“Escape,” J.B. said automatically.
The Trai had really lucked out with this location. The soil was fertile and the land around the settlement was abundant with plant life, fruit and other consumables. Furthermore, they had livestock—they had either brought it with them or had bred it from what was living here when they’d arrived. J.B. could only speculate about that, but he guessed the Trai had begun as maybe three or four families that had taken to the mountains for safety. They had probably gotten here using climbing gear, or had possibly moved in before the fissures had opened up.
But their society was trapped now, as much as if they had been on a remote island in the middle of the ocean. They wanted out. Their leader spoke about bringing light to darkness, sending her people out to enlighten the Deathlands. That sounded an awful lot like invasion to J.B., and that worried him. Mebbe, he thought, that was what had worried Bomber William, too. Mebbe the guy hadn’t bought into the Regina’s rhetoric about shining beacons into the darkness. But why?
There was another question, a crucial one given the way this society was run. The Trai were obedient and loyal to the Regina, and at first glance that was because they were happy. Why not? They lived in paradise. But J.B. couldn’t help wondering if there was something more to it than that. The way Ryan had become disinterested in why William had blown up the mat-trans—that wasn’t like Ryan Cawdor, and J.B. had known Ryan for a lot of miles of road, all the way back to their days working with Trader. Ryan was a hard man, a stone-cold chiller when he had to be. Something wasn’t right.
J.B. pushed himself back up to a sitting position and reached for his boots. His first priority was survival, and the only way to do that was to go back to the place he knew—the hellscape beyond the tight mountain constraints of Heaven Falls. He would need gear to do that, either by crossing one of those ravines or risking the mat-trans for one jump, which meant he needed his weapons. And he needed his friends.
Boots on, J.B. stood and eyed the line of trees that dotted the slope leading back to Heaven Falls. He would have to break in and get his gear. Mebbe he could make Ryan and the others listen to him.
* * *
JAK WAS LYING naked in bed with Charm. Her shift had finished after lunch, and Jak had come home early. They had made love as the sun turned orange and sank low outside the open window, turning their conjoined shadow into a long, undulating black beast that stretched across the far wall of the bedroom. Now they sat in bed, the covers pulled across their legs, eating bread dripping with honey. The bread was freshly baked, part of Charm’s ration as a Melissa. It tasted good, the honey so sweet it made you wince to eat it.
“We looked for your friend,” Charm said as she licked honey the color of her hair from her lips. “Nancy thinks he probably fell into one of the great chasms, but there’s no sign of a body.”
“No body?” Jak repeated with concern.
“He’s violated the Regina’s love,” Charm assured Jak. “He won’t come back. If he does, we’ll execute him.”
Jak nodded. “Chillin’ good,” he said. It was what violators deserved, and Jak would be all too happy to pull the trigger. He ate the last bite of bread and honey, then turned to Charm and kissed her, the honey on their tongues mingling as they did. Chilling violators was good.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was past midnight when J.B. returned to Heaven Falls. Unseen, he had traveled by the scantest sliver of moonlight peeking between the clouds, picking his way in a long ellipse around the ville walls until he reached a steep, cliff-like incline of mountain that overlooked the ville itself. He had scaled that unforgiving slope, grazing the palms of both hands as he struggled for purchase on the sharp rocks. Then J.B. had followed a narrow trail that, at times, was no wider than the heel of his boot, walking as fast as he dared in places where only hardy gorse and mold could cling. The ville came into view below him, lifeless, asleep, the only signs of movement in the sentry post that dominated the tall gates and three or four torches burning among the fields. J.B. held his body low to help his balance, his arms outstretched like a wire walker, until he saw a space where he could drop down.
J.B. came down in a run, the kind caused by a slope that was too steep, the kind where you either ran or you rolled, dropping back into the settlement from just beyond the trees to the east. There was a chasm twenty feet beyond that, and J.B. could hear the disquieting rustles of creatures close by as he made his way from the open rocks to the cover of the trees.
No one stood guard. The Trai believed their home to be impregnable and, besides
, there should be no one around to break in like this. He was the only one, and he was taking a heck of a risk coming back here after what he had done.
The only things out here besides trees were three beehives, man-made structures painted white and standing on four table legs, their occupants asleep. J.B. made his way past them toward the edge of the trees and the arable fields that lay beyond.
The narrow slice of moon granted just enough light to turn the world a muzzy gray. J.B. spent a long time waiting silently in the trees that backed onto the fields, watching those fields and the tiny wooden cabins that dotted the distance, assuring himself that no one was walking around or running an organized patrol. The place was quiet, the only noises coming from the skittering insects’ legs as they rummaged through the disturbed soil left by the farming.
He was still a long way from home. J.B. had been housed, along with Ryan, Doc and the others, in a row of widely spaced shacks over to the west. J.B. kept close to the tree cover, walking the line that divided Heaven Falls from the straight drop that ran all along the south.
Seven uneventful minutes later J.B. was within sight of the shacks. He made his way not to his cabin but to Ryan’s. It was the east-most and the easiest to access, and he needed Ryan’s backup now if he was going to survive here in a hostile ville.
Ryan’s shack was silent, the wooden exterior licked with silver moonlight. J.B. followed the dirt path past the trees and up to the stoop, always alert to danger. He took a moment to check the area close to the shack and saw Ryan’s tools where he had left them on the back stoop: a spade and a digging fork, tines caked with dirt. Then J.B. worked the catch on the back door in silence before slipping inside.
J.B. stood alone in the darkened interior of the shack, controlling his breathing. He was in the kitchen space, but like the shack he shared with Mildred and Ricky, that space opened up to the main living area, beyond which were the bedrooms.
* * *
KRYSTY WOKE WITH a gasp, going on full alert.
“Ryan,” she whispered.
“What is it?” Ryan asked, the drawl of sleep still in his whispered words.
“Someone’s here.”
“What?” Ryan asked. He was awake now. His time spent in the Deathlands had trained his body to wake up at the first hint of danger. He was reaching for something on the bedside cabinet, a pocketknife he had used to whittle wood when he had been working with the construction crew. The knife was three inches long, its handle barely long enough to fit in Ryan’s big paw. It would do.
Krysty looked at the door to the bedroom. The door was ajar, not fully pulled closed. A whisker of moonlight painted the frame and the door’s edge, casting a line where it stood open.
“Out there,” Krysty whispered, pushing the covers aside and placing one foot on the floor. She was naked, and the moonlight cutting through the drapes painted a silver sheen on her skin, tracing her outline in ghost white.
Ryan slipped from the bed, too, naked, padding across the room on silent feet. Krysty met him at the end of the bed and the two of them motioned to the door together.
“It’s safe here, lover,” Ryan reminded Krysty as they stood at the door, ready to cross.
“Then be safe,” Krysty whispered back.
Ryan went first, pulling the door back just enough to pass through it, the pocketknife held low to his side. Ryan spotted the figure in the darkness, lounging in the chair that backed onto the kitchen at the same moment that the man spoke.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” J.B. said from the chair, tipping the brim of his hat in greeting, “but I’m glad you’re here now. Would have been a long night’s wait otherwise.”
Still holding the pocketknife, Ryan stopped, placing his body in front of Krysty’s as she stepped from the bedroom behind him. “Krysty heard you, J.B.,” he said.
“Krysty,” J.B. said in acknowledgment. “You both want to get some clothes on? There’s some things I need to discuss.”
Ryan glared at him. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re a violator.”
“That sounds like I been playing patty-cake with someone’s daughter,” J.B. responded with a shake of his head. “Get your clothes on, friend. Let’s talk this out.”
Ryan stood there, waiting while Krysty went back into the bedroom and eased into her jeans and red blouse. He wouldn’t take his eye off J.B., and the Armorer saw something in his friend’s expression that he did not like.
“You have a problem?” J.B. finally asked.
“You’re the problem, J.B.,” Ryan said. “The Regina has pronounced you a violator of her love. We saw what you did to that Melissa. You shouldn’t have come back.”
J.B. couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Ryan, we’ve been buddies for a long time,” he said, keeping his voice low. “What the fuck are you saying?”
“The Regina said—” Ryan began.
“No!” J.B. interrupted. “Screw the Regina! We’ve had each other’s back for as long as I can remember, and now you’re coming at me with this attitude?”
Ryan sneered. “They don’t need an Armorer here,” he said as Krysty rejoined them. “Weapons are outlawed. You’re an anachronism who’s lived out his time.”
“There are things going on here, Ryan,” J.B. replied. “Bad things just below the surface.”
“Says the man who doesn’t belong,” Ryan growled.
J.B. glared at him from the chair, wondering what had got into his best friend. Finally, he spoke, and though his eyes remained on Ryan he addressed Krysty.
“Krysty? Do you agree with this, what Ryan is saying? Is this how it is now?”
Krysty’s body language was taut as if she was about to launch into a fight. “You should leave,” she said.
“Exactly what I was planning,” J.B. said, “but I was hoping you two would come with me. Seems that’s not in the cards.”
“That’s right,” Ryan snapped.
“So—what?” J.B. asked. “You got a cozy, perfect life here in this vision of heaven and I don’t fit in. You don’t want anyone messing it up. Is that it?” When Ryan didn’t answer, J.B. continued. “There’s no such thing as a perfect place, Ryan. We’ve seen too much of the Deathlands to fall for that.”
“You need to leave,” Krysty said.
“If you go now,” Ryan added, “I won’t chill you. For old times’ sake. That’s what I owe you. But you can’t stay here. You can’t stay in Heaven Falls.”
J.B. shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve changed, Ryan,” he said. “They’ve got to you. You’ve changed and you don’t even see it.”
“We found our Home,” Ryan replied. “Why would we let that go?”
J.B. moved from the chair then and left, striding to the back door without looking back. “Because it’s a sham,” he said as he stepped onto the back porch.
Ryan and Krysty stood watching the back door for a long time until Krysty reached for Ryan and pulled herself close. “Is he gone?” she asked.
“For now,” Ryan assured her. “But if that violator’s still in Heaven Falls at sunrise, the Melissas will find him and chill him.”
Krysty nodded sadly. There was nothing worse than seeing a respected friend fall from grace.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Outside, the cold had become colder, or so it seemed to J.B. Perhaps that was just the feeling of isolation, manifesting in an abrupt sense of mourning. How long had he known Ryan? Fifteen years? Longer? They had fought back everything that hell on earth had to offer, chilled muties and barons and sickos and psychos, saved each other’s life more times than either of them could count. But now Ryan had turned on him. Ryan and Krysty both. As though something was controlling them, forcing their actions.
J.B. crept through the trees, always keeping from the main tracks so that he wouldn’t be seen. It paid for a wanted man to be cautious.
He spotted the first patrol he had seen since he’d arrived back in the ville. One of the Melissas was walking down the path toward hi
m, a flaming torch of entwined briars held aloft in one hand, her white robes of office glowing like water in moonlight. J.B. slipped behind a tree and stopped, pulling himself flush to the trunk.
The woman in white continued to stride toward him along the path, the burning briars lighting her way. J.B. suspected she was patrolling—he watched as she peered left and right, running the torch along the dark space beyond the path to check what or who was there.
J.B. watched the burning torch flicker between the trees as the Melissa made her way slowly along the track. She stopped every few seconds as she checked another area, illuminating the shadows between the trees. J.B. slinked back farther, huddling close to the tree that hid him.
It took five minutes until the torch disappeared, the Melissa with it. J.B. leaned his head back against the tree trunk and dragged in a deep breath, calming his nerves. He was alone in enemy territory, with just a single combat knife for protection, and every hand was turned against him, even those of his friends. He needed to get out of here, and soon. But without his private armory, that sounded like foolishness. Even if he made it out alive, he still had the Deathlands to contend with, and crossing them without a blaster made no sense.
Another patrol was coming. J.B. spotted the torch flickering in the trees. Without another thought, he turned and strode down the path away from the light and toward the other shacks.
J.B. needed somewhere to hide, at least until he could figure out a way to get his blasters back and get out of this nut ville for good. He could return to his shack, gather his belongings, maybe make a break for it. That meant leaving Ryan and Krysty and the others behind. And then there was Millie and Ricky. Mildred was so enamored of the medical accomplishments the Trai had achieved that she likely wouldn’t leave, certainly not without Ryan’s say-so. And Ricky could be a little hair-trigger when it came to intruders. So no—his hut was out for now.
Doc, however— Well, Doc was alone and had been ever since Jak had left to live with the sec woman. Doc would be home right now, likely asleep and most probably alone.