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\viewkind4\uc1\pard\cf1\lang1033\f0\fs32 James Axler - Deathlands 43 - Dark Emblem\par
\par
Prologue\par
\par
The Beginning: Omaha, Nebraska, November, 1896\par
\par
Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner was a most striking man-not handsome, but \par
fascinating all the same in the most abstract sense of the word. His countenance \par
came equipped with a head of prematurely gray hair that flowed down to his \par
shoulders, a mouthful of strong, white teeth and a long, thin face with \par
inquisitive bright blue eyes set below an imposingly high forehead. Tall and \par
lanky, his very being vibrated with that special inner glow that marked men of \par
potential greatness.\par
\par
Dr. Tanner was one of those gifted few who seemed to literally shoot off sparks \par
while thinking, and that was most of the time, since his mind was always \par
working.\par
\par
Indeed, his most attractive attribute lay below the surface. Tanner's most \par
notable feature was the brilliant brain encased in his skull, a mass of tissue \par
containing more education and raw knowledge than any ten of his academic \par
contemporaries. He held two degrees by the age of twenty-five-a doctorate of \par
sci- ence from Harvard, and a doctorate of philosophy from Oxford University in \par
England, along with dozens of other diplomas, honors, awards and accolades. He'd \par
given up framing and hanging them long ago, choosing to let the proof of his \par
many accomplishments rest unattended within a wooden cedar chest in his attic.\par
\par
A vain man could have covered four walls with the prizes of his profession, but \par
Tanner wasn't a vain man.\par
\par
Pompous at times, but never vain. He was much too practical for vanity.\par
\par
Emily Chandler considered herself lucky to have caught him, and she loved her \par
man with all her heart and soul. The woman was gorgeous, a vision in subtle \par
beauty. The skin of her heart-shaped face was creamy white, her flawless \par
complexion the perfect backdrop for her dark eyes and long auburn hair.\par
\par
And she was always smiling, a small hidden grin that played on her lips as if \par
she were finding joy from her own private amusements. To the average man of the \par
period, she might have come across as threatening, her shining intelligence \par
inescapable despite her feminine beauty.\par
\par
Seen from afar while exiting a Harvard campus library one spring afternoon by a \par
yearning Theo Tanner, she was utterly desirable. When the good Mr. Tanner had \par
opportunity to address a gathering of female students a few weeks later, he \par
gleefully said he opposed the idea that women should ever be allowed to vote in \par
order to raise her ire and gain her attentions.\par
\par
He found having her spend many late hours trying to persuade him of his folly to \par
be a much easier way of meeting her than going right up and asking her to \par
accompany him out to dinner or a show. During his younger days of intense study \par
and teaching, he was a gangly twenty-year-old intent on mastering the universe.\par
\par
One hour with Emily Chandler and he knew he had at last found something he \par
coveted even more than knowledge, for Theo Tanner had never been in love before. \par
He'd never made the time for romance, spending his years striving forward to \par
better himself, to understand the world and its surroundings, to read, to seek, \par
to know. His quest for knowledge was tempered with caution, hence his twin \par
majors of study and expertise.\par
\par
Now, at the age of twenty-eight, he was perched on the cusp of true happiness. \par
In four more years, he'd be present at the turn of the century, and he was only \par
beginning to guess at the marvels the future would bring. Still, daring to \par
venture beyond the mortal coils of the known into the great unknown was the \par
mission of any worthy scientist, but having the proper moral code to know what \par
to do with your discoveries was another matter.\par
\par
That was why he had double-majored, taking his second degree in philosophy, \par
staying up all hours of the night and always reading, learning, cramming his \par
already-stuffed mind with even more information. He was constantly talking out \par
loud to himself, a habit from childhood he'd never managed to break, or \par
repeating the words he was reading over and over, in-graining them in his memory \par
for future use, whether on exams or in the real world. Once he learned \par
something, Theo Tanner didn't forget.\par
\par
The family made a point of taking a daily walk, either before he left to go to \par
his morning classes, or after Tanner returned home in the afternoon from the \par
university. The air was good for the children, and allowed the family a chance \par
to exercise and share pleasantries with their fellow citi/ens as they strolled \par
the sidewalks surrounding their cozy two-story home. In these early months of \par
winter, Emily would bundle up young Jolyon and place him inside the carriage, \par
while Tanner assisted Rachel in buttoning her coat and wrapping the child's long \par
red scarf around her delicate neck.\par
\par
Then the front door would be thrown open, and away the family would go.\par
\par
Tanner was wearing his long overcoat with small golden buttons, belted snugly at \par
his waist. A high collar and a cravat were held in place by a gleaming diamond \par
pin. He carried a handsome ebony walking stick with a gold-plated tip and handle \par
to match the buttons of his coat.\par
\par
His right arm was linked around Emily's slender limb. She wore her own long \par
overcoat, which came down to her knees and fastened up primly and warmly to her \par
neck. On her head was a wide- brimmed hat with a long cluster of white and gray \par
feathers bobbed on the left.\par
\par
"I say, Theophilus, hold up!"\par
\par
A stout man in a worn black wide hat and matching cloak was racing up behind \par
them, calling out Tanner's name repeatedly as he came closer, the leather soles \par
of his shoes slapping down on the wooden sidewalk.\par
\par
"Hello, Jonathan," Tanner replied easily as the man in the hat and cloak came \par
thudding to a stop. "Glad to see you out bettering your body this brisk \par
morning."\par
\par
"Better? My body? Huh. Don't believe so. Whew!" the man gasped back in reply, \par
striving to catch his wind from the sprint.\par
\par
"I hope you are well, Mr. Nolan," Emily added.\par
\par
"Never better, dear Emily," Jonathan Nolan replied, and tipped his hat to \par
Rachel. "Good morning to you, Miss Rachel."\par
\par
"H'lo," the young girl said, embarrassed at the direct attention. She turned \par
shyly and averted her eyes to look across the street. A horse-drawn carriage \par
clattered up and came to a stop at the curb. Rachel loved horses and she admired \par
the creature as it waited patiently for the passenger in the carriage to step \par
down, pay the driver's fare, and then depart.\par
\par
"What can we do for you, Jonathan?" Tanner asked. "Working on another scientific \par
article for your newspaper? I would be glad to proof it for you this evening at \par
home after our supper. Anything for a man trying to enlighten his readers. No \par
time right now, I am afraid-unless you want to loan me a copy to take along."\par
\par
"No, no article this time, actually, but as always you shall be the first I \par
contact for a quote or to check facts," the overweight man replied. "I just came \par
from Martin's Books and he mentioned the book you ordered had arrived-a first \par
edition of Houseman's A Shropshire Lad."\par
\par
Tanner looked puzzled. "I must confess, Jonathan, that while I have long coveted \par
such a volume, I had placed no such order. Martin must be in error."\par
\par
"No, Theo, he is not." Emily sighed. "I placed the order. I know you frequent \par
Pages Bookstore, and I tried another in the hopes of avoiding your discovery of \par
my surprise. The book was to have been for Christmas."\par
\par
Nolan blushed with embarrassment. "Dash it all, I am terribly sorry. I can-"\par
\par
A shrill scream cut him off, and it took a few seconds before Tanner realized \par
the sound was coming from his daughter. A second after his realization, the \par
child gripped his hand with bone-crushing force. Jolyon, his sleep disrupted, \par
also began to wail from the confines of the carriage.\par
\par
"Rachel, what is it, child? What?" Tanner thundered, kneeling to reach eye level \par
with the girl. Her eyes were still looking out upon the empty street, the horse \par
and carriage now long gone. He peered out, his eyes searching for what had upset \par
her so, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.\par
\par
Nothing at all.\par
\par
Tanner canceled his classes at the university for the day, choosing to stay at \par
home with his daughter. He didn't press Rachel for an explanation, instead \par
waiting for the gkl to speak to him when she was ready. The day passed slowly, \par
with Tanner trying to concentrate on a book but failing miserably. Finally, much \par
later mat night, as he tucked his older child into bed, the youngster at last \par
described what had frightened her on the sidewalk.\par
\par
"I saw something, Father. In the air." Even at her young age, Rachel was her \par
father's child, and her choice and usage of words were precise.\par
\par
"Saw what, dear Child? A bird? Bat? Flying squirrel? What?" Tanner asked, \par
offering up suggestions, none of which seemed to be correct.\par
\par
"The air looked odd," Rachel continued. "Like it was hot. And there was an eye \par
in the middle of it."\par
\par
Tanner mused over that revelation for a moment.\par
\par
"An eye belonging to whom?" he finally asked.\par
\par
Rachel was evasive. "A big eye, Father. I think it was looking at me from \par
heaven."\par
\par
Even as his mind tried to process what his little girl was telling him. Tanner \par
spoke in calm tones, slipping easily into the patented parental know-it-all \par
mode. "Then, Child, if the eye was from heaven, there is no reason for you to be \par
frightened. After all, logic dictates there is no reason for you to be scared if \par
God is looking down at us."\par
\par
The explanation seemed to placate the gkl. "You think so, Father?"\par
\par
"I do," Tanner said firmly.\par
\par
"Very well, then, Father," Rachel replied sleepily, her memory of the magical \par
eye apparently already vanishing into the depths of her young mind after \par
Tanner's reassurances. "Good night."\par
\par
"Good night, Child," he replied and kissed her softly on the forehead.\par
\par
"So?" Emily asked when her husband joined her in then1 own bed.\par
\par
"We have no cause for fear, my dear one," Tanner remarked as he pulled the heavy \par
down comforter over his body, and quickly explained Rachel's biblically tinged \par
interpretation of what she'd seen hovering in the air.\par
\par
"That is sweet," Emily said, snuggling closer to his shoulder. "We must be truly \par
blessed if God is watching us."\par
\par
"Aye, indeed," Tanner said sleepily as he placed a comforting arm around his \par
wife. "Blessed."\par
\par
So why did his daughter's story nag at him so? Rachel wasn't prone to childish \par
lies or exaggeration. Like her mother, she was quite direct and forthcoming. He \par
found his parental concern battling his scientific curiosity, and determined \par
he'd return tomorrow to the same spot and spend some time observing the area of \par
air that had disturbed his child, thereby satiating both. For while Tanner was a \par
man always fascinated by the unknown, he was a father even more interested in \par
the well-being of his children.\par
\par
THE FRIGHT YOUNG RACHEL had suffered cast a pall over the family's usual walks, \par
and with Emily's agreement to stay behind and watch over the children, Theo \par
Tanner had chosen to make these daily excursions alone, always stopping at the \par
same corner where the mysterious organ of sight had previously levitated. He \par
would loiter there for hours, waiting. Each day, he waited longer, making his \par
trips during the same time span in hopes of glimpsing the oculus, yet nothing \par
happened. No shimmering of light, no blinking of an unearthly eyeball, no haze \par
hanging in the air before his own astonished eyes-nothing.\par
\par
A week passed without further incident, and Tanner decided he was ready to try \par
the usual daily family outing again. This time, he chose an afternoon for the \par
walk. The air was brisk, yet warm for the climate and time of year. Emily took \par
extra care in bundling up the baby, nonetheless, before placing little Jolyon \par
into the carriage. Tanner placed his hand in Rachel's and down the front steps \par
everyone went. Down and to the right, past the rainbow of color inside Bowman's \par
Flower Shop, the sinfully good aromas emanating from Elliot's Bakery, the Boyd \par
and Hurst and Felts' residences. Turn right again and there was the empty lot \par
with the sign promising a new business establishment soon courtesy of one Mr. \par
Wesley Keith Johnson, Esq., although naught had changed in the past two years \par
since he'd staked and claimed the property.\par
\par
Across the way was Pages Bookstore, a small and intimate affair, and the \par
Bluebird Restaurant where he'd consumed many a fine cup of dark bitter coffee. \par
And so on and on, another block, another, and again to the right-more buildings, \par
more homes, more pas-sersby known and unknown, most of whom couldn't resist \par
smiling at the sight of the baby being pushed along. The sound of the \par
baby-carriage wheels was steady on the wooden sidewalk while Rachel skipped \par
along, excited to be out with her mother and father in the late afternoon.\par
\par
He'd planned to avoid the comer where Rachel had seen the enigmatic eye, but \par
habit was a hard master to disobey, and since they had fallen into their \par
traditional routine without thinking, soon they were at the same spot once more. \par
As they waited to cross the street, Tanner felt his little girl grip his hand \par
even more tightly.\par
\par
"We should stop at market for potatoes, Theo. I'll add them to the stew \par
tonight," Emily remarked. "I should have brought the shopping basket along."\par
\par
Her husband didn't reply. His attention was on the spot where Rachel had seen \par
the eye and devil take it all, but was there a strange shimmering hanging there \par
in space and time? A sort of quivering of the air, like the haze of heat on a \par
summer meadow in the midst of a hot July day at noon? Yet, there was no heat in \par
the brisk Nebraska ah--only a queer dryness-a lack of moisture that seemed to be \par
spreading in his mouth and nasal passages.\par
\par
"I say...I feel a most definite chill coming on," Tanner muttered, stomping his \par
feet and vigorously rubbing his hands together.\par
\par
Emily's brow furrowed beneath the bangs of her auburn hair. "Nonsense, Theo, it \par
is a beautiful af- ternoon. Are you coming down with an illness? Those students \par
of yours. There is no telling what types of germs they bring into the classrooms \par
on a daily basis."\par
\par
Tanner smiled at his wife, showing off his beautiful array of teeth, only to \par
discover his intended gesture of reassurance had created the exact opposite \par
effect.\par
\par
"Your teeth, Theo, they are chattering," his beloved wife said, a hint of worry \par
coloring her gentle voice.\par
\par
He reached up and felt his lower jaw. "Hmm. So they are, so they are," he \par
murmured. Again, he glanced over at the street, but the odd warping of the air \par
was gone. He was torn between asking if Rachel had seen anything and dismissing \par
it immediately, in order to keep from upsetting the girl yet again.\par
\par
"My delicate constitution seems to have caught a cold," he finally announced. \par
"Yes, I do not feel all that well, I am afraid."\par
\par
"What is wrong, Father?" Rachel asked, peering at her father with the intent \par
gaze of a child.\par
\par
"Nothing, dear little one," Tanner lied. "Nothing at all."\par
\par
Rachel turned as white as an eggshell. "You saw it, Father! You saw it! You saw \par
it, did you not?"\par
\par
Tanner nodded. "Aye, perhaps I did see... something-"\par
\par
"More eyes from heaven?" Emily asked in a teasing tone, but before she could add \par
another word she was interrupted by a sound unlike any that she had ever heard \par
in her twenty-seven years; a sound that she would never be able to forget, or \par
rid her memory of. A sound that would take up residence in her dreams; a sucking \par
noise that was cut off by a loud, pithy pop. And then, before the waiting Tanner \par
family, a temporal doorway was torn open, renting the very fabric of time and \par
space.\par
\par
This was no wooden door in a frame of the type familiar to the denizens of this \par
particular point in time, nor was it a fanciful air lock of the future, nor even \par
a magic portal. This doorway was something else, something more precise, with \par
accurate angles and deliberate calibrated measurements, hanging suspended in \par
what Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner had always understood to be \par
three-dimensional space.\par
\par
What floated within the angles was a darker kind of geometry. This was a gateway \par
via a fourth unknown dimension.\par
\par
Later, long after the shock had faded, Tanner would find this route to be one of \par
an infinite number along the currents and eddies swirling within the invisible \par
dimension of time-no time.\par
\par
"The eye! God's eye! God's eye! Look, Father! Do you see it? Do you see?" Rachel \par
screamed, a loud piercing sound that stabbed at Tanner's wildly pounding heart \par
even as the scientist in his brain looked upon the sight with detached \par
fascination. A mix of dread and fear combined with his wondering about what \par
exactly the eye was, and what the eye had wrought.\par
\par
The sun still hung in the sky, but the color of the world changed from light to \par
dark as the door swung open and gave a great cosmic inhalation. The world was \par
now a reverse negative, white on black with an absence of color, the atmosphere \par
thick and cloying.\par
\par
And damn it all, but a fog bank had somehow rolled in through the mysterious \par
conduit, obscuring the corner from sight, obscuring those trapped within the \par
swirling mist from even clearly seeing one another, much less the angular \par
obscenity that had appeared in their midst.\par
\par
Terror in her throat, Emily reached down and pulled her baby from the confines \par
of the carriage, clutching little Jolyon to her breast. Minus her grip on the \par
handle and the baby's weight, the carriage skittered away, pulled by the \par
suction. Her new hat flew from her head and instantly vanished in the mist. \par
"Theo!" she screamed. "Where are you?"\par
\par
Rachel was on her feet, her hair and clothing whipping around her frail body by \par
seemingly gale-force winds. The red scarf she wore plumed from her neck like a \par
signal flare. "Father!" she called, but the screaming of mother and daughter was \par
blocked, torn away, by the rift hanging near the sidewalk.\par
\par
And Tanner...he was somehow suspended in midair, his frock coat flowing behind \par
him like a cape, his shoulder-length hair streaming from his skull, each fine \par
fiber standing up and out, crackling with static electricity.\par
\par
"Thunder and damnation," he said in an unsteady voice.\par
\par
Struggling to keep her footing in the maelstrom,\par
\par
Emily reached out and felt her fingers brush Tanner's hand. "I love you," he \par
managed to yell above the unholy sound coming from the doorway, and then he \par
vanished into nothingness.\par
\par
Rachel Tanner wasn't as lucky. Buffeted by the unholy winds, doomed by her very \par
proximity to the gateway, her young body was ripped apart by the sudden closing \par
of the rift matrix and, as it fell inward upon itself, she perished before her \par
mother's frightened gaze.\par
\par
Her fragile corpse was shredded into wet hunks of meat. Arms, legs, fingers, \par
toes, flesh, bone and blood spun in the air, intermingled with the mist and the \par
bits of the blue dress the child had been wearing. The red scarf coiled like a \par
serpent, rearing and striking at an invisible foe.\par
\par
Emily vomited, one arm going to her heaving stomach in a reflex action, \par
loosening her grip on Jol-yon and before she could react, the winds tore her \par
other child, her baby boy, away from her, leaving nothing behind but a \par
dismembered torso dressed in blood-soaked pajamas, a lifeless carcass that fell \par
with a wet plop once the rift collapsed fully upon itself, sucking back the \par
unexplained mist and vanishing as quickly as it had come. The ghastly remnants \par
of Rachel Tanner fell like rain upon her mother, who had stumbled and landed on \par
her knees, her chest heaving with racking sobs.\par
\par
Witnesses saw the mist, heard the sounds, viewed the aftermath. One moment, a \par
family of four was on a stroll.\par
\par
The next, a lone woman remained, dressed in a tattered dress and scarf, \par
surrounded by the gore of her murdered children and the stink of voided flesh. \par
Her husband had vanished, spirited away by and into the very air itself.\par
\par
As to be expected, Emily Tanner never was quite the same after that dark day.\par
\par
"The eye," she whispered over and over. "The eye, the eye, Satan's unblinking \par
eye."\par
\par
On the strength of her spouse's estate and reputation, along with her parents' \par
consent, she was in-stitutionalized for a time, sedated, studied and pitied. \par
Outlandish theories abounded about what she'd endured on that Omaha street \par
corner, but there was no explaining the mishap using the science of the late \par
nineteenth century.\par
\par
A few suggested sorcery, which had always been the explanation given to advanced \par
science by those who could not begin to understand what they had seen from a \par
limited point of reference or experience. As for Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner, \par
he was on his way to a new destination. "An ideal subject," one report said, due \par
to his intellect and where he happened to have fallen in the time stream. "The \par
perfect candidate," read another communique in choosing him as guinea pig. The \par
final decision had termed him "the logical choice, ideally suited in body and \par
spirit and, more importantly, mind."\par
\par
Out of all the other men, women and children, the madmen and the brilliant, the \par
young and the old, the weak of mind and strong of spirit, out of all of those \par
alive in the United States of America during that November month of 1896, Tanner \par
had been the one chosen.\par
\par
Chosen to make a pilgrimage-a pilgrimage to hell.\par
\par
Chapter One\par
\par
"Wherever you want to lead, Ryan..." J. B. Dix had said long days ago, and as \par
Ryan Cawdor now regained his senses, grateful this latest mat-trans journey \par
hadn't invoked the nightmares that usually came during the fantastic quantum \par
journeys, he found himself dwelling on the words.\par
\par
What had brought the words to mind was the color of the walls surrounding \par
him-armaglass walls of milky, colorless gray.\par
\par
"Fireblast," Ryan muttered. Unless his memory was starting to slip, the walls of \par
the chamber he was now resting within were exactly the same as the mat-trans \par
unit beneath that stickie-infested pesthole hospital in Carolina.\par
\par
The light in the hexagonal-shaped chamber seemed to be impossibly bright and his \par
head was pounding, as if an unknown assailant had shoved a lighted candle into \par
the open eye socket of his face and twisted down, driving the flame both into \par
the frontal lobe of his brain and the optic nerve of his remaining good eye.\par
\par
The white-hot light had begun to slowly fade into a more reasonable wattage. \par
Through the spots dancing in front of his vision, Ryan was able to make out the \par
forms of his companions, all six of them in various prone positions on the \par
polished floor around him.\par
\par
"Looks like we're calling North Carolina home again," Mildred Wyeth commented.\par
\par
"Not much changed," Jak Lauren agreed.\par
\par
Since they knew the area, and not a great deal of time had passed since their \par
last visit to the complex, a quick recce soon found the group out of the chamber \par
and into a small white anteroom located outside the armaglass door. As before, \par
an ordinary desk with a computer and monitor rested directly across from the \par
observation window of the gateway. Everyone kept their hardware ready as they \par
crossed the room to another door, which they knew to be made of painted wood \par
with a simple bronze doorknob. There were no high-tech locking systems or \par
security keypads. No apparent locks of any kind.\par
\par
Maintaining a triple red alert, they then entered the mat-trans control room, \par
which was also still intact. Ryan held up a hand and all paused, listening and \par
waiting. Things appeared to be quiet and safe.\par
\par
"We got two choices," Ryan stated.\par
\par
No one replied. They knew the options: try Carolina's hospitality again or take \par
the risk of another gateway jump. Neither was particularly appealing.\par
\par
"Any of you feel strongly about picking one over the other?" he asked.\par
\par
"Your call," Jak said with a shrug.\par
\par
"Doesn't matter to me," J.B. agreed.\par
\par
"For now, let's check the rest of the area. Make sure we don't have any \par
company."\par
\par
Ryan, on point, took a moment to glance back. They were good friends, every last \par
one of them.\par
\par
No, more than friends. Dean was his biological son and Krysty his soul mate, but \par
the others were just as important in the tangled web that was his life.\par
\par
They were family-more so than Ryan's blood kin back in the mountains of West \par
Virginia. Most of the relatives who shared the Cawdor name were long chilled, \par
dead and buried. His murderous brother, Harvey, had cowardly challenged a young \par
Ryan and taken his left eye, leaving the disfigured and maimed boy for dead. His \par
adulteress stepmother, Rachel, who'd seen to the death of Ryan's father, Lord \par
Cawdor, had then, in an act of taboo lust, slept with the insane Harvey. His \par
nephew Jabez had seen the power and station of the Cawdor name as a dkect route \par
to the domination of others and the rape of helpless young women and children.\par
\par
Ryan had claimed Harvey, and had seen to chilling his mad brother personally, \par
while Doc Tanner's weapon had taken Lady Rachel. Krysty had killed Jabez with \par
her bare hands after he'd attempted to sodomize her. When the bloody combat was \par
over, Ryan had left his nephew Nathan, who'd been sired by his murdered older \par
brother, Morgan, in charge.\par
\par
Nathan Freeman dropped the surname Cawdor during his subsequent banishment, a \par
banishment Ryan himself had shared for many long years. Ryan had come home for \par
his reckoning and cleaned house, later finding Nathan and installing him as the \par
new baron of Front Royal.\par
\par
The raven-haired savior of Front Royal had no desire to rule a ville. He merely \par
wanted his name cleared and his father's memory respectfully restored. With the \par
diseased darkness of Harvey Cawdor vanquished, both of the one-eyed warrior's \par
wishes were now a reality.\par
\par
His fingertips traced the deep scar that lined the right side of his face as he \par
walked through the hallways of the hidden hospital complex. Every time he looked \par
in the mirror at his rugged features, Harvey's handiwork was there, twin \par
disfigurements looking back at him: one stretching from forehead to cheek, and \par
the other hidden away-a ruin of an eye socket still open and raw, which Ryan \par
kept covered with a scuffed leather patch.\par
\par
The final encounter with Harvey and his madness seemed as recent as yesterday, \par
Ryan mused as he shrugged his broad shoulders. The movement made the long white \par
scarf around his neck shift, and he reached up automatically to adjust it. Both \par
ends of the scarf were weighted-a simple measure of extra security that had \par
saved his life numerous times when opponents believed him to be weaponless.\par
\par
The last time the companions had been at this particular juncture of the \par
Deathlands, there had been some concern among the group about heading north \par
across land on foot. They were close to the old state-line boundary, and could \par
pass through the forests of Virginia to the state's western cousin to personally \par
check up on the status of the surviving members of the House of Cawdor.\par
\par
Ryan had been privy to rumors that the status quo he'd left behind years ago was \par
no longer in place. He honestly wasn't sure why he even cared, since he'd chosen \par
to reject his heritage of wealth and finery to find his own individual path.\par
\par
Still, ammunition was at an all-time low for the group's array of blasters, and \par
most of their jack had been previously exhausted in Freedom. While they'd been \par
able to replenish some hardware along the way since then, their scavenging there \par
hadn't been nearly enough. No, a long road trip across two states was the last \par
thing wanted or needed. Front Royal would have to wait until they'd found a \par
secure spot to rest up in, and he already knew this stretch of Carolina with the \par
high mutant population wasn't going to be their safe haven.\par
\par
Chapter Two\par
\par
The odor came wafting in like a runaway pack of screamwings as the group stepped \par
out in the hall that led to the stairwell. The strong smell of the fire mu-ties \par
had lighted in a previous attack became stronger, along with the rancid smell of \par
the corpses Ryan and his friends had chilled days earlier. The stench of the \par
hallway of death where the dead stickies were scattered was foul, making them \par
all glad they weren't staying in the secret complex.\par
\par
As they walked, J.B. took out a small drawstring pouch from one of the many \par
pockets that lined the inside of his well-worn leather jacket. From the denim \par
blue sack came a long thin black cheroot, crudely rolled. The Armorer took a \par
moment to sniff the tobacco stick with a deep sigh.\par
\par
"Where in the hell did you get that?" the African-American woman following J.B. \par
demanded.\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
Mildred Wyeth gave an exaggerated point with her right index finger at the \par
cheroot J.B. was holding. "That."\par
\par
"Had them tucked away. I forgot about picking up a sack at the tobacco shop in \par
the Freedom Mall," the Armorer replied after sticking the cigar into the corner \par
of his mouth. "Kind of funny. Us being back here jogged my memory. North \par
Carolina's tobacco country, remember?"\par
\par
"I've tried to forget," she retorted. "Smoking's a filthy habit. Public smoking \par
was banned in many places during the 1990s. One of the few good things to come \par
out of that final era."\par
\par
"That was a long time ago. Lot's changed since then," J.B. replied as he took \par
out a silver-plated Zippo lighter and flicked it open with a quick flip of the \par
wrist. He held the bright yellow flame to the tip of the cheroot and sucked in \par
the smoke deeply with a contented moan.\par
\par
"Haven't seen you puffing on one of those in a long while," Ryan said, glad the \par
smoke from the cheroot was behind him, blowing in the opposite direction.\par
\par
"Want one?" J.B. asked.\par
\par
"No, thanks," Ryan replied. "I know of a hundred better ways to kill myself."\par
\par
The Armorer shrugged and went back to enjoying his smoke.\par
\par
J.B. was Ryan's oldest friend. They had been brought together on the legendary \par
Trader's once-thriving caravan of war wags years earlier, and soon found their \par
personalities and talents to perfectly complement each other. While Ryan was the \par
Trader's designated war captain, J.B. and his love of weapons made him the \par
perfect lieutenant.\par
\par
Weaponsmith, Armorer, Master Blaster, Gunsmith-he wore the designations with \par
quiet pride and calm efficiency. A living, breathing cache of knowledge of all \par
forms of weaponry and how they could be used most effectively, J.B. used his \par
eidetic memory to keep himself and his companions safe and whole. His mastery of \par
guns and their specs was invaluable to anyone attempting to traverse \par
Death-lands.\par
\par
He was still learning, but it was the rare weapon indeed he hadn't read about or \par
held in his own hands. Traveling with the Trader had provided him the \par
opportunity to spend time in every backwater town and ville Deathlands had to \par
offer, and in all of them a new blaster could be traded for or, at the very \par
least, handed over for a closer look in exchange for his own.\par
\par
Those had been days of wonder for J.B., instilling in his heart a wanderlust \par
he'd never been able to shake. There was always something new around the corner, \par
and even with no guarantees of it being friend or foe he wanted to see what the \par
world had to offer for himself.\par
\par
Under five foot nine, with a slim build that gave no indication of the wiry \par
muscularity beneath his clothes, J.B. was approximately forty years old. His \par
actual age was unknown to his friends, and even to the Armorer himself, since \par
his family hadn't believed in celebrating birthdays. He wore a multipocketed \par
brown leather jacket, dark trousers that were also lined with more pockets, \par
heavy combat boots and a battered, well-traveled fedora.\par
\par
Perched on his nose was the new parr of wire- rimmed glasses, obtained back in \par
Freedom, along with darker news concerning his deteriorating vision-news from \par
the mall optician the Armorer had chosen to share with no one until he became a \par
potential liability.\par
\par
The doctor had called the disease glaucoma, and the current sad state of what \par
passed for eye care in the ruin of Deathlands offered no cure or treatment. "A \par
matter of time," he told J.B. with a sigh. "Only a matter of time."\par
\par
When that day came, when his pale gray eyes no longer could be trusted, J.B. had \par
already decided he would take care of cutting his own losses.\par
\par
But for now, his vision was clear, even if the new frames pinched like a vise. \par
He groaned, and removed them to temporarily relieve the aching pressure.\par
\par
At a first glance, J.B. looked like a runty man, unhealthy and malnourished. His \par
complexion was sallow and dank, and from close-up faint acne scars from his teen \par
years could be seen on his cheeks and forehead.\par
\par
In another time, J.B. Dix would have been seen as a man of no consequence.\par
\par
J_x>oks could be deceiving.\par
\par
The compact man was a walking arsenal, capable of massive amounts of carnage \par
when he chose to unleash his full capacity. The obvious signs were in the \par
mini-Uzi hung low over one shoulder, the trigger at waist level for easy use, or \par
hi the Smith & Wesson M-4000 scattergun he carried in his left hand, an \par
extremely deadly weapon that didn't fire ordinary rounds, but instead held eight \par
Remington 12-gauge cartridges, each with twenty flechettes, or even in the \par
fighting knife sheathed at his hip. But his clothing and boots also contained a \par
wealth of hidden equipment: fuses of varying lengths and a tight ball of \par
plas-ex, coils of wire and packets of shiny lock picks, an invaluable folding \par
minisextant, and spare ammo and blades.\par
\par
J.B. took another puff from his concise cigar. "Yeah, I don't come across these \par
as often as I'd like. Nothing like a good smoke."\par
\par
"Or a good case of lung cancer," Mildred muttered.\par
\par
The woman behind J.B. was his companion and lover, Dr. Mildred Wyeth, a time \par
traveler from the period before the nukecaust that ended the civilized world. \par
Like the Armorer, Mildred was a prized companion. Intelligent, compassionate and \par
an astute judge of character, she was a trained physician and former pioneer in \par
the field of cryonics and cryogenics.\par
\par
The woman had suffered an adverse reaction to anesthesia during a minor \par
operation and had been preserved using the very same cryonic processes she had \par
helped to develop. Mildred had remained on ice until Ryan and the others had \par
found her sleeping in her silver coffin. In a series of tense hours, they had \par
managed to restore her to life successfully.\par
\par
A doctor of another kind entirely followed Mildred Wyeth.\par
\par
Peering from behind the stocky black woman was the weathered face of Doc Tanner. \par
A lifetime of hard sights was etched into his skin-and his eyes. Doc gripped his \par
ebony walking cane tightly. The silver lion-head handle of the stick was serene, \par
impassively keeping the secret of the honed blade of Toledo steel housed hidden \par
inside the body of the cane.\par
\par
A most unusual handblaster was holstered at the man's hip. In the holster was an \par
ornately tooled Le Mat, a unique weapon dating back to the early days of the \par
Civil War. Engraved in flowing script and decorated with twenty-four-carat gold \par
as a commemorative tribute to the great Confederate solider James Ewell Brown \par
Stuart-or Jeb Stuart, as his friends and folks in Virginia referred to him-the \par
massive hand-cannon weighed in at over three and a half pounds.\par
\par
The blaster was a quick way to check how weary Doc was getting. After a long day \par
or particularly intense event, the heavy gun added a noticeable lurch to his \par
step.\par
\par
At the moment, Doc Tanner was lurching like a drunken barmaid, but he gave no \par
complaint.\par
\par
The gun had two barrels and an adjustable hammer, firing a single.63-caliber \par
round like a shotgun, and nine.44-caliber rounds in revolver mode. Finding ammo \par
for the grapefruit scattergun round was extremely difficult, but the old man \par
refused to give up the sometimes clumsy blaster for a more modern weapon.\par
\par
"Once a man is set in his ways, there is no reason to change unless absolutely, \par
positively necessary,"\par
\par
Doc often intoned. "And I have no intention of attempting to reinvent myself \par
now."\par
\par
Doc was a living link to the past that stretched back even farther than Mildred \par
Wyeth's. The old man had been born in South Strafford, Vermont, on February 14, \par
1868. Twenty-eight years later, he'd been time-trawled via a modified \par
matter-transfer chronal unit to the year 1998, an unwitting subject in an \par
experiment of the future. Two years after that, at the flash point of the \par
millennium in the year 2000, he'd been thrust forward more than a hundred years \par
into the unknown, the future, the after-the-holocaust world of Deathlands.\par
\par
Doc stumbled, the heavy blaster weighing heavily on his thin frame. He used his \par
swordstick to break his fall, even as a steadying hand came from behind courtesy \par
of Krysty Wroth.\par
\par
"My thanks, Child," Doc said absently. "This rubble-strewed hall is hell on \par
two-legged locomotion."\par
\par
"Don't mention it," she replied easily. She was ready to fall asleep on her feet \par
herself, so she could only imagine how Doc was feeling. Even her usually \par
sentient red hair was drooping, hiding the fact that besides being a stunningly \par
beautiful woman, Krysty was also a mutant. Her abilities were masked, not overt \par
like the sucker-lined hands and tongues of the stickies or the crumbling flesh \par
of the scalies.\par
\par
Powers of the mind. That's what the tall redhead possessed, the knack of being \par
able to sense the presence of other intelligent life-forms and also, if said \par
life-forms were friend or foe. She was able to smell trouble when it was coming \par
toward them, able to know good from evil, right from wrong, black from white.\par
\par
She also had power deep from within. Taught by Mother Sonja, back during her \par
childhood in Harmony to call upon and wield the near-mystic force of Gaia, the \par
Earth Mother, Krysty could channel the very energy of the planet itself using \par
her body as a vessel.\par
\par
Such an act infused her with incredible strength, along with heightened \par
awareness, but only for a short time. While the world seemed to slow to a crawl \par
to her enhanced eyes, she would move at triple speed. Immersion within Gaia's \par
forces took a terrific toll on her physical and mental well-being. Remaining in \par
the trance too long, she would ultimately lose her soul, and her earthly shell \par
would literally burn out.\par
\par
The price she paid for summoning this power was dreadful and always left her \par
exhausted and drained for hours-sometimes days-after the fury of the Earth \par
Mother had raced through her. In the aftermath, she was as weak and helpless as \par
a newborn.\par
\par
A striking beauty, Krysty possessed flawlessly pale alabaster skin. When \par
combined with the sparkling emerald of her eyes and the passionate fire of her \par
long red hair, it added to her already considerable presence.\par
\par
Dean Cawdor was behind Krysty. Like his father, the youth shared the same dark \par
complexion and black, curly hair. In many ways, he was a perfect\par
\par
Ryan Cawdor in miniature. Perhaps he wouldn't be as tall as Ryan or possess his \par
imposing presence, but he shared his sire's innate intelligence and sense of \par
morality and fair play.\par
\par
Ryan had committed some ruthless acts in his younger days and done some things \par
he knew would assure him of his own private chamber in whatever purgatory he \par
eventually ended up serving after his death, but that was yesterday, this was \par
now, and he was doing his damnedest to live free and in the present.\par
\par
A combination of Krysty's and Dean's influence had seen to that.\par
\par
The back of the line of friends creeping down the rubble-strewed hallways was \par
brought up by a man even smaller than J. B. Dix. Not even a man, really, if \par
manhood was determined by chronological age. The youth was sixteen years old, \par
five feet four inches tall, and might've weighed one hundred and ten pounds \par
soaking wet. His face was shockingly white-not flesh tone, but ghost pale, with \par
numerous scars on the chin and cheeks.\par
\par
At first glance, no one saw the scars. They were too busy peering at Jak's eyes, \par
which were a blood-red crimson, twin rubies set in a grim visage, fringed by \par
bangs of pure white hair. The long mane cascaded across his narrow shoulders \par
like a waterfall.\par
\par
Hidden on his person, Jak had several leaf-bladed throwing knives, their hilts \par
taped for perfect balance. The style of leather and camou-canvas jacket he'd \par
favored and worn for so long had tiny shards of ra- zored steel sewn into the \par
lining and sleeves, strategically torn in the most easy-to-reach places.\par
\par
The young albino didn't need to worry about using a blaster when he had access \par
to his knives, but a heavy, well-used and well-maintained Colt Python was \par
fastened to one of his skinny legs. Just in case.\par
\par
So many weapons-a necessary evil in the Death-lands. Ryan didn't share J.B.'s \par
burning fascination with hardware. His own personal arsenal was simple and neat. \par
A 9 mm SIG-Sauer P-226 pistol was at his side, bolstered and safe. The blaster \par
held fifteen full-metal-jacketed bullets and came with a built-in baffle \par
silencer. Over one shoulder, Ryan had looped his walnut-stocked Steyr SSG-70 \par
bolt-action rifle, which fired ten 7.62 mm rounds and came with a laser \par
image-enhancer and a Starlite night scope.\par
\par
Ryan also had two bladed weapons, a large eigh-teen-inch panga strapped to his \par
left hip, and a flensing knife hidden away at the small of his back. Various \par
auto-loads and other clips of ammunition, along with a talent for the archaic \par
art of hand-to-hand combat, made Ryan a dangerous two-legged killing machine.\par
\par
Unlike many of the other hardmen of the Death-lands, Ryan Cawdor was also a \par
thinking man, with a capacity for compassion, if allowed by his foes to grant \par
such gifts.\par
\par
Rarely was he given such an option.\par
\par
"We going up?" Dean asked, looking into the dimness of the open stairwell.\par
\par
"Yeah," his father replied. "Krysty, grab that torch over there."\par
\par
The woman complied, hefting the canvas-tipped piece of wood into the air. "Still \par
got some life in it, I think," she said. "Must've been left behind when those \par
stickies were down here before."\par
\par
J.B. stubbed out the end of the cigar and placed it in a pocket, then used the \par
lighter to ignite the end of the stick, proving the crusty torch indeed still \par
worked.\par
\par
"Okay, let's go."\par
\par
Ryan took the point, followed by the others. Krysty was close to Ryan and J.B., \par
shining the light up into the dark for a long span of minutes, until a new \par
presence joined them unexpectedly on the winding staircase.\par
\par
"Fresssssh meat!" a wet voice snarled as Krysty's left arm was bent painfully \par
back and the makeshift torch was snatched from her hand. Red embers flew as the \par
lighted head of the stolen torch was shoved into a cloth bag, and instantly the \par
world of the hospital stairwell went black.\par
\par
Doc cried out briefly in the darkness, then was lost in the new images that \par
seemed to swirl out of the night of forgetfulness and come alive in his mind, \par
taking him back to another time.\par
\par
Chicago, Illinois Redoubt, 1998\par
\par
As A SLENDER YOUNG MAN Theophilus Algernon Tanner had spent many a lazy summer \par
afternoon swimming in the nearby Connecticut River to escape the surprisingly \par
damnable Vermont heat. The summer of his twelfth birthday was humid and sticky \par
and made one almost yearn for the subzero cold snaps of the long winter months. \par
Never much for active sport or physical activity, the boy did enjoy spending \par
hours in the water, sometimes practicing a clumsy dog paddle, other times just \par
content to float gently on his back, his face directed upward at the \par
cloud-filled skies.\par
\par
Theo rarely paid attention to the sky. His eyes were usually closed, his keen \par
young mind lost in thought and as adrift as his lanky preteen body. Since the \par
river was quite still at the point where Theo liked to relax and play, he was \par
able to idly doze in this floating position, cooled by the water from the back \par
while warmed from the front by the sun overhead.\par
\par
But this day the water suddenly sucked him down, holding him helpless beneath \par
the surface by an unexpected undertow. Young Theo's eyes popped open in shock, \par
horrified and confused to discover the blue sky above had been replaced by a \par
swirling mass of dim blue and brown, and in his ears was a terrible roaring as \par
his eardrums were assaulted by the onrush of water now enveloping his helplessly \par
prone body.\par
\par
He scrambled madly, trying to pull himself back to the world above. His arms \par
pumped and his legs kicked and still he stayed in place, almost as if he were \par
being held down by some elemental water demon who'd claimed him as a sacrifice \par
to the river gods.\par
\par
Then the grip was loosened, and the boy was able to thrust himself free of the \par
water and into the air, where his lungs gratefully sucked in life-giving oxygen \par
in between bouts of coughing up the stomachful of the Connecticut River he'd \par
swallowed.\par
\par
"Look here, Mark! We done come upon Algae Tanner!" a tenor voice said, cracking \par
slightly on the word "upon" in a betrayal of the end of adolescence and the \par
beginning of maturity, not that his actions were any indication of impending \par
adulthood.\par
\par
"Right where you'd expect to find him," a slower speaker replied, his words \par
coming out in a nasal tone.\par
\par
"What do you mean?" the tenor asked, setting up the joke.\par
\par
"Floating on the water, just like any old kind of pond scum."\par
\par
Bullies. Even as an adult he would still remember their names. One had been \par
dubbed Merlin by his parents; the other a more pedestrian Albert.\par
\par
With his keen intellect, slight build and strange hair color (even as a teen the \par
sandy brown had already started to transform into the eventual gray he would \par
possess as an adult), Theo was used to being the butt of humor from the less \par
gifted, and while he never took such pranks meekly, he wasn't the type to dwell \par
upon concepts of revenge.\par
\par
As a result, he'd spent much of his youth isolated. Luckily he hadn't minded \par
solitude. In fact, he'd grown fond of keeping his own council.\par
\par
Isolated. Yet he could still hear snippets of conversation swirling around him, \par
like the blue water and brown silt of the Connecticut River of his youth...\par
\par
"Any diseases we should be worried about?" Theo didn't know that voice.\par
\par
"Negative. Cryo sleep kept him on ice. Nothing to fear, at least, nothing from \par
his era. Still, I hope everyone in this operating room has had his shots."\par
\par
Laughter. Bullies again? Theo didn't know.\par
\par
"No, I'd say he'd be the one we should be concerned with. There are bugs \par
floating in the air our guest has never had the joy of breathing."\par
\par
"Blood pressure's high. Pulse rate's racing overtime."\par
\par
"That's to be expected. Keep an eye on the lower numbers. If they go up another \par
ten points, let me know. They should be dropping soon."\par
\par
"Negative on the drop, sir. Top and bottom are climbing to the rafters."\par
\par
"Dammit. He's going into cardiac arrest. We need the cart!"\par
\par
"Can we contain him?" a new voice, smooth, polished, asked.\par
\par
"I don't know."\par
\par
"I said, can we contain him?" It was no longer a question, but a blunt statement \par
of fact, an order phrased hi the form of a query.\par
\par
"I'm trying. We're trying."\par
\par
"This is the first successful trawl of a human subject, a subject we chose most \par
carefully. This is no unthinking fool plucked randomly off the street. We have \par
plans for this man."\par
\par
"So what if he dies, anyway? We can always start over."\par
\par
"Meaning?"\par
\par
"Look, you muddle-headed dolt," a voice said with exasperation, "what we are \par
dealing with here is time travel, pure and simple. Correct?"\par
\par
"Time travel of a sort, yes."\par
\par
"So if this goes south, we go back a day or an hour or a week and we activate \par
the mat-trans and bring the quantum interphase on-line with the trawling guide \par
and use the same coordinates to lock onto his form. Then we bring him here \par
again. Tanner's still there in Omaha, alive, back in past time. We fetch him a \par
little earlier and there's no problem, okay? Try and think."\par
\par
"I am thinking, and let me correct you on your misguided understanding of time \par
trawling. There are no second chances. The variables are too great to allow us \par
to make another attempt, no matter how much earlier we go back within the time \par
line."\par
\par
The conversation had lost some of the urgency, growing more complicated and \par
outlandish. Deciding he'd like to have a look at just who was parceling out the \par
commentary on his fate, Tanner opened his eyes and saw he was surrounded by \par
phantoms. Ghosts. Figures of white in white, as viewed from behind a distorting \par
pane of glass. And that damnable breathing, his own breath, rasping in his ears \par
like a blacksmith's bellows.\par
\par
Never a religious man, Tanner suddenly found himself in the presence of what \par
appeared to be an- gels, and their presence fascinated him as much as it \par
terrified him, for while the part of his magnificent mind that dwelt with \par
philosophy took solace, the coldly scientific section of his brain was \par
frightened. Angels were something he couldn't even begin to comprehend or \par
explain. He closed his eyes tightly.\par
\par
Heaven or hell? He didn't feel the kiss of hellfire, but he was at a loss how it \par
was supposed to feel, anyway.\par
\par
Regardless, he decided it was time to face his fears, and so Dr. Theophilus \par
Algernon Tanner opened his eyes once more and found his vision blurred with \par
tears.\par
\par
"He's awake again."\par
\par
"About time."\par
\par
A man leaned over into Tanner's field of vision, a portly man with a wide face \par
and a well-groomed black mustache. The eyes peering down were so dark they \par
appeared to be the same color as the man's jet-black hair.\par
\par
The mouth beneath the mustache opened, casting forth a smell of garlic and \par
tomato, as if the man had just eaten a particularly tangy salad and dressing.\par
\par
"Hello, Theo. How do you feel?" he asked gently.\par
\par
"Do not," the figure on the hospital bed rasped, the interior of his mouth dry. \par
The comers of his mouth were spotted with dried blood where his lips had cracked \par
from lack of moisture.\par
\par
"I'm sorry?"\par
\par
"Do not call me that," Tanner said, enunciating each word as precisely as his \par
dry mouth and throat would allow.\par
\par
"Theo?" the man said, puzzled. He consulted a black notebook, not turning beyond \par
the first page. "It's your name, isn't it?"\par
\par
"Only...only my beloved Emily calls me that," Tanner stammered, wondering what \par
had happened to his voice.\par
\par
The man frowned as he flipped pages in the compact book. "Emily...Emily...help \par
me here, somebody. Is she the wife? Mother? Child?"\par
\par
"Wife...wife. My wife. What has happened to me? To her?" Tanner asked, \par
struggling to come to terms with what his memory was telling him-a great sucking \par
sound and the eye of God opened and the wind and blood, so much blood before \par
being lain to rest amongst the angels.\par
\par
Tanner's query was ignored as the man made a note in the book. "Wife. How could \par
I have missed the wife?" he murmured before he spoke aloud again.\par
\par
"You've been through a terrific strain, Dr. Tanner. To be frank, I'm amazed you \par
survived."\par
\par
"Survived what? What happened to me?"\par
\par
"Something wonderful." A blond woman with an eager smile chirped. "You're the \par
first!"\par
\par
"It does not feel all that wonderful, my dear," Tanner said, running his tongue \par
along the inside of his mouth. "It feels most horrible. Like I have been dead \par
and resurrected."\par
\par
"That's to be expected. My name is Herman\par
\par
Welles. I'll be serving as your physician and your sounding board until you're \par
fully acclimated to our program here."\par
\par
Suddenly Tanner sat bolt upright in the hospital bed, nearly cracking his head \par
on a slight overhang of electric lights mounted above the headboard. "Where is \par
my wife? My children?" he cried in a shrill voice that fright caused to climb \par
into the upper vocal register.\par
\par
"Later," Welles responded. "For now, we are only concerned with you and your \par
well-being."\par
\par
"Hang my well-being, man!" Tanner thundered, his normal bass voice having \par
returned to echo off the walls of the small room. "I need to see my wife and \par
little Rachel and Jolyon!"\par
\par
In his haste to get out of the bed, Tanner hadn't commented on the bank of \par
high-tech medical equipment blinking to his left, or on the style of clothing \par
Welles and the two other attendants in the room were wearing. An IV drip in one \par
of his lean arms tore free in a spray of blood and solution as he made his way \par
out of the hospital bed.\par
\par
"Dr. Tanner, please!" the nurse said, lunging to grab the leaking IV.\par
\par
"Are they all right?" he asked her fearfully. His bright blue eyes darted to and \par
fro, examining his surroundings for the first time. The walls of the room were a \par
neutral soothing mint-green color that matched his hospital gown and the linens \par
on the bed.\par
\par
Turning to the man who seemed to act as the leader of the small knot of people \par
surrounding him,\par
\par
Tanner asked, ' 'I-I must be in some form of hospital or medical facility, \par
though I admit the design is unfamiliar to me and quite strange. Was there an \par
accident? Tell me, are my wife and children all right?"\par
\par
"That depends on the definition. I could say yes, and be telling the truth \par
depending on how closely you want to analyze my meaning."\par
\par
Tanner grabbed Welles by the lapels of his lab coat and snarled into his face. \par
"Double-talk! Babble! I have heard your kind before, sir, and I know enough to \par
not waste my time on your attempts to stonewall. Enough of your mendacity!"\par
\par
"Geez, he sure talks funny, doesn't he?" the blond nurse said.\par
\par
Tanner spun and pointed a finger at her. "Ignoramus!"\par
\par
The automatic door to the room slid open as the man in a hospital dressing gown \par
approached, causing him to shrink back in surprise. In 1896, doors weren't known \par
for opening by themselves. The shock of seeing the doors, combined with the \par
presence of two large men standing in the hallway outside the door, was enough \par
to keep him rooted in place.\par
\par
"I feel positively light-headed," Tanner remarked in a casual tone, reaching out \par
and holding on to the frame of the open door for support. Behind him, he smelled \par
the breath of the man who had identified himself as Welles. As he turned to tell \par
the overweight doctor to back off, Tanner felt a stinging sensation in his left \par
buttock.\par
\par
Tanner spun clumsily to face Welles, who was holding a syringe.\par
\par
"You're much too active for a dead man, Dr. Tanner. I think you need some more \par
bed rest."\par
\par
"You bastard-" he managed to croak, before falling backward into the arms of the \par
waiting security team.\par
\par
"What do you think, Nurse?" Welles asked the blonde as they watched the security \par
men gently place Tanner back in the hospital bed, only this time, strapping him \par
down with an assortment of nylon belts.\par
\par
"I don't know, Doctor. He seems awfully stubborn."\par
\par
"He'd have to be, to survive the trawling process. Still, I wonder if we have \par
indeed obtained our puppet-and if so, how many of his strings must we cut before \par
he allows us control?"\par
\par
Chapter Three\par
\par
In the ebony night of the stairwell, Ryan and the others knew they were going to \par
be forced to fight on instinct alone.\par
\par
In the wink of an eye, Ryan had coaxed his mind to visualize his companions' \par
positions. Unlike J.B., his memory wasn't as crisp as a photograph, but Ryan's \par
powers of short-term observation were still formidable.\par
\par
This was going to be dirty and intense. They were too close to one another to \par
risk the use of blasters. One ricochet could injure the wrong party; one stray \par
bullet could mean the unintentional chilling of a friend. The only advantage \par
they had was obvious- their foes were at the same disadvantage in the raven \par
black, for even the eerie catlike eyes of Jak Lauren needed some kind of ambient \par
light to function in the dark.\par
\par
The trusty panga leaped silently into Ryan's right hand, a quick movement of \par
practiced skill.\par
\par
Unseen by Ryan, J.B. pulled his own blade from its sheath, while Doc armed \par
himself with the exposed steel of his lethal swordstick.\par
\par
Two of Jak's customized leaf-bladed throwing knives were in his pale hands, one \par
implement in the left and the other deadly cutter in the right, both now \par
invisible in the darkness. When it came to combat in tight quarters, the albino \par
was equally at home using his left or his right hand.\par
\par
Ryan's keen ears caught a "thwipping" sound, followed by a scream and a wet \par
gurgling. Jak had unleashed one of the knives, and yet again, Ryan was both \par
impressed and astonished by the lithe albino's uncanny skill in a knife fight.\par
\par
"Cut me cut me hurts hurts cut me-" Then the cry was cut off, terminated by a \par
wheezing sound and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting solid ground.\par
\par
Then, all was still, until a series of shots rang out, a burst of leaded death.\par
\par
Knowing none of his people would have made such a stupid and costly mistake, \par
Ryan lunged toward the white flash he'd spied from the barrel of the weapon, \par
grateful the fool behind the long blaster hadn't thought of fitting the weapon \par
with a flashhider for night firing.\par
\par
Raising his own blaster from his side, Ryan followed through and squeezed off a \par
bullet, a second round coughing with deadly authority, catching the figure in \par
the dark.\par
\par
Ryan stood, holding his breath, waiting, listening. After sixty seconds had \par
passed, Krysty spoke.\par
\par
"I think we're alone, lover."\par
\par
Taking out his lighter, J.B. thumbed the sparking wheel and held the flame high, \par
looking around at the carnage.\par
\par
Ryan stood from his crouched position and warily walked up to the fallen bodies.\par
\par
The first corpse spotted was tangled in the stairwell's guardrail, a mess of \par
limp arms and legs, along with a steady dripping of crimson. J.B. looked up \par
impassively from the slain figure.\par
\par
"Mutie," the Armorer said tersely.\par
\par
Using the light provided by the lighter, Jak had crossed and found the second \par
one he'd taken out blindly with his throwing knife. "Mine too," the albino said. \par
"Stickie."\par
\par
"No surprise there. Rarely see norms runnin' with muties-old Lester being the \par
exception," J.B. noted, referring to the scarred human leader who'd taken up \par
with a local band of stickies and led them in a fatal assault against the norms \par
of Freedom Mall.\par
\par
"And you, Ryan," Krysty replied in a teasing tone, picking up the fallen \par
extinguished torch and holding out the tip end to be relit by J.B.'s lighter.\par
\par
Ryan glanced over at her in the faint light given off by the tiny flame, knowing \par
she was referring to herself, to her own mutant traits, and he gave her a half \par
smile in return. "Yeah," he replied. "And me."\par
\par
Then he calmly observed the results of his shots in the flickering light. The \par
first one had wormed into the front of the stickie's right shoulder and out the \par
back in a spray of gruesome red. One of the creature's wide unblinking eyes was \par
missing where the second one had struck home, boring its way through to the back \par
of the head.\par
\par
The stickie's hands-typical of the breed-were open in death and ghastly, with \par
long fingers ending in amazingly strong suckers. J.B. could attest to the power \par
of the mutie's fingertips; he still had scabs on his face where he'd been \par
attacked days earlier. The coin-sized facial wounds were nearly healed now, but \par
for days after the injury the Armorer had been forced to keep bandages on his \par
face.\par
\par
Choosing not to wear a shirt, the dead mutie was bare-chested with the usual \par
stickie trait of no apparent body hair. He wore a pair of tattered dress slacks \par
that had already turned dark with blood from his wounds. Jak's kill was in \par
similar shape, except the knife had caught the mutie in the throat, puncturing \par
the carotid artery and causing a fountain of the pinkish stickie blood to spray. \par
Some of the blood had peppered Doc, but the man hadn't bothered to make mention \par
of the unwanted shower, since Jak's actions may have saved his life.\par
\par
The albino retrieved his thrown weapon and wiped the blade clean on the \par
stickie's clothing before returning the knife to an inner hiding place inside \par
his camou jacket.\par
\par
"Wonder what brought them down here, Dad?" Dean asked. "I thought all the \par
stickies in this part of Carolina were out smashing through stuff at the mall."\par
\par
"Could be they've started exploring now that they've burned down part of \par
Freedom. Guess we'll never know for sure."\par
\par
"Cowardly bastards. They've probably been hid- ing in the dark, waiting for a \par
chance to jump someone," the boy said.\par
\par
"Alas, I fear you are correct regarding our attackers, young Dean," Doc said \par
softly. "Makes one wary, and sends one sliding backward into childhood, alone in \par
bed at night and frightened of the hidden terrors of the night."\par
\par
"Were you scared of the dark when you were a kid, Doc?"\par
\par
"Of course not," Doc replied, then laid a finger alongside his nose and winked. \par
"But my mother was an understanding parent and allowed me to keep a candle \par
burning in the window all through my slumber-both for illumination for weary \par
travelers, and for my own youthful peace of mind."\par
\par
"These muties look like rouges-not part of Lester's band. Not smart or organized \par
enough," J.B. said as he busily emptied the dropped Uzi of the clip of 9 mm \par
bullets. The fighting in Freedom combined with other gun-battles had eaten into \par
their supply of badly needed ammunition. "Triple-strange to see a stickie \par
carrying a blaster, though. Usually they prefer to stick to using their hands."\par
\par
"Was that a pun, J.B.?" Mildred asked in a voice tinged with mock amazement.\par
\par
The Armorer looked back at her blankly. "Huh?"\par
\par
"'Stick to using their hands?' Get it? 'Stick to? Hands? Stickies?'"\par
\par
J.B. stared at the black woman. She finally gave up on him getting the joke. \par
"Shit, John, I've said it before and I'll say it again. We've got to work on \par
your sense of humor."\par
\par
"Don't got one," the weapons specialist told her stoically.\par
\par
"That's what I mean," Mildred retorted without missing a beat.\par
\par
"Guess here in Carolina the local stickie population decided to change their \par
habits, Lester or no Lester," Ryan said. "Running into these two answered any \par
doubts I might've had about passing back through this part of the Deathlands. I \par
do intend to get up to Front Royal, but not using this route. Too dangerous \par
without enough ammunition. Even if these stickies are wolf-heads from Lester's \par
mutie army, there're probably plenty more farther up in the hospital complex."\par
\par
"So. We go back down?" Jak asked, rocking back and forth on his booted heels \par
impatiently.\par
\par
"Yeah," Ryan said thoughtfully. "Yeah, let's go back to the gateway. I'd just as \par
soon get the hell out of this pit of a stairwell and on our way to another \par
locale before we get any more surprises."\par
\par
No one disagreed and they all fell in step with Ryan as he took the relighted \par
torch from Krysty and led the way back down. At the bottom, the landing was well \par
illuminated by the strip lighting shining through the hole from the chamber \par
where the cryogenic complex and mat-trans unit were both housed. Ryan \par
extinguished the torch and placed it back against the desk where they'd found \par
it.\par
\par
"My father always told me, put your tools back where you got them," Doc said in \par
an approving tone.\par
\par
From this side, the hole itself remained an inelegant affair, blown open \par
previously by the wild-eyed Alvis Alton during his quest for hidden riches. \par
Al-vis's timing had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. He'd been able to \par
assist Ryan and the others when they arrived in the hidden complex through the \par
mat-trans unit, but at the same time he'd brought down a horde of stickies with \par
the noise he created when he set off his explosives.\par
\par
Back into the first hallway and nothing; past the silver doors leading to the \par
cryo units, the inhabitants of the cylinder-like tombs within sealed away never \par
to awaken again, their pods having failed at one time or another during then- \par
long sleep, causing irreparable brain damage to some, death to others.\par
\par
From the trip taken mere moments before, J.B. knew that the seemingly daunting \par
maze of rooms and hallways was actually laid out in a simple rectangle shape, \par
and after passing the cryo lab a suite of empty hospital beds would be next on \par
the agenda.\par
\par
"Sure would be nice to grab some sleep in there, lover," Krysty remarked to Ryan \par
as she stifled a yawn and looked at him with her eyes at half-mast while passing \par
the beds. "Can't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep. There's a \par
bed in there for each of us, and curtains for privacy. And they're large enough \par
to share."\par
\par
"I know. Too bad we can't risk it," Ryan replied. "I'm about to drop on my feet \par
myself, but it's only a matter of time before another pack of stickies comes \par
across this place. Like I said back on the stairs, I'd just as soon get the hell \par
out of this pesthole and be on my way before that happens."\par
\par
"Sometimes I wonder about the paths we've chosen," she said tiredly. "But I \par
guess it beats the alternative."\par
\par
"Anything beats the alternative."\par
\par
"Want me to reopen it, Dad?" Dean asked as the group converged on their final \par
destination back at the mat-trans control room.\par
\par
"Go ahead, Dean."\par
\par
The boy keyed in the universal code of three-five-two and the vanadium-steel \par
door obediently slid upward, allowing them entry into the low-ceilinged room. \par
Wider than tall, the control center for the mat-trans chamber remained as white \par
as a Colorado snowfall. A crisscrossing of bold black lines gave the floor a \par
neutral checkerboard pattern. A single desk also painted white held a comp unit, \par
keyboard, mouse and wide-screen monitor station. It was the only furnishing in \par
the room. A star-burst pattern ran across the nearly black screen.\par
\par
The door, off to the far left, was made of painted wood with a simple bronze \par
doorknob. They stepped through, feeling more secure now with the first vanadium \par
steel door locked, and walked back into the hexagonal chamber.\par
\par
This mat-trans chamber located beneath the hospital was the traditional shape, \par
but a low ceiling tapered to a central point, and the taller members of the \par
group had to duck crossing the center of the room. Groupings of mat-trans disks \par
hung overhead, open to the world and close enough to reach up and touch. A \par
smooth floor made of a clear substance held the series of lower mat-trans disks \par
suspended and waiting, as if sealed in Lucite blocks.\par
\par
Waiting until all were seated, Ryan closed the chamber door and quickly stepped \par
across to take his place between Krysty and Dean. The gray gloominess of the \par
walls increased as the mists from the top of the chamber began their descent, \par
swirling in a mass of growing opaqueness that would soon obscure the room mere \par
instants before unconsciousness would claim them all.\par
\par
Once the mat-trans chamber was in full vibrant bloom, Ryan had to close his eye \par
against the blinding light. For some unknown reason, this chamber was much \par
brighter than the norm, with a piercing bank of white that slid past his eyelid \par
and into the very core of his being. He ducked his head between his knees in an \par
effort to shield his face from the brilliance of the white. The warmth of the \par
light came from all sides, washing down from the ceiling and splashing up from \par
the floor, caressing him in shimmering tones that seemed to be coming from \par
inside, instead of outside his body.\par
\par
The thickness of the fog increased and, when combined with the luminance of the \par
chamber, made the haze much more apparent than usual.\par
\par
Mildred snuck a peek before slamming her eyelids shut.\par
\par
" 'Purple haze, within my brain...acting funny, but I don't know why,'" Mildred \par
sang softly while strumming an air guitar.\par
\par
"What's with the movements?" J.B. whispered, his eyes squeezed tight to keep out \par
the white light. His spectacles were tucked safely away inside one of the \par
pockets of his leather jacket. "You keep poking me in the ribs with your elbow."\par
\par
"I'm playing the guitar, J.B.," Mildred replied, her eyes closed. "Jimi Hendrix. \par
Purple Haze. Before your time."\par
\par
The Armorer considered this for a few seconds. "Oh. Okay."\par
\par
Unlike most of the companions, all of whom subconsciously held their breath as \par
the eldritch process of matter transfer began, Mildred always breathed deeply, \par
taking the ion-charged atmosphere down into her lungs. She honestly believed it \par
helped with me dispersal and recalibration of her individual molecules when they \par
were broken down and reassembled on the other side, at their eventual \par
destination.\par
\par
Plus the deep breathing aided in calming her nerves. Matter transfer was almost \par
routine now, but she still didn't like the process. Too many variables were \par
involved to avoid the eventual happenstance of an error beyond their control, \par
and when that happened, she could only pray it wouldn't be a fatal one.\par
\par
'"Excuse me, while I kiss the sky,'" she sang, and then the white was replaced \par
by darkness and blissful unconsciousness.\par
\par
Chapter Four\par
\par
Ryan was dreaming, adrift and helpless in the suspended state between living and \par
dying that the mat-trans journey created within the souls of sentient, conscious \par
beings. The only way the human mind could hope to effectively survive the \par
experience of total molecular disassembly and reassembly was to reject the \par
reality of what was happening during a jump and enter instead into a waking \par
dream cobbled together of truth and fiction, past and regret.\par
\par
In layman's terms, one could always count on a gateway journey to give a man \par
triple-bad nightmares.\par
\par
In Ryan's current case, he was running flat out, putting his back into it, arms \par
pumping, legs straining, running, running, running. The air in that part of \par
Front Royal tasted electric and sharp, and to his young eyes-young? eyes?-gave a \par
dark and fearsome aura to everything in sight, alternating their colors between \par
black and blue as a maze of storm clouds raced across the evening sky.\par
\par
The drawbridge was up, so he had to stop before plunging headlong into the moat. \par
His legs flew out from beneath him, and he fell hard to the cobbled surface of \par
the road leading to the drawbridge. Gasping for breath, he quickly examined his \par
lower ex- tremities and gave particular care to his left kneecap, which had \par
suffered the brunt of his sudden landing. The fabric of the trousers was torn \par
away from the knee, revealing shredded flesh and blue blood.\par
\par
Blue blood? the boy thought stupidly, looking at the bodily fluid in numb \par
surprise. He might be royalty of a sort because of his father's position of \par
power in this southeastern pocket of Deathlands, but unlike some of his \par
relatives he rarely flaunted the elevated seat he currently held as a son of the \par
late, great Lord Titus Cawdor.\par
\par
And since when did he think of himself as a boy?\par
\par
"There you go again, Ryan, showing off your so-called heritage," a voice said \par
with a sneer. It was a familiar voice that had much of the cadence and timbre of \par
his own, but pitched higher and dripping with thinly veiled envy and hate. "It's \par
time I took a more active role in your future status as a member of the House of \par
Cawdor."\par
\par
Somehow, while Ryan had been examining his injuries, the drawbridge had managed \par
to come whispering down without his noticing. Concentration was a good thing to \par
possess, but shutting out his surroundings would be the death of him yet. He had \par
already decided the wounds and bruises were superficial, but now they were \par
completely forgotten as he took in the sight revealed by the dropped drawbridge.\par
\par
Harvey Cawdor loomed before him in all of his terrible crooked glory.\par
\par
"Hello, Brother. Time to die," Harvey said, and suddenly Ryan was a child again, \par
a boy of fifteen, lost and injured in the cold, betrayed by the very blood he \par
shared with his brother. There would be no pleading of familial ties for mercy \par
in this battle challenge.\par
\par
The same brother who'd overseen the murder of their father wasn't the sort to \par
grow misty-eyed over family.\par
\par
Harvey was grotesquely fat, poured into the finest silken robes his subjects \par
could buy with a half-crown studded with jewels atop his lumpen potato head. \par
Hanging at the sides of his jiggling hips were twin Colt pistols of shining \par
metal in tooled holsters crafted by the finest leathersmiths in Deathlands and \par
paid for with money smeared in blood.\par
\par
But fat, evil Harvey hadn't drawn either of the small-caliber blasters.\par
\par
In bis right hand, he held a blade, double-edged with a sharp point.\par
\par
Ryan felt his left eye start to throb, pulsating in time with his heartbeat, a \par
pulse that was increasing in speed. His legs felt leaden, paralyzed with fear.\par
\par
He knew he wasn't afraid of his brother. What terrified this younger Ryan was \par
the knowledge of what Harvey was about to do. Despite the location being \par
different, despite the circumstances in this mat-trans-induced dream being \par
reconfigured from the fragments Ryan held in his adult memory, the outcome was \par
going to be exactly the same.\par
\par
"End of the road, you little bastard," Harvey said, leering confidently down at \par
his younger sibling.\par
\par
"Go ahead. Do it, you fat butcher," Ryan snarled, his lips curling from his \par
teeth as he spoke.\par
\par
The blade came up, then down, the needle point directed at Ryan's left eye.\par
\par
It was the last thing the eye ever saw. After the eye burst and the boy felt wet \par
blood and fluid run down his cheek, Harvey pulled the blade free and went for \par
the other side of Ryan's face, trying to blind him but instead plunging into his \par
right cheek and cutting down, peeling back the flesh from the bone and causing a \par
jet of blue blood to spray outward, joining the other torrent from the ruined \par
eye.\par
\par
Blinded by blue, Ryan screamed. The sound was horrible and exposed, revealing to \par
his corrupt brother just how much the injury and the betrayal had cost- in both \par
body and still maturing soul. He screamed again in agony, hoping the pain might \par
stop but knowing despite his efforts, the scars would remain with him to his \par
dying day.\par
\par
KRYSTY WAS DREAMING. She was singing a predark country tune in a dump of a \par
jolt-and-alcohol bar made of dirty tar paper and aluminum siding, on the \par
outskirts of the tiny ville known as Hazelwood, fifty or so miles outside of \par
Harmony. Hazelwood was the kind of place a man loyal to his wife and family \par
traveled to if he wanted an anonymous night out with the boys...or the girls. No \par
questions asked.\par
\par
The song was a classic about cheating hearts and being weak and she sang it \par
well, but the watchers in the smoky audience sipping at their watery drinks \par
weren't there for the music.\par
\par
They were there to ogle Krysty.\par
\par
Her current attire left nothing to the imagination.\par
\par
She was completely nude from neck to knees. The only articles of clothing on her \par
voluptuous body were a silly-looking shiny white cowboy hat with a silver \par
star-burst pinned to the wide white brim perched precariously on top of her \par
crimson hair, and her well-worn blue cowboy boots with the chiseled silver \par
points on the toes, and the silver spread-wing falcons on the front.\par
\par
"Shake it, honey," a voice called from the audience. "Show us you mean it!"\par
\par
Krysty ignored the man's comment and kept singing, holding the old-style \par
microphone to her lips in both hands. Behind her, a backup band consisting of an \par
amplified electric guitar and a simple trap drum kit provided accompaniment. \par
Vocals and music both came from a few old, black Vox amplifiers, powered by a \par
portable gasoline generator that chugged contentedly to itself outside the bar.\par
\par
Why she was singing this particular song, one her Uncle Tyas had a particular \par
fondness for, made perfect sense to her. She knew all the lyrics and had always \par
enjoyed the tune. Why she was nude was another matter entirely, and as she \par
finished the last verse of the Hank Williams classic she decided she'd better \par
get around to investigating her current situation.\par
\par
"I never knew you had such a pretty voice," Ryan\par
\par
Cawdor said from where he was sitting with the polished candy-apple sun-burst \par
Les Paul electric guitar.\par
\par
"I never knew you played guitar," Krysty retorted.\par
\par
"I'll let you in on a secret-I don't," Ryan said with conviction, and gave her a \par
saucy wink with his right blue eye.\par
\par
"I don't play drums, either," J. B. Dix added, spinning the drumsticks between \par
his fingers in an elaborate display of showmanship before bringing them down on \par
the snare to snap off a rim shot, accenting his words.\par
\par
Things were getting so silly, Krysty decided to play along for a moment. "Mind \par
telling me what happened to my clothes?" she asked.\par
\par
"You'll get them back after the last song set," Ryan told her with a leer on his \par
lips. "Until then, you might as well go ahead and get busy-there's at least \par
thirty guys in here waiting for a chance to hump you blue. After I have my \par
turn."\par
\par
The boldness of the statement caused Krysty to burst into disbelieving laughter. \par
"Well, they're in for a triple-long wait. And so are you, asshole."\par
\par
"You gonna let her get away with talking to you like that?" J.B. asked loudly \par
from behind the drums. "Mildred tries giving me shit and I shut her up quick."\par
\par
"How so?"\par
\par
J.B. grinned and licked his lips. "I give her a mouthful."\par
\par
Ryan, who was not Ryan, she knew that now, turned back to face Krysty. "How's \par
that sound, you curvy piece of ass? You hungry?" he asked lazily, patting his \par
crotch. "Got something for you before you open up that pretty mouth to sing us \par
another tune."\par
\par
Angry, her face flushing as red as her now undulating hair, Krysty gave a series \par
of retorts about what he could do with his manhood. After she'd run out of \par
suggestions, the raven-haired man stood, still smiling, but the single eye \par
narrowed and the long scar down the other side of his face pulsed with pent-up \par
fury.\par
\par
Krysty Wroth was so nonplussed by what happened next that she stood perfectly \par
still and slack-jawed and allowed it to occur without protest.\par
\par
Ryan Cawdor drew back his right arm and slapped her.\par
\par
Her head snapped back, pulling her neck taut as she staggered, her boot heels \par
leaving the ground as she fell off the slight incline of the elevated stage, \par
falling bare-assed onto the grit of the earthen floor of the bar. A whoop of \par
excitement went up from the watching crowd as Krysty struggled to get to her \par
feet, but her progress was halted by the man who appeared to be her lover as he \par
leaped from the stage and landed on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground \par
up over her head.\par
\par
Ryan (not Ryan) leaned in close, and she could smell the stink of his breath, a \par
mix of gasoline and motor oil. A long tongue slithered out of his mouth, and he \par
licked her from cheek to forehead. "Damn, you taste good," he said.\par
\par
Pulling one of her arms free, Krysty went for the nearest part of her attacker's \par
body with her fingers. As she tore at her tormentor's face, scratching long \par
furrows into his cheeks with her fingernails, Krysty was surprised at the \par
absence of blood. One of her nails broke, splitting down to the soft underside, \par
but she didn't even notice the pain as she continued to struggle, concentrating \par
on ripping new gashes into the countenance of the man who'd willingly offered up \par
his life to save her own countless times. She felt her heart stop as a glint of \par
polished blue steel peeked out, shining from underneath the epidermal layer.\par
\par
Still no blood, only warm flesh that was starting to feel more and more like \par
cold, alien rubber, or even discarded chewing gum as she continued to scrape at \par
her attacker's face.\par
\par
The worn eye patch fell away and behind it lurked not an empty eye socket, but a \par
piercing narrow beam of blue light that started to grow in intensity even as she \par
gaped in a mix of terror and curiosity. With a final effort of strength forced \par
from her very soul, she pulled at the mask and tore away the outer shell.\par
\par
Cort Strasser, a.k.a. Skullface, leaned over her, revealed before her \par
disbelieving eyes.\par
\par
"No way," she said in a whisper.\par
\par
"Way," he snarled back, and his face, his words, were blue.\par
\par
JAK WAS DREAMING. In his mind's eye he was sleeping next to Christina, his wife, \par
who in so many ways was as much a child as Jak Lauren himself, despite her being \par
the older of the pair. In the adjoining room, Jenny, their little girl, also \par
slept. The family of three were in a ranch house, a sprawling mass of clay and \par
wood located in the most desolate part of New Mexico the young man had been able \par
to find.\par
\par
They were at peace and until that moment, their night terrors had been held at \par
bay.\par
\par
The following day, there was much to be done, including beginning a lengthy \par
repair job on the ranch house roof, but after growing up in the swamplands of \par
Louisiana, Jak was no stranger to hard work and hot sun. He'd given up wandering \par
Deathlands with Ryan Cawdor to settle down in an attempt to have what might be \par
called a normal life. Jak owed the one-eyed man his life and felt a strong \par
loyalty to him, but he also knew if he were to find peace he would have to \par
abandon Ryan's companionship in exchange for love and family.\par
\par
Jak knew that would entail a struggle, for such peace was hard to find for \par
people of his heritage and skin color. Jak was an albino, and albinos weren't \par
normal, nor considered of a kind with man. Albinos were marked as mutants, and \par
while the mutant breeds might eventually lay claim to the remains of the \par
civilized world, Jak wanted no part of such a plan.\par
\par
Until Christina was stolen from his bed. Until Jenny was taken away.\par
\par
The unspoken message left in their stead was, No Peace.\par
\par
In Jenny's small bunk bed were rose petals. In his own, ashes and dust. Jak \par
crushed them together and rubbed them down both sides of his stark white face, \par
streaking his cheeks with long dusky lines of war paint mixed with his own tears \par
and sweat. The albino had grown up listening to late-night talk of magic among \par
the oldies in his community, and had heard many tales of the avenging dead and \par
the terrible price paid for want of retribution.\par
\par
Damn the price, he decided.\par
\par
The fury sang in Jak's blood. Such an affront was to invite his full vengeance, \par
and as he suited up in the formfitting lightweight battle armor he'd never worn \par
before, advanced riot gear rescued from af locker deep underground in an already \par
forgotten military redoubt, he knew it was only the beginning of a very long \par
night.\par
\par
He chose to abandon his more familiar fighting tools, his leaf-bladed throwing \par
knives, his mighty Colt Python, deciding, instead, to rely on his wits and \par
fighting skills, and the mysterious rune-inscribed midnight blue blade he kept \par
hidden from prying eyes.\par
\par
Christina had thought him silly for hanging on to the oversized weapon, which \par
dated back thousands of predark years.\par
\par
"You're too small a man, Jak, to hoist such a blade," she had said, unable to \par
lift it herself using both hands. It fell to the well-worn boards of the front \par
porch of their home with a muffled clatter.\par
\par
"You say I'm small?" he retorted, reaching down and easily retrieving the \par
weapon.\par
\par
"No," she answered. "You're plenty big enough for me."\par
\par
"Hate people call me small," he said, wiping away the stray particles of grit \par
that had adhered to the surface of the sword when it dropped.\par
\par
"I never said that and I never would say that," Christina said firmly. "But \par
there's something dark and unholy and evil about that blade, and I wish you'd \par
put it away."\par
\par
"Okay," he had said and gave her an elfish smile. "Blade gone. Won't see it \par
again."\par
\par
Now she was gone, and the sword had reappeared.\par
\par
The jewels encrusted in the hilt of the blade felt cool against his pale white \par
hands as he hefted the weapon high over his head, cool and comforting, like they \par
belonged there as part of him.\par
\par
"No peace?" Jak whispered in a voice that was no longer his own. "So be it."\par
\par
Alone in the world, he saddled his great steed and rode west, following the \par
trail of the ones who'd taken his wife and child. It wasn't as hard as it might \par
have seemed, since no care had been taken to cover their tracks. Even when Jak \par
thought he was lost, the sword sheathed at his hip would act as a sullen guide, \par
pulling him back on course, the deep blue of the metal attracted by some hidden \par
magnet.\par
\par
Once his horse was spooked by a hissing rattler and Jak fell from the saddle as \par
the equine reared in fright. The armor he'd taken from the closet and now wore \par
protected him from the impact of the fall as he landed heavily on the rocky \par
sand. Transport was go- ing to be another matter, since his steed ran past, \par
frightened, leaving Jak alone with his thoughts.\par
\par
(Not alone.)\par
\par
A rattler slithered close, warily keeping the coils of its body out of reach of \par
Jak's blade. The unmistakable cluttering of the rattle at the end of the snake's \par
tail provided accompaniment to the reptile's sinuous movements.\par
\par
"What? Thought heard-"\par
\par
(Not alone.)\par
\par
"Hear you...in head," Jak said softly.\par
\par
(Yes.)\par
\par
"Where are they?"\par
\par
(Not safe not yet no one is safe not yet.)\par
\par
"Not safe?"\par
\par
(No one, not even you.)\par
\par
And the rattler started to grow in height and bulk, a combination of inflating \par
and expanding, stretching and elongating, pulsating and reaching that raised it \par
to a height of thirty feet.\par
\par
(You die now, you die.)\par
\par
"No. You do," Jak replied, and leaped to one side as the massive head of the \par
reptile came striking down, incredibly fast. White fangs bit into tan sand and \par
stone, and the entire landscape seemed to rock from the impact. Jak was once \par
again sent tumbling, but this time he was expecting the fall and he quickly \par
rolled and regained his footing.\par
\par
The serpent, momentarily dazed by the missed strike, didn't bring up its huge \par
head, but instead kept it close to the ground as undulating coils pushed it \par
toward the waiting Jak. Hurtling like an air-to-surface missile, the head picked \par
up speed and came directly for its intended target like a launched arrow from a \par
bow, and again, the agile albino was able to sidestep the attack.\par
\par
Even as he avoided being struck, Jak released his own offensive, bringing his \par
sword above his head in preparation.\par
\par
As he swung the sword down in an elegant reaching arc, the entire blade seemed \par
to glow with a translucent blue, and before he could react to the appearance of \par
the unexpected light the blue grew past the weapon and crawled up his arm and \par
across his shoulder and up and down his body, coating him in blue, obscuring his \par
sight, his mouth, his mind.\par
\par
(No peace.)\par
\par
"Peace," Jak said.\par
\par
The oversized head of the rattler was sliced off neatly and a spray of blue \par
blood squirted outward, lifeblood as blue rain pouring through the halo of blue \par
light surrounding Jak, and he was frozen in place in the dark of the desert, \par
alone and helpless.\par
\par
Helpless in blue.\par
\par
MILDRED WAS DREAMING. She was wearing a Greek toga or some sort of filmy outer \par
garment that rippled around her body. She was adrift in blue. Ice blue. Icy \par
cold. Her keen physician's mind reminded her that Greek for icy cold was kryos, \par
the study of cry-onics, the preservation of the living dead. The only part of \par
her body that seemed to be work- ing was her eyes, so she looked around \par
frantically, managing to catch a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Again, she was \par
blue-lips, face, hair. All blue. Then, she heard a voice. Dr. Victoria Blue's \par
voice. The voice of her colleague and friend. They were active in the cryo \par
program together.\par
\par
Mildred was confused. Why was Victoria looking down at her with a strained, sad \par
smile?\par
\par
"The cyst!" Mildred wanted to scream, and immediately she knew she was in for \par
abdominal surgery on an ovarian cyst, or rather, what they believed to be a \par
cyst. It was December 28 of the year 2000-on the cusp of the new year.\par
\par
"We're losing her!" Victoria said. "There's no other way. The cryo process is \par
experimental, but we'll have to make the attempt."\par
\par
Mildred blinked, and the bedroom was gone, replaced by the neutral blue tones of \par
a hospital ward. The walls were whipping past her, faster and faster. She tried \par
to speak, but found her voice missing. She still couldn't move. She looked down \par
her prone body and saw her bare feet at the bottom of the gurney. Mildred tried \par
to wiggle her toes. They stayed frozen. Then, she noticed her feet and her toes \par
were blue as the twin doors looming up in front of her parted like stage \par
curtains, and she was inside, and through.\par
\par
Then came the large tub, made of metal, fabric and naugahide.\par
\par
Then the underwater pump and the distribution system.\par
\par
Mildred recognized the system other cryo special- ists had coined "Squid." After \par
a person was placed inside the tub, a couple of hundred pounds of ice were added \par
along with numerous buckets of water- then with a flip of the switch the squid \par
would start circulating the water very rapidly around the body. The process \par
dropped the temperature much more quickly than just packing a person in blocks \par
of ice.\par
\par
The IV lines already in her arm for the surgery on the cyst were now being used \par
again, this time to assist in the cryo preparation process. That much Mildred \par
recognized from the procedure she had carried out on others personally. An \par
assortment of medications were being dumped into her bloodstream: first heparin \par
to prevent blood clots; potassium chloride or phenobarbital of some kind; other \par
chemicals to depress the brain metabolism so that the cells could stay alive in \par
a less active state; something to keep the acidity level of the pH proper; \par
calcium channel blockers to prevent calcium from traveling into the cells and \par
starting a number of chemical reactions that typically do a lot of brain damage.\par
\par
"God Almighty," Mildred thought, reeling, her heart pounding in terror as she \par
recognized the procedure she was beginning to endure. Why was she still awake?\par
\par
When the scalpel fell on her leg, the pain was excruciating. The clinical part \par
of her doctor's mind noted her friends were doing a femoral bypass, opening up \par
the femoral artery and vein in the leg and hooking up a pump to flush her entire \par
vascular system. Victoria Blue was still with her, but new cast members were \par
being added to the operating stage, one by one. First, a thoracic surgeon came \par
in, leading a team of twelve with carts of instruments and med gear. The surgeon \par
looked down and without any warning shoved a scalpel into her chest.\par
\par
Bach was playing on the sound system in the room as he proceeded to do a \par
textbook example of open-heart surgery while the paralyzed and helpless Mildred \par
Wyeth watched herself be sliced open.\par
\par
She knew why. The point was to get tight control of the circulation. This was to \par
make sure if any clots developed around her heart, there was still control to \par
get the fluid to the brain. She also knew what was coming next, as all of the \par
water in her body was replaced with a glycerol-based mix of fluids to prevent \par
damage from occurring during the freezing process.\par
\par
For obviously, in cryo storage, any water or moisture turned to ice.\par
\par
After the perfusion with glycerol was complete Mildred was lifted and placed in \par
a chilled bath of silicone oil. The oil was pumped through dry ice, and once she \par
was secure they left her, returning after her body had dropped to the \par
temperature of the ice. She was placed in a special tank wrapped in a sleeping \par
bag and in an aluminum pod for protection. Liquid nitrogen was sprayed in, and \par
she dropped to minus 196 degrees C.\par
\par
Then she was tucked away in a stainless-steel tank, vacuum insulated, and held \par
in limbo, her mind still screaming, suspended at that temperature until science \par
caught up someday.\par
\par
But the subjects weren't supposed to be conscious, more alive than dead, seeing \par
yet not dreaming. A single tear crept from her left eye and froze a shining \par
trail on her cheek. If Mildred had been able to see her face, she knew the color \par
of the tear would be blue.\par
\par
DEAN WAS DREAMING. He was back in the bucking hold of a boat, caught in the \par
center of a violent storm. He could look at the bulkheads, and he knew he'd been \par
there before and something triple-bad was going to happen, but there wasn't a \par
thing he could do about it except sit, wait and watch, hoping the events \par
wouldn't follow their earlier pattern; that above, his father and J.B. would be \par
able to steer clear of the danger, the coming danger that Krysty was now \par
warning.\par
\par
The redhead could feel it coming, she was saying, just like she'd said the first \par
time.\par
\par
"Something's wrong, something's bad wrong. Got to warn Ryan. There's danger."\par
\par
Loud crashes of thunder kept drowning out Krysty's voice, but Dean could still \par
read her lips, and he knew already what she was telling them.\par
\par
Then came a final crash of thunder, and everyone in the crowded section was \par
thrown back, and then heaved forward as the yacht yawed from the impact. And \par
this time when the explosion went off and the front half of the nose of The \par
Patch was nigh high- vaporized, bringing in a crushing flood of blue-black \par
seawater, he didn't manage to scramble his way to the upper deck and safety.\par
\par
This time, Mildred didn't grab a handful of the boy's shirttail and pull him \par
upright.\par
\par
This time, like Krysty, who'd been thrown off her booted feet and hurled into \par
the thrashing waters, and like Jak, who'd been tossed forward down the narrow \par
passageway and directly into the newly created hole in the bulkhead, Dean also \par
went tumbling like a dropped bit of refuse into the ocean blue.\par
\par
Dean took blank note of how one of the toe tips of Krysty's cowboy boots caught \par
the light and flickered like a faraway star, a pale wink of blue and gone before \par
he fell into deep oblivion.\par
\par
J.B. WAS DREAMING. He was on an elevated mountain peak somewhere in Colorado, \par
the air crisp in his lungs. When he exhaled, small clouds of steam puffed out. \par
His glasses were slightly misted over with condensation from the heat of his \par
body and the cool of the air, but when he reached to wipe them clean he was \par
perplexed to find he wasn't wearing his specs.\par
\par
The misty covering on his eyes that obscured his vision was coming from inside \par
his own body. Triple-strange to overheat from the inside. He'd have to ask \par
Mildred about that. He might be getting sick, and even the mildest of infections \par
could prove fatal in the uninhabitable Deathlands.\par
\par
"Hey, J.B.," Trader said.\par
\par
The Armorer turned to take in the old man. The\par
\par
Trader looked good. Damn good. Last time J.B. had seen his former mentor, the \par
Trader was showing his age and then some. Now, he looked as healthy and robust \par
as the day J.B. and he had first met, all those years ago outside J.B.'s boyhood \par
home of Cripple Creek near the Rockies.\par
\par
The Trader's grizzled salt-and-pepper hair stood on his scalp like an angry \par
porcupine, and his big cigar was firmly clamped between his teeth. J.B. could \par
smell the pungent scent of burning tobacco and that, too, helped assure him of \par
his friend's identity, for the Trader had always smoked the same putrid weed.\par
\par
The older man's red-brown complexion was visible under the days of stubble \par
across his broad face. His powerful build was unstooped by disease or age, and \par
his trusty Armalite rifle was slung over his shoulder in a casual manner, but \par
ready to be unlimbered and fired in an instant if needed.\par
\par
J.B. was glad to see him. "Hey, Trader," he said. "What brings you over?"\par
\par
"Got something for you," Trader rumbled, his voice like a misfiring diesel \par
engine. He reached into a coat pocket, his own long coat lined with even more \par
hiding places than J.B.'s scuffed leather jacket. "Found them back on War Wag \par
One. Thought you could use a pair."\par
\par
He held out a small box covered in black felt about the size of the palm of his \par
hand. The hinged lid was closed. A golden line where top met bottom glinted in \par
the sunlight.\par
\par
"Didn't have to do that," J.B. said warily. He wasn't a man who liked to owe \par
favors, not even to the Trader.\par
\par
"No, I didn't, but I did," Trader replied, his gruff voice colored with \par
annoyance. "Now show some respect and say thank-you."\par
\par
"Thanks. I think. What is it?" J.B. asked.\par
\par
"Go ahead," Trader urged. "Open the box."\par
\par
The Armorer reached out and took the package, holding it in his left hand while \par
using a dirty fingernail of his right to flip open the top.\par
\par
"Dark night!" he bellowed in shock. J.B. wasn't the sort to startle at a prank, \par
but the Trader had certainly put a scare into him with the contents of the \par
innocuous little box.\par
\par
Inside the case were two human eyes, eyelids attached, severed at the optic \par
nerves. One eye was light blue, the other nearly cobalt. Some stray drops of red \par
had splattered on the interior pink lining of the box. Gory, yes, but what had \par
elicited the bellow from J.B. was that both of the eyes shifted and peered up at \par
him.\par
\par
"Goddammit! What kind of shit are you trying to pull, Trader?" J.B. demanded in \par
a loud voice. He looked up to find the larger man had miraculously vanished. He \par
slammed the small container shut, locking away the dismembered eyeballs in their \par
twin puddles of grue.\par
\par
A small scrap of paper had fallen from the box when J.B. opened it. He leaned \par
down and picked it up from the dirt.\par
\par
"/'// be keeping an eye out for you," the message read.\par
\par
J.B. wasn't amused.\par
\par
"So," Trader said from behind, "you ready to fly?"\par
\par
The Armorer turned to find the Trader standing next to a sky wag, a great wooden \par
and canvas bird with biwings and single propeller. "You like her?" the older man \par
asked, before going into a series of hacking coughs. He cleared his throat and \par
hawked up a mouthful of blood and phlegm, spirting it off to one side.\par
\par
"No way. Get up in that thing, hit a hell-wind and it'll dump you out on your \par
ass," J.B. replied, walking away. "Thanks for the present."\par
\par
"Good day for flying," Trader called back to J.B. "Not a cloud in the sky."\par
\par
He was right. The sky was as open as a traveling gaudy's front door-and in \par
J.B.'s mind, about as uninviting.\par
\par
"Step in, we'll go for a spin," Trader said, appearing in front of the Armorer.\par
\par
"You're no pilot," J.B. said, starting to back away.\par
\par
"The hell you say!"\par
\par
J.B. continued to back up, and pushed against something. He spun and damn if he \par
wasn't seated in the plane now, the Trader in the second seat behind him with \par
the controls.\par
\par
And the sky went from sky blue to electric, crackling with lightning. The \par
hell-winds J.B. had men- tioned came sweeping in, the upper atmosphere of much \par
of the world permanently damaged in the nuclear battle between the superpowers.\par
\par
"Guess we'd better bail," Trader said mildly, standing in his seat and giving \par
J.B. a two-fingered salute.\par
\par
"Bail?"\par
\par
The Trader pointed to his back. "Parachute. Insurance policy. That's predark \par
slang for covering your ass."\par
\par
The big man leaped out, clearing the plane. Even as the craft began to shudder \par
in the bucking winds, uncontrolled, J.B. peered down and watched the chute open, \par
jerking the Trader's hanging body in a spastic movement.\par
\par
The Armorer reached into a pocket and took out a cigar, biting down hard on the \par
end.\par
\par
Hell of a way to die.\par
\par
J.B. fell, plunging to his doom, surrounded by blue.\par
\par
Chapter Five\par
\par
Doc Tanner had started the mat-trans jump with a clear mind and a level head. As \par
far as he could determine, he wasn't dreaming. If he had been awake, he would \par
undoubtedly have remarked on this as being "most unusual." Traditionally during \par
a mat-trans jaunt, Doc was cursed with Stygian nightmares of such dire \par
calamities he could hardly withstand the mental assault. When he eventually \par
returned to consciousness, his entire body always ached from thrashing on the \par
floor of the chamber in semiremembered agony.\par
\par
This time was different.\par
\par
This time, he was happy to note, he slumbered peacefully.\par
\par
Doc lay in a feather bed with a sweet-smelling pillow stuffed with fresh straw \par
under his head and a second one gripped in his hands. A smiling crescent moon \par
shone down on him through an open bedroom window, and a gentle summer breeze \par
wafted over his slumbering form, cooling him as he slept.\par
\par
Then he heard a voice. A woman's voice.\par
\par
"Emily?" he asked.\par
\par
"No, Krysty," came the reply.\par
\par
For brief seconds, Doc was confused-was he in bed with another woman? "Howling \par
calamities!" he said in disbelief, fearing for his marriage.\par
\par
"Right, Doc," Krysty replied, but he couldn't hear the words.\par
\par
"You must speak up," he said impatiently. "I cannot hear you."\par
\par
"Where's Lori?" the Titian-haired beauty yelled in reply, but again, even with \par
raising her voice and calling out as loudly as possible, Doc could barely hear \par
her voice. The words were faint, as if she were standing far, far away on a \par
distant mountain peak and calling into a valley.\par
\par
"What?" Doc answered, in a sane, calm, rational speaking voice. "What did you \par
say?"\par
\par
"Lori! Where is she?" Krysty was closer now. Doc could see her flushed face, \par
smell her sweat. She had been running, or involved in some sort of physical \par
activity. A guilty flash of lust crept through his loins, for after all, he was \par
in his bedchamber and dressed only in a nightshirt, and one of the most \par
ravishing and sexy women he'd ever laid eyes on was standing right next to his \par
bed, wearing a skintight shut and breathing heavily.\par
\par
"Snap out of it, Doc. Your mind's wandering again."\par
\par
"Um, my apologies."\par
\par
"Where's Lori?" she asked again.\par
\par
"I...I do not know, my dear," he replied lamely, feeling ashamed of himself for \par
looking at Krysty in an unpure manner and eager to shift blame for his own \par
feelings of guilt. "We-we got separated."\par
\par
"Well, she's a big girl now. Hope she can look after herself!" Krysty cried, \par
punching Doc easily in the shoulder with a left jab, and then she turned, her \par
long hair fanning out behind as she ran away from the coming storm flashing \par
softly on the horizon.\par
\par
The bedroom was gone. No walls, no windows. No smiling cartoon moon looking \par
down.\par
\par
Doc was alone once more.\par
\par
Doc was dreaming.\par
\par
Yes, a dream. Despite his earlier beliefs to the contrary, that was the only \par
answer. Yes. Logic dictated his conscious mind was sleeping while his \par
unconscious plundered his brain, skirting the damaged areas marked Do Not Enter \par
and Condemned and Warning! DANGER! for a change, and, instead, pulling out \par
pieces of memory long in storage, kept there if needed, locked away if not.\par
\par
Lori, young Lori. Despite the dream Krysty's assurances, Doc knew Lori wasn't a \par
big girl. In fact, despite the strip-queen body and the mounds of antagonism she \par
routinely spouted, she was even more immature than young Dean.\par
\par
Dean had never met Lori. She had passed on before Doc made Ryan's son's \par
acquaintance.\par
\par
So.\par
\par
Damn the philosophy lesson and the code he knew he was trying to make sense \par
of-instead, he would try to deal with the stone-hard facts. Doc knew he was in \par
the middle of a jump dream, his memories of the past unbottled and poured into \par
his skull in a vol- atile mix courtesy of the blender provided by the \par
frightening forces of the mat-trans experience.\par
\par
Ignore it, he finally decided. Go back to sleep.\par
\par
Doc closed his eyes and nodded his head and was surprised to find his eyelids \par
weren't functioning- either that or he could see right through them, since he \par
was looking down at his hands instead of the back of his eyelids.\par
\par
"No, not mine," he whispered, for Doc was flabbergasted to find his hands were \par
young again, and the veins were bold and purple and the muscles underneath the \par
taut skin were pulsating within their fleshy outer covering, muscles that now \par
enabled him to have a bold strong grip, as if modified with tensile cables of \par
steel. The liver spots of artificial age thrust cruelly upon his weathered skin \par
had vanished. His threadbare garments-trousers, shirt, coat-all were also whole \par
and new. The felt of his black frock coat was brushed and unfrayed. The leather \par
of his boots crinkled like new brown paper and shone like wet vinyl in the \par
flickering flames.\par
\par
Flames?\par
\par
A tall stovepipe hat stood erect on his head, though Doc couldn't recall wearing \par
such a chapeau more than once or twice, and even then, only because the headgear \par
was a gift, and he'd never liked the thing, feeling that it made a mockery of \par
him and goodness, but wasn't it terribly hot in this latest splotch of mind \par
vomit.\par
\par
The shock of returned youth fell away as Doc realized he was surrounded by fire.\par
\par
"By the Three Kennedys!" he boomed, and the voice in his ears was like freshly \par
thrown thunder. He'd have to speak loud and plain to be heard here; a chem storm \par
was brewing, flashing pink lightning against the darkness of the night sky. The \par
air smelled acidic and alien, like the laboratories of his college days.\par
\par
And then, he knew. He remembered this place. It was Snakefish, California, a \par
mere scrap of a once prosperous state decimated by the sub-launched nuclear \par
missiles from Soviet submarines off the West Coast. It was the home of Baron \par
Edgar Brennan, who'd either taken or been given the comical name of a long-dead \par
folksy cowboy actor, according to Mildred Wyeth. The physician had heard of \par
Edgar and his strange ville secondhand, since she was still in cryo sleep during \par
the time of that adventure, but Doc had assured her she hadn't missed much.\par
\par
Baron Brennan had set himself up in high style thanks to a hidden cache of \par
gasoline...but he was an old man, and in a tale as ancient as the world, youth \par
overtook age. His subjects in Snakefish had turned against him. Ultimately he \par
died with his face in the dirt, shot in the back by a sawed-off shotgun, a \par
double-barreled charge of death that nearly cut him in two, chilling him \par
messily, if not instantly.\par
\par
Way of the world. A baron fell, another rose to take his place. Like a \par
well-swung scythe aimed at tall stalks of wheat in the field, if they were cut \par
down, more would come back.\par
\par
Patterns within patterns.\par
\par
They-Ryan, Doc, J.B., Jak, Krysty, Lori and that other poor unfortunate, Rick \par
Ginsburg-all of them were at the fuel refinery where the gasoline that kept the \par
baron in power was processed. Three large storage tanks were sticking up tall \par
against the backdrop of the mountains. A score of rocking-donkey pumps bobbed up \par
and down in patient, unchanging motion, great metal monstrosities bringing up \par
the thick crude and sending it into a long warehouse-like building where the \par
actual refining and processing of the gas were accomplished.\par
\par
There were several low walls but only one possible entrance into the complex.\par
\par
Ryan had chosen this as the locale of their final stand against the new baron \par
and his followers, using the site's allure to bring in their foes, even as they \par
fled out the back. Behind them, a stream of refined gasoline was gaining speed, \par
the oily stench of fuel hanging in the air. Jak had opened all of the main \par
valves on the three oversized fuel containers, and now thousands of gallons of \par
gas were flooding through the complex, along the roadway and toward their \par
murderous pursuers.\par
\par
The hot exhaust from one of their foes' chrome-and-leather-enhanced \par
Harley-Davidson motorcycles ignited the released fuel into an explosion of \par
cataclysmic proportions.\par
\par
The wretched ville of Snakefish was burning. The worshippers of the giant sand \par
serpents went up in flames, abandoned by their reptile god to twist in the \par
heated wind.\par
\par
Time to go. Smoke hung in the air, and Doc felt himself cough as he tried to \par
take in a fresh breath. Thick black smoke billowed around him like a hot fog, an \par
ashen blanket draped around his shoulders.\par
\par
"Run, dammit!" The cry came out of the fire. Who had issued the order? Ryan? \par
Yes, that was the voice of command the one-eyed leader wielded so well, \par
motivating all of them past death again and again.\par
\par
And there she was, running as fast as she could across the withered pavement, \par
her blond hair shining like a beacon, glowing brighter in the light of the \par
fires.\par
\par
Lori Quint, a seventeen-year-old beauty with a body like a newborn colt, all \par
legs and stumbling, running for her life, her high-heeled boots of tooled red \par
leather slapping down on the road. Doc listened. He could hear the tiny silver \par
spurs on her footwear jingle with their trademark thin clear sounds, a fault \par
hint of merry music hi the overheated air. For long months after the tragedy \par
about to occur, he'd heard that very same faint jingle in his nightmares.\par
\par
Nightmares such as this.\par
\par
The jingle was coming up fast behind him, reaching out for him, begging him for \par
help, each jingle whispering his name.\par
\par
A seventeen year old, with a woman's body and the mind of a much younger girl.\par
\par
Even as a man hi his mid- to late-thirties, and truth be told that was his real \par
biological age, Doc felt a twinge of cradle-robbing when enraptured in the \par
throes of passion with Lori. He was a man who appeared and acted over sixty \par
years old, and she wasn't his lover in appearance, but more of a daughter.\par
\par
During his earlier lifetime in the late 1800s, one of Doc's wealthier friends \par
from Oxford had arrived at the local men's club on a weekly basis with a new \par
young woman on his crooked arm-his nieces, he called them with a nudge and a \par
wink. "Theophilus! Come over here, you scowling brigand, and meet my niece!"\par
\par
Doc had smiled, allowing his colleague to present his lie to everyone's \par
amusement. It was harmless enough, since the man's wife had been dead seven \par
years and his children now adults with their own love affairs to conduct.\par
\par
It wasn't until after Lori was dead, her nubile frame engulfed and turned to ash \par
by the firestorm, that Doc realized that though he grieved for her he hadn't \par
loved the girl. Oh, he'd cared for her, and sought comfort in her arms, in her \par
embrace, in their lovemaking. She'd made him feel alive once more, whispering \par
his name, shuddering with pleasure at his touch...even as she'd later chisel \par
away at his self-esteem by pointing out her own vitality against the damages of \par
time inflicted on his body.\par
\par
She'd taken the young Joshua Mote as her lover, allowing Doc and Ryan to catch \par
her in the midst of a particularly randy bit of sex. She'd offered no \par
explanation for her illicit affair, no apology to the man she'd wronged. A woman \par
had needs, Doc knew that, but a woman should also have decency and compassion.\par
\par
And his sexual equipment and plumbing worked just fine, thank you very much.\par
\par
At that moment in time, his eyes filled with the sight of her betrayal, Doc had \par
never missed his wife so much.\par
\par
Lori Quint. She'd been headstrong, that one, with the unproved wisdom and \par
brazenness of youth. One moment she was as valuable an ally as could be hoped \par
for in Deathlands, quick to protect herself and her companions by firing \par
off.22-caliber rounds from her pearl-handled PPK.\par
\par
Other times, however, a darkness revealed itself behind her laughing eyes. She'd \par
back-talk Ryan or pick verbal fights with Krysty. She'd ignore J.B.'s advice and \par
Doc's pleading and plunge headlong without regard for what might be hiding \par
around the corner.\par
\par
Behind her, the yellow and orange and red petals of the onrush of fire opened \par
like an expectant flower, but this was no inviting garden bud-this was a serpent \par
of flame.\par
\par
The tall blond girl was silhouetted against the towering wall of yellow-orange \par
fire as it swept toward her, hot tongues of flame licking at her boot heels.\par
\par
"My sweetness, my lovely fawn," Doc whispered, the pet names cruelly ironic as \par
he watched them engulf the girl, watched helplessly as she fell, and melted, \par
within the fringes of the inferno. Then he could watch no more as his eyes \par
filled with tears of regret and loss.\par
\par
So close.\par
\par
How many had died?\par
\par
First his beloved children, and then Emily, and now his newly found angel, Lori.\par
\par
Next off, the entire world and almighty man and his loves and hates and \par
accomplishments and regrets, all dead, all dead.\par
\par
And as for the good Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner? Hell, ol* Doc just kept on \par
living. Perhaps he'd still be doddering around at the end of time, perched on \par
the arid edge of eternity, the tails of his faded frock coat flapping around his \par
legs in the buffeting winds as the universe finally wound to a stop. What good \par
was his regained youth now?\par
\par
Doc stood above an ocean of time and was amused to discover that the color of \par
temporal fluid and mass was a wickedly shimmering blue.\par
\par
"Boo hoo, blue hue, toodle loo, to you," he whispered, reaching up with a hand. \par
The age spots had returned. Doc smiled wistfully, pulled the string to the \par
single blue bulb hanging from the ceiling overhead and turned out the light.\par
\par
Chapter Six\par
\par
Darkness.\par
\par
"Without a doubt, that sucked," Mildred said, her voice broken and weak.\par
\par
Ryan opened his eye. Above, the hexagonal configuration of metallic disks housed \par
in the ceiling fixtures of yet another mat-trans unit shone down impassively on \par
him, the massive amounts of energy sent surging through them mere seconds before \par
now spent and fading away. Ignoring the sensation of nausea, Ryan turned his \par
face to the wall and found himself looking at a new color of armaglass.\par
\par
The jump had been successful. The dingy gray walls of the North Carolina redoubt \par
were gone, left behind and forgotten.\par
\par
"Takeoffs aren't the problem. It's the landings," J.B. stated, the jump dream \par
still fresh in his mind as his own pained voice offered up a mirror of \par
Mildred's.\par
\par
"What color is this, anyway?" Ryan asked, gesturing toward the armaglass wall. \par
He was sitting up now, trying to ease the pounding in his brain. "Blue?" Mildred \par
ventured. J.B. nodded. "Yeah. Blue. Haven't seen this shade of blue before, \par
though."\par
\par
"I have. In dream," Jak said. The albino was already squatting on his feet, his \par
ruby eyes scanning the walls and his comrades.\par
\par
"He's right. Saw this shade of blue in my jump dream, too," Ryan replied, \par
squinting his eye and looking at the armaglass.\par
\par
"I used to wonder if they would ever run out of colors for the armaglass. As \par
many colors of blue we've encountered, I guess they were starting to get \par
desperate," Mildred said.\par
\par
J.B. shrugged. "Either that, or some higher authority liked blue."\par
\par
"I recall reading a survey long ago that blue was the most popular choice for \par
favorite color," the physician mused.\par
\par
"Well, there you go," J.B. answered, checking his weapons to make sure they'd \par
come through safely. "I always liked blue myself."\par
\par
"Other than seeing similar shades matching the armaglass in our dreams, either \par
of you recognize this chamber?" Ryan asked impatiently.\par
\par
"No."\par
\par
"Sorry."\par
\par
"Okay, then we're in new territory. Everybody awake?" Ryan asked, getting to his \par
feet. He reached down and felt the butt of the SIG-Sauer still holstered and \par
fastened down. He flicked back the strap, freeing the handblaster for when he \par
needed it. His other rifle was still safely strapped around his body, tucked \par
away at his back.\par
\par
"Define awake, lover." The redhead was on her stomach, her arms tucked beneath \par
her limber body.\par
\par
"I'll take that as a yes, Krysty," he replied, kneeling to shake his son. \par
"Dearr, you feel okay?"\par
\par
Dean, who was on his side, rolled over and looked up at his father. A small spot \par
of saliva dotted one of his cheeks. "Sure. Dreamed I was back on The Patch. Fell \par
in the drink. Drowned."\par
\par
"I am delighted each and every one of you feels so giddy and free. I, on the \par
other hand, feel like something tracked in on the bottom of a shoe. My left \par
hipbone is killing me," Doc told them.\par
\par
"Roll off that damned Le Mat and you'll be more apt to feel better," Mildred \par
suggested.\par
\par
"Alas, to roll requires strength I currently do not possess, my good Dr. Wyeth. \par
Perhaps you might assist me?"\par
\par
"Assist yourself. I've got my own jump sickness to deal with," she retorted, \par
sitting up with her back against one of the blue armaglass walls. Her stomach \par
was cramping, but it had been a while since she or any of the others had eaten, \par
so she suspected her nausea was induced more by hunger than by aftereffects from \par
the mat-trans journey.\par
\par
"I'm going to take a look and see what's waiting outside the chamber," Ryan \par
said. "Triple red alert for everybody. J.B., watch my back. The rest of you go \par
ahead and get your blasters ready, just in case."\par
\par
"My dear Ryan, I doubt I currently have the strength to even hold my own pistol \par
aloft to shoot."\par
\par
"You're excused, then, Doc. But try and keep both eyes open. If the shit starts \par
flying, I bet you'll find the energy to fight back."\par
\par
"Well said," the old man answered, and got himself into a semierect seated \par
position facing the chamber doorway.\par
\par
Stepping lightly across the floor, with J.B. close at hand, Ryan stopped and \par
readied himself before trying the handle of the heavy armaglass door. It lifted \par
smoothly in his gloved grip and the door opened a crack.\par
\par
Drawing his blaster and keeping it held at his side, Ryan's single blue eye \par
peered out carefully. Outside the mat-trans, within his limited field of view, \par
he spotted an array of digital displays and comp monitors. The comps were \par
active, flickering in random patterns of frantic life and colored lights, the \par
secret glowing dance that allowed each of the mat-trans units around the world \par
to operate safely and securely. Their hard-drive bays glowing with tiny yellow \par
dancing lights, their internal drives whirring away, all of the comps outside \par
the chamber appeared to be in full working order.\par
\par
"No anteroom," he said quietly to his waiting friends. "This mat-trans opens \par
right into the control center. Comps everywhere."\par
\par
"People?" J.B. asked.\par
\par
Ryan shook his head no.\par
\par
"Weird. I thought the engineers usually wanted a buffer zone between the unit \par
and the control computers," Mildred replied, voicing her private opinion that \par
while the mat-trans chambers were self-enclosed, nearly every one of the devices \par
they'd encountered so far seemed to keep a smaller room and wall between master \par
control and the units themselves. These smallish, buffer rooms seemed to offer a \par
protective layer between the forces unleashed within the self-enclosed mat-trans \par
unit and the software kept housed in the memories of the control comps, as well \par
as serving as a simple waiting area before and after a jump.\par
\par
Ryan slowly continued to take in what he could see from his protected vantage \par
point inside the gateway. Along the far wall, behind twin desks of industrial \par
metal with off-white terminal stations and monitor cabinets, he spied a long \par
series of familiar-looking information storage and retrieval units, as tall as a \par
man, chattering softly to themselves.\par
\par
The unit data banks didn't hold his eye. The surface of the wall they were \par
leaning against, however, did warrant a second look.\par
\par
They were stone walls, with mortar slopped in the cracks instead of vanadium \par
steel alloy, and Ryan thought they looked like the interiors of a castle or \par
keep. He found himself scanning the corners, looking for the flames of burning \par
torches. Instead, all he saw were the fluorescent strip lights used as \par
illumination within a redoubt or a mat-trans gateway control area. "I don't like \par
the looks of this," Ryan said softly to his waiting friends, and before he could \par
continue his thought, a new wrench was thrown into the gears of the situation.\par
\par
"Are you coming out or not?" a commanding voice from outside the mat-trans \par
chamber boomed.\par
\par
Ryan almost fired a round from the barrel of the SIG-Sauer the moment he heard \par
the unknown speaker, but his honed instincts told him to hold off until he could \par
learn more and determine the situation. If he closed the mat-trans chamber door, \par
the auto mechanism would initiate another jump, and multiple jumps were enough \par
to make a person feel like walking death.\par
\par
Three figures came out from one side of the mat-trans chamber, their presence \par
previously hidden by one of the thick exterior armaglass walls. A single man, \par
the leader, was now standing in front of Ryan and the partially opened door.\par
\par
"I promise I won't bite," the man said with a grin, both hands held out, palms \par
open and empty in the so-called universal gesture of friendship.\par
\par
"I've heard that before," Ryan retorted.\par
\par
"Yes, I imagine you have. Still, you have nothing to worry about from me."\par
\par
"I'm not worried about you," the one-eyed man stated, keeping the bore of the \par
SIG-Sauer leveled at the heads of the two sec men, who were on a higher plane \par
than the shorter man standing in front of them.\par
\par
"You mean my guards? They're here for me, not you," the mystery man said, \par
nodding toward the imposing human presence on his left, then right. "Meet Garcia \par
and Lopez."\par
\par
The two sec men flanking the speaker were large specimens, heavily muscled and \par
solid, each a few inches taller than Ryan's six feet two inches. They were \par
dressed identically in sleeveless black T-shirts, olive green Army-issue \par
trousers and what appeared to be regulation U.S. Army combat boots. Red \par
headbands circled their heads.\par
\par
There couldn't have been anyone more different from them than the third man \par
standing between them.\par
\par
Tall, lean and imposing, with long silver hair coming back off his forehead that \par
gave him a dramatic widow's peak at the center of his hairline, the man looked \par
like royalty, or what Ryan had always thought picture-book royalty should look \par
like. The mystery man's face was long and narrow, with high cheekbones that \par
added a cultured air of elegance to his overall appearance. His eyebrows were \par
bushy and of a stiffer, darker gray than his hair, giving his flashing eyes a \par
shielded, hooded look, like a human bird of prey.\par
\par
However, it wasn't the fellow's face that gave Ryan pause. What worried him were \par
the clothes the man was wearing. First and foremost, mental alarm bells went off \par
when the one-eyed man spied the long white lab coat. Under the overcoat was a \par
neatly pressed black dress shirt and dark charcoal-gray trousers. Against the \par
fabric of the black shirt was a light gray necktie with a golden lion's head for \par
a tie tack.\par
\par
Ryan hadn't seen a necktie since he visited the Anthill.\par
\par
There had been other encounters with men in formal attire, but after the chaos \par
and the degradation of the hidden installation behind the rock faces of\par
\par
Mount Rushmore, Ryan had decided once and for all that the presence of ties and \par
business suits in Death-lands was never a good sign.\par
\par
The man was smiling, apparently delighted at the arrival of his new visitors, \par
but his inviting expression wasn't as open and inviting as it might have seemed, \par
since he felt the need for guards. The menacing hulks of the twin sec men on \par
either side of the greeter were the deterrents that kept Ryan's gun hand steady, \par
and the muzzle of the SIG-Sauer lowered in a readied, but nonthreatening \par
position. Ryan knew the arma-glass of the chamber would protect him in the event \par
of a gun battle, but he really didn't want to test it under such potentially \par
disastrous conditions.\par
\par
"How many of you are there inside the gateway?" the man asked.\par
\par
"About a hundred," Ryan replied, causing Krysty and Dean to exchange grins as \par
they listened from inside the mat-trans chamber. "Mebbe more. I'm lousy at \par
math."\par
\par
' Tracking comps out here put your number at-'' he paused to step out of Ryan's \par
line of sight to consult a monitor screen "-seven. Seven people."\par
\par
"Dark night," J.B. murmured from his vantage point near Ryan. "We've stepped in \par
it now."\par
\par
"Not necessarily, John Barrymore," Doc whispered back. "These people seem to be \par
friendly."\par
\par
The Armorer gave Tanner a grim look of pity. "Doc, you of all people should know \par
by now that nothing is ever what it seems in Deathlands."\par
\par
The whitecoat outside the armaglass door contin- ued to try to convince Ryan. "I \par
assure you, I'm civilized. Won't you come out so we can compare notes?"\par
\par
"Thanks, but no. Reckon I'm closing this door so we'll be on our way."\par
\par
The man's voice became more excited. "Look, obviously you are aware of the \par
existence of the matter-transfer units and their subsequent linked network. That \par
ranks you and your people as being a cut above the average bloodthirsty grunts \par
roaming the world today. We need to talk. We have to talk. Exchange \par
information."\par
\par
"Not interested. Later, pal, and don't forget to write," he said, repeating an \par
expression he'd heard his own father use while Ryan was still a mere slip of a \par
lad. As he spoke, he pulled the door closed on the chamber's counterbalanced \par
hinges and it clicked true with a solid latching sound.\par
\par
"What's the deal?" Krysty asked as Ryan strode into the chamber.\par
\par
' 'Company. Some guy in a lab coat and a matching set of sec men. Get ready for \par
another jump." he replied tersely, sitting on one of the hexagonal tiles in the \par
floor.\par
\par
"Oh, mercy," Doc whimpered, leaning back against the armaglass wall and sliding \par
slowly into a seated position. "My head has already endured one bout of nausea. \par
I do not think I can withstand another one of these soul-scrambling jaunts."\par
\par
"Don't ready yourself for transport just yet, Doc," Mildred said, peering at the \par
lack of activity from the array of silver disks mounted in the ceiling above. \par
"We don't seem to be going anywhere."\par
\par
The woman was right. None of the usual telltale prep signs were occurring-no \par
mist, no whine, no glowing lights as the disks powered up.\par
\par
"Sure you shut the door?" Mildred asked.\par
\par
"Yeah, I'm sure. Fireblast," Ryan spit. "There must be an override outside the \par
chamber."\par
\par
"A logical assumption," Doc agreed. "Since the man outside seems to be aware of \par
how these mystical conveyances operate."\par
\par
There was a noise from outside the armaglass. Someone was knocking on the \par
chamber door. Rap, rap, rap. Three times, then stop. Then three raps again.\par
\par
"Look like we stay," Jak said morosely, one of his throwing knives already \par
selected and waiting in his hand.\par
\par
"Looks like," Ryan agreed, taking out the SIG-Sauer from his side holster once \par
more and hefting the solid weight of the blaster in his right hand. While \par
getting to his feet, his injured shoulder from previous adventures gave him a \par
quick twinge of discomfort, as if to remind him that he still wasn't up to full \par
fighting strength. "Everybody on their toes. You too, Doc."\par
\par
"Gladly, sir. I would rather walk a country mile barefoot over broken glass than \par
endure another mat-trans jump at the moment." Despite his bravado, Ryan noted \par
the older man looked shaky as he stood erect, bracing himself ever so slightly \par
on his walking stick.\par
\par
Ryan opened the chamber door.\par
\par
"Back so soon?" the man outside asked by way of greeting.\par
\par
"Like we never left," Ryan replied.\par
\par
The whitecoat gestured to the twin sec men. "As you can see, my friends here \par
have lowered their weapons."\par
\par
"Good for them. I'm keeping mine level until I know the playing field," Ryan \par
said. "Tell them to keep the blasters down until we've all come out."\par
\par
"They have ears. Your request is going to be met."\par
\par
One by one Ryan's band of followers exited the gateway. Once the seventh member \par
of the group, Doc Tanner, stepped gingerly off the bottom access step, the man \par
who'd been patiently watching their progress held up his arms.\par
\par
"Greetings," he said in a clipped tenor voice. "I am Dr. Silas Jamaisvous."\par
\par
Staring at the whitecoat, Doc felt his mind slip away.\par
\par
Dulce, New Mexico Redoubt, 1998\par
\par
THE INTER VIEW ROOM was a lounge, used for breaks by various members of the duty \par
staff within the massive Dulce redoubt when they didn't want to go to the \par
full-service commissary, and as such the furnish- ings were simple. Vending \par
machines and a small coffee machine lined one of the windowless walls.\par
\par
Dr. Theophilus Tanner had been kept sedated during the move. He was unable to \par
determine if he had been told the truth, or was being subjected to yet another \par
mind game.\par
\par
Such as the one now under way.\par
\par
"I'm going to ask a battery of questions. Respond and-"\par
\par
"I do not think so."\par
\par
"What did you say?"\par
\par
"I said, no."\par
\par
"No?" Dr. Herman Welles looked across the table at the frowning man who'd \par
uttered the single syllable.\par
\par
"No," Tanner replied flatly, his blue eyes flat in their sockets like shards of \par
gravel peeking out from beneath his brows. "I shall ask the questions for a \par
change. I have endured enough of your inquiries. I have suffered through your \par
physical tests. I have been kept in the dark long enough. I am not an idiot, nor \par
am I easily confused or baffled by these futuristic trappings."\par
\par
"I know. This is one of the reasons why you were chosen."\par
\par
"So I have heard. If I am capable of comprehension, ergo, it is time I received \par
some answers of my own."\par
\par
Welles pondered this, tapping his ballpoint pen against the front of his teeth \par
absentmindedly, then, much to Tanner's surprise, he nodded in agreement. "You're \par
right, Dr. Tanner. Proceed."\par
\par
Tanner folded his hands in front of him on the scuffed tabletop, covering a \par
faded ring left in the plastic covering ages ago by a coffee cup. "So, ask," \par
Welles prodded. Tanner held up a hand for silence. Then he spoke. "First, let us \par
establish a few essential facts. I am Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner." Welles \par
agreed. "Yes."\par
\par
"And you," Tanner added, pointing a bony finger at the corpulent figure seated \par
across from him in a white lab coat, white shut, black slacks and garish green \par
tie, "you are Herman Welles."\par
\par
"Correct. At least, that's what it says on my birth certificate."\par
\par
"Such forms of identification can easily be faked," Tanner noted.\par
\par
Welles shrugged. "The price we pay. You will have to take my word."\par
\par
Tanner stood and crossed the room to the community coffeepot, pouring himself a \par
foam cup of the steaming brew. "Coffee?" he asked. "No, thanks."\par
\par
Tanner returned to his chair and took a long pull from the cup before setting it \par
down on the table, purposely placing it within the existing scorch mark. Welles \par
watched silently, observing. While Tanner's back had been turned, the overweight \par
man had taken out his pipe and now was busy tapping it against a glass ashtray \par
on the tabletop, knocking out the previous bowl of tightly packed ashes.\par
\par
Waiting until Welles had finished and relit the pipe, filling the small lounge \par
with the smell of burning cherry, Tanner asked his next question. "Married?"\par
\par
"No. Divorced. Six years now."\par
\par
"Children?"\par
\par
"None."\par
\par
"How tragic for you. I have a wife, Emily-"\par
\par
Welles cut in. "No, you don't."\par
\par
Tanner pressed on. ' 'And two children, a boy and a girl."\par
\par
"Both deceased," Welles added.\par
\par
Tanner continued to speak, his words overlapping Welles's voice. "I chose-we \par
chose, Emily and I- chose their names, their most unusual names. Special names. \par
Rachel after my wife's mother. Jolyon for one of my own family members who died \par
in battle during the War Between The States."\par
\par
Welles puffed on his pipe and sighed, consulting his notebook. "The names you \par
give are correct, Doctor. However, they are names of the dead."\par
\par
Tanner's placid facade collapsed. Welles suddenly found himself sitting across \par
from a lion. His patient bared his fine white teeth and howled in wordless \par
frustration and rage, slamming his hands on the table and sending the half-full \par
coffee cup and ashtray crashing to the floor. "I am Dr. Theophilus Algernon \par
Tanner! I have a wife! I have two children! I am a teacher, a scholar, a \par
lecturer! By God, I am halfway through writing a book! Nonfiction! The finest \par
minds of my generation consult with me on a daily basis!"\par
\par
"Not any longer." Welles now stood, his own temper rising. His round face was \par
reddening, and a sheen of sweat appeared on his brow. "You, sir, are a \par
curiosity. A living science experiment. A man without a frame of reference or a \par
shred of comprehension."\par
\par
"You are incorrect, sir! I comprehend all!"\par
\par
"Tanner, you are fucking Rip Van Winkle. Get used to it." And on that final \par
pronouncement, Welles slammed closed the black notebook. Always with the \par
damnable black notebook.\par
\par
Tanner lunged forward, both arms outstretched to their full length, his wrists \par
extended well past the cuffs of his hospital dressing gown. His rail-thin body \par
skated lightly across the slick tabletop and right at the dumbfounded Welles.\par
\par
"I have it!" he crowed triumphantly as both of his long-fingered hands clamped \par
down on Welles's notebook. Tanner snatched it boldly away, rolling, moving to \par
one side on the table as Welles screeched in shock.\par
\par
"Damn you, Tanner, give that back!" Welles sputtered. "Give it back or I'll-"\par
\par
"Hush, Welles, before you cause me to fall in gales of laughter at your \par
schoolboy predicament," Tanner soothed, his rich baritone taking the tone of a \par
leisurely played bassoon. "Like all bullies, you cannot handle having the tables \par
turned. You shall have your precious book, full of the damnable lies of my life \par
and times as filtered through your own corruptive sieve of an intellect! Shall \par
we begin with the first page of our meeting?"\par
\par
Keeping the table between them, Doc opened the book and began to read.\par
\par
'"Patient appears confused, baffled, uncertain of his surroundings. Perhaps the \par
decision in choosing subject was hasty, since he shows no signs of \par
open-mindedness or creative thinking. He seems fixated on one subject, and one \par
subject only-that being his family. His wife and children. This obsession must \par
be circumvented before subject will be pliable enough for establishment of \par
mission parameters.'"\par
\par
"Tanner, you shouldn't be reading that," Welles warned.\par
\par
"Subject. That's all I was to you then, and all I remain now," came back the \par
response. "A subject. A test case. You could not even be bothered to write my \par
name on these pages, nor the names of Emily or Rachel or dear little Jolyon. You \par
could not even be bothered to remember the names of the lives you ruined, you \par
despicable miscreant!"\par
\par
"Now see here, Tanner, you settle down or I'll have to call in security."\par
\par
"Call them, you elephantine pile of excrement! Show them all what an ineffectual \par
dung heap you really are!" Tanner taunted as he happily tore one of the \par
blue-lined pages from the book and crumpled it into a ball. He tossed the wadded \par
paper and giggled darkly as it bounced off Welles's fat damp forehead with a \par
plop, landing on the tabletop.\par
\par
"That is one," he said, his voice starting to rise in timbre as he pulled out a \par
second sheet of the notebook and began to crush it between long, elegant \par
fingers. "I do hope you utilized one of those photocopying devices I have heard \par
about to make a second, backup reproduction of your spurious observations and \par
notes about me."\par
\par
Pushed into a raging silence, Welles turned and ran to the lounge door, thumbing \par
a wall communicator and screaming for a security team.\par
\par
The goon squad wasn't long in coming, and the faceless men in their hooded white \par
parkas and mirrored sunglasses made quick work subduing Tanner, who hadn't \par
bothered to offer any resistance beyond gales of booming resonant laughter. One \par
of them easily retrieved Welles's notebook from the smirking prisoner and handed \par
it back stone-faced to the Chronos director.\par
\par
"Your property, sir."\par
\par
Welles snatched it from the guard and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Keep \par
two on hand to subdue Tanner. The rest of you may go."\par
\par
Now that Tanner was helpless and held by the summoned security men, Welles got \par
closer and screamed in his face.\par
\par
"Your wife is dead! Your children are dead! All you knew is dead! These are the \par
facts! This is the future!"\par
\par
"No, sir, it is not," Tanner replied. "Your future, perhaps. Not mine."\par
\par
"Take him out of here," Welles ordered. "Take him out before I do something I'll \par
regret."\par
\par
EMILY TANNER WAS long dead, long buried. Her mortal remains had decayed into \par
dust within the confines of the family vault, a great marble edifice, located \par
high atop a steep hill among a smattering of trees-ancient trees with skeletal \par
branches reaching for heaven, and settling instead for their positions of \par
anguish, arms held high in sympathetic agony surrounding the burial chambers.\par
\par
Her husband knew this to be true, once the future year he'd been trawled into \par
was revealed and his mind had wrapped itself around the inescapable truth that \par
he had indeed traveled one-hundred-plus years in the span of a single \par
heart-bursting moment.\par
\par
He looked down at the photograph and wished more than ever to be at her side, \par
alive or dead.\par
\par
"I wish to go to Deadwood," Tanner said.\par
\par
"Uh-uh. No way. You know the rules. If the powers that be find I snuck you \par
photos of the family tomb, they'd have both our asses."\par
\par
"How did you happen to come upon said photographs, dear Allan?"\par
\par
Allan Harvey grinned mischievously, his wide black face crinkling inward in a \par
maze of smile lines. He liked Tanner. The burly security man had spoken with the \par
refugee from time to time on many a long night, finding him to be one of the \par
most gifted conversationalists Allan had ever encountered.\par
\par
"Your file. Hard data. Most of what they have on you has been encrypted and \par
scanned into the Chronos master database. I don't have proper clearance to take \par
a peek, and even if I did, they'd soon find out about it. But even records \par
stored on computers have to start somewhere, and when I had a chance to glance \par
through your paper file, I snatched those babies up."\par
\par
"Will they not be missed?"\par
\par
"Doubt it. Like I said, most of the idiots in here can't deal with anything \par
unless it comes over a computer screen."\par
\par
"One day, Allan, one day I shall be joined with them. Dear sweet Emily and my \par
son and daughter."\par
\par
The large black man nodded. "You mean when you die, old guy?"\par
\par
Doc snorted. ' 'No, noble Allan. I mean when I find my way back home."\par
\par
Chapter Seven\par
\par
"You have me at an advantage," the man who'd introduced himself as Dr. Silas \par
Jamaisvous said in a mild tone of petulance.\par
\par
"How so?" Ryan asked, the SIG-Sauer P-226 aimed squarely at the heart of the \par
well-dressed speaker. Behind the one-eyed man, the rest of his people had struck \par
similar positions of defense with their own weaponry as they exited the \par
mat-trans chamber. The two sec men Ryan had spied earlier had now lost their \par
nonthreatening stances and held their own autorifles aimed at him, responding in \par
kind to the positions Ryan's group had assumed. "No advantage here. You got \par
blasters. We got blasters."\par
\par
"All God's children got blasters, my friend. Having a firearm is of no real \par
advantage to either one of us here, since there would be more casualties than \par
survivors," Jamaisvous replied silkily. "What I was referring to was that you \par
have my name, but I do not have yours."\par
\par
Sometimes the giving of names had been a thorny subject between Ryan and J. B. \par
Dix. The Armorer, being of a more subtle nature would just as soon give out an \par
alias when shoved into an unknown situation with guns aimed at their vitals. \par
Their true names weren't unknown in the Deathlands and both men had left behind \par
plenty of enemies in their travels, at least, the few enemies who had survived \par
the run-in.\par
\par
Ryan was of a different opinion. As a part of his own personal code a man was \par
only as good as his name, and as such he chose to offer his freely if asked \par
unless doing so would assure him of being chilled on the spot. A long time ago, \par
when he first joined Trader's caravan of war wags, he'd stopped using the last \par
name of Cawdor and rejected the family heritage. Now, he took some quiet pride \par
in being a Cawdor, while remaining true to how his father would have wanted him \par
to live.\par
\par
Still, Ryan Cawdor might be stubborn, but he wasn't stupid. In this case, his \par
real name wouldn't be a factor in ending or prolonging their current situation.\par
\par
"Name's Ryan Cawdor," he said to Jamaisvous, gesturing with his head to the rest \par
of the group. "That's my boy, Dean. Lady with the red hair is Krysty Wroth, and \par
next to her in the specs is J. B. Dix. Dr. Mildred Wyeth is on the far left in \par
the denim jacket and beside her is Jak Lauren." Ryan immediately regretted the \par
slip. Usually the knowledge that Mildred was a physician was a closely guarded \par
secret. He hurried. ' "The skinny gent with the walking stick is known as Doc \par
Tanner."\par
\par
Taking Krysty's hand and raising it to kiss, Jamaisvous paused after his lips \par
brushed the redhead's warm skin, and recited, "'All that is in you is voluptuous \par
and light-sweet, gentle, caressing and tender. And your moral world owes its \par
enchantment to the sweet influence of your external world.'"\par
\par
"Is that verse?" Doc asked, his eyes lighting up.\par
\par
Jamaisvous lowered Krysty's hand and nodded at Tanner. "Indeed."\par
\par
"How quaint to be greeted in such a fashion, with soothing words instead of \par
bullets. I must confess, as well-read as I am, I do not recognize the poet. \par
Might you enlighten me as to his name?"\par
\par
"He's a local-was a local. Jose Gautier Benitez. Died back in 1880. Before my \par
time, but some of his work can be found here in the library. I've tried to \par
immerse myself in the culture and history as best I could. It pays to know your \par
neighbors."\par
\par
"Doc can't resist a good chunk of verse," Krysty said with a grin.\par
\par
"So many doctors among you? Your people come equipped with many blessings," \par
Jamaisvous said, and then paused. "Doc Tanner, you say?"\par
\par
"Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner at your service," Doc replied with a slight bow.\par
\par
"It can't be," Jamaisvous said, his tone now dumbfounded and his face a slack \par
mask of shock.\par
\par
Doc almost chuckled. "Oh, but I assure you, sir, I am who I am...I think. Truth \par
be told, there are many days I have my doubts as well."\par
\par
The man in the white lab coat stepped closer, waving back his watchmen, and \par
approached Doc, looking him over from head to toe.\par
\par
"Christ, Dr. Tanner, what in the hell happened to you?" he finally asked.\par
\par
"A lifetime of tragedies, I am afraid. Which one are you referring to?" Doc \par
replied, slightly puzzled by the line of questioning.\par
\par
"I've read of you," Jamaisvous said, pressing on, not hearing Tanner's words. \par
"In the old redoubt computer database records on time trawling. I studied your \par
case from your arrival in prenuclear conflict 1998 until the year 2000, when you \par
were sent ahead as a final part of the experiment. But there was nothing about \par
such severe deterioration on your trawl forward into the future-our present day. \par
And from what I read, I don't think you've been here long enough to have aged so \par
drastically, have you?''\par
\par
"I have not," Doc replied succinctly. "My current appearance is an unfortunate \par
side effect courtesy of the destructive currents of the time-trawling process. \par
Why it did not occur the first time I was swept away is a mystery to me."\par
\par
Their newly appointed host exhaled a long sigh. "Well, damnation," he said. \par
"This buggers all of my research."\par
\par
"Research?" Mildred asked, speaking for the first time since leaving the gateway \par
chamber.\par
\par
"Yes, Dr....Wyeth, was it? Research. I've spent the last two years rebuilding \par
and experimenting with the mat-trans chamber behind you." Jamaisvous gestured \par
floridly at the huge room that housed the gateway, a full computer lab with \par
multiple stations and units, a small reception lounge and other odds and ends in \par
the high-ceilinged, yet cluttered area.\par
\par
"What kind of experiments?" Ryan asked suspi- ciously, eyeballing the elegant \par
gray-haired man standing next to Doc. Already, Ryan was unhappy with Jamaisvous \par
and his seemingly lackadaisical attitude at having armed strangers pop up in \par
what appeared to be his own private mat-trans unit.\par
\par
"Why, time-trawling experiments, my friends. Your Doc Tanner and I share \par
something in common regarding our places in this dark future world-neither of us \par
are supposed to be here,"\par
\par
"You were trawled?" Doc asked in disbelief.\par
\par
"No," Jamaisvous replied quickly. "I was a corpse-side. Cryo sleep."\par
\par
Mildred was about to speak up with a pithy "That makes two of us," but a warning \par
look from J.B. stilled her planned quip. Apparently the Armorer thought that \par
piece of information should remain private, at least for now.\par
\par
Unfortunately no such exchange of looks occurred with Doc, who, swept up in his \par
excitement over meeting Jamaisvous, blurted out the fact Mildred was also a \par
refugee from the world previous to skydark.\par
\par
"So, two of my visitors are even more special than I imagined," Jamaisvous said \par
thoughtfully. He snapped his fingers and gave a dismissive gesture to the twin \par
guards. "Garcia! Lopez! You may depart. I have nothing to fear from these men \par
and women."\par
\par
"But Dr.-" one of the men protested.\par
\par
Jamaisvous fixed the sec man with a stony look. "Silence! Do as you are told. If \par
you wish to assist, please inform the kitchen we have company for din- ner. I'll \par
be along shortly to discuss the meal in greater detail."\par
\par
"WHERE is THIS PLACE, anyway?" J.B. asked as Ja-maisvous led them upward out of \par
the secured mat-trans chamber and into the antique-appointed fortress interior. \par
"Doesn't look like any redoubt I've ever seen."\par
\par
"This isn't a redoubt," Jamaisvous replied. "Other than some rudimentary \par
remodeling by myself, the gateway and control you saw in the lowest level are \par
the only hints of any links to Project Cerberus, Operation Chronos or even the \par
Totality Concept. You've arrived in Puerto Rico, Mr. Dix, and this is the famed \par
El Mono Fortress, which has stood watch over the waters here for hundreds of \par
years, and will still be standing after hundreds more and all of us are dust."\par
\par
"Funny, you don't look Puerto Rican," Mildred noted.\par
\par
"I'm not. Originally I'm from Ohio by way of Ireland. I take it all of you are \par
from the United States?"\par
\par
"Has a new name now," Ryan said. "Most call it Deathlands."\par
\par
' 'How... charming.''\par
\par
"A man can survive there if he's mean enough and smart enough. Some go out and \par
take up home-steading on their own piece of land, but you'd better be ready to \par
defend it against muties and thieves. If you want safety, there are populated \par
areas scattered up and down the eastern coast, and westward,"\par
\par
"Then civilization can still be found?"\par
\par
"Didn't say anything about Deathlands being civilized. Plenty of pestholes with \par
nothing more than a place to drink and sleep if you're traveling. Bigger areas \par
with towns and a sort of government breaks down into two basic types of \par
communities-villes and baronies. Villes tend to be a touch more democratic than \par
baronies, which are usually a dictatorship."\par
\par
"I see. I'm not wholly familiar with how you are using the terms baronies and \par
villes, Mr. Cawdor, but I can make an educated guess."\par
\par
"Usually a barony is safe enough as long as you stay out of the ruling baron's \par
way," Krysty added. "And if you don't mind being cowed and walking around with \par
your tail between your legs on a daily basis."\par
\par
"That the situation here?" Ryan asked bluntly. "You the boss?"\par
\par
"No. I have my small staff here in El Morro. What goes on outside these stone \par
walls is no concern of mine. I do think you'll find life here a tad less \par
restrictive and less threatening than what you appear to be used to."\par
\par
Jamaisvous gave them all a quick lesson regarding the new land in which they had \par
now taken involuntary residence. Roughly rectangular in shape, Puerto Rico was \par
one hundred miles from east to west, and thirty-five miles from north to south, \par
three times wider than it was tall. Within such a limited space, the island had \par
once possessed it all in terms of a pleasant lifestyle-now, according to \par
Jamaisvous, only the eastern half was habitable.\par
\par
"El Morro is on Old San Juan-a miniisland, really, located in San Juan harbor. \par
New San Juan- rather, what is left of New San Juan-is on the mainland," then- \par
host said.\par
\par
"What can you tell us about this place?"\par
\par
"What do you want to know? Old San Juan was a tourist mecca. New San Juan was \par
the most advanced city in Puerto Rico. Together, they created a thriving economy \par
up until the Third World War. Now nothing remains but a scattering of \par
communities, not unlike the villes you described earlier. As far as I can tell, \par
there was severe famine after the war and many of the inhabitants perished, \par
leaving only a few survivors to repopulate."\par
\par
"So what is the political situation here? Barons? Leaders?'' Mildred asked.\par
\par
Jamaisvous shrugged. "Most of the people here are too poor to think of such \par
aggrandizement. Leaders here are born or made, not bought or elected."\par
\par
"You said you were in cryo sleep."\par
\par
"Correct."\par
\par
"Where are the cryo facilities?" Mildred asked.\par
\par
"Miles away," the man replied cryptically. "Miles away in the true Puerto Rican \par
redoubt-at least, the only redoubt on this side of the island. I was forced to \par
leave the secure area I awakened in because of problems with the base's nuclear \par
generator."\par
\par
"What kind of problems?"\par
\par
"No power. We've reached your rooms."\par
\par
Jamaisvous had taken them personally to an area in the fortress that had been \par
remodeled at one time or another into a series of guest bedrooms. Each of the \par
tidy sleeping chambers had a small night table made of the finest oak, a double \par
bed with handmade comforter, ample closet space and a dresser smelling of sweet \par
spices.\par
\par
"I'll leave you to choose your own rooms and sleeping arrangements," their host \par
said smoothly. "I apologize for the lack of bathrooms, but this fortress was not \par
designed for the individual. The bath at the end of this hall has two stalls \par
with bathing facilities and running hot and cold water. There are towels inside \par
on the racks, and additional linens can be found in your rooms in the bottom \par
drawers of the dressers. If you have clothing you'd like laundered, leave it \par
outside your rooms and the maid shall see to it. Supper shall be at dusk. I'll \par
instruct the cooks to prepare a feast, as I haven't entertained here in some \par
time. You're in for a treat-home cooking by a mother-and-daughter team. Fine \par
cuisine."\par
\par
Jamaisvous stepped back a few paces, bowed deeply at the waist and was gone, \par
leaving the group to make its own choices and go off into the designated rooms.\par
\par
"Most curious," Doc said, scratching his nape. The expression on his face was \par
one of deep concentration. A few days' growth of beard stubble added to his wan \par
look as he pondered private thoughts.\par
\par
"What's up, Doc?" Ryan asked.\par
\par
Mildred bit back a snort of laughter, earning a glare from Ryan. It wasn't the \par
first time she'd snickered when Ryan phrased concern for their elder statesman \par
in a similar manner. "Wish I knew what was so damn funny, me asking Doc a \par
question," the one-eyed man muttered.\par
\par
"Hmm? What is up, you say?" Doc said, Ryan's query finally weighing in on his \par
mind. ' 'Oh, our benefactor. A most curious man."\par
\par
"Yeah, he's not exactly what I expected to find when we jumped into this place. \par
Or any place for that matter," Ryan agreed. "Seems to have his shit together. So \par
far he isn't trying to breathe too hard down our necks."\par
\par
"Yeah, no sec men at all in this part of the fortress," J.B. noted, switching \par
his scattergun from one hand to another. "No cameras, either-unless they're \par
hidden. Has his own hired men, sure, but doesn't seem to be as paranoid as most. \par
And he keeps guards around the gateway control-room doors, but those are the \par
only guns I've seen so far."\par
\par
Ryan reached out and tapped a finger on the barrel of the M-4000 scattergun J.B. \par
held. "And he didn't bring up the subject of our blasters. Usually, first thing \par
out of any self-styled leader is the demand we turn over the hardware. Makes for \par
a nice change." "I believe there are probably additional sec men in and outside \par
El Morro," Krysty said. "There's a funny...vibe to this place. I can't put my \par
finger on it yet."\par
\par
"We can talk about it later. Right now, I could use a bath. Jamaisvous was \par
right-we're all a bit ripe," Mildred said as she started to approach the \par
bathroom. "Krysty, you and I will go first-if it's all right with the rest of \par
you?''\par
\par
"Sure, Mildred. Go ahead," Ryan replied with a shrug. "We'll keep watch out \par
here. Jamaisvous isn't the only one with a private sec man."\par
\par
"We'll save some hot water for you...mebbe," Krysty called back with a light \par
chuckle.\par
\par
"Might just join you," Ryan retorted.\par
\par
Mildred waggled a warning finger back. "Uh-uh. No, you don't. Wait your turn."\par
\par
As the women disappeared behind the bathroom door at the end of the hallway, \par
Dean took a moment to sniff at one of his armpits, lifting the arm high and \par
craning his neck over to get a good whiff. "I smell worse than shit in \par
sunshine," the boy groused.\par
\par
"What else new?" Jak retorted.\par
\par
Ryan stepped away from the two boys and left them to hold their own debate over \par
who smelled worse. He'd noticed that Doc was still turned slightly to one side \par
from the others, his face far away as he concentrated on his own internal field \par
of inquiry. "Something still on your mind, Doc?" he asked.\par
\par
Doc didn't turn, but kept his face to the wall as he said, "Ryan, I find I am \par
experiencing a most disconcerting sense of deja vu."\par
\par
"Deja what?"\par
\par
"Deja vu. French for a disturbing familiarity."\par
\par
Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"\par
\par
"I have the strangest feeling I have met Dr. Ja-maisvous before...which makes \par
his name all the more peculiar," Doc replied as he worked his hands nervously up \par
and down his walking stick.\par
\par
"Jamaisvous. Sounds like more of your French talk to me," Ryan mused, flexing \par
his fingers in a halfhearted attempt to crack his knuckles.\par
\par
"Very good, Ryan," Doc said with some delight. "The cognomen is indeed French."\par
\par
Ryan grinned back. "Hell, Doc, my brain's not as overstuffed as yours, but I'm \par
no dummy either."\par
\par
"Well, I guess I'm the stupe. Cognomi-what? Translate for us dullards, please," \par
J.B. snorted. The laconic man had grown interested in the conversation. Farther \par
down the hall, Dean and Jak were still continuing to insult each other's \par
personal hygiene.\par
\par
"Cognomen. Last name," Doc replied briskly. "And that is not a translation, but \par
a definition, John Barrymore. As for the translation, and I'll be the first to \par
admit my mastery of French is a bit rusty, I think the name Jamaisvous means 'a \par
most peculiar sense of time.'"\par
\par
Chapter Eight\par
\par
The offer Jamaisvous had made to provide fresh laundry was impossible to resist, \par
and everyone contributed items of apparel to the stack of soiled clothing. In \par
two hours' time the mound of clothing was taken away by a plump woman with long \par
black hair tied in a tight bun, washed in a remote part of the fortress, dried \par
and returned folded.\par
\par
One of the sec men they'd met in the gateway control room came at dusk to rap \par
lightly at their doors and fetch the group.\par
\par
"Lopez, right?" Mildred asked as she stepped out of her room with J.B. She felt \par
refreshed from having a bath, and clean clothing to wear for a change.\par
\par
The big man didn't look amused. "No, ma'am."\par
\par
"Garcia."\par
\par
"Luis, actually. I think you have me confused with my cousins."\par
\par
"You lose again," J.B. said, even as the sec man went on to knock and alert the \par
others of the impending meal. Once all had been accounted for, he led them \par
though a passageway and into an opulent dining room. Centered in the room were a \par
dozen chairs around a long wooden table with an immaculate white tablecloth.\par
\par
Jamaisvous stood at the head of the table and waited until everyone else was in \par
place and seated before he took his own seat. Ryan sat to his left and Doc to \par
his right.\par
\par
The Puerto Rican mother and daughter who cooked for Jamaisvous were standing \par
patiently on opposite sides of the table, both apparently serving as hostesses \par
for the meal. He'd introduced them as Elena and Maria, but the pair hadn't \par
spoken in kind, choosing instead to merely nod and keep their focus on the work. \par
Both carried a vibrantly painted orange serving pot on a tray. Upside-down cups \par
on saucers at the upper left of each of the place settings matched the color of \par
the orange pot, so Ryan took the visual clue and turned his cup over, watching \par
the younger Puerto Rican woman pour it full of a steaming brown liquid.\par
\par
"Mmm! Smell that aroma!" Mildred said, down and across from Ryan, where the \par
mother was filling the woman's cup. "I haven't smelled coffee like this \par
in...well, in years!"\par
\par
Ryan lifted the smallish mug to his lips, trying to be careful and not burn \par
himself with the hot liquid. He didn't know what Mildred was getting so excited \par
about, since real coffee was hard to come by. Rarely was the real thing found in \par
any remaining quantity except for aged crystals vacuum-sealed in aluminum cans.\par
\par
Coffee sub was coffee sub, he thought sourly, until he tasted the brew. He took \par
a long pull at the drink before lowering the cup with a wide smile on his face.\par
\par
"That's triple-fine coffee," Ryan finally said, holding out the cup for a \par
refill.\par
\par
"I know," Jamaisvous said, appearing to take satisfaction in Ryan's surprise and \par
enjoyment of the beverage. "Puerto Rican coffee is some of the most delicious in \par
the world, but there is very little of it left for harvesting. Even before the \par
unfortunate business of war, it was a local treat only and never exported in any \par
quantity to the mainland. A series of hurricanes in the 1930s destroyed most of \par
the coffee trees, and since it takes seven years for them to ma-tare, the \par
island's farmers were forced to tarn to other crops, such as sugarcane. Such \par
storms still rage, and because of that coffee here is a local delicacy."\par
\par
Jamaisvous went on to explain that coffee was grown mainly along the steep \par
mountainsides hi the central section of the island. Obtaining the beans was \par
troublesome and dangerous, but worth the effort.\par
\par
Baskets of hot corn muffins were placed at either end of the table, along with \par
small shining platters of butter and glistening Guayaba jelly. The main meal was \par
the exotic-sounding Lechon Asado, which everyone was glad to see translated as \par
barbecued pig. The roasted meat had a spicy, pungent flavor that came from an \par
assortment of native seasonings. Jamaisvous pointed out that the dish was \par
roasted over an outdoor fire, not within the walls of an indoor kitchen, and \par
rotated by hand on a regular basis on a pole stack lengthwise through the \par
animal.\par
\par
The meat was served with a hot stuffed pepper on the side and a dollop of \par
strong-smelling garlic sauce called ajilimojili that most of the group didn't \par
eat, except for Doc who was glad to partake of both Dean's and Mildred's \par
helpings.\par
\par
Asopao, a thick rice soup with more of the native herbs, accompanied the meat. \par
Pepper and fresh asparagus tips were mixed into the thick liquids, causing Ryan \par
to reflect that the soup alone was more of a meal than most of them were used to \par
eating.\par
\par
A pineapple cake with coconut shavings feathering its cream-cheese icing was \par
presented for dessert and even though their stomachs were full, no one could \par
resist taking a slice of the sweet offering. The edges of the dessert plates \par
were lipped slightly, helping to keep the sweet pineapple juice from escaping as \par
forks cut into the delicious confection.\par
\par
"Keep feeding me like this and I'll never leave," Krysty joked.\par
\par
"My dear woman, you may stay with me as long as you like," Jamaisvous replied. \par
"All of you. Puerto Rico is my own private paradise on earth, and I'm more than \par
willing to share."\par
\par
THAT NIGHT, safe and snug in bed, Ryan and Krysty took time out in their private \par
fortress room to make long passionate love, allowing themselves release time and \par
again between the cool sheets. J.B. and Mildred did the same in then" own room \par
across the hall, each of them savoring the privacy, since J.B. had never been \par
comfortable with displays of overt emotion or passion in front of others.\par
\par
The- other two rooms in the guest section of El Morro were currently empty. The \par
one belonging to Doc was vacant, since the elder member of the group of \par
survivalists was elsewhere within the majestic fortress. He had chosen to forgo \par
bed and sleep in order to stay behind with a snifter of brandy and continue his \par
discussion with Dr. Jamaisvous.\par
\par
Dean and Jak agreed to serve as the eyes and ears for the rest of the group. To \par
pass the late-night hours before they were relieved of guard duty, Dean \par
suggested they amuse themselves by playing an old children's game.\par
\par
He had found the box in a parlor cabinet off the dining room where all had \par
retired after the dessert for drinks. Chuckling over the discovery, Jamaisvous \par
had told Dean to take the game with his blessing, and do with it as he wished.\par
\par
"What the hell is a 'Cootie' anyway?" Dean remarked, turning the worn cardboard \par
box in his hands to look at the words printed on the back.\par
\par
"Looks like big bug. Hate bugs," Jak replied with a frown, his red eyes narrowed \par
into dusky rubies as he stared at the photograph on the front.\par
\par
Dean silently read the instructions that had been conveniently printed on the \par
back of the game box, along with cartoons illustrating proper play. "Seems \par
triple simple to me," he finally declared, opening the lid and taking out a flat \par
numerical spinner.\par
\par
"See, we spin this thing here, this spinner, and when it stops it points to a \par
color and a body part. We pick one and start building the Cootie. Whoever gets \par
his Cootie built first is the winner," Dean told the watching Jak.\par
\par
"Stupe game," the albino said, rolling his eyes as he held up a yellow segmented \par
insect leg made of soft plastic. "Making big bug. No need make. Go out find \par
plenty."\par
\par
Dean dumped the contents of the brightly colored box onto the surface of the \par
wooden table they had pulled into the hall, right outside the doors leading to \par
the individual bedrooms. Red thoraxes, orange bodies and blue heads joined a \par
scramble of yellow insect legs on the tabletop.\par
\par
"You think it's possible, Jak?" he asked after spinning the spinner and \par
selecting a piece of his Cootie.\par
\par
"What, build bug? Sure." Jak took his own turn with the spinner and picked up \par
another plastic leg. "Got two legs. Need a head."\par
\par
"No, not that you dope," Dean retorted. "Do you think it's possible to go back \par
in time?" "Doc did."\par
\par
"No, Doc came forward and then was pushed ahead a second time," Dean corrected.\par
\par
Jak shot him a look, then pondered what the younger boy was saying.\par
\par
"Hmm," the albino mused as he considered the implications of what his friend had \par
brought up. "Two-way street." "That's what I'm wondering. Is it a two-way street \par
or not?" Dean said excitedly, pausing in the game. "And if it is, mebbe we \par
should all go back to another time, way back before the nukecaust. Back when \par
everything in the world still worked."\par
\par
"Not me," Jak replied, tapping one of the yellow insectoid legs against the \par
front of his teeth. "Like here. Take what we got, not what we might get."\par
\par
"Not worth a gamble?" Dean asked easily.\par
\par
"Not to me."\par
\par
Having become quickly bored with the construction of his cartoon insect, Jak \par
tossed the gathered pieces back in the pile with a snort. "You win."\par
\par
"Aw, come on Jak, there's nothing else to do right now," Dean remarked as he \par
absently ran a hand through his black curly hair. "Dad said for all of us to \par
stick close tonight until we know more about this Jam-ass-voo guy."\par
\par
"Ask Doc. He knows. Spending lots of time with him."\par
\par
"Tms LIQUOR is...well, words escape me, sir."\par
\par
Doc was standing near a stone wall adorned with various black-and-white \par
photographs of the grounds and surrounding area of El Morro, a brandy snifter in \par
one long-fingered hand like it had been designed to be held there.\par
\par
Seated in a black leather recliner across from Doc, Jamaisvous held a second \par
glass in a nearly identical fashion. "Then, I shall take that as high \par
compliment, Dr. Tanner." "Please do."\par
\par
Jamaisvous took a sip of his drink before speaking. "What do you remember about \par
the time-trawl technology?"\par
\par
"Bits and pieces. Fits and starts. While parts of my stay with my captors remain \par
in vivid focus, most has blurred due to what I can only describe as damage to my \par
shorter-term memory after they shipped me into this bleak future world."\par
\par
"I knew more about how the mat-trans units worked as means of transport from \par
place to place," Jamaisvous remarked. "Other esoteric uses, such as cloning or \par
duplication of living tissue or the fantastic notion of time trawling seemed to \par
be bastardization of the process. The damn things weren't designed for some of \par
the hoops the higher-ups were making the tech boys try and jump through."\par
\par
"There were different methods for the trawling," Doc revealed. "That much I do \par
know."\par
\par
"How so?"\par
\par
"We came upon the Chron-Temp portal in Chicago," Doc said. "The original site."\par
\par
"Ah, yes. Chicago. They were still attempting to use cryonics as a part of the \par
process then. Were the pods and mat-trans inside the Chicago redoubt still \par
functioning?" Jamaisvous asked.\par
\par
"Yes," Doc said cryptically. "And no."\par
\par
"Well, I'd wondered. If the Chicago gateway was indeed working, I thought you \par
would have attempted to return to your own time and place without hesitation. \par
From what I remember about your particular case-"\par
\par
"What do you mean remember?" Doc asked sharply, giving Jamaisvous a queer look.\par
\par
Jamaisvous caught himself, taking back up the thread of conversation as if Doc \par
had never interrupted him and finishing the sentence. "It refers to what I \par
remember from reading about you in the old Chronos data banks, which portray you \par
as quite the single-minded individual."\par
\par
Doc accepted the breezy explanation and didn't press the matter, since his focus \par
was upon his own convoluted memories. "Single-minded? More like relentless, sir. \par
The Tanner clan has never been known for bending. Stubbornness is a family \par
trait, and by God, I wanted my family back. The bastards would not cooperate \par
with my wishes, so I decided I would be just as unyielding. My captors, well, \par
they did not like that."\par
\par
"You could have been killed for your dogged pursuit of an impossible goal. \par
Eliminated instead of studied," Jamaisvous mused.\par
\par
"I did not care. Death would have been one escape, and perhaps the ultimate way \par
to be reunited with my wife and children," Doc replied, and then held up two \par
fingers in a peace sign. "I made two attempts. The first was easily \par
thwarted-they'd been waiting for me to slip. The second one came much closer, \par
since I had my own allies in the corridors of that antiseptic hellhole, but \par
still I failed. As for a third try, well, suffice to say, I was not given the \par
opportunity to make a third attempt."\par
\par
"Going back to Chicago, what was the status of the redoubt?"\par
\par
"When I and my friends discovered the lair, the central annex was crawling with \par
spiders. Great albino arachnids," Doc said, waggling the fingers of both his \par
hands like scrawny, jointed legs. "Hundreds of the overstuffed web spinners, \par
with long spiny appendages and eight hooked toes. The chamber was festooned with \par
spun silk as white and powdery as freshly fallen snow. The only colors to be \par
seen were their hideously glowing yellow eyes."\par
\par
Jamaisvous tilted his head and gave Doc a look. "Giant spiders? Don't be \par
ridiculous. Such mutations aren't logical."\par
\par
Doc laid a hand across his heart and assumed a solemn look. "Upon my honor, sir, \par
what I say is gospel. After all, logic has no place in Deathlands. Although, I \par
might add in the interest of fairness that the largest of the creatures was only \par
a foot and a half in height, with legs spread three feet in length." "See? That \par
isn't all that large." Doc smiled dangerously, showing his fine teeth. "When you \par
have faced hundreds, Silas, they are as big as mountains, and as legion as \par
grains of sand." Jamaisvous stood, a half smile on his handsome face. "I think \par
you're prone to exaggeration in the interest of a good story, Dr. Tanner, but \par
I'll let it pass. Would you like another drink?''\par
\par
"No, thank you." Doc also began to stand, but his host waved him back down \par
before crossing over to the bar and refilling his own glass.\par
\par
"I bow to your firsthand experience, Dr. Tanner. But what happened after the \par
giant spider invasion?"\par
\par
"After retrieving the young Cawdor child, who had run into the spiders-"\par
\par
"Yet another good reason to leave the children at home," Jamaisvous said dryly.\par
\par
"-and sealing off that section," Doc continued, "we went in through an exterior \par
air lock into the Chron-Temp mat-trans chamber, where I was fascinated to see a \par
trio of materialization tubes linked to the standard gateway."\par
\par
"Tubes?"\par
\par
"Modules, about the size of hospital beds. A clear plastic cover was over each \par
one, awaiting the arrival of the dolphins."\par
\par
"Dolphins being code for...?"\par
\par
"For the trawl subjects."\par
\par
"Hmm. Chicago was primitive. Lacking in many of the later refinements to come. \par
At that particular point, they were still using cryonics hi conjunction with the \par
tune-trawling process, a combination that was later abandoned from what I've \par
read. Subjects were phased into their own individual cold canisters made of \par
vanadium and armaglass."\par
\par
"Oh, bullshit," Mildred interjected from the doorway. She had decided to join \par
the conversation, while J.B. had elected to remain behind hi the living-quarters \par
area, relieving Jak of having to join the undefeated Dean hi a challenging match \par
of the Cootie game.\par
\par
Jamaisvous laughed. "Such language, and from an educated lady."\par
\par
Mildred grinned back. "I never said I was a lady."\par
\par
"My mistake. Would you like some refreshment?"\par
\par
"A small one."\par
\par
"What will you have?"\par
\par
"Same as you two. Brandy. With a bit of water, please."\par
\par
"I was frozen after my trawl?" Doc said in disbelief, reaching up with his \par
fingers to stroke the cheeks of his long face. "I have no memory of that, sir."\par
\par
"How could you?" Jamaisvous replied from the bar. "You were snatched from your \par
time line and taken into the realm of null time via the gateway. For all intents \par
and purposes, you ceased to exist-not here, not there. Nowhere. The problem the \par
engineers of Chronos kept running into was their subjects reappearing during the \par
current time serving as the original source of the trawl. This was totally \par
unlike jumping from one mat-trans unit to another, where your destination was \par
waiting and prepped. When living tissue was trawled, it tended to disintegrate \par
upon re-materialization. ''\par
\par
"Thanks," Mildred said as Jamaisvous crossed back to his recliner, handing her \par
the drink before sitting down.\par
\par
"You're welcome, Dr. Wyeth. Please, be seated."\par
\par
Mildred took up a position next to Doc on the edge of a small sofa.\par
\par
"What's the first thing you remember when you arrived in 1998, Dr. Tanner?"\par
\par
"Shadowy shapes. Masked faces."\par
\par
"Sounds typical. You would have been disoriented. But you became conscious-fully \par
awake-in a hospital bed."\par
\par
"If my memory is to be believed, that is correct, yes. However, I find my memory \par
to be seriously lacking in detail and sharpness since I began my travels in \par
time. I used to believe after I was abducted by those madmen in Chronos that I \par
was placed within the confines of a glass coffin, like a refugee from a Grimm's \par
Fairy Tale."\par
\par
"Cryo pod," Jamaisvous corrected.\par
\par
Mildred snorted a second time.\par
\par
Jamaisvous pressed on. "In Chicago, when you were trawled, you arrived through \par
one of the waiting cryo pods-you know, the canisters made of alloy and \par
armaglass. When you appeared inside, you were then immobilized until they could \par
be sure you had arrived whole and intact. Then, over an extended period, your \par
body temperature was brought down and-"\par
\par
"Please-his entire body would have exploded," Mildred retorted, interrupting the \par
narrative. "The very blood in his veins would've frozen. There would be cellular \par
disruption on a massive and incapacitating level. There is no instant freeze \par
except in bad science fiction. Putting subjects in cryo sleep and then reviving \par
them is a tedious, dangerous process."\par
\par
Jamaisvous gave Mildred a doubting look. "What makes you an expert, Dr. Wyeth?"\par
\par
"I was-I am-a pioneer in cryonics, Dr. Jamaisvous." Mildred replied, accenting \par
the word "doctor" as she spoke.\par
\par
"Really? Got to experience your subject firsthand, did you?"\par
\par
Mildred frowned. "As did you. We seem to be no worse for wear."\par
\par
"Right, right," he said dismissively. "Still, as a pioneer in the public sector \par
without military clearances, you know nothing at all of the true nature of \par
cryonics. If you'll pardon the pun, what you and your so-called colleagues were \par
allowed to see was merely the tip of the iceberg."\par
\par
"And I suppose you're an expert?"\par
\par
"Not by any means. I can't explain some of what I know of the utilized cryonic \par
techniques. I just know it works. Rather, worked."\par
\par
Mildred held her tongue, choosing to take another sip of the potent brandy. What \par
Jamaisvous was saying made sense when you factored in some of the advanced \par
technology she'd seen for herself in the redoubts equipped with cryonic sleep \par
chambers. The basics from her past studies were there, but some of the processes \par
were well beyond what she could have accomplished herself using late 1990s \par
technology. The advanced leap of science that had created the matter-transfer \par
gateways also could have been easily involved with cryonics.\par
\par
"Okay, I give you the possibility. You don't have to be such a jerk about it," \par
Mildred finally said.\par
\par
"And you don't have to be so damned all-knowing, Dr. Wyeth."\par
\par
"I am afraid her self-assurance is one of her less endearing qualities," Doc \par
said.\par
\par
' 'Well, not to me. I like a woman who speaks her mind."\par
\par
"How long do you think I was in suspended sleep?'' Doc asked, turning back to \par
Jamaisvous.\par
\par
"A few days, I'd say. Long enough so they could be sure you were intact and \par
whole. The cryo pods served another function, you know. They protected you \par
against any unexpected diseases or exposure. After all, you were in a fragile \par
state, and there were germs and bugs floating around in 1998 you had never \par
dreamed of a hundred and two years ago in the past."\par
\par
"So, is that how trawling has to be carried out to work, with cryonics involved \par
on the receiving end?"\par
\par
' 'No. As far as I know, a year or so after you made the trip into 1998, a \par
modification was discovered that allowed the mat-trans chambers themselves to \par
serve as collector and containment fields for living subjects minus the earlier \par
subzero temperatures needed until the trawled subject was whole and intact. \par
Besides, if cryonic pods were a necessity, than temporal passage into the future \par
would be an impossibility, and you wouldn't be here talking with me."\par
\par
Mildred yawned in the seconds of silence after Jamaisvous spoke. "I'm sorry," \par
she apologized. "Be- tween my drink and the meal, I'm asleep on my feet, and \par
this sort of technobabble makes my mind ache. I think I'll go back to bed for \par
the night."\par
\par
Jamaisvous stood and took her hand, kissing it as he had kissed Krysty's \par
earlier. "Good night, Dr. Wy-eth."\par
\par
"Good night, to both of you."\par
\par
The stocky physician exited, and the den was silent for several moments before \par
Doc spoke. "The gateway you have in this fortress-you are trying to go back, are \par
you not?"\par
\par
"Of course."\par
\par
"Even though by your own admission, time trawling was never perfected."\par
\par
"Until now."\par
\par
"How so?"\par
\par
"I am at the final part of the secret. Tell me, Dr. Tanner. Man-to-man. No \par
pressure," Jamaisvous said, his voice becoming faster as he spoke, and the \par
pronunciation of each word more clipped. "Wouldn't you risk it all to go back \par
home to your own time? To pop in seconds before your original disappearance?"\par
\par
"Not long enough," Doc protested in a murmur. "I could not alter the flow of \par
history's river in a matter of seconds."\par
\par
"Minutes then. An hour. Long enough to warn yourself-or, better yet, appear at \par
the same time, replacing yourself in the confusion as your other self vanishes \par
into the temporal doorway. Other than a freak storm front that blew up on a \par
dusty Omaha street, no one ever need know you disappeared. You could alter your \par
future. You could save your destiny."\par
\par
Doc paced, talking as he walked, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his \par
frock coat. "To reclaim the life I should have lived...yes, damn you, yes, yes! \par
Of course, I would!"\par
\par
Jamaisvous smiled. "That's what I thought you'd say. I'd do the same, and in \par
fact, I plan to. I have no love of being trapped in a world such as this. No \par
cable television. No pizza delivery. No world wide web. I am luckier than most, \par
but I am also bored out of my mind. Screw fresh coffee, pretty sunsets and \par
sweet-smelling flowers, Dr. Tanner. I want to go home."\par
\par
"But what of your disease?" Doc asked.\par
\par
Jamaisvous gave Doc a baffled look. "Disease? What disease?"\par
\par
"Why were you placed in the cryo suspension plan if not due to illness?"\par
\par
Jamaisvous gaped at Doc for a long moment, before an explosion of grim laughter \par
erupted from his chest. "Oh. That. I was placed in the freezer for my brain. \par
Those in the know were aware of the impending holocaust. They also knew they \par
would need men of vision after the bombs fell, and as such, I was put on ice \par
until needed."\par
\par
"You agreed to this?"\par
\par
"Like your own experiences with the Totality Concept, I wasn't given much \par
choice," Jamaisvous replied. "I wasn't conscious to experience the ex- citement, \par
but from what I can tell, once the war began, it hit with ten times the \par
destructive force expected. The new civilization they expected me and my brain \par
to be a part of was wiped from the map, along with rest of the world."\par
\par
Doc sat back, his brow furrowed, staring across the candlelit room at his host.\par
\par
"So why am I needed? What knowledge I held of how time trawling was accomplished \par
has been long lost."\par
\par
Jamaisvous looked Doc in the eye. "I need a man who's been exposed to trawling \par
before and lived to tell about it, Dr. Tanner. Lesser intellects have no way of \par
comprehending what they are exposed to in the temporal annex between past, \par
present and future. Their puerile brains can't handle it and once the mind goes, \par
the body quickly follows. You have survived two trips. That's two more than \par
anybody else. While I have no explanation for what caused your physical \par
deterioration in the forward trawl other than to say it might have been done \par
purposely-"\par
\par
"On purpose?" Doc replied, his face pale in the yellow light of the den.\par
\par
"Yes. That is my theory. You should have arrived here in the future either \par
intact or not at all. Instead, you made it safely, but with more than thirty \par
years stolen. I think an acceleration process was used."\par
\par
Doc took a deep breath. "Could such a process be reversed?"\par
\par
"I don't know. To do so would take research that dovetails nicely with my own \par
plans for trawling.\par
\par
Like yourself, Dr. Tanner, I also want to go back. Unlike yourself, I have never \par
faced a trawl. I need to know more about the process before I can face stepping \par
into that chamber. For I will get only one chance."\par
\par
"The matter is settled, then." Doc stood. "I will assist you in any manner I \par
can."\par
\par
"Excellent. I make one request of you."\par
\par
"And that is?"\par
\par
"Your companions. Most of them would not approve, I think, of some of my \par
experiments. You may tell them you are assisting me, but I ask you keep the \par
notion of your personally enduring another time trawl to yourself until we are \par
closer to the time of the actual event."\par
\par
"Of course. There is no need to cause them worry for my well-being."\par
\par
"Goodnight, then."\par
\par
"Good night," Doc replied, and walked out of the den.\par
\par
Jamaisvous remained sitting, his left index finger idly stroking the rim of his \par
glass over and over in a circle. "The time has come," he whispered softly. "Time \par
enough, at last."\par
\par
THE MOON ROSE over the walls of El Morro. Far off, in the quiet distance, the \par
unique sound of the coqui could be heard, and for each single cry the little \par
tree frog sent out, a dozen more came singing back in reply from his brothers. \par
For hundreds of years, the native Puerto Rican tree frog had endured, proving \par
that perhaps, things didn't always have to change.\par
\par
A brief spot of flickering illumination flared into being, only to be \par
extinguished and replaced by a tiny glowing dot of red. J.B. puffed on his \par
cigar, exhaling aromatic tobacco smoke into the night air of the fortress \par
garden.\par
\par
"Good evening, John Barrymore," a familiar resonant voice said from behind.\par
\par
"Doc," the Armorer replied in greeting. He wasn't surprised, since he'd heard \par
the older man's footsteps coming up from behind and recognized the sound and \par
pattern of Doc's peculiar gait.\par
\par
Doc stood silently for a few moments, then turned to his friend. "I wonder, \par
might I avail you of a smoke?"\par
\par
J.B. blew a plume of the pungent smoke through both nostrils. "You sure? This \par
tobacco has a hell of a kick."\par
\par
"I am not a lad in short pants, John Barrymore, and I was smoking long before \par
you were born," Doc retorted. "I think I can handle a twist of tobacco."\par
\par
"Got a point," J.B. replied, taking out the denim pouch of smokes and handing it \par
over to the second figure.\par
\par
"I'm surprised to find you out here alone at such a late hour," Doc remarked as \par
he rummaged through the pouch and removed one of the sticky black cig-arillos.\par
\par
"Couldn't sleep." J.B. held out his lit cheroot, allowing Doc to use it to \par
ignite his own chosen cigar.\par
\par
"And I can't light up in the room or Millie starts complaining about secondary \par
smoke."\par
\par
"I see," Doc replied after exhaling a perfect smoke ring.\par
\par
"Nice trick," J.B. said, watching the ring elongate and slowly dissipate in the \par
night air. "I guess you have lit up a few cancer sticks in your time."\par
\par
"Cancer stick?" Doc asked with a frown. "I do not get your meaning."\par
\par
The Armorer nodded. "That's what Millie calls them. Old predark slang. Said they \par
were supposed to cause lung cancer."\par
\par
Doc pondered this. "I suppose she would know. Still, I confess I suspect there \par
are many more overt dangers presenting us with cancer-causing radiation on a \par
daily basis than these slender tubes of tobacco."\par
\par
"Damn straight."\par
\par
The conversation between the men trailed off, and the sounds of the night seemed \par
to grow louder.\par
\par
"So, what's your excuse?" J.B. finally asked.\par
\par
"For smoking?" Doc asked.\par
\par
The Armorer frowned. Doc could be annoyingly obtuse when he chose. "For coming \par
out here to the top of the fortress so late tonight."\par
\par
Doc shook his head and his flowing white hair shifted around his skinny \par
shoulders. "My mind, good fellow. I cannot stop thinking long enough to allow \par
Morpheus to bring down his soothing, slumbering touch."\par
\par
"About trying to go back to the 1800s, you mean."\par
\par
"I beg your pardon?" Doc said, trying to cover his surprise and doing a lousy \par
job.\par
\par
"The year 1896, to be exact. This guy with the fancy name, he might have \par
something going with time trawling, otherwise you wouldn't be so worked up."\par
\par
"John Barrymore, I have to say I'm surprised. You are more of a student of human \par
nature than I ever surmised," Doc stammered. "If such a possibility exists...I \par
have to see it though. Dr. Jamais-vous's work here hints that I might indeed be \par
able to return home someday."\par
\par
J.B. took off his fedora and adjusted the brim. ' 'Hell, Doc, from what little I \par
know about time trawling, it's a triple-risky proposition with a bastard-poor \par
chance of succeeding. You've cheated the odds twice, which puts you ahead of the \par
reaper double time. Not to mention the second time you crawled into one of those \par
things and got your ass pushed forward you came out on the other side an old \par
man."\par
\par
"What would you do, John Barrymore?"\par
\par
"I honestly don't know, Doc. I guess I'm a lucky son of a bitch in that all the \par
people I care about travel with me."\par
\par
Doc fell silent after that, and stayed with J.B., smoking the cigar down to a \par
stub before leaving the way he came, his thoughts elsewhere.\par
\par
Maryland, Virginia, 1999\par
\par
DR. THEOPHILUS TANNER had been moved once more, this time from the caverns of \par
Dulce, New Mex- ico, to a more civilized facade for a redoubt, with an outer \par
shell of a beautiful white house. With the change in scenery came an ultimatum.\par
\par
"Have you reexamined our offer, Dr. Tanner?" Welles asked.\par
\par
Tanner smiled, and his smile was a wonderful thing to behold. "I have."\par
\par
"What do you say?"\par
\par
"I say, who am I to challenge the tides of time?"\par
\par
"We must have your full cooperation in order for the programming to be \par
effective."\par
\par
"I give it to you, freely."\par
\par
"Then preparations must be made. And you must understand your place within the \par
machine. Your intelligence makes you worthy. Your future is assured. You will be \par
a great man, a leader in your own time once you are returned with the knowledge \par
we intend to share."\par
\par
"How will I be readied?"\par
\par
"Patience. Time is irrelevant. Against my own better judgment, I have been told \par
you must be properly informed."\par
\par
"Informed?"\par
\par
"We here at Chronos have temporal windows into the past and into the future. All \par
is not lost Steps must be taken to influence that the proper chain of events are \par
followed."\par
\par
"How important is my place?" Tanner asked uneasily.\par
\par
"You are but one plan," Welles said. "And one outcome. The right outcome. To \par
assure this of happening, you will be given privileges and taught the future."\par
\par
So, as a more active part of his eventual acclimation into the Chronos project, \par
Tanner found he was now being treated less as a curiosity in a cage and more as \par
an equal. Many of those involved in the day-to-day operations of the Chronos \par
project were eager to discuss their work with such an avid listener. Knowing \par
that the elegantly dressed man from the past was an essential piece in the \par
overall puzzle of time trawling, they welcomed his insights and deductions. \par
Tanner gave them new eyes, with a decidedly different point of view, since he \par
was a man of the 1800s.\par
\par
Women, in particular, seemed to flock to his lean form. Whether they found \par
something appealing in his florid gestures and attentive manner was open to \par
interpretation, but he soon found himself always in their company-either in the \par
laboratories or during the meal breaks or even after-hours and socially. Most of \par
the men liked Tanner's company too, seeing a father figure or an older brother \par
in the smiling man's verbal musings.\par
\par
After correcting a few of the staff members who tried to call him "Theo," and \par
rejecting the more formal "Dr. Tanner," one soul simply dubbed him "Doc." The \par
nickname stuck, and even though his brain burned with wanting to know everything \par
Chronos had to offer in order to devise his own individual escape, Tanner was \par
quietly touched.\par
\par
In his lifetime, he'd never been a recipient of the signs of affection shown by \par
a fond nickname, and he took quiet reassurance and pride in the familiarity of \par
the abbreviation of his title.\par
\par
"Not all of those in this future world are black and evil," he mused to himself \par
one night, wishing for a journal to keep his thoughts and impressions in, yet \par
knowing such documentation would never be truly private. "Many of those here \par
seem to be as much prisoners as I, held captive by their insecurities and fears \par
over the highly classified nature of the project they are involved in. I can \par
only hope my studies in philosophy give solace to those who speak to me in \par
hushed tones as they debate the humanity and the morality of what they continue \par
to try to accomplish."\par
\par
Months passed in this fashion, with the time approaching when Doc would have to \par
allow the hypnotic orders and suggestions to be implanted in his brain, orders \par
he knew in his heart he would never be able to accept, thereby tipping his hand \par
that he had no intention of aiding these madmen in their schemes to alter the \par
fabric of time and space.\par
\par
Before that day arrived, he knew he would have to escape.\par
\par
Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner made two attempts to flee his keepers.\par
\par
The first came after a year and a half of his participation in the various \par
machinations of Project Chronos. By this time, Doc was a familiar staple among \par
the staff. His natural charm had won over many of them to his side, on a private \par
one-to-one basis. None of the scientists or engineers felt secure enough in \par
their positions to publicly take Doc's side in his continuing debate to be \par
allowed to return home a free man, but he knew he had many allies.\par
\par
And there were so many other projects in various stages of completion within the \par
redoubt.\par
\par
One of these involved genetics. Doc was prevented from seeing much of the work \par
in this sector, but as was his wont, he listened and he learned.\par
\par
Among the scientists on this project was an individual who seemed impossibly old \par
and seemed to be suspended in a perpetual case of what Doc used to call "the \par
shakes." The man, whose name was Pennyworth, spoke with a thick English accent \par
that the years he'd spent among his fellows, all of whom appeared to be American \par
or Japanese, hadn't blunted. His day over, Pennyworth would fold his white lab \par
coat, look back at the sealed sec door of his laboratory and announce to his \par
fellows, "And that, gentlemen, concludes the entertainment for today."\par
\par
Doc agreed. He'd seen enough, and was no longer entertained in the slightest.\par
\par
"WHY ME?" he asked after being captured outside the redoubt's gateway mat-trans \par
chamber. Doc hadn't even made it into the control room before his attempt to \par
leave was foiled. He had been betrayed by one of his fellow scientists, but by \par
who Doc could not be sure. "The truth, this time, if you please."\par
\par
Welles placed both of his hands on his paunch and gave Doc a pitying look. "You \par
weren't the first choice. We tried trawling a noted judge from the United States \par
Supreme Court, but after the judge was picked up in the temporal annex, he \par
didn't survive the retrieval process. How can I put this? Judge Crater arrived \par
here in 1997, yes, but he arrived... incomplete. We might have saved his life, \par
but he wouldn't acquiesce."\par
\par
"Which explains his disappearance-a mystery never solved."\par
\par
"Oh, Operation Chronos has been responsible for a deluge of urban legends and \par
unexplained cases, Dr. Tanner. There are entire books written on the subject of \par
strange disappearances and miraculous reappearances. Some, like our good judge, \par
have been famous. Others, less so. Take, for instance, the case of Dr. Geraldo \par
Vidal. On June 3, 1968, Vidal and his wife were traveling in Argentina late one \par
night when they drove right into what they later described as a cloud of \par
swirling mists. Sound familiar?"\par
\par
"I imagine this was the same sort of mist or fog I encountered during my own \par
time trawl,'' Doc said.\par
\par
"Correct. Upon entering the mists, the Vidals were rendered unconscious. When \par
they awoke the very next morning, they discovered their car was in Mexico. The \par
time trawl failed, but at the same time, succeeded! We didn't bring them into \par
the future, but we did manage a successful mat-trans jump on two living subjects \par
thirty years in the past. Can you comprehend the implications of such a weapon?"\par
\par
"Yes, I am afraid I can," Doc replied.\par
\par
"In an earlier attempt, we trawled a limousine off the Fujishrio Bypass in Japan \par
with driver and passenger, a woman of ill repute in transit from a whorehouse to \par
a wealthy client. Our aim was to bring back living matter, not automobiles, but \par
in this case what appeared in the mat-trans chamber here was an amalgam of both \par
parties. Suffice to say, neither man nor woman survived."\par
\par
Welles got up from his desk and walked over to where Doc was seated, bending to \par
whisper in his ear. "Do you want to survive?" "Yes."\par
\par
"I don't think so. You have damaged your credibility with such a foolish escape \par
attempt, and you are now under arrest. All of your B12 access privileges to \par
Chronos are revoked. You are not to be anywhere without a guard."\par
\par
"When am I to begin your treatments for reverse trawl?"\par
\par
"Soon, Dr. Tanner, soon. After all, the millennium is fast approaching."\par
\par
As WAS HIS ROUTINE in Chicago, then Dulce, and now Virginia, Allan Harvey paused \par
in front of Doc's holding quarters to talk. His security team had been \par
transferred each time with Tanner and Welles, all of them traveling across the \par
country together. He'd seen less and less of Doc once the doctor had been \par
allowed access to Chronos, but now, after the escape attempt, Tanner had been \par
returned to the holding area.\par
\par
The room was spare, but complete with bed, desk, television set and other \par
amenities. As was his habit, Doc had the television on with the sound off, \par
allowing him to read without intruding noises and yet able to look up from time \par
to time to see what was unfolding on the screen. If it looked interesting, he \par
merely hit the mute button and brought back the sound.\par
\par
"Good evening, Doc," Allan said. Tanner was sitting up in his bunk, his back \par
propped up against the wall with a pillow. He was holding a scuffed hardcover \par
book with the unlikely title of A Brief History of Time.\par
\par
"Salutations, my friend."\par
\par
"What you reading?"\par
\par
"The theories of a man named Hawking. I have studied this book half a dozen \par
times since my arrival. He seems to have unknowingly hit upon some of the \par
techniques being carried out within Operation Chronos, and yet while agreeing \par
some of the time, he goes off in entirely different directions. According to \par
Hawking, much of what is being done here is impossible as the world now \par
understands science."\par
\par
"Yeah, I guess. You hear all kinds of rumors, Doc. My favorite has the U.S. \par
government in an alliance with some alien cartel that gave us all this \par
technology."\par
\par
Tanner snorted. "Poppycock."\par
\par
"I know. It does sound like a crock, doesn't it?" the burly security man agreed. \par
"Glad to see you're back in your old habits. After that escape attempt, I guess \par
you're settling in, Doc, from what I've been hearing."\par
\par
"Aye, noble Allan, that I am." The security man shrugged. "Looks can be \par
deceiving, though, can't they? I mean, you know and I know that you're not \par
exactly doing what the bosses think you're doing, are you?"\par
\par
"No, I am not." Doc flashed his teeth. "Nothing is ever what it seems."\par
\par
"They might have killed you instead of just limiting your access in the redoubt, \par
you know," Allan said in a matter-of-fact tone.\par
\par
"I was willing to take the risk. If I succeeded, to hell with them. If I failed, \par
well, I am beyond caring whether I live or die. I have outlived all I knew, all \par
my friends, my-" and his voice caught "-my loved ones. My family. No, they did \par
not kill me. I remain too valuable. They yearn for my agreement." "Agreement?" \par
Allan looked puzzled. Doc put down the book and stared at the flickering \par
television set. "I am but a cog in a greater plan, Allan. Their wishes are my \par
own. They wish to send me back home to my proper time and place."\par
\par
"So, what's stopping them? Or you? I mean, that's what you want, right?" \par
"Yes...and no." "So who's the hold up?" Doc sighed. "I am." "You?"\par
\par
"Me. And my hesitation comes from what they call an 'alternate event horizon.' \par
See, if I had not been taken away from Omaha in 1896,1 would have gone on to \par
become a very important man. I am not bragging about this, merely stating a \par
fact. My studies and oratory would have influenced generations."\par
\par
Allan whistled. "No shit?"\par
\par
' 'None. Now, how this was to have occurred, I do not know, but I have been \par
assured that eventually I would have had access to the president's ear, and as \par
such, would have, could have, influenced national policy in times of great \par
crisis. The two world wars I have read about? Those and other pivotal events \par
would have been substantially altered by my presence."\par
\par
"Damn. For better or for worse?"\par
\par
"Who can say for sure? That's why they call it an alternate event horizon. The \par
flow of time-the time line would have been different."\par
\par
"So what? Go back anyway. What will be, will be."\par
\par
"Que sera sera, Allan?"\par
\par
The sec man showed off his own shining white teeth. "Damn straight. And fuck \par
Doris Day."\par
\par
"I would risk doing as they wish, my friend, but with the knowledge I now \par
possess, who is to say how I might change things? My own guess is that if I go \par
back with their mental programming, the facts of the future I already know \par
consciously or subconsciously would assure them of occurring...at least, within \par
my sphere of influence. However, I would not be in full control of my actions. \par
They will not tell me how or why, only that my cooperation must be absolute for \par
the planned mental programming to work. To regain my wife and children, I must \par
become a pawn and follow a combination of predetermined maneuvers on the \par
chessboard. To take back what I have lost, I must give them my soul." "Can you \par
do that?" "No, Allan, I cannot."\par
\par
"Then you're going to need some help." Allan opened the door to Doc's cell, \par
stepping inside.\par
\par
"Now, if I were to turn my back on you, like this, I might be accidentally \par
opening myself up to another one of your escape attempts, mightn't I?"\par
\par
"Yes," Doc said, feeling his heart sing in response to Allan's ploy. He got to \par
his feet. "You just might, were I the type to betray your trust."\par
\par
"And there wouldn't be a damned thing I could do if you bashed me over the head \par
with that bookend next to the TV, would there?"\par
\par
Doc reached over and picked up the object, hefting the heavy ceramic bookend in \par
both hands. "Not if you were taken by surprise, no." "Two things before lights \par
out, Doc." "Yes?"\par
\par
"Take my tunic and pull up the hood like I was wearing it before and you might \par
make it past the security cameras in this sector. Once you're past the cell \par
block, they won't be looking for you immediately, and you can move a bit more \par
freely."\par
\par
"Very well. What is the other thing you wished to relate to me?"\par
\par
"When you raise that bookend up and clobber my noggin, try not to kill me."\par
\par
DRESSED IN THE SECURITY bodysuit with the hood pulled up over his head, Doc \par
hoped Allan was right in assuming he would escape detection from the security \par
video cameras scanning the hallways of the redoubt. He had quickly memorized by \par
rote the numbers to push for entry into the control room of the Chronos \par
mat-trans device, and was hoping against hope the chron-jump transport was still \par
using the same command codes.\par
\par
As he already knew from his previous freer days, a skeleton crew would be on \par
duty inside the control room. Looking inside through an observation portal, he \par
spied three figures-two men and a woman. Doc hovered outside the access door for \par
a moment, his fingers poised to tap in the entry code, and then he decided to \par
wait. He nimbly stepped into the nearby men's room and went into a stall and \par
sat. He knew the shift break would come soon, and if he were quick, he could go \par
inside with the advantage of having only a single technician watching over the \par
dormant equipment. Tune-trawling tests were rarely done after daylight, and \par
those on watch inside were only there to run computer simulations, more or less.\par
\par
Doc checked his wristwatch, also liberated from Allan. He'd made note of the \par
patterns of the curious lair he was kept within and found all of those who \par
shared his world in the redoubts to be almost painfully predictable in a \par
military sort of way. If, at a designated time Tab A were to be inserted within \par
Slot B, nothing short of World War Three could prevent such an order from being \par
carried through.\par
\par
Reciting bits of poetry and famous monologues from the theater in his mind to \par
pass the time, Doc was rewarded when his ten-minute wait passed quickly.\par
\par
He stepped out of the washroom and peeked back through the small window into the \par
mat-trans control room. Only a single figure now remained, the other two having \par
retired for coffee and conversation in the commissary two levels up. They'd be \par
gone for fifteen minutes.\par
\par
Fifteen minutes. An eternity if one knew how to use the time well.\par
\par
Doc looked up at the warning sign posted above the doorway. In red and black \par
letters on a laminated yellow backing, the sign read: Entry is Absolutely \par
Forbidden To All But B12 Cleared Personnel Or Higher. The word Forbidden was \par
underlined for added emphasis.\par
\par
"I'd say I've regained my former rank and clearance," he said softly, counting \par
on the masters of the redoubt to not have changed the locking codes for the \par
heavy vanadium steel door. Taking a deep breath and mentally crossing his \par
fingers, Doc punched in the trio of digits for the entry code, tapping first the \par
number three, followed by five and then two. He was rewarded by the door sliding \par
upward silently into a ceiling slot, allowing his entrance. Turning, he reversed \par
the code and the door slid down and locked into a floor groove, sealing the \par
control room from the rest of the complex.\par
\par
The man on duty turned from a flickering computer screen. He was slight of build \par
and very short, coming in at a height of five feet. He wore wire-rimmed glasses \par
that accented his tanned skin and Asian features. Doc had hoped he wouldn't \par
encounter anyone he knew, but as their eyes met, he knew his luck had finally \par
run its course.\par
\par
"Good evening, Dr. Tanner," Chan said. "Can I help you?"\par
\par
Chapter Nine\par
\par
Dawn arrived with the fabulous multicolored beauty of the Caribbean sky.\par
\par
Before beginning the day, Ryan decided to pay Dr. Silas Jamaisvous a quick \par
visit. In the doctor's bedroom, he discovered his host was doing a most curious \par
thing, and since it was an action Ryan had never associated with the male member \par
of the species, it made the sight even more unsettling. Once he identified it, \par
the feminine undertones made him wonder about their host.\par
\par
Jamaisvous was carefully, studiously, meticulously filing his fingernails with a \par
small brown nail file, vigorously rubbing it back and forth in a sawing motion, \par
pausing every thirty seconds or so to look at the back of his hand to make sure \par
the manicure was proceeding as planned.\par
\par
The doctor was nattily dressed in a similar manner as the day before, now \par
wearing a black-and-gray patterned blazer with a new burgundy dress shirt and \par
narrow black necktie with matching black slacks. The long white lab coat was \par
draped over the back of a nearby chair.\par
\par
"Good morning, Ryan Cawdor."\par
\par
"Morning. Thought I might take my boy and look around the island some today."\par
\par
"What a delightful idea! I only wish I could spare the time to come along. Your \par
good Dr. Tanner will be assisting me today with my continuing attempts to use \par
the matter-transfer unit for something besides a glorified ferryboat."\par
\par
"What's the situation outside the fortress walls?"\par
\par
"Well, the western side of Puerto Rico suffered terrific losses and from what I \par
understand is nigh uninhabitable, unless one enjoys squalor and disease."\par
\par
"Rad sickness, I'll bet. Must've been a nuke," Ryan guessed. He'd noticed upon \par
their arrival in El Morro that the tiny rad counter on his long coat hadn't \par
Indicated dangerous levels of radiation, but that didn't mean other parts of \par
Puerto Rico hadn't suffered from the same radioactive fire that had plagued the \par
rest of the planet.\par
\par
Pausing to blow on the nails of his left hand, Jamaisvous responded in the \par
negative. "No, Ryan, no nukes. At least, no major direct hits. The island's \par
trials have been generated thanks to the queen of havoc herself, Mother Nature. \par
Hurricane season used to run here all summer and fall. Storms would develop out \par
in the Atlantic, then wind their way northwestward, sometimes striking Puerto \par
Rico, but as a rule, the island was spared. After the nukecaust, the storms \par
seemed to increase in ferocity and regularity, and Puerto Rico was no longer so \par
lucky. I have suf- fered through two powerful storms myself, but none as deadly \par
as the one that hit the western side." "So, any dangers I should know about \par
outside?" "In Old San Juan? Not hardly." "Fair enough. Thanks for the advice." \par
Exiting the expansive grounds of El Morro by way of the short stone bridge \par
stretching across the moat around the fortress, Dean, Krysty and Ryan went out \par
after his talk with Jamaisvous to look at the sights. In reality, Ryan needed to \par
assess their surroundings, be prepared and familiar enough to move through the \par
area without hesitation, if need be. Besides granting his hearty approval, their \par
host had also suggested they leave as early as possible to avoid the heat of the \par
afternoon.\par
\par
Outside El Morro, the first thing they encountered was the ruin of the Santo \par
Domingo Convent as they stepped out onto Cristo Street. Even in its dilapidated \par
condition, Old San Juan was magnificent, rich in the coin of history. The night \par
before, Jamaisvous had commented that this part of Puerto Rico was essentially \par
his own private lair. The old part of the city had originally been separated \par
from the mainland by three bridges, and in addition, the buildings of the inlet \par
were walled off, surrounded by high imposing towers thanks to the old fort \par
nearby known as Castillo de San Cristobal.\par
\par
Before leaving El Morro, Dean had taken a printed leaflet from a wire rack in \par
the foyer of the fortress, next to what was once a combination information desk \par
and souvenir stand. The pamphlet had obvi- ously been designed for the \par
edification of visitors, and the boy had delighted in reading from the \par
tri-folded sheet of glossy paper as the three of them walked along the narrow \par
sidewalk.\par
\par
"See that chapel, Dad?" Dean asked, pointing to a little building at the end of \par
Cristo Street.\par
\par
Ryan took in the decrepit church, noting the cross jutting from the roof was the \par
only part of the construct still completely intact. "Sure," he replied.\par
\par
"They built it because a slowie retard was racing his horse and couldn't stop \par
before hitting the wall," Dean said confidently. "The retard's mom and dad \par
wanted to help prevent more racing accidents from happening to other stupes."\par
\par
"Keep it up, son, and you'll be giving Doc a run for his windpipe," Ryan \par
replied. "You're telling me a lot more than I want or need to know."\par
\par
"Well, I appreciate it," Krysty said, giving Dean a quick hug as they walked. \par
"Somebody has to play tour guide."\par
\par
"Place feels like the walls are closing in. Lots of places for an ambush," Ryan \par
noted.\par
\par
"Says here the streets and sidewalks are so narrow that ped...pedestrians must \par
often walk single file," Dean read, his voice stumbling over the unfamiliar \par
word. "What's a pedestrian, Dad?"\par
\par
"Beats me," the tall man replied. "Means 'people,' I guess. You'll have to ask \par
Doc when we get back."\par
\par
Krysty's attention was on the street beneath their feet. The roadway was made up \par
of a series of rectangular bricks of a dark blue substance. "Feels kind of \par
strange here, walking down paths thousands of years old," the redhead said. "Not \par
a bad feeling, just... strange."\par
\par
"Old ghosts?" Ryan asked.\par
\par
Krysty nodded and gave him a dazzling smile. "Mebbe so, lover."\par
\par
"'Some of the streets in Old San Juan are still paved with the original \par
blue-glazed blocks brought over on old Spanish sailing ships,'" Dean read aloud.\par
\par
"Need to get your nose out of that pamphlet and look at what's around you, \par
Dean," Ryan suggested, plucking the booklet from the boy's hands and shoving it \par
into the back pocket of his trousers. "You're missing half the sights by reading \par
about them."\par
\par
The morning air wafting through the streets of Old San Juan was pleasant, and \par
Krysty was glad for the opportunity to lose the extra layers of clothing she and \par
everyone else had grown accustomed to wearing at all times. It was much easier \par
to wear a jacket than to tote it. Not having it on your person could also mean \par
forgetting the item of clothing and leaving it behind if trouble started.\par
\par
However, here in Old San Juan, things appeared to be much more relaxed.\par
\par
A few of the locals gazed at the three, but didn't approach or speak. One man \par
nodded in passing but kept his eyes lowered. Once, on Luna Street-identified as \par
such by a rusted old street sign-Dean spotted a deeply tanned boy who looked to \par
be his own age and he walked over to speak. However, the child responded to his \par
greetings in Spanish, and Dean returned to Ryan and Krysty wearing a frown of \par
disappointment.\par
\par
The houses along the streets were a crowded sprawl of color and design. Some \par
were in good repair, others obviously abandoned. The narrow streets were the \par
dividers between multiple grilled balconies, brass-studded doors housed in \par
ornate doorways and an explosion of colorful flora. His own curiosity working \par
against him, Ryan returned the tour book to Dean and asked the boy to go ahead \par
and tell them what they were looking at. Meanwhile, he scanned doorways and \par
walk-through buildings fronting on two streets and noted dead-ends.\par
\par
Krysty felt as though she had been on the receiving end of an unexpected \par
chron-jump. According to Dean's informational booklet, Old San Juan dated back \par
to the year 1521, and the architecture that remained intact along the streets \par
and alleyways supported the claim. A mix of Spanish colonial mansions mingled \par
with colorful plazas and shops.\par
\par
"Blue," Krysty said, speaking aloud.\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"First time since I was a little girl back in Harmony I can remember the sky \par
being the right color. My Uncle Tyas, he said the world above us was supposed to \par
be blue, and he always made a point of showing me the right hue in picture books \par
or bits of old vids. I've seen the sky colored blue before, but it was always \par
dark, like a storm was brewing. More often than not in Deathlands, sky was \par
orange, red, pink. You got used to it, but I always wanted to see that color of \par
blue Tyas told me about. Nice to see he was right, as usual."\par
\par
" 'Natives say that the sky in Puerto Rico is bluer than any other place on \par
earth, and the white clouds are whiter,'" Dean chimed in, reading a predark line \par
of advertising copy.\par
\par
"Doesn't surprise me," Ryan said easily, stooping to pick a smallish bright red \par
flower that had grown up in a bare patch of dirt near the curb.\par
\par
"You should give it to the lady, senor," a voice said. "It matches the crimson \par
of her hair."\par
\par
They looked up to see a heavyset man in a straw hat looking down at them from a \par
second-story window.\par
\par
"Yeah, I was going to do that," Ryan said warily, handing the flower to Krysty.\par
\par
"Thank you." Krysty was slightly annoyed at having her private time with Ryan \par
and Dean interrupted by the native's appearance. She'd been charmed by rogues \par
before, and knew the drill. Still, her mutie ability to read a person was giving \par
her an all-clear signal regarding the man looking down, as opposed to the \par
conflicting impressions that radiated like flaming tendrils from the always \par
smiling Silas Jamaisvous.\par
\par
"That flower is the Maltese cross, named because the petals of its flowers have \par
the shape of the cross. You can see them if you look closely," the man noted.\par
\par
"Hot pipe! He's right, Dad! Check it out!" Dean said excitedly, pointing at the \par
flower.\par
\par
"Thanks for the tip," Ryan said, turning to go. But the man wasn't to be put off \par
so easily.\par
\par
"My name is Soto," he called out. "Might I ask who you are?"\par
\par
Ryan turned back and made quick introductions. "Ryan Cawdor. Krysty Wroth. My \par
boy, Dean. We're staying at El Mono."\par
\par
Soto made a show of appearing impressed, whistling softly before speaking. "That \par
explains much. We don't see newcomers around here very often...at least, not \par
human newcomers."\par
\par
Ryan and Krysty both wondered what the man meant by such an odd statement, but \par
didn't inquire further.\par
\par
"We get around a lot. We tend not to stay in one locale for very long."\par
\par
Soto nodded sagely. "Ah. That explains your weapons."\par
\par
Ryan had already dropped a hand to rest lightly on the butt of the SIG-Sauer. \par
"Man has to be armed and ready to defend himself."\par
\par
Soto nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, I agree. It's just in Old San Juan, we rarely \par
have need of such means of self-defense, at least, we had no need until \par
recently."\par
\par
The one-eyed man frowned. "That's twice you've dropped some kind of hint. If \par
something's on your mind, say it."\par
\par
Soto waved a hand, batting at the air in a submis- sive motion. "Please, don't \par
get upset. I have no wish to cause trouble for you or your family. Why don't I \par
come down where we can speak more privately?"\par
\par
"You alone?"\par
\par
"Yes."\par
\par
"Okay, we'll wait."\par
\par
Soto leaned out through the window and pointed with his left hand to the side of \par
the building. "If you open the gate and go around the side, you'll see a garden. \par
I'll be coming down the back stairs."\par
\par
The garden along the wall was overflowing with flowering plants and ornamental \par
bushes-hibiscus, gardenia, bougainvillea, jasmine, oleander, golden trumpet, cup \par
of gold, and the queen-of-the-night, so called because its pale fragrant \par
blossoms open only after dark. Flaming red poinsettias sixteen feet tall were \par
growing wild at the edge where the ground met the concrete of the partition.\par
\par
"Gaia, but this land is beautiful," Krysty said, sighing.\par
\par
"Thank you," Soto replied as he stepped gingerly down the steps. He wore a white \par
shirt, sandals on wide, flat feet, and near-white blue jeans. A pair of \par
binoculars dangled from his neck. There was no visible blaster on his hip, \par
although a large knife hung from his belt in a leather sheath. The straw hat was \par
perched at an angle on his head.\par
\par
"You wanted to talk?" Ryan asked, as blunt as always.\par
\par
"I did, Mr. Cawdor. There is a darkness here in Old San Juan an outsider such as \par
yourself might be able to help eliminate. A man with blasters and experience."\par
\par
"Experience?" Krysty repeated.\par
\par
Soto clarified. "In dangerous affairs."\par
\par
"Guess you could say that," Ryan said. "Just so you know, I'm not a mercie or \par
sec man. I don't kill for profit."\par
\par
"That is good since I have no currency to pay you with. What I can offer is food \par
and drink and a story."\par
\par
Ryan glanced at his wristchron. He'd reset the timepiece for local time that \par
morning before leaving El Morro. It was high noon. "Reckon we can spare a moment \par
to hear you out and break your bread."\par
\par
' 'Good! Now, come, come. A cafe is not far from here."\par
\par
THE CAFfi WAS SMALL and intimate, open at the front to allow natural lighting, \par
yet still sheltered enough to provide shade from the blistering heat. When Ryan \par
had spoken of "breaking bread," he hadn't realized how accurate his statement \par
would prove to be, since lunch was indeed hunks of freshly baked bread with \par
sweet-tasting sides of butter for flavoring. A bowl of fruit was placed next to \par
the platter of bread, and all were given water to drink.\par
\par
They had been joined by another man whom Soto had introduced as Jorge, and the \par
two made an interesting contrast. Where Soto was plump and compact, Jorge was \par
tall and muscular. Where Soto's clothing was heavily worn and drenched in sweat, \par
Jorge was bare-chested and wore a pair of clean nylon swimming trunks.\par
\par
The taller man didn't share in his friend's efforts to be friendly, and he gazed \par
across the table with open distrust. When first introduced, there had been \par
multiple exchanges of Spanish, some heated, before Soto had turned with his \par
usual smile and asked them to sit.\par
\par
"There a problem?"\par
\par
"No," Jorge replied. "Not yet."\par
\par
"Your food, it's good?" Soto interjected.\par
\par
"Yeah," Ryan said, chewing on a piece of the blackened bread. "Good."\par
\par
"Probably not as fine as the fare you've been dining on in El Morro," Jorge said \par
with a sneer.\par
\par
"No, it's not," Ryan answered. "But bread is bread."\par
\par
"You said something about a story?" Krysty asked in an attempt to clear the air.\par
\par
"I did," Soto said, wiping crumbs from his chin. "There is a creature who \par
appeared here in Puerto Rico many years ago before the final war, the conflict \par
that destroyed the world. First found with bloodstained teeth crouched at the \par
side of a goat, the creature was quickly dubbed El Chupacabras-the \par
goatsucker-since the poor animal the demon had killed was completely drained of \par
blood."\par
\par
"You don't say," Ryan replied, breaking off another hunk of the bread.\par
\par
"The name of goatsucker soon proved to be misleading, since other carcasses \par
began piling up in this region of the island. Sheep, cattle, horses, rabbits, \par
cats, dogs, chickens, and many other recently killed animals were discovered \par
daily for weeks afterward, and all of them shared the same symptoms of attack. \par
Each dead animal had small wounds, punctures through which all of the blood had \par
been sucked out.''\par
\par
"Wow!" Dean interjected. "Sounds like a horror vid I once saw."\par
\par
"So, your goatsucker was some kind of predator. That was dozens of years ago. \par
What's it got to do with the here and now?"\par
\par
"El Chupacabras was no ordinary predator, Sefior Cawdor. Here, I have a \par
drawing."\par
\par
Soto stood and took a leather pouch from one of his pockets. Unfastening the \par
pouch, he removed a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Ryan. The one-eyed \par
man unfolded the sheet, revealing a detailed drawing of a frightening-looking \par
beast standing on a pair of muscular hind legs. Covered in coarse black hair, \par
the chupacabras had a series of sharp spines running up its back. Clawed "hands" \par
were at the ends of stubby arms, and under the arms were bat wings.\par
\par
In the drawing the creature faced outward, showing an oval-shaped head with a \par
long jaw and pointed chin. Huge eyes stretching across the upper half of its \par
forehead rested above two tiny nasal slits. A mouth of jagged fangs was hissing \par
a silent warning.\par
\par
"Damn, looks like some kind of mutie," Ryan said in a soft tone, speaking more \par
to Krysty and Dean than the two Puerto Ricans at the table.\par
\par
"No such animal has ever existed in nature, my friend," Soto said.\par
\par
"So, what's the problem?" Dean asked. "If this thing was running around more \par
than a hundred years ago, how can Dad help you out?"\par
\par
' 'Got a triple-bad feeling El Chupacabras is back, Dean," Ryan told his son, \par
before turning to Soto and Jorge.\par
\par
"That's why you're telling me all this, right?"\par
\par
"Yes," Jorge said. "El Chupacabras is back, only he is no longer content to kill \par
our animals. Now, he kills our women, our men and our children."\par
\par
"You called it a 'mutie.' I know of mutants. Do you think El Chupacabras was \par
created by man, Senor Cawdor?" Soto asked.\par
\par
Ryan nodded, sipping at the mug of cool water. "I do."\par
\par
"Why? You have now seen a picture of the beast. Do you not agree it looks as \par
though it is the spawn of hell?"\par
\par
Ryan scratched the stubble on his chin while pondering an answer. "First, all \par
I've seen is a drawing. And yeah, it's butt-ugly, but I think we can leave the \par
red-faced bastard with the pitchfork and pointed ears out of the game, Soto. \par
I've seen this kind of shit before. Screamwings. Stickies. Dwellers. Swampies. \par
All kinds of muties, some of them humanoid and others throwbacks to a world \par
before man ever came crawling out of the muck. Back in Deathlands, we brought \par
hell down on ourselves. From what I've learned in recent years, we're the ones \par
responsible for most of the horrors that now walk, crawl and slither on the \par
surface of this mudball."\par
\par
Soto looked at Ryan with a thoughtful expression. "The world has always been a \par
most dangerous place, Senor."\par
\par
"Mebbe," Ryan agreed, wiping the sweat from under his chin. "Wish Mildred was \par
here, she'd probably be doing a better job of explaining about mutations."\par
\par
"Is there more than one?" Krysty asked.\par
\par
"Oh yes," Jorge answered, and then shrugged. "Ten? Twenty? One hundred? I have \par
no way of knowing for sure how many. I would say the number is low due to the \par
rarity of earlier sightings here, but now it must be growing, since the attacks \par
have increased. Little is left in the way of livestock, so they have gone the \par
extra step of killing men for the needed blood. Seventeen of us are dead so far. \par
A little girl was attacked and drained just a few days ago."\par
\par
"I would hope the number of El Chupacabras is low. A few of us here have seen \par
them, but I must wonder at the truth of what witnesses have said," Soto mused.\par
\par
"You think they're lying?" Ryan asked.\par
\par
"No, they have indeed seen something, but stories conflict. The truths do not \par
match. One young boy said the two chupacabras he saw were floating in the air in \par
total silence. The spines along their backs were vibrating at incredible speeds, \par
and all of the colors of the rainbow were generated in an aura around their \par
bodies, which in turn caused him to blank and fall unconscious."\par
\par
"Triple crazy," Dean commented.\par
\par
"So why haven't your men gone and killed the things? Don't you have a group of \par
sec men to enforce the peace?"\par
\par
"There is no government or police force here. People are trying to survive the \par
best way they know how, and we do so together. All is shared," Soto said.\par
\par
"But there are few willing to fight what many think to be a creature from hell, \par
Sefior Cawdor. I and Soto are the only two who will take up weapons," Jorge \par
said. "But we have little experience in such affairs."\par
\par
"And you think I do?"\par
\par
"Yes."\par
\par
"And all I have to base my decision on to help out is a yarn about a \par
blood-sucking demon and a pencil drawing of an overgrown bat. Not much to go \par
on."\par
\par
"Lover," Krysty interjected, "can I talk to you alone?"\par
\par
Ryan stood and Krysty followed. "We'll be right back," he said.\par
\par
Dean sat alone at the table with the two Puerto Rican men. "You guys ever hear \par
of a game called Cootie?" he asked.\par
\par
Outside the cafe, in the blinding hot sun, Krysty took Ryan's hand and squeezed \par
it, pulling him along to a patch of shade beside the brick exterior.\par
\par
"Sounds wild, doesn't it?" she said.\par
\par
"Not really. Compared to the shit we're used to wading into back in Deathlands, \par
a vampire goat demon is tame," Ryan replied. "They could be wrong, you know. Old \par
folktales dreamed up to explain a rash of deaths."\par
\par
"Yeah, but there's something in the telling. I don't think these guys are lying. \par
Whatever this chupaca-bras is, it has them scared," she said.\par
\par
"Guess Puerto Rico isn't such an island paradise after all."\par
\par
"Guess not. You going to help them?"\par
\par
"Mebbe. I want to get J.B.'s and Mildred's input on this. Doc's and Jak's too."\par
\par
' 'I say we should try and do what we can, within reason," Krysty said.\par
\par
"Why? Nothing in it for us. Could be an easy way of getting chilled, chasing \par
around an angry bloodsucker."\par
\par
"He mentioned children, Ryan," Krysty said firmly. "I won't have dead children \par
on my conscience."\par
\par
Chapter Ten\par
\par
By the time Ryan, Krysty and Dean returned to the fortress, night had fallen. \par
Retiring to their quarters after yet another spectacular meal courtesy of \par
Ja-maisvous, Ryan explained to the others about the encounter with Soto and \par
Jorge. All agreed to return to the streets of Old San Juan the next day, even \par
Doc, who had been told earlier by Jamaisvous that his assistance in the \par
mat-trans chamber wouldn't be needed for the next twenty-four hours.\par
\par
They had arrived to find Soto and Jorge at the site of their first meeting in \par
the two-story building with the beautiful back garden, where the story of El \par
Chu-pacabras was told again. Now, even more questions were being asked, not only \par
about murderous mutants that struck in the night, but also regarding Dr. Silas \par
Jamaisvous.\par
\par
"When Jamaisvous showed up, how did he end up staying in the fortress?"\par
\par
"Us locals, we had no interest in staying there. A cold and drafty fort made of \par
stone held little or no appeal. Only after the doctor arrived and figured out \par
how to reactivate the electricity did El Morro live again. It is said he has \par
unlimited power at his fin- gertips. One would wish him to share his bounty, but \par
he keeps all electrical energy within his own walls."\par
\par
"It's a wonder he hasn't been chilled."\par
\par
"A few hold grudges. This is why he employs guards. One or the other of them is \par
always at his side. Some men and women who have grown close to the doctor have \par
entered the fortress and never been seen in San Juan again."\par
\par
"Almost like he's some kind of slave owner or overseer. Surprised you put up \par
with it."\par
\par
"Puerto Rico has a history of being...overseen, Senor Ryan."\par
\par
"Going back to these chupacabras. Why the need for blood?" Mildred mused.\par
\par
"Mebbe they're some kind of offshoot of the Cornelius family," Ryan suggested, \par
referring to a bizarre sect of scientifically created "vampires" the group had \par
encountered in the Bayou country south of Lafayette. "They supposedly needed the \par
specific DNA in human blood to survive, at least, that's what they told us. I \par
never did quite get a good understanding of what drove their engines."\par
\par
"The concept of ingesting DNA through human blood to survive is ridiculous," \par
Mildred said. "And I agree with you, Ryan, there was more going on with those \par
poor bastards than met the eye. If I'd had more time and inclination, I might \par
have figured out what drove them after human blood so relentlessly. I don't \par
think it was just biological. I think they got some sick thrill out of playing \par
vampire."\par
\par
' 'While I scoff at the notion, one can find an his- torical precedent within a \par
supernatural context," Doc said in a tone of authority, his voice strong even as \par
he wiped at his overheated brow with his kerchief.\par
\par
Mildred rolled her eyes. "This I got to hear."\par
\par
Doc frowned, hefting his swordstick and pointing the tip at the dubious Mildred. \par
"You should cease and desist with the eye-popping and lip-smacking. Such \par
overblown exaggerated movements, Dr. Wyeth, make you look foolish, not I. Right \par
now, you put me in the mind of a poor pickaninny forced to perform in the \par
confines of an old minstrel show. I half expect you to break into an \par
arm-swinging tap dance in hopes of being thrown a penny."\par
\par
J.B. snickered before reassuming his usual poker face. "That tears it! I like \par
you better when you're a moron," Mildred said tiredly. "I'm amazed to hear \par
myself saying this, but you're less annoying when you don't have a brain in your \par
head!"\par
\par
"Come on, now, what's got into you, Millie?" J.B. said, reaching out a hand to \par
lightly brush the back of Mildred's plaited hair. "Ease up."\par
\par
The physician was having no soothing from her man, and she spun on one heel to \par
make an exit away from the men and into the house. "Supposedly people are dying \par
while we talk about evil spirits and freaks in vampire capes. I don't have to \par
stand around listening to this garbage. If I want to hear this crap, I can pull \par
out an endless supply of moldy old Stephen King novels."\par
\par
"Go ahead, Doc," Ryan said, sitting on one of the deep windowsills in the outer \par
wall of the home.\par
\par
The older man stuck a hand in one of the pockets of his coat and held the left \par
lapel with his other, assuming a more formal stance before picking up the \par
threads of his tale. "Blood, Ryan Cawdor, is the crimson elixir of the gods and \par
their followers. The mortal blood of man has always been a liquid offering of \par
significant value and importance to those who watch us from above...or below."\par
\par
"The gods have abandoned us, Doc Tanner," Jorge whispered. "That is one answer."\par
\par
"I don't believe that, and neither should you," Krysty said.\par
\par
Jorge drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Six months ago, a man riding \par
a bicycle came upon a single chupacabras at the side of a road. Fearing for his \par
life, he pulled a blaster-a 6-shot revolver- and fired at the monster. Six shots \par
were unleashed, and the monster was not harmed."\par
\par
"Mebbe he missed," Ryan suggested.\par
\par
Jorge gave him an annoyed look, then refigured his handsome face into a wan \par
smile. "At a distance of less than twenty feet, I can assure you I did not miss, \par
Senor Cawdor."\par
\par
"Okay, fair enough. What I don't understand is why you haven't done anything \par
about these muties sooner?" J.B. asked.\par
\par
"As I said before to Senor Cawdor, there had been no reason. Our livestock was \par
being attacked, but the occasional lost chicken or goat was an acceptable loss. \par
Grupo, he stayed up night after night, his weapon held between his legs as he \par
hid under a pile of straw and watched intently in his coop for the creature who \par
had been killing his poultry."\par
\par
"What happened?"\par
\par
"One night, Grupo found his murderer," Soto continued, "and fell prey to the \par
beast himself. His son found him the next morning, soon after sunrise, when he \par
ventured out to collect the morning eggs. Like the other animals, his father had \par
two puncture wounds on his neck. All of the blood had been drained from his \par
body."\par
\par
"Grupo was the first. Many now think the chu-pacabras had been content with the \par
blood of animals, until tasting the life fluid of man," Jorge added.\par
\par
"Uh-huh." Ryan grunted.\par
\par
"You do not believe me?"\par
\par
"Didn't say that. Seen enough in my time not to discount what anybody tells me, \par
till I check the situation out for myself. You want to tell me mutie fruit bats \par
or blood-sucking earthworms or even talking palm trees are running around Puerto \par
Rico and tearing up the neighborhood, fine. I'll take your word for it, but \par
still want to see some proof."\par
\par
"As do I," Mildred added, having rejoined the gathering.\par
\par
"Proof," the muscular man snorted, working his cheeks and coming up with a glob \par
of saliva to spit it disgustedly. "You want proof, visit the cemetery. Ask for \par
your proof from the recently departed dead."\par
\par
"Yes," Mildred said, stepping forward with a frown. "Let's do that."\par
\par
No MATTER HOW MUCH death she had been forced to witness in the dark future world \par
she'd been awakened from cryo sleep to find herself thrust into, Dr. Mildred \par
Wyeth had never been able to numb herself to the heartbreaking sight of a dead \par
child.\par
\par
She found the chosen site where the little girl had been placed in repose to be \par
one of infinite sadness, since in life, in another time, this very same \par
sanctuary would have been a place of learning and security for a child. Now, \par
alone as only the dead can be, the girl rested under a threadbare sheet on a \par
long wooden table, inert and eternally still. The upcoming funeral and burial \par
services were planned for the next day.\par
\par
Unlike many children, Mildred had never feared or dreaded going to school. The \par
locker-lined hallways of academia served as order against the chaos of her life, \par
and gave off light against the darkness of ignorance and fear. Born too late to \par
experience the insult of segregation, she'd always thought of school as her \par
second home, and after her father's brutal murder by Klansmen-an act in itself \par
an aberrant throwback of a hate crime that she'd never been able to fully erase \par
from her mind-Mildred had come to rely on the educational system more and more \par
as her primary residence as she grew older.\par
\par
"That Mildred...always got her nose in a book," one of her two aunts was always \par
saying, even after she'd graduated from high school and entered into college, \par
finding a new home and leaving behind the old shell. What would those very same \par
two aunts now have to say regarding her current life-style?\par
\par
Mildred sighed. These days, she was getting entirely too much in the way of \par
exercise, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd sat and read a good \par
novel from cover to cover.\par
\par
Besides, there were no more schools, except for the few private affairs such as \par
the Brody School where Ryan had sent Dean. Mildred turned away from the dead \par
girl and walked over to the boarded-up windows along the side of the classroom. \par
She peered out across the overgrown schoolyard at the remains of the playground. \par
She imagined the skeletal jungle gym out back hadn't been touched by innocent \par
hands in many years.\par
\par
Reaching down, she took the hand of the dead girl and was stunned to discover it \par
was still flexible. Rigor mortis hadn't begun to set in, even though the flesh \par
was cold.\par
\par
"How long did you say she has been dead?" she asked Soto.\par
\par
The short Puerto Rican managed to twist his face into an even more morose \par
expression. "Since three nights ago."\par
\par
Mildred frowned as she flexed the fingers of the child's hand with ease. "The \par
body...there's no stiffness."\par
\par
"I know. That is how we can always tell a true victim of the chupacabras. You \par
might wait a handful of days, and still little Rosa would not stiffen, her body \par
still limp even in death."\par
\par
Mildred frowned. "The blood," she said softly.\par
\par
"Que?"\par
\par
"The absence of rigor mortis must be related to the blood loss. Some sort of \par
secretion given off by the chupacabras during its...feeding." Mildred suddenly \par
felt completely helpless. "I could try and do an analysis, but without the \par
proper instruments and laboratory equipment, my hands are tied. Dammit."\par
\par
"Now do you believe?"\par
\par
"Let's just say I'm leaning closer to your side."\par
\par
"I'll accept that as a yes."\par
\par
"Why here? Why a school as a storage spot for a corpse?"\par
\par
"This is a safe place. Many live here."\par
\par
"No, what I meant was why keep her body in a school and not in a church?" the \par
woman demanded. She was by no means an expert, but she'd always understood most \par
Puerto Ricans to be both deeply religious and firmly Catholic. She knew many of \par
the social customs and mores had disappeared after the arrival of skydark, but \par
from what she'd observed of this community, the men and women still held the \par
concept of God close to their bosoms.\par
\par
Soto took off his battered straw hat and sheepishly ran his fingers through his \par
lank black hair. "The child...she is unholy," he said in a halting voice.\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"The chupacabras's bite has left her unclean. Any mourning will have to take \par
place outside the church."\par
\par
Mildred felt her posture tighten as she struggled to contain any outburst. "You \par
believe that crap? Evil or not, the chupacabras is definitely of this earth."\par
\par
"What I believe does not matter. The community believes, her own mother \par
believes, and their wishes override my own."\par
\par
Mildred continued her examination of the body. There were twin puncture marks at \par
the front of Rosa's fragile neck, on line with the jugular vein. The tiny wounds \par
were perfect, and almost seemed to have been cauterized. There was no evidence \par
of the usual tearing or mauling that the fangs of a normal predator would have \par
left behind in the child's flesh.\par
\par
"Enough. I need some air," the physician finally said, walking out of the \par
classroom, out of the school, and onto the playground.\par
\par
"You have examined the body." Jorge looked down at Mildred who sat and swayed in \par
an old metal child's swing.\par
\par
"I have."\par
\par
"And...?"\par
\par
"And I have to say there are oddities here I can't explain," Mildred admitted.\par
\par
"Such as the chupacabras's bite and the condition of the body."\par
\par
"That's right."\par
\par
"My ancestors, they also battled El Chupacabras," Jorge said easily. "Distant \par
relatives have told me the stories of those who came before, who shared my name \par
and blood."\par
\par
"Yet, these bastards didn't start giving you hell now until a few years ago."\par
\par
"That is true, yes."\par
\par
"Have you ever wondered what triggered their reappearance?"\par
\par
"There have been some terrible storms to sweep the island. Perhaps a door-a \par
passageway into our world-was blown open, allowing them access to Puerto Rico \par
once more."\par
\par
"And you want Ryan to lead an expedition to close this 'door.'"\par
\par
"Close it? I hope with his help to nail it shut and melt the hinges," Jorge \par
replied.\par
\par
"All we have is your word on what has been happening here."\par
\par
"My word is my word. Soto and me, we do not lie. Question others here in Old San \par
Juan. They will tell you."\par
\par
"Oh, I have. I talked with the one person I could get to speak to me. She \par
wouldn't even say the word chupacabras for fear of bringing one swooping down on \par
her head, but she had a high opinion of you. Not so much of Soto. She thinks he \par
is slightly mad."\par
\par
"Aren't we all, senorital Aren't we all?"\par
\par
THE GROUP OF SEVEN FRIENDS gathered that night in the back garden of El Morro, \par
standing and sitting among the lush flowers and bushes. The sky above San Juan \par
Bay was as clear as any the companions had ever seen before and the stars looked \par
down on them impassively, watching, waiting, their starlight having traveled for \par
millions of miles to this last point, burning in time for an eternity over their \par
heads.\par
\par
"There's no getting past what's been said and what's been shown to us. There are \par
some kind of mutie killers around here. Jamaisvous isn't worried. He's hiding up \par
here in his own little world, safe in a fortress. The native Puerto Ricans-the \par
ones still alive in the city and the villes around here-they aren't so lucky," \par
Ryan said.\par
\par
Krysty picked up the discussion. "Soto said the chupacabras started giving them \par
problems about six months after Silas Jamaisvous appeared out of nowhere. They \par
went to the new arrival to ask for help, since Jamaisvous had previously offered \par
food and supplies to any men wanting to work in exchange for assistance."\par
\par
"Assistance?" Mildred asked. "I must've missed that part."\par
\par
Ryan gave the woman a look of grim amusement. "He needed strong backs to do some \par
heavy lifting. Needed wags for transport. Ended up using some gas-powered trucks \par
and-"\par
\par
The sound of leisurely footsteps alerted them, and they turned their heads to \par
see Jamaisvous stepping down the small maze of steps and into the garden. He was \par
alone, although Ryan had spied movement farther up the walk, indicating that one \par
of the sec men who always seemed to dog the doctor's heels was close at hand if \par
needed. "Good evening, all."\par
\par
"Thanks for the fine meal," J.B. said. "Really appreciated it."\par
\par
"You are more than welcome, Mr. Dix," Jamaisvous replied, sipping from one of \par
the orange mugs of coffee. "Still, I couldn't help but overhear you talking as I \par
approached."\par
\par
"Eavesdropping, Silas?" Ryan asked easily.\par
\par
"If you are curious about my past, Ryan Cawdor, why don't you just ask?" the \par
elegantly dressed man replied. "I have tried to be as open and honest with you \par
as I know how."\par
\par
"Then consider this a request."\par
\par
"Very well, then. What would you like to know?"\par
\par
"Funny thing, Silas," Ryan said in a dry voice that indicated he didn't find a \par
single thing amusing about what he was going to say. "I've been here in Old San \par
Juan for three days now, and I can't seem to find any of the lucky bastards who \par
got to help you cart that mat trans out of the wilderness and into this stone \par
shell of a fortress."\par
\par
"I didn't know you were looking for any of the 'lucky bastards,' Mr. Cawdor."\par
\par
"I wasn't, really. Just making conversation with the locals. One of them said \par
the boys who gave you a hand vanished once you made this overblown tomb your \par
home."\par
\par
"Vanished? My, that is amusing. My legend continues to grow within the walls of \par
Old San Juan. Evil white man comes to the village. If you think for a moment, \par
I'm sure you'd become aware that most of the men who assisted me now live here \par
within El Morro's walls, serving as my gardeners or security force. And I did \par
not 'cart a mat trans.' I merely ab- sconded with a few key components and used \par
them in the modification of the gateway hidden here in the fortress."\par
\par
"Two gateways?" Dean asked, wrinkling his nose. "Weren't they pretty close \par
together?"\par
\par
"Not so unusual, my boy. The other one was used primarily for advanced \par
experiments in time trawling-a prototype facility. The gateway located here in \par
El Morro was for nothing more than quick transportation. Obviously, despite its \par
formidable exterior and historical reputation, El Morro is no hidden redoubt or \par
modern military installation."\par
\par
"Seems like a stupe move, and you don't strike me as a stupe," Ryan noted. "Why \par
not just stay in the redoubt?"\par
\par
"If fate had been more kind, I would have. However, once I had come out of cryo \par
sleep, I discovered the true reason my hibernation had been interrupted, and it \par
had nothing to do with a faulty timer. The nuclear generator at the lowest level \par
was beginning to malfunction, causing power fluctuations to spike and burn out \par
all through the facility."\par
\par
Ryan caught Mildred's eye. The woman gave an almost imperceptible shrug. The \par
story did appear to be truthful, at least on the surface.\par
\par
"Since my reaction to this bleak world after nuclear exchange was the same as \par
your own Dr. Tanner's, I decided after research to make the attempt to go back \par
in time before the conflict. Since Puerto Rico seemed to be a chosen spot for \par
advanced trawling attempts-or rather, it would have been had war not broken out \par
when it did-why not take advantage? To do so, I needed to utilize a \par
matter-transfer device for my experiments. However, I needed a steady source of \par
power I could rely on without interruption. I did attempt a few transports while \par
housed in the redoubt and all of them ended badly from a lack of necessary \par
energy."\par
\par
"You look okay to me."\par
\par
Jamaisvous grinned. "I was not fool enough to climb inside the gateway myself. I \par
used objects. Sent them out and brought them back. The drain of power required \par
to activate the mat-trans unit was too much for the weakened nuclear generator, \par
so I had to stop. Within a month's time, I realized another solution would be \par
needed. Knowing of the second gateway, I decided to avail myself of it."\par
\par
"But, how?" Ryan pressed. "How did you know?"\par
\par
"Know what?"\par
\par
"About the second mat-trans unit? How did you know it was in El Morro? Why even \par
suspect Puerto Rico to have more than one? Like Dean said, two in close \par
proximity is unusual."\par
\par
Jamaisvous frowned, as if annoyed by the question. Finally he said, "When my own \par
cryogenic chamber malfunctioned and I was brought out of cryo sleep, I was \par
afraid, perplexed. The redoubt I found myself in was like nothing I had ever \par
seen before, especially once I realized some of my own theories regarding matter \par
transfer were in fact in use. I had no concept of shadowy government groups be- \par
yond what I'd read in fiction or saw on television. The late nineties were a \par
hotbed of stories for conspiracy buffs."\par
\par
"So how do you know so much?" Mildred asked.\par
\par
"Luckily, Dr. Wyeth, when I awoke, my mind was intact. Unlike yourself, there \par
was no one waiting to assist in my adjustment. Still, I was and am, an \par
intelligent man. I read, and in my research of the redoubt, I discovered many \par
secrets within that cavernous hole. The curious case of Dr. Theophilus Algernon \par
Tanner, for one. Secret codes, for another, which allowed me to travel from one \par
sealed sector to another. And also, I discovered the existence of a second \par
mat-trans unit-one close at hand, since I also read about my current home."\par
\par
"You've been in other redoubts?" Krysty asked.\par
\par
"Briefly, yes. I didn't linger."\par
\par
"Well, I've been hi more redoubts than I can count on my fingers and toes, and \par
none had a book of operating instructions lying on the floor," Ryan said. "Seems \par
standard operating procedure called for carting out all sensitive data, and if \par
it couldn't be taken out manually, it was destroyed on the premises."\par
\par
Jamaisvous sighed. "Not here, Ryan. Not in the Puerto Rican redoubt. Here, files \par
remained, and a most fascinating compact disc listing gateways and their \par
locations, at least, all of the ones in the former United States and its close, \par
personal allies."\par
\par
Ryan dwelled on the implications of what Jamais- vous was saying. Such a guide \par
book could prove invaluable, allowing quick transport across the globe.\par
\par
"Now, if you have any other concerns, please relate them."\par
\par
"You know anything about these goatsuckers that have been killing off livestock \par
down in Old San Juan?"\par
\par
Jamaisvous gave Ryan a look of amused disbelief. "You must be kidding me. The \par
chupacabras myth? Legend, Ryan. The Puerto Ricans have been bothered by these \par
blood-sucking monsters for years. Goats. Sheep. Pigs. Any and all small animals \par
that end up dead under mysterious circumstances get blamed on the bad \par
chupacabras."\par
\par
"More than some goats these days. They've started going for people."\par
\par
"People?"\par
\par
"It's true," Mildred said. "I've seen one of the bodies myself. Little girl."\par
\par
"I am sorry to hear of any loss of life, but what can I hope to do?"\par
\par
"Something's out there killing people," Ryan said. "Since there seems to be a \par
lack of experienced sec men in Old San Juan, or even men who know which is the \par
proper business end of a blaster, I agreed to look into this matter at least. \par
However, my signing on didn't mean the rest of you have to follow suit. This \par
isn't anything to do with us-at least, not at this point."\par
\par
"I go where you go, Dad," Dean said.\par
\par
"Me too. I'm already climbing the walls of this gussied-up mausoleum. You know I \par
hate standing still," J.B. added.\par
\par
"Me, too, lover," Krysty added.\par
\par
"I go. Something do," Jak said. "Get bored here."\par
\par
Doc had been looking hesitant, but apparently came to a decision. "Ryan, I...I \par
fear I must decline. I am needed to assist Dr. Jamaisvous in some delicate \par
procedures."\par
\par
"No need to apologize, Doc. You've got your own road to follow."\par
\par
"I also have a request," their host said. "I wish Dr. Wyeth to remain behind as \par
well. According to Dr. Tanner, she also has a practical working theory of the \par
mat-trans gateways. Plus, an experienced third hand could prove useful in \par
reaching our eventual goal."\par
\par
"How about it, Mildred?" Ryan asked. "You want to hang back?"\par
\par
The woman thought about it for a moment before replying. "I suppose. If it'll \par
help Doc."\par
\par
"Your presence will be invaluable," Jamaisvous said.\par
\par
"Okay, looks like it's a trio," she said.\par
\par
"Tell you what, Silas. Since you're taking two of my people, how about loaning \par
me some of your sec crew in exchange?" Ryan asked.\par
\par
Although he didn't look pleased at the notion, Jamaisvous nodded curtly. "I can \par
spare an extra set of hands, but only one. If this creature is indeed developing \par
a taste for human blood, we shall need to be vigilant. El Morro is quite \par
large-in this case, a minus rather than a plus. Luis will accompany you."\par
\par
"Good." Ryan looked over the group of friends. "And I am sure the others in Old \par
San Juan will see it as a neighborly gesture."\par
\par
"When are you leaving?"\par
\par
"Tomorrow, midday."\par
\par
"I shall inform him of his new assignment. Our stores here are limited when it \par
comes to weaponry, but please take along extra ammunition and any other survival \par
supplies you think you might need. Where are you starting the hunt?"\par
\par
"Don't know yet. Soto said he'd show us the way to where he thinks a nest of \par
chupacabras might be hiding."\par
\par
"Then, I will bid all of you a good-night. Dr. Tanner, if you want, we can \par
discuss my plans for you in greater detail in the morning."\par
\par
"I am looking forward to it. I shall see you at breakfast."\par
\par
Jamaisvous strolled out the way he came.\par
\par
"Still don't trust that bastard. Be on guard, Mildred. Especially for Doc."\par
\par
"Of course, Ryan."\par
\par
"All right. Dean, you'll stay with Doc and Mildred-"\par
\par
"The hell I will!" Dean exclaimed.\par
\par
Ryan's face fell into a stoic frown and he gave his only son a cold glare.\par
\par
"What did you say to me, boy?" Ryan said in his quietest tone of voice.\par
\par
Dean knew that tone. Feeling the contents of his stomach turn to stone, the boy \par
stood his ground and repeated himself, only without voicing the annoyance or \par
anger in the reply.\par
\par
"I said, 'the hell I will.'"\par
\par
"That's what I thought I heard. What makes you think you have a choice in the \par
matter?'' Ryan asked.\par
\par
Dean continued to stand his ground. "I'm tired of getting left behind. I can \par
protect myself."\par
\par
"Yes, you showed keen judgment back in Freedom," Ryan retorted. Dean didn't look \par
pleased at being reminded of how he'd ended up as a bargaining chip for the \par
flamboyant Beck Morgan, who'd been serving as the mall's baron in charge. Morgan \par
had snatched the opportunity of Dean's being incarcerated to force Ryan and the \par
others to serve as sec men, supplementing his own weak task force.\par
\par
"Not his fault. Was mine," Jak said simply. "Dean backed play. Caught us both. \par
Baron let me go work while kept him. Knew you'd feel stronger about kin."\par
\par
"I would have done the same for either of you," Ryan replied.\par
\par
"Yeah, but baron didn't know."\par
\par
"True. All right, then. Mildred, looks like you and Doc are on your own here \par
with Silas. Dean's coming along. And Doc, there's more here than meets the \par
eye... Don't know much about that man. He wants your help, but mebbe what he \par
wants is to make some use of you. Use that could leave you worse off."\par
\par
"Thank you, my friend," Doc answered, and lifted a hand in farewell as they \par
moved off. His mind kept repeating Ryan's words like a mantra, "Make some use of \par
you... worse off," a mantra that sent his thoughts tunneling back through \par
time....\par
\par
Maryland, Virginia Redoubt, 1999\par
\par
CHAN HAD SEEMED unsurprised when he glanced up and greeted Doc, until he had a \par
delayed reaction with a shocked double take.\par
\par
"Greetings and salutations, Chan, my boy," Doc replied easily, stepping closer \par
to the seated man. "I see they still keep you on the night shift."\par
\par
His approach sent Chan skittering to his feet. The small man nearly lost his \par
footing as the wheeled chair he'd been sitting in rolled away from the desk. \par
Striving to regain his composure, he gasped out, "Wh-what are you doing here?"\par
\par
Doc made a waving "bye-bye" motion with his right hand. "Leaving, I hope."\par
\par
Chan frowned, taking in what Doc was wearing. "Aw, shit, Doc. Where did you get \par
the sec gear?"\par
\par
"I liberated it, just as I plan to liberate myself."\par
\par
"Not again. You can't be serious."\par
\par
"I am deadly serious," Doc replied flatly, all humor and warmth erased from his \par
voice as he stepped closer to the technician's workstation. "Now, I am hoping \par
you will just pretend I am not here while I borrow your keyboard to access this \par
computer and make a few entries and corrections into Operation Chronos's \par
temporal guidance array."\par
\par
"You want to make a chron-jump, Doc? That takes time."\par
\par
"Time? Do not speak to me of time, you twit!" Doc said with a sneer, suddenly \par
losing all patience. "What I have no 'time' for is useless debate!"\par
\par
"I can't let you do this," Chan replied as he scooted over to the panic button \par
mounted on the far wall of the control room. Such buttons were mounted in \par
flip-top Plexiglas boxes and scattered throughout the redoubt in case of \par
emergency. "There's no telling what you might screw up. Besides, you haven't \par
been prepared."\par
\par
"None of us have been prepared," Doc replied. ' 'I sure as hell was not prepared \par
when I was sucked up into your little science project."\par
\par
Doc had hoped Chan wouldn't push it to the limit, but knew now he had no choice \par
but to pull the Clock pistol from where he'd hidden it behind his back in the \par
waistband of his trousers under the white sec-man cloak. He shakily raised the \par
weapon and pointed it. While he was familiar with handguns, the more destructive \par
and powerful guns of this future age left him a bit breathless, especially since \par
this was the first time he'd actually threatened a fellow human being with such \par
a weapon.\par
\par
"Please, Chan. I beg of you. Let me be. This is my risk and my risk alone."\par
\par
"I can't, Doc. You know I can't," the man replied. "Just like I know you can't \par
use that gun. You're not a killer, and the sound of the shot will bring \par
everybody running."\par
\par
"Logic, Chan?" Doc asked.\par
\par
"And emotion," Chan replied. "An unbeatable combination."\par
\par
"This gun could be silenced," Doc pointed out, seeing Chan's face fall for a \par
millisecond as the possibility ran through the man's mind.\par
\par
"Why?"\par
\par
"Why indeed?"\par
\par
"Put it down, Doc. This attempt, it's suicide."\par
\par
"Well, I had to try," Doc replied mildly, letting his shoulders slump and \par
assuming the air of a beaten man before coiling every muscle and springing \par
forward, plowing bodily into Chan and crushing him against the wall before \par
grabbing the technician's clothing and pulling him in a sprawl to the lab floor. \par
Having abandoned using the gun, Doc managed to maneuver himself on top of the \par
younger man and he pressed his advantage as best he could, covering his \par
struggling adversary's nose and mouth with one hand while trying to maintain his \par
balance with the other.\par
\par
"Ow-damnation, boy!" Doc bellowed as Chan bit down on the fleshy inside of his \par
unprotected hand. Doc pulled away the injured limb, slinging drops of blood from \par
the bite. His mouth and nose free, Chan sucked in a needed gasp of ah- before \par
lunging up and confronting Doc once more. Bending upright as best he could at \par
the waist with Doc's weight on top of him, Chan looked him in the face.\par
\par
"You tried to kill me!" the Asian accused.\par
\par
"No, I did not!" Doc protested. "I just tried to render you unconscious. If I \par
wanted you dead, you would be shot, you idiot! Get it through your mind, son! I \par
am a desperate man!"\par
\par
Chan lowered himself back on his elbows, sighed, and then sprang up a second \par
time, managing to lean forward even farther and whack his foe bluntly in the \par
nose with his forehead. He was rewarded with a cracking noise as Doc cried out \par
in pain a second time. Taken by surprise at Chan's ferocity, Doc slid sideways, \par
staggered by the head butt.\par
\par
Chan wasn't in much better physical shape than Doc, but he was more of a natural \par
brawler. The advantage Doc held over the technician was his desperation. He knew \par
if he didn't succeed in this second attempt to go back home, undoubtedly it \par
would be his last time unaccompanied into a mat-trans chamber.\par
\par
Doc swung a punch with his right fist and caught Chan full in the jaw, causing \par
both of them to cry out in agony from the pain of the blow.\par
\par
"Shit, Doc!" the smaller man hissed, a trickle of blood pouring from his mouth \par
where the older man's desperate blow had loosened two of his teeth.\par
\par
"I do believe I have broken one of my fingers," Doc replied mildly, flexing his \par
hand even as he prepared to swing another punch with his left.\par
\par
The second blow caught Chan in the upper part of the face, above the nose and \par
around the forehead. He fell and landed flat on his back on the floor. Finally, \par
to Doc's relief, the man was unconscious. Doc's hands were singing a duet of \par
pain as he sat at the computer, activating the operating software that was \par
linked with the time-trawl hardware. The only sounds in the room beyond his own \par
two-fingered typing were the usual ambient noise of the computers and a raspy \par
breathing from Chan.\par
\par
Then, an alarm Klaxon went off, screamingly loud and disruptive. A metallic \par
voice said, "Warning! Intruder alert within the matter-transfer control room."\par
\par
Doc knew the pair of scientists couldn't have returned from their break so soon, \par
and Allan's unconscious body was hopefully still slumbering in his bed, the \par
covers pulled high...so what had tipped them off? Doc looked up, craning his \par
long neck and pointing his chin skyward, and saw the sec camera staring down at \par
him, a small red activation light winking on and off.\par
\par
At some point during his fight with Chan, the overhead video camera had seen the \par
straggle.\par
\par
Doc supposed he should be glad for his keepers and their lack of subtlety. If \par
they hadn't hit the alarm, he wouldn't have heard them coming in time to try to \par
make a stand.\par
\par
He picked up the chair he'd been sitting in and ran over to the control keypad \par
for the vanadium steel security door to the room, swinging up the solid metal \par
legs in a sideways arc and smashing the plastic casing. The liquid crystal \par
display went blank, and there was a smattering of white sparks from the inside \par
wiring of the number keys.\par
\par
Having retrieved the Glock, Doc fired a series of bullets into the door's \par
mechanism as well. The pistol had a slight kick, but he had braced himself \par
instinc- tively before pulling the trigger. The gunshots were horrendously loud \par
in the confined area of the control room, but when combined with the shrieking \par
of the alarm, they seemed inconsequential.\par
\par
Rolling the chair to the computer, he sat back down and began to type even \par
faster, hoping in his haste he wouldn't make a mistake. Recalling the commands \par
from his scholar's trained memory, which had observed, organized and stored away \par
during previous stints watching and learning in the mat-trans rooms, he was able \par
to bring up the proper entry screen for the time-trawl settings on the computer \par
monitor.\par
\par
Sweating now from the exertion and nerves and the double layer of clothing he \par
wore, his brow glistening with perspiration, Doc typed in the destination date \par
as that November day of 1896, along with the exact moment the "eye of God" \par
appeared in the sky before his daughter. While Doc might not have been certain \par
of the precise second, all of the essential information regarding bis trawl was \par
already stored in the computer's data banks, and as such he was able to time his \par
planned reentry as best he could to the very instant he was first sucked away. \par
In essence, he was attempting to superimpose himself upon the scene.\par
\par
The date in place, Doc closed down the time-trawl data banks, retaining the \par
translation code the computer had offered that he would need to program by hand \par
for his destination when he entered the gateway site itself. The code was more \par
complex than the ones he'd seen for using the gateways to travel from one \par
location to another. He imagined that extending the process to include the \par
opening up of a temporal doorway accounted for the extra series of numerals.\par
\par
The intercom speakers crackled into life a second time, struggling valiantly to \par
be overheard against the whooping of the alarm. ' 'Tanner, this is Welles. Halt \par
what you are doing immediately and open the control-room door or there will be \par
terminal repercussions. If we have to blast our way inside, we might damage the \par
gateway controls, and if that happens, you won't ever be able to go back."\par
\par
Doc ignored the voice. "Lies," he murmured to himself. "All lies."\par
\par
He raced into the anteroom between the armaglass gateway and the control room, \par
stripping off the security uniform. He held the pistol he'd taken from Allan out \par
from his body for a second, pondering whether to take it along or not, and \par
finally thrust it down into the front of his trousers and belt, hoping the \par
weapon's safety would stay in place and he wouldn't be blowing off the Tanner \par
family jewels.\par
\par
Pausing before the gateway keypad, Doc tapped in the needed code, bringing it up \par
from where he'd stored it in his short-term memory and taking grim confidence in \par
knowing he'd remembered the sequence perfectly. The small display on the control \par
pad of the gateway blinked twice after he thumbed the enter key and began \par
counting down. Doc looked away, knowing time was short, and lifted the rubber \par
and metal handle of the heavy armaglass gate to the six-sided chamber.\par
\par
The door swung open easily and he stepped inside, pulling it closed behind him.\par
\par
The curtain of mists fell down like water through a drain, swirling, twirling, \par
growing thicker and whiter, obliterating all sight and sound. There was a queer \par
sensation of being pressed upon with a giant hand, and his ears popped as if \par
he'd made the transition from a higher to a lower altitude. Doc tried to speak, \par
but couldn't. The last thing he remembered before falling into unconsciousness \par
was how the metal plates on the floor of the chamber felt hot against his cheek, \par
while the other side of his face was as cold as freshly fallen snow.\par
\par
Doc AWAKENED to find he was inside another chamber. The code had proved wrong. \par
He hadn't gone back in time, but instead had been shuttled down the line to \par
another one of the multitude of gateways that dotted the United States as part \par
of the project.\par
\par
"Fuck!" he screamed, and Doc's current state of mind could be easily guessed by \par
the usage of the vulgarity. The curse was one of the few he rarely, if ever, \par
used, but none other seemed to sum up his situation as perfectly. "Fuck! Fuck! \par
Fuck!"\par
\par
Then he realized the color of the walls were exactly the same shade as the ones \par
he'd just departed. Yet, he'd been told no two gateways were alike and all had \par
different colors of armaglass. Rather than number them, one of the design \par
engineers had hit upon using colors as a security measure. If someone \par
transported into a chamber and didn't know the location from the color, the jump \par
would be quickly recognized as unauthorized.\par
\par
Doc realized he hadn't even left. He was still on the floor where he'd started \par
from, and the stolen pistol was cutting into his stomach something fierce.\par
\par
The door of the hexagonal chamber swung open and there stood a squad of the \par
security men, a frowning Allan among them.\par
\par
"Dr. Tanner, consider yourself under arrest," one of the men announced.\par
\par
A hundred retorts went through Tanner's mind, ranging from "On what grounds?" to \par
"I would rather be under arrest than under attack." He used none of these.\par
\par
"Fuck," Doc said again, raising his hands.\par
\par
Then, Welles pushed his way through. "You're finished, Tanner."\par
\par
"Nonsense. I barely got started before ending up back here in your charming \par
company."\par
\par
"We rerouted your signal," Welles revealed. "Chan was able to stagger up and do \par
a bounce back on the chronal-nav guidance computer. You went one way, hit a \par
wall, came screeching back. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars."\par
\par
"So, my computation and calculations were correct."\par
\par
"Yes. Still, you couldn't wait, could you? We trust you and this is the result. \par
I ought to have you shot where you stand."\par
\par
"You would not dare. I am too important to your little project."\par
\par
Welles stroked his double chin. "For now, Tanner. For now."\par
\par
Chapter Eleven\par
\par
"Why here?" Mildred asked. She was taking in the tropical breeze from the open \par
balcony and enjoying the feel of the ah" on her bare shoulders and neck. She was \par
dressed in a midnight-blue summer dress with white collar and trim, a scavenged \par
piece of attire Jamaisvous had obtained for her from one of the boutiques still \par
intact in Old San Juan. She had refused the gift at first, but then decided she \par
was being silly, and why not spend a day feeling feminine?\par
\par
She was surprised to find Jamaisvous alone. Doc was nowhere in sight.\par
\par
"Why here?" Mildred asked a second time, turning to face Jamaisvous.\par
\par
"Why not?"\par
\par
"Rude to answer a question with a question."\par
\par
"Then I will attempt a compliment. You look most beautiful, Dr. Wyeth."\par
\par
Even though Mildred knew she was being hosed, she returned his smile. Her own \par
lover rarely tossed out such commonplace courtesies and compliments. Manners, \par
like so many other social niceties, had gone the way of the nukecaust. While the \par
woman knew she never would have been confused for Emily Post, by the very nature \par
of her former positions as re- searcher, physician and Olympic champion she knew \par
her way around a cocktail party or formal dinner.\par
\par
Then, there were occasions she missed getting dressed up for a night of \par
entertainment as opposed to trekking through a world that was not only \par
consistently crude and inelegant but also held an inexhaustible stock of nasty \par
surprises for them.\par
\par
Dressing up and dining out. Too bad the man sitting across from her wasn't J. B. \par
Not that the Armorer would have been enjoying himself. For all of his talents, \par
he wasn't a man for casual finery or amusement. To a woman who had once lived in \par
the late span of the twentieth century, the Armorer could seem almost \par
supernaturally cool and dispassionate.\par
\par
Still, Mildred mused, while J.B. was predictable, he was usually predictable in \par
all the right ways.\par
\par
Jamaisvous, on the other hand, was still an unknown commodity. Charming, \par
handsome, silver-tongued, and like herself, intelligent, he seemed to be more \par
the type a woman like herself should be attracted to.\par
\par
So, why didn't Mildred trust him?\par
\par
"I said, would you like some more wine?" Jamaisvous asked, snapping Mildred out \par
of her reverie. He held up the bottle from the silver ice bucket and presented \par
it to her.\par
\par
Mildred held out her empty glass. "Pour."\par
\par
Jamaisvous did so with a flourish of the wrist.\par
\par
' 'I always thought you government types preferred a cold, sterile environment," \par
Mildred remarked, stretching like a lazy cat in the island heat. The bal- cony \par
offered up a spectacular view of the ocean, and the warm sea breeze blowing \par
across her body was most comforting.\par
\par
Jamaisvous leaned on his arm and watched her as he spoke. "Really, Dr. Wyeth, I \par
was hoping for some time away from talking shop. That was one reason why I left \par
Dr. Tanner to his own devices for brunch."\par
\par
"Sorry, the subject just came to mind."\par
\par
"What you really mean is why did 'they' choose Puerto Rico as a site for \par
Operation Chronos's trawling experiments?"\par
\par
Mildred turned back to face him. "Yes," she replied directly.\par
\par
Jamaisvous paused, the wind whipping through and tousling his graying hair, then \par
idly checked the backs of his hands, holding them out, extended from the front \par
of his body. "Would you believe the group wanted to work on their tans?" he \par
asked, deadpan.\par
\par
Mildred couldn't help herself. She had to chuckle. "No."\par
\par
"I didn't think so."\par
\par
The phrasing, the joking-Jamaisvous's speech patterns were unlike any of those \par
she'd heard since coming back to life in Deathlands, and after some thought, \par
she'd understood why. Of course they weren't unfamiliar to her since he was also \par
a freezie. His speech, the teasing sarcasm, the timbre of his voice, the predark \par
slang he used-it was all very comforting.\par
\par
While making her uneasy as hell.\par
\par
"You have a most fascinating voice," she said, forthright and boldly.\par
\par
Jamaisvous looked up from his omelette with a quizzical expression. "Is there \par
something wrong with the way I speak?"\par
\par
"Exactly the opposite. I like listening to you talk."\par
\par
"Thanks."\par
\par
"Don't mention it...and you never answered my question."\par
\par
"Of course I did. The possibility of their working on their tans. I asked if you \par
would believe such a statement."\par
\par
"No, Silas. I wouldn't," Mildred said.\par
\par
"I thought not. The project is long dead. Why concern yourself with trivial \par
matters now?"\par
\par
"Nothing involving the Totality Concept ever dies. At least, that's been my \par
experience," Mildred said, a tinge of unease in her voice.\par
\par
"In this instance, you are incorrect. What does it matter why they chose to set \par
up here?"\par
\par
"It matters to me."\par
\par
"They had their reasons. Just as you do."\par
\par
"What are you talking about?"\par
\par
"Like you and Dr. Tanner, two members of the merry marching Cawdor band that \par
seem totally out of place. The intense redhead, the skinny one with the glasses, \par
the bloodless albino teen-even the Caw-dor boy. They're of a kind with Ryan, \par
those four. Not much of what you or I think of as being civilized among them. \par
Stand all of you against a wall and ask even the youngest child to pick the two \par
who weren't quite the same and the success rate would be most high."\par
\par
"No, they're not civilized, if by that you mean urbane. And yes, any child could \par
pick out Doc and me-because he's an oldie and I'm the only black," Mildred \par
retorted hotly.\par
\par
"Oh, please, that's not what I meant at all. Don't twist my words to bring up \par
your unwarranted ire," Jamaisvous replied, holding up a hand to still Mildred's \par
burst of anger. "You and Doc Tanner are the only two members of the group with \par
something on the ball beyond innate cunning and alpha-male dominance. I think \par
your former places in time have something to do with that. We don't belong here, \par
Dr. Wy-eth. We're all lost."\par
\par
"Not me. And watch what you say about the skinny one with glasses."\par
\par
"He means something to you, this Dix?"\par
\par
"He does."\par
\par
"Could have fooled me. Where's the affection, Dr. Wyeth? The secret smiles, the \par
holding of hands... from my observation, limited as it might be, he treats you \par
as one of his fellows."\par
\par
"And what's wrong with that?"\par
\par
"Well, for one thing, if you were my companion, I'd treat you with the attention \par
and care a woman such as yourself deserves. Like I'm doing now. Good food. Nice \par
clothes. Intelligent conversation."\par
\par
"Look, Silas," Mildred began, "fine wines and new clothes aren't the only things \par
a woman is seeking in a mate."\par
\par
"I know, but aren't they a nice bonus?"\par
\par
Their eyes met for a second, and then each turned attention to the meal. No \par
words were spoken for a series of lengthy moments, until Doc Tanner stumbled up \par
and announced himself.\par
\par
' 'I say, I had wondered where the two of you had gotten off to," he remarked. \par
"Are those scrambled eggs I smell?"\par
\par
Mildred bit back a giggle. "Why don't you join us, Doc?"\par
\par
"A splendid suggestion." Doc slid back one of the two unoccupied chairs and \par
began to serve himself from the covered tray of eggs and potatoes.\par
\par
"Well, you wanted us to stay and assist you- we're doing so. Now it's time for \par
you to come clean and explain why to me. Are you serious about trying to trawl \par
yourself home?"\par
\par
"I am. And my dear Dr. Wyeth, Puerto Rico has long been a site of the most \par
infinite possibilities. What I find amusing is that even in this far-flung age, \par
decades upon decades after the final nuclear conflagration, this tiny island \par
remains as unstable as it was in the 1990s."\par
\par
Mildred's brow furrowed. "Unstable in what way?"\par
\par
"Electromagnetically, of course," Jamaisvous said. "And Puerto Rico is on the \par
edge of one of the great mysteries of life, the Bermuda Triangle."\par
\par
"Of course!" Doc agreed in between bites of a piece of toast smeared with jam.\par
\par
"An electromagnetic field covers the world like a blanket," Jamaisvous \par
continued. "When combined with gravitational forces, we have the status for our \par
little network of matter-transfer gateways. When the mat-trans units are focused \par
on the grids of ley lines currently crossing the globe, we tap into the very \par
molten power of Mother Earth herself for transport, and our earth parent is a \par
most powerful entity indeed."\par
\par
Although she didn't attest to it, Mildred knew Jamaisvous was correct. She'd \par
seen the power of Gaia harnessed before in the form of Krysty Wroth, power that \par
made the woman seem to glow with an inner energy-an energy that gave her \par
terrific speed and strength. Krysty once described the sensation to Mildred as \par
sinking down into a thick whirlpool of heated molten goo, all-encompassing, \par
all-comforting. While your own movements were unencumbered by the substance, the \par
world around you seemed to fall into bizarre slow motion. What to her seemed to \par
be nothing more than a casually launched counterattack against a foe. appeared \par
to others as a blur of destructive power and force.\par
\par
Mildred had seen Krysty rip off a man's arms as easily as she might break a \par
twig. Back in Kings Bay, Georgia, at the naval base of Admiral Poseidon, while \par
under the influence of the Gaia force, one well-placed kick had sent a man's \par
head flying up, tearing away from his shoulders and spinal column like a punted \par
football.\par
\par
"Such forces aren't easily controlled," Mildred remarked.\par
\par
"I don't understand why you weren't brought here, Dr. Tanner," Jamaisvous mused. \par
"In my reading, this site appears to have been a nexus point for advanced \par
chron-jumping. Instead of devoting such a large part of their time and funding \par
to waging war, their undivided attention and Herculean efforts should have been \par
focused on time trawling."\par
\par
"Too late now," Mildred said and took a bite of toast.\par
\par
"Actually it isn't. Such is the joy of having access to time travel. If it \par
works, one can always go back to put a fix in, right?"\par
\par
Doc and Mildred exchanged concerned looks.\par
\par
"Pass the salt," Doc said.\par
\par
Chapter Twelve\par
\par
According to the legends, the lair of El chupacabras was supposed to be farther \par
up the island, somewhere within the dank boundaries of the El Yunque Rain \par
Forest.\par
\par
"How far out to El Yunque Mountain?" Krysty asked, shielding her eyes and \par
straining to see farther ahead on the road.\par
\par
"From San Juan? Thirty miles or so. The road is still good in most places with \par
the right transportation, and travel by day is relatively safe from attack," \par
Jorge noted.\par
\par
"Attack by whom?" J.B. asked.\par
\par
Jorge looked at him as if he were dim-witted. "The chupacabras, of course. No \par
sane man can be found out in the open once the sun goes down."\par
\par
"Thirty miles is a long way to walk," Ryan stated. "Take at least two days' \par
travel time on foot."\par
\par
"Makes my feet hurt just to think about it," Dean added.\par
\par
"Well, I'm sure as hell not walking all the way out to El Yunque," Luis \par
muttered, obviously not happy to have been taken from the El Morro fortress and \par
assigned to Ryan's group. The sec man was standing in a patch of shade beneath \par
the overhang of an old two-car garage next to the ruin of a house.\par
\par
"You said the road is still good with the right transportation. You got a wag?" \par
Ryan asked the two Puerto Ricans.\par
\par
"Better than that, I have two wags," Soto said with a flourish, and the portly \par
man was proved correct when Jorge stepped past Luis and rolled up the garage \par
doors to reveal two well-used, but operational Jeeps. Unlike some of the armored \par
tanklike vehicles Ryan and the others had used for transportation before, these \par
were stripped down little runabouts, both convertibles with roll-up canvas tops \par
in case of inclement weather.\par
\par
Soto rode with Ryan, Krysty and Dean, and J.B., Jak and Luis joined Jorge. Some \par
dull red jugs of crude gasoline provided full tanks of fuel. For a sixty-mile \par
trip, not much gas would be needed. Progress out of Old San Juan and into the \par
newer part of the city was slow, but soon became easier once they turned onto \par
the open highway going northward.\par
\par
The heat was heavy, drenching the group in sweat, and a long two hours passed, \par
with stops to move debris from the roadway.\par
\par
"We're making good time," Soto said, turning to speak to Ryan and Krysty once \par
the odometer revealed they had gone past the twenty-five-mile mark.\par
\par
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the steering wheel of the Jeep \par
twisted out of his hands. One of the front tires of the lead transport burst in \par
an explosion, bringing the agile little vehicle to a sliding stop, angled across \par
the road. Luis had been driving the second wag and was able to hit the brakes, \par
stopping quickly enough to avoid a collision.\par
\par
"What've we got?" J.B. grunted, stepping up to the first Jeep.\par
\par
"Flat," Soto said, getting up from his knees where he'd been looking at the \par
tire.\par
\par
"Is there a spare?" Ryan asked.\par
\par
"No. No spares for either vehicle."\par
\par
"How about a jack?" Dean asked.\par
\par
"That we have," Jorge replied. "In the second Jeep, bolted underneath the back \par
axle."\par
\par
"Then we need to go ahead and take a tire off the wag with the bum leg so we \par
have a backup for the working Jeep," Ryan said, pointing at the back of the \par
first vehicle. "Guess we're going to have to ride double the rest of the way. \par
How long to swap tires, J.B.?"\par
\par
"Since we're just taking one off and not having to put on new ones, Jak and I \par
can probably have us a spare hi ten minutes."\par
\par
"Do it."\par
\par
THE SUN WAS PAST the height of noon in the sky, but the temperature was still as \par
hot as could be expected in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, soon after the spare \par
tire had been obtained, a misty rain had begun to fall. The lone Jeep buzzed \par
along on the two lanes of elderly paved blacktop, overcrowded and uncovered to \par
the elements.\par
\par
Still, even with the rain, a few hours of daylight remained when Ryan tapped \par
Jorge on the shoulder.\par
\par
"Que?"\par
\par
"We camp here," Ryan said, using a finger to point at a clearing to the left of \par
the cracked black highway. A frame of a former roadside attraction was at the \par
back of the pull-off area, but whatever message or offering it promised had long \par
vanished to the elements. El Yunque Mountain loomed ahead of the Jeep in the \par
distance. Leaning forward to the driver's side, Ryan added, "Stop the Jeep up \par
there under those trees, J.B., next to where the guardrail ends."\par
\par
"Right," the Armorer replied as he downshifted and hit the brakes of the sturdy \par
little vehicle, slowing to turn off the pavement and onto the grass. Everyone \par
stepped out of the wag, stretching and circulating blood back through their \par
bodies. All were cramped from the close conditions.\par
\par
As Ryan did a deep knee bend and was rewarded with the sharp crack of both knees \par
popping, Jorge squatted next to him. Ryan knew from the expression on the \par
muscular Puerto Rican's face the man hadn't cared much for camping so soon. "We \par
should continue while the sun is still up. Night is the chupa-cabras's friend, \par
Ryan Cawdor."\par
\par
Not used to having his orders questioned, Ryan felt his temper start to flare, \par
until he got a good look at Jorge's face, open and innocent. The statement \par
hadn't been a challenge, merely a fact. "If so, Jorge, that's the best time to \par
go hunting for them, right?"\par
\par
The Puerto Rican looked puzzled. "Yes, I suppose, but I'm not sure I like your \par
logic."\par
\par
"I do," Jak said stepping next to Ryan. "Take battle to them, they make first \par
move."\par
\par
"If that's the way they want to play it. Either way, we've been traveling all \par
day. We need to get some rest, let our bodies cool off. We've still got a few \par
hours before dark. It's best to grab some sleep and' downtime before going into \par
the rain forest any farther."\par
\par
Jorge slapped at a flying insect that resembled a mosquito. "If you say so. You \par
are the one with experience in such affairs, not I."\par
\par
"That's right, Jorge. Now get some shut-eye."\par
\par
THE LIGHT WAS DIM. It was time to move out and into the forest proper.\par
\par
Ryan had chosen to ignore his own advice, keeping watch over the small party. \par
After an hour or so of trying to sleep while swatting at the swarms of \par
mosquitoes and other winged insects in the heated air, J.B. had done likewise, \par
getting quietly to his feet and joining his comrade.\par
\par
Neither of them had spoken as the Armorer took up position across from Ryan, \par
enabling each man to watch the other's back as they guarded their resting \par
friends.\par
\par
After consulting his wristchron, Ryan had walked softly among the others, \par
shaking them gently awake. All had come to alertness slowly, except for Jak, \par
whose warrior senses were ready to go the instant Ryan tapped his shoulder.\par
\par
Luis had stood, moving more slowly than the others but not noticeably so. When \par
erect, he bent to pick up his weapon and promptly fell forward on his knees, \par
dropping his retrieved long blaster as both hands went frantically to his \par
throat.\par
\par
Noticing his plight from the comer of her vision, Krysty was at his side first, \par
kneeling as she tried to determine what was wrong. Her strong hands grasped him \par
by the shoulders, trying to stop the frantic spasm creeping through the Puerto \par
Rican's tanned body. A coating of sweat had spread across his skin as if he'd \par
walked through a fine mist.\par
\par
"Luis? What is it? What's wrong?" the redhead asked, her eyes narrow.\par
\par
By that time, Soto and the others had joined Krysty and Luis, surrounding the \par
kneeling pair. Soto made a series of clipped inquiries in English, then Spanish. \par
Luis didn't respond to either language. The big man looked at them, panic in his \par
eyes, and tried to speak, but all that came forth was a thick grunting sound \par
from deep within his barrel chest.\par
\par
"Can't breathe," Luis wheezed, the two words an effort. He tried a third. \par
"Hurts."\par
\par
"He some kind of epileptic?" Ryan asked suspiciously. "Going to throw a fit?"\par
\par
"We need to get him down if he is," Krysty said. "I saw Mildred deal with an \par
epileptic once and that's what she said to do."\par
\par
Then came a shrill shriek, an inhuman sound that poured forth like water from a \par
pitcher, poured forth in a sonic fury from Luis's entire being. The skin on his \par
face was taut and cherry red as he shrieked again and again. He pulled free of \par
Krysty's hands and fell on his side, the unearthly wailing still coming from his \par
mouth until the sound was cut short and replaced by a bubbling of crimson. Dark, \par
nearly black blood splattered on his shirt and face as he thrashed in the dirt.\par
\par
"What do we do?" Jorge asked.\par
\par
"Nothing we can do," Ryan replied.\par
\par
Dean stood next to his father, watching, an expression of sheer horror on his \par
young face. He'd seen death before, but usually it came from an outside source, \par
not from inside a man's own body.\par
\par
Luis bent his dying physique, his neck muscles taut as bands of stretched steel. \par
His upper torso arched into a backward U-shape, the spine beneath contorted into \par
a direction never intended by nature. The man's arms twisted and shook, his \par
entire body writhing in a mass of agony before he flopped over on his back. His \par
legs kicked a few times, feet bent out like the graceful arc of a dancer, then \par
his heels drummed a last tempo of pain as he finally died.\par
\par
At that second, Krysty spotted new movement, like the fin of a shark breaking \par
the surface of the ocean under the front of his sweat-soaked shirt. "There, \par
lover," she shouted, pointing it out to Ryan.\par
\par
Ryan drew his panga and stepped close, reaching down and slitting open the tight \par
cotton T-shirt. The cloth, damp with sweat and blood, tore easily as he pulled \par
the blade of the panga up and across the fabric, revealing Luis's bare torso.\par
\par
There were wiggling movements under the dead man's skin, as if something was \par
trying to frantically break out-an angled something, like a broken bone trying \par
to rip free of the skin.\par
\par
Only there were no bones in the immediate area of the disturbance.\par
\par
"What the hell is that?" J.B. demanded in a tight voice, his knuckles white as \par
he clutched his well-maintained Uzi, ready to send a barrage of 9 mm bullets \par
into the mystery inside the corpse on the ground before him.\par
\par
"Don't know offhand," Ryan replied, stepping back and watching the queer \par
undulating movements at a safe distance.\par
\par
"There's something inside him," Soto murmured, speaking the obvious.\par
\par
As if in reply, a single oversized mandible two inches long poked through the \par
flesh of Luis's stomach, a shiny black eyetooth all wet and glistening in the \par
dim light as day continued to fade into night.\par
\par
"Bug," Jak said, a hint of distant disgust in his flat voice. The albino had \par
seen all kinds of insects during his youth in the fetid swamps of Louisiana, all \par
kinds of squirming, crawling, creeping insects, and most of them large and \par
nasty-biting bugs, sucking bugs, flying bugs-the kind where it took far more \par
than a single well-placed stomp to end their scurrying across a kitchen floor.\par
\par
There was very little blood as the size of the wound increased in diameter. The \par
cut was jagged, but straightforward, like the release of a zipper as it widened. \par
Some clear stomach fluid and digestive juices spurted up at one point but \par
quickly trickled down to nothingness.\par
\par
Both cruel black mandibles were free now, along with the insect's small head. \par
Overblown fangs, sickle-shaped like inverted question marks extended from the \par
front of the bug in an almost comical display of exaggeration. Above the \par
quivering mandibles on the shiny black head was a mass of compound eyes. \par
Festooned about the eyes were four horned antennae, quivering in the naked air.\par
\par
Approximately five inches long and streamlined, the creature continued to eat \par
its way free, poking out the rest of the shiny black carapace and six legs, and \par
coming to a stop on the lifeless form of Luis. Each member of the group had the \par
uncomfortable sensation of being studied, the watchers being watched in return \par
by the insect.\par
\par
"I know this insect," Soto breathed, his voice a mix of disgust and awe. "They \par
are very rare and unusual. They eat more than your flesh, see, for since they \par
burrow inward, they also have the access-and the hunger-to devour your soul. But \par
no one I know has died from the beetle's kiss in many years."\par
\par
"Saw one like it once," Ryan replied, as he exchanged a knowing look with \par
Krysty.\par
\par
In his mind's eye, Ryan summoned up memories of being forced to helplessly watch \par
as Cort Strasser and his underling Kelber prepared to use a similar black beetle \par
as an instrument of torture on a bound and helpless Krysty Wroth, and it wasn't \par
until Ryan agreed to tell Strasser what he wanted to know that the insect had \par
been removed from her bare buttock. Now he saw Krysty shudder, her eyes \par
hypnotically fixed on the gleaming horror.\par
\par
Deciding there was nothing left worth eating inside Luis, the beetle scurried \par
off the dead man's stomach and into the forest grass with surprising mobility \par
and speed.\par
\par
Before a single word could be spoken, Jak had responded to the grotesque \par
insect's movement by selecting and throwing one of his lethal leaf-bladed \par
knives. The albino was a lightning-fast blur of motion as he aimed and hurled \par
the knife downward, effectively sending the blade home into the beetle's \par
glistening black shell and through the insect's softer underside.\par
\par
Red blood spurted out as if from an overripe piece of fruit, and the insect's \par
twin mandibles clawed at the ah- like miniature ebony hands, reaching up and \par
wiggling for the sky before becoming as still as the lifeless body of its \par
victim.\par
\par
"Hate bugs," Jak said flatly as he stepped forward to retrieve the knife. He \par
raised and lowered a boot heel and twisted his foot to crush the remains of the \par
insect into the grassy soil of the forest floor. "Hate 'em."\par
\par
Maryland, Virginia, December 28, 2000\par
\par
Doc TANNER DIDN'T BOTHER to look up when the smooth metal alloy and Plexiglas \par
door of his one- room holding facility slid sideways into the far wall. His \par
attentions were on the thick hardcover book he was holding, one of more than two \par
dozen family biographies he'd read recently about the famed Kennedy dynasty.\par
\par
A tragic fall of three, beginning with the president and ruler of Camelot, the \par
one-and-only lusty Jack; then his second-in-command with his own eyes on the \par
prize, the compassionate Bobby; and finally ending with the lesser of the \par
trinity, poor, sad Teddy, who'd fallen prey to circumstance and timing and seen \par
the dynasty crumble to dust on the cold banks of the Chappaquiddick.\par
\par
The floor of the small quarters was covered with stacks of books and magazines. \par
Overhead a color television set was on, but Doc had the sound turned down, \par
finding himself quickly bored with the images. A fantastic invention, he had to \par
admit, but as for the choice and quality of what was being broadcast, a lot was \par
left to be desired.\par
\par
Aware of another's presence in the crowded room, and also aware that whoever it \par
was didn't intend on leaving, Doc decided to speak.\par
\par
"More questions?" he barked, still not gracing his visitor with a glance. \par
"Perhaps I shall be allowed to clamber half naked upon your wondrous treadmill \par
and run myself ragged for the amusement of your note-taking associates. Better \par
still, perhaps we shall test my psychic abilities. Tell me, what do you see in \par
your mind? A circle? A square? A picture of a cross? Your own rancid smiling \par
face?"\par
\par
"No, none of that."\par
\par
Doc lifted a bony arm. "Or do you require yet another pint or three of my bodily \par
fluids?"\par
\par
"Why take a pint when we have drained the entire store?" Welles replied silkily.\par
\par
The tone of Welles's voice sliced through Doc's concentration and he looked up \par
from his volume on the trio of Kennedy brothers. The fat man's three chins were \par
jiggling as Welles struggled to contain his laughter.\par
\par
"What, pray tell, does that mean?"\par
\par
"Tanner, you are, without a doubt, the biggest, most puckered asshole I've ever \par
had the fortune to encounter. Stubborn, arrogant, prideful, and for all the \par
wrong reasons. You get on my nerves like no one else, not even my first wife nor \par
my sainted mother, damn her immortal soul may she rot in peace."\par
\par
"Am I to take comfort in your compliments?" Doc retorted.\par
\par
"I had the option of having you terminated, you know. A simple order. My \par
decision. No one cares, really, about you anymore. You are no longer special. \par
And while I know it makes me sound like the villain in a third-rate television \par
melodrama, I have the extreme honor of telling you your usefulness to Operation \par
Chronos and the Totality Concept has ceased."\par
\par
Doc drew himself up on the bed and set his jaw firmly. "So. The day has come. I \par
have never feared death."\par
\par
"So you say. So you've said. Got some video interviews with you saying just that \par
very phrase, same ramrod posture, same twitch in your jaw. I spent a sleepless \par
night debating my next move, imagining the joy I'd take from watching your death \par
throes- from a purely scientific view, of course. Then, I decided death was too \par
good for you, Tanner. Much... too... good."\par
\par
Doc decided he didn't like the slant this conversation was taking.\par
\par
' 'Make your boasts or do as you will, Welles. Or get out." Doc turned his \par
attention away and opened his book to the page he'd been reading before. The \par
words of the paragraph were meaningless now, and he read the same sentence over \par
and over without retaining any of the content. His eyes were on the page, but \par
his ears and his mind were on Welles.\par
\par
The administrator hadn't paid any heed to his patient's request to leave. He was \par
just getting wound up as he continued to speak, his tone even and modulated. The \par
only hint of his rising excitement was a darkening of his facial coloration.\par
\par
"You weren't a team player, oh, no, not the mighty Dr. Tanner, owner of two \par
doctoral degrees. No, most men would bow to their betters, acknowledge their \par
masters and beg for whatever crumbs of glory they might be content to pass \par
along. No, not you, bleating about your sainted wife and bratty children. We \par
gave you an out, would have allowed you to return and you spit in our faces, all \par
smug in your limited command of backward faith and knowledge of right and \par
wrong," Welles said.\par
\par
"You made your proposition for your masters, Welles," Doc said softly, turning \par
in the cot and placing his feet on the cell floor, and then resting his hands on \par
his knees. "As their faithful lapdog, I know you were disappointed when I \par
refused your most...generous offer. A man of character would have known then I \par
was not to be blackmailed or bought, and as such, should have been returned to \par
my proper place in time. For time, you see, has checks and balances, and by \par
plucking me away from my particular slot, you have upset the apple cart. My wife \par
has endured a life without a husband, and my children have endured a life \par
without a father."\par
\par
"Your children," Welles said with a snicker. "Life without Daddy."\par
\par
Doc gave his keeper a scathing look of contempt. "That is correct."\par
\par
Welles continued to chuckle. "Your children are dead, you pathetic fool."\par
\par
Tanner wasn't biting. "Dead now, of course, unless they were incredibly \par
long-lived, and while the Tanners are a hearty bunch, I harbor no illusions of a \par
hundred-and-ten-year-old Jolyon being wheeled through the door to say hello to \par
his father."\par
\par
"No, no, not dead now-dead then," Welles said, his voice starting to rise in \par
tone and volume. "They died within seconds after you were trawled! While you \par
were in flux, held within the temporal contain- ment field, random fluctuations \par
of wild energy escaped, Tanner, escaped crackling and gibbering and killing. Any \par
living tissue it came in contact with resulted in violent cellular disruption."\par
\par
"You, sir, are a liar," Doc said, all pomposity gone from his voice as he \par
struggled to maintain his composure.\par
\par
"And you, sir, are a trusting, mewling fool. We didn't lie to you. We told you \par
your children were long dead and the Tanner bloodline had stopped with their \par
demises. All true. What we neglected to inform you of were some of the details."\par
\par
Then, Doc was on him, his hands around Welles's portly throat. In his brain, \par
which was colored now with a killing haze of red, Doc saw his oppressor's head \par
pop off his neck like a cork from a bottle of champagne and a geyser of blood \par
spurt into the air.\par
\par
Such a scene remained imaginary, however, locked inside Doc's mind, for one \par
second after his lunge for Welles, his cell door slid back a second time and a \par
knot of grim-faced security men came rushing into the room, peeling the \par
whip-lean man off his much heavier foe.\par
\par
"You lie! You are playing mind games, punishing me for my noncompliance! I will \par
not have it! Send me back!" Doc screamed, spittle flying in a spray from his \par
lips.\par
\par
"Too late," Welles gasped as he tried to raise himself from where he'd sprawled \par
across a mound of books and papers. "Too late!"\par
\par
"I-I accept your damnable agreement. Return me to my family!"\par
\par
"Too late for deals, too late. We no longer need you, Tanner. You have outlived \par
your usefulness by, oh, say a hundred years!" And then Welles unleashed an \par
almost feminine cackle of laughter.\par
\par
"I could help you! I could be of assistance," Doc wailed as he was carried out \par
into the hallway.\par
\par
Welles made a show out of considering this. "Perhaps. That was our intention, \par
but now we're not so sure it would be the correct action to take. Such an act \par
might create a paradox, or it might not. Right now, my good man, I don't care. \par
So, buck up and allow me to give you my Christmas present."\par
\par
Welles had chosen four of the burliest men he could find to accompany him to Doc \par
Tanner's holding cell. His estimate was still off by two, since it ended up \par
taking six of the security men to effectively pry their charge out of the room \par
and into the waiting elevator, where Doc screamed, bit, stomped and yelled.\par
\par
Welles had debated the advice of sedating Tanner, but finally decided it would \par
serve his purposes to have his test subject awake for the process.\par
\par
As for what his purposes might be...? Welles wasn't sure of that, either. He did \par
know he wanted Tanner to suffer, and a chron-temp jump into the future seemed to \par
be the perfect way of assuring the man's agony.\par
\par
Welles took the entire Doc Tanner affair quite personally. He'd been on the \par
committee to select Tan- ner, drawn up the plan to trawl him forward, push him \par
back, overseen the man's acclimation into Operation Chronos, and now, after the \par
ungrateful bastard had rejected their offer, and on top of rejection had tried \par
repeatedly to escape, Herman Welles was going to take immense pleasure in \par
showing the skinny shit the door.\par
\par
In other words, he had no desire to see his most famous failure make his last \par
journey unconscious.\par
\par
And then, they were out of the elevator, and moving at a fast jog down the \par
corridor, Doc caterwauling the entire way. After entering the triple numerals \par
into the entry keypad, Welles led the way into the massive chron-jump chamber \par
control room itself, and past the consoles, past the monitors, past the banks of \par
flashing lights, past the eyes of the watchers, all of them dressed in white lab \par
coats. A few personnel turned away, distaste on their bespectacled faces, but \par
most watched the scene unplay before their eyes with a mix of concern and \par
horror.\par
\par
Except for a figure lurking at the edges of the outer control room that Doc \par
didn't immediately recognize-a lean man, tall, yet solid and imposing, and with \par
the same easy assurance and carriage as had been Doc's in better days. Long \par
silver hair was combed back from his forehead, giving his narrow face a severe \par
look. His eyes were unreadable, hidden by the shadows and by a pair of imposing \par
silver eyebrows.\par
\par
The man appeared to be glacier cool as he stood apart from the others, alike in \par
form only through the long white lab coat he wore. A raspberry-purple necktie \par
was tied at his neck in a proper Windsor knot.\par
\par
All of them save this new figure knew Doc personally. Some had engaged him in \par
debate, seeking the viewpoint of a living anachronism in their midst, and none \par
took pleasure in seeing him screaming at the top of his lungs while being \par
brutally manhandled.\par
\par
The only person enjoying the spectacle was Welles. In a display that would later \par
bring him reprimands, the fat man was enjoying himself far too much. Even while \par
serving as point man of the hour, he was eagerly awaiting the chance later to \par
review his performance on the security tape being made on the redoubt's \par
elaborate security system.\par
\par
The group was now within the anteroom that separated the mat-trans chamber from \par
the central control area. The room was small, only ten feet by twenty, keeping \par
the guards pressed close to the wiggling Doc. Welles stayed at the back, wishing \par
he was taller in order to truly oversee the scene as it unfolded.\par
\par
The unadorned white bodysuit that had been assigned as his regular attire after \par
the second escape attempt was ripped from Doc's struggling form, leaving him \par
naked as a newborn. The fingernails of one of the security guards raked his arm, \par
drawing blood as the suit was torn away. Doc felt his genitals shrivel up, \par
trying to stay as close to his body as possible. Being nude just made the fate \par
he was to suffer even more humiliating.\par
\par
There was no gentleness taken with the prisoner.\par
\par
After the removal of his suit, he was lifted high by the six security men and \par
thrown bodily into the matter-transfer room, where he came crashing down \par
painfully on his left shoulder. Doc landed on one of the steel floor disks, but \par
also felt the jab of some object poking into his body.\par
\par
As he rolled over to his side, he found beneath his aching form two round \par
spheroids, test objects used in previous jump experiments. Doc reached across \par
the disk and picked up the perfectly metal balls from the tiled floor.\par
\par
"Didn't want to send you off without what you came in with," Welles called out \par
from the open ar-maglass chamber door, then threw in a double armload of \par
clothing-a black frock coat, a pair of tan britches, two thigh-high black boots \par
and other pieces of the apparel Doc had been wearing when trawled two years \par
earlier. Apparently the clothing had been kept in storage after being studied by \par
researchers of the project.\par
\par
The bundle hit the floor and scattered lifelessly next to the aching Doc, and he \par
spied a button on the sleeve of the shirt he remembered Emily had sewed on a \par
lifetime ago.\par
\par
"No," he whispered, even as the air began to thicken and his brain began to shut \par
down. Struggling to his feet, the skinny man staggered to the chamber door like \par
a drunken mantis and used the metal sphere he held in his right hand to begin \par
pounding on the unbreakable surface of the armaglass. Again and again, he raised \par
his arm and brought it smashing down.\par
\par
"Wasting his strength on such a futile show," the silver-haired man with the \par
raspberry-purple necktie calmly observed from control, watching Doc on a wall \par
monitor, the picture beamed from an interior security camera hidden inside the \par
armaglass chamber. "He should sit down and compose himself or he'll never \par
survive the trawl."\par
\par
"I don't think Dr. Welles wants him to survive, Mr. Burr," Chan said from a \par
nearby station, his own prior conflict with Doc now put aside as he, too, stood \par
back and watched what was about to occur. Burr shot Chan a withering glare, and \par
the technician fell silent, choosing to no longer peer at the live video \par
monitor. Instead, he sat and focused on the readings coming in on his computer \par
screen.\par
\par
The tragedy of the biography he'd been reading scant moments ago still fresh in \par
his mind, Doc cursed them from within the armaglass prison. "By the three \par
Kennedys, a plague upon your houses, you white-coated malcontents!" he bellowed, \par
swinging the metal balls with all of his fading strength even as the mists fell \par
upon him, swirling into his brain.\par
\par
"Jackbooted thugs! Blind thoughtless cretins! Gibbering jackanapes! Rapists of \par
family members and small children!" recited the agonized voice from behind the \par
armaglass, even as the rights within raced up to an unbearable brightness.\par
\par
As Chan had before, the other people in the gateway control room without safety \par
goggles were forced to turn their heads and look away from the video monitors. \par
Many of them had already done so when Doc's fate became inescapable and \par
apparent.\par
\par
An unworldly humming like a thousand alien hives raced through the chamber, the \par
anteroom and into the control area of the mat-trans gateway. Just when the sound \par
became almost unbearable, Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner was gone in a puff of \par
smoke, vanished in the fog. He was a missing person once more, taken away a \par
second time as if he had never existed.\par
\par
Welles strode to the armaglass chamber through the security of the adjoining \par
anteroom and wrenched open the heavy gateway door. Inside, there was nothing \par
left except the nostril-tickling stench of burnt ozone. The heat from the \par
mat-trans unit filtered out and wafted across his body, sending fresh trickles \par
of sweat running down from his armpits.\par
\par
"He's away, Director Welles," a technician informed him over the intercom \par
system, her eyes scanning the readouts on the oversized computer console on her \par
observation station. "We're showing a ninety-eight-percent probability of a \par
successful matter transfer via temporal annex, but have no way of tracking or \par
knowing the exact destination."\par
\par
"Do you think he made it, sir?" Chan asked, his reedy voice coming over the \par
intercom.\par
\par
"I don't care whether he arrives in one piece or not," Welles replied, wiping \par
the tail of his jacket over his perspiring face as he stepped down from the \par
elevated gateway chamber and into the anteroom. His skin color had taken on an \par
unhealthy purple hue, and his small eyes were crinkled and leering, a crazed \par
look topped by a manic toothy smile.\par
\par
"So, what was the point, sir?"\par
\par
"Peace of mind. And I'll tell you this much. I hope Tanner made it. Hell, yes, I \par
hope he made it, the arrogant son of a bitch, and wherever he is, I hope he's \par
choking on whatever future hell he's trapped in now."\par
\par
Chapter Thirteen\par
\par
Always the master of understatement, Jak delivered the most precise and telling \par
description of what the group of friends were now facing in the darkness of the \par
rain forest.\par
\par
"Caves."\par
\par
The albino always used a minimum of words, even fewer than the usually \par
closemouthed J. B. Dix. Sometimes, such abbreviated ways of speaking made \par
conversation with Jak a frustratingly one-sided experience. Other times, the \par
tautness of his verbal expression summed up a situation so perfectly that the \par
florid Doc and his love of language could never conceive of competing.\par
\par
This was one of those occasions.\par
\par
"Yep," J.B. added. "And lots of them."\par
\par
Ryan didn't bother to restate the obvious. The impressive face of the rock wall \par
was a honeycomb of cavern entrances, dark womblike mouths opened wide and \par
indicating the presence of random holes of varying sizes. J.B. dug in one of the \par
many pockets lining his leather jacket and took out a small flashlight he'd \par
"liberated" from Jamaisvous's supply room back in El Mono.\par
\par
Thumbing the switch, he used the beam to illu- minate the wall and the caverns, \par
darting across the dark openings, spotlighting in a flickering white circle the \par
varied entryways. J.B. moved the light over the holes one by one for the group's \par
visual perusal.\par
\par
"Plenty to choose from," Krysty said. "Take your pick."\par
\par
"Too many," Dean added disgustedly.\par
\par
Soto coughed, and cleared his throat. "I am afraid all of El Yunque is reported \par
to be honeycombed with such caverns. Some are easily seen like these, others \par
less so. This area is a good place to start, since there are existing tunnels \par
already in place that were used by the local Indians for hiding dating all the \par
way back to the time of Christopher Columbus."\par
\par
"Who?" Jak asked.\par
\par
"A white man. He came to Puerto Rico like most others-to claim land in the name \par
of his Spanish masters," Jorge explained.\par
\par
"Typical white male power fantasy," Krysty added. Ryan shot her a look and she \par
shrugged. "That's what Mildred always says."\par
\par
Once they had arrived within the section of Puerto Rico considered to be the \par
rain forest, Jorge had taken time out to explain a bit about the area to the \par
out-landers. The forest was named for the 3,496-foot-high mountain looming above \par
and in front of them, El Yunque. The forest itself was a rough 28,000-acre \par
stretch of jungles, hills, streams and waterfalls. Two hundred species of trees \par
were to be found inside this dank, overgrown area, and El Yunque was almost \par
always wet from the thunderstorms that sprung up two or three times a day to \par
violently drench all within.\par
\par
Such abundant rainfall, when combined with the rich soil, was responsible for \par
giving the area lush and exotic greenery.\par
\par
"Most of the tunnels only go down and back for about twenty feet before they \par
dead-end," Jorge continued, as he hitched up his gun belt. "A few of the \par
passages intertwine and connect with others. Those are the ones where it is \par
suspected El chupacabras make their lair. The legends state they breed here, \par
where there are few people and no interference."\par
\par
"Make sense," Jak said. "Stay where nobody comes."\par
\par
"So the question is, why have they been heading out to San Juan?" Ryan mused, \par
still not fully sure of the how or why of the queer-looking muties and their \par
hunting habits. "You'd think there would be enough wild game here. It's a \par
bastard long trip to the city."\par
\par
"\'9c7 chupacabras are hunters," Jorge noted. "They have probably expanded their \par
area to find new prey. Besides, a distance of thirty miles is nothing to these \par
creatures. They move quickly, and some of them possess the ability to fly, \par
although only for short distances."\par
\par
"Sure wish you two had some idea of what we're going to find," J.B. said sourly \par
to the Puerto Ricans. "This could be a wasted trip."\par
\par
"No, Sefior Dix. All the evidence we have collected from the old tales, along \par
with what we re- searched for ourselves, points to this site as the \par
chu-pacabras's lair."\par
\par
"Well, then, we'd better get looking," Ryan said, stepping forward and rubbing \par
the back of his neck. Another one of the sudden rainfalls that had soaked them \par
all was starting to pick up in intensity, and he wanted to go ahead inside and \par
get out of the rain. "Guess we'll start at the far left and work our way down."\par
\par
' 'Do you want to split up?'' Soto asked, his worried expression revealing his \par
own doubts of such a tactic.\par
\par
"No," Ryan said, his eye following the path revealed by J.B.'s flash. "We're in \par
no hurry. Stick together-there's safety in numbers. We check out the caves one \par
by one."\par
\par
The band of travelers fell into a defensive stance before entering the first of \par
the many black openings. A routine was quickly established. Ryan took the point. \par
Soto, Jorge, Krysty, Dean, Jak and J.B made up the rest of the search party. Go \par
in one cave, follow it back, check on any side tunnels, turn and exit.\par
\par
Soon, an hour passed. Then another. The similarity of the rocky clefts' \par
interiors began to press on their minds, making each of the caverns \par
interchangeable. When the second hour passed, Ryan's wristchron gave off a soft \par
beep, and he called for a break so they could clear their heads.\par
\par
The one-eyed man stepped over and sat on an outcropping next to Krysty. "Hey," \par
he said to her, running a hand down the back of her soaked red hair.\par
\par
"Hey yourself."\par
\par
"How you feeling?"\par
\par
"As good as you."\par
\par
"That lousy, huh?"\par
\par
"'Fraid so. At least the rain stopped for a little while."\par
\par
"You picking up anything out of the ordinary? Any echoes of the earth power in \par
those caves?"\par
\par
Krysty got a focused look in her vibrant green eyes, as if she were peering down \par
a hallway in another place far, far away. "Nothing in particular," she finally \par
answered. "But there is something old and dark and ancient about this place. \par
Like these caves are older than man, and will still be here long after we've \par
taken the last train West. Know what I mean?"\par
\par
"Right. Place gives you the creeps."\par
\par
The redhead smiled. "And Doc's supposed to be the one with the vocabulary."\par
\par
Twenty minutes later, the pattern began anew. Soto suggested going back a few \par
caves, since the last ones checked might have had a hastier scrutiny than \par
earlier ones when they started. His own weariness now beaten back, Ryan agreed. \par
If the others felt as refreshed as he now did after a quick break from stumbling \par
around in the darkened caverns, something might very well have been missed \par
through fatigue.\par
\par
It was inside one of the caves being searched for a second time that Ryan \par
spotted something he hadn't during the first go-round. "Wait a minute," Ryan \par
said. "J.B., get that flash back over here on the wall. To the right."\par
\par
J.B. did as his comrade asked, raising the illuminating beam and playing it \par
across the back stone wall, seeking out whatever had alerted Ryan. He patiently \par
moved the beam and revealed a familiar-looking steel doorway framed in dull \par
silver vanadium steel. On the right side of the frame was a keypad display.\par
\par
The doorway imbedded in the rock wall was open, the vanadium-alloy door itself \par
recessed into the narrow ceiling slot of the reinforced support frame. The \par
familiar and standard entry code numerals were still glowing patiently on the \par
tiny screen, unwiped by the last person who had exited from what was clearly \par
another redoubt.\par
\par
"Black dust," J.B. breathed, his amazement echoed by the use of the arcane \par
epithet he used only in times of complete and utter surprise.\par
\par
"Gaia's heart," Krysty added, equally surprised.\par
\par
"Dad, is that what I think it is?" Dean breathed, his eyes squinting at the \par
door.\par
\par
Ryan nodded. "Answers one question that's been bothering me about the timing of \par
Jamaisvous's appearance in San Juan with the return of El chupa-cabras. The \par
goatsucker must've come out of the redoubt."\par
\par
"JAMAISVOUS KNEW? He knew!" Krysty breathed, her crimson hair tightening about \par
her face and neck in an unconscious mirroring of her inner turmoil. "This \par
explains everything."\par
\par
"I know," Ryan replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And we left Doc and \par
Mildred back at the fortress alone with him."\par
\par
"Millie's a big girl," J.B. said, his face a tense mask. "She can take care of \par
herself."\par
\par
"It's not Mildred I'm worried about. She's been leery of Jamaisvous since the \par
beginning. My concern is for Doc. He'd do anything to get back..." and Ryan \par
trailed off, not wanting to raise questions or suspicions in their Puerto Rican \par
companions about Doc's origins. "To his own place. Where he's originally from. \par
He has a wife, kids."\par
\par
"Sure," Soto said. "I understand."\par
\par
Jorge took up the conversation. "This...'redoubt' I believe you called it. You \par
honestly think El chu-pacabras live inside?"\par
\par
"Yeah. Like I said before, I believe the bastards were cobbled together by some \par
mad doctor working on some sick project," Ryan replied. "At the very least, they \par
must have lived in here. Don't know if any are left or not."\par
\par
"Only one way to find out."\par
\par
When the keyed-in code admitted them, Ryan stepped past the doorway. The layout \par
inside was functional and to the point: stripped barracks, with skeletal bed \par
frames and empty footlockers; a closed-out kitchen, the cabinets barren of \par
foodstuff, utensils, anything not nailed down. Long-lived autocircuits clicked \par
into life, causing the overhead strip light pan- els to flare as the group made \par
its way down the main level to the single elevator car at the end of the \par
hallway. The heavy steel entry door to a stairwell left of the elevator was \par
crumpled as if hit by a massive battering ram. The door had been hurled across \par
the hall, and lay ripped from its mounting hinges.\par
\par
"Somebody wanted out in a powerful hurry," J.B. said, running a hand along the \par
twisted metal. The front of the ruined door that had been on the inside of the \par
stairs was covered in jagged scratches, some light and quick like the tracks of \par
a domestic tabby, others deep and long like the aftermath of an enraged Bengal \par
tiger.\par
\par
"Or something. See if you can fetch us a ride, Dean," Ryan said, jerking a thumb \par
toward the elevator.\par
\par
"Right, Dad," Dean responded, stepping past J.B. and the stairwell door to the \par
front of the elevator. He pushed the call button, but the plastic activation \par
disk mounted in the steel plate to the right of the elevator doors remained dim. \par
He tried it a second and third time, pressing with all of his might, and still \par
received no satisfaction.\par
\par
"Elevator's out," he announced. "Must be busted."\par
\par
"Not like elevators," Jak said. "Make me nervous."\par
\par
Memories of previous elevator escapades went through Ryan's mind, including one \par
precarious escape from a stalled car that had hung between floors, suspended \par
over nothingness. They'd been able to exit via the ceiling hatch, but then were \par
faced with a lengthy climb up an emergency shaft ladder, after which the only \par
exit to the top floor was guarded by snipers.\par
\par
"I can't say I care much for elevators, either, Jak. Jamaisvous said there were \par
power problems here with the nuke gen," Ryan replied. "May be why the elevator \par
isn't working. No choice in the matter-I guess we walk. I'll take the point."\par
\par
Then a weight fell on Ryan's shoulders. He felt long crooked fingers try to grab \par
on to his face, snaking claws toward his nostrils, his mouth, even a small \par
hooked claw that tried to insinuate itself into the empty socket behind the \par
tooled leather of his eye patch. Hot breath blasted on his neck like an open \par
flame, and visions of vampires skittered through his brain.\par
\par
Ryan didn't frighten easily, but the cold sweat of fear involuntarily popped out \par
on his brow. Dropping his blaster, he reached up with both hands to snatch the \par
animal who'd fallen on top of him. His gloved fingers found purchase on a series \par
of quill-like appendages sticking out of his attacker, and he used them to lift \par
and hurl the beast to the floor. Two of the razor-sharp quills cut through the \par
leather of his gloves and into his fingers and palms, but Ryan ignored the bite \par
of pain to rid himself of the animal.\par
\par
Landing upright, the creature flapped a pair of wiry arms and skittered across \par
the floor, half running and half hopping with a seeming clumsy agility. And \par
speed. A pair of powerful hind legs assisted in the quick, rapid motions the \par
creature was making as it scurried away.\par
\par
Like many of the other mutations Ryan had glimpsed or come face-to-face with in \par
the Death-lands, this one possessed a pair of glowing red eyes, and a softly \par
hissing mouth filled with sharply pointed teeth. Pupils of a pale yellow-green \par
were slitted dots within the centers of the red.\par
\par
The drawing Soto had shown him back in the cafe hadn't begun to illustrate just \par
how ugly and frightening El chupacabras truly was. The beast's head was oval, \par
with a strong lower jaw. Small holes served as a nose, and, like stickies, the \par
mutie had no ears. Two small arms ended in three-fingered clawed hands. The \par
powerful hind legs also had three claws, and Ryan took note of the bat wings \par
under the creature's arms, much wider and sturdier-looking than in the \par
illustration.\par
\par
"El Chupacabras!" Soto gasped, his round face flushed with excitement.\par
\par
Jak's Colt boomed twice, both slugs catching the creature high in the chest, and \par
while the force from the shots drove the chupacabras back for a second or two, \par
it still kept coming, silently, eerily, with eyes of glowing crimson lit by the \par
darkest of inner fires.\par
\par
Dean chose to unleash his own firepower, drawing his Browning Hi-Power and \par
cocking and firing the blaster in a single fluid motion. The round was useless \par
for any kind of long-range shooting, but at a mere twenty feet from the target, \par
the payload the\par
\par
Browning delivered on impact was utterly devastating.\par
\par
When the bullet hit the freakish mutie, it struck with pile-driver force. The \par
chupacabras's head was obliterated in a cloud of wet grue and bone, leaving \par
behind a stump of a neck that spouted pinkish blood, even as the body continued \par
to be propelled forward by sheer momentum.\par
\par
"Thing runs 'round like chicken with head cut off," Jak noted.\par
\par
"Got news for you, Jak. This sure as hell ain't no chicken," J.B. retorted as he \par
kicked out with a booted foot and halted the now-headless creature's charge.\par
\par
"I didn't expect them to be so tiny," Krysty said as she eyed the dead mutie.\par
\par
"What's the deal, Soto?" Ryan asked. "That little thing couldn't have been over \par
two feet tall. You mean to tell me the entire island's been hiding in fear of \par
that?"\par
\par
"No, you misunderstand, Ryan Cawdor. This chupacabras is a mere child, a baby."\par
\par
"Oh."\par
\par
"You're bleeding, lover," Krysty said, running her hand along one of Ryan's \par
stubbled cheeks and wiping away a red smear. "Claw must've got you on the way \par
down."\par
\par
Ryan pulled off one of his tight-fitting black gloves, revealing additional \par
superficial cuts on the top and heel of his left hand.\par
\par
"Spines got me, too," he said. "Who's carrying the first aid and playing medic \par
this trip?"\par
\par
"Me," Jak said, reaching back into the pack slung over one shoulder. The albino \par
removed a tightly wound bundle of cotton gauze and a roll of white adhesive \par
tape.\par
\par
"These goatsuckers-any poisons or toxins in the spines?" Ryan asked, wincing as \par
Jak sprayed a stream of hissing antiseptic from a small med can onto his exposed \par
hand.\par
\par
"Hope not," Soto replied, kneeling at the corpse, using the muzzle of his long \par
blaster to poke at the creature's exposed underbelly.\par
\par
"You're a lot of help," Krysty snorted to the smaller Hispanic man.\par
\par
"I answer true, girl. I don't think the spines are poison, but I don't know for \par
sure. I never tried to find out, if you know what I mean."\par
\par
"You test subject, Ryan," Jak said, grinning, showing off sharp-looking teeth. \par
"How you feel?"\par
\par
"Felt better," Ryan replied as the gauze was wrapped around his hand. "Felt a \par
lot worse. Don't feel sick or poisoned."\par
\par
"Looks like Jak has the makings of a decent field medic," J.B. noted, glancing \par
at the albino's handiwork on Ryan's injuries. "If Millie doesn't watch out, \par
she'll be out of a job."\par
\par
"Tough for you," Jak replied. "Not share your bed." Dean snorted and laughed, \par
but didn't turn. He re- mained alert, his Browning Hi-Power cocked and ready to \par
shoot if more firepower was needed.\par
\par
Ryan held a hunk of the remaining gauze to his bleeding face. Jak had offered to \par
attach a pad with some of the white adhesive tape, but Ryan told him no. The \par
bleeding was already starting to ease.\par
\par
"All right. Let's go on down," Ryan said.\par
\par
Deathlands, 2095\par
\par
Doc TANNER CAME to his senses in the middle of what he believed to be the worst \par
fog he'd ever encountered in his life. And how long was that life? Thirty years \par
or a hundred years? An unruly mass of days and decades and he neither cared to \par
nor could he keep count. He was flat on his stomach in the dirt, now in a world \par
whose floor had been jerked out from beneath his feet.\par
\par
Somehow, he'd managed to gather up his clothing and dress himself, but having \par
lost track of time long ago, he had no real concept how long he'd been stumbling \par
down the treacherous mountain path. Chunks of his conscious mind, along with his \par
immediate short-term memory, were missing, as if sliced away by a butcher's \par
blade and discarded in some charnel pit.\par
\par
Even worse, there were a few times he knew for certain, or at least, as certain \par
as he could be in his addled state, that he'd blacked out while trying to \par
stagger along his chosen path in the damp mist.\par
\par
The last memory he could pull up from his brain was that of Emily. In the \par
memory, the hour was early, perhaps seven in the morning. He'd dined on poached \par
eggs, crisp bacon and day-old bread recovered from the previous night's meal \par
that had been toasted to disguise its origins. He and Emily were standing at the \par
front door of his home, and she was nagging at him in a pleasant tone to not be \par
late, as they were expecting her parents for supper.\par
\par
Emily was still in her nightclothes, covered by a filmy pink robe for modesty's \par
sake. However, for some reason, the robe wasn't tied around her middle-her more \par
than ample middle. The belt wasn't long enough, he supposed, since her frame was \par
normally so petite. In fact, blessed Emily was getting quite the gut on her, but \par
Doc was so happy he didn't care.\par
\par
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and he stepped through the front door of the \par
apartment. And everything appeared normal, except he didn't recall Emily being \par
so overweight.\par
\par
"By the Three Kennedys!" he said aloud. "Emily was pregnant!"\par
\par
Pregnant with their first child? Their second? Doc had no clue.\par
\par
The apartment...they hadn't lived there in how many years? Before Rachel was \par
born, yes! That much he was sure of, and when her young face appeared in his \par
mind's eye, Doc felt an almost inconsolable, unbearable tidal wave of wrenching \par
pain and loss inundate his entire being.\par
\par
All around him, the fog was growing heavier, but\par
\par
Doc didn't notice in the slightest, since he was weighted down by an even \par
heavier fog from within. Night and day and another night passed as he stumbled \par
along, sleeping when he was tired, hungry beyond imagining, but he never seemed \par
to black out for very long.\par
\par
He was found facedown on the broken tarmac of an old highway, his skull coming \par
close to being crushed under the wheel of a small armored transport. The \par
occupants believed the long-haired elder to be a drunk from the nearby town of \par
Mocsin, but none of them could identify the face. The direction he'd apparently \par
been traveling also gave them pause. Behind Doc was nothing but the mysterious \par
Black Hills, a mystery which those above them in the chain of command had \par
expressed an interest in.\par
\par
Doc was kept alive. There were men who would want to talk to him.\par
\par
He awakened in a toilet, his long legs bent and hanging over the side of a \par
bathtub. After struggling to gain his footing, Doc looked in the cracked mirror \par
hanging crookedly over the filthy washbasin. He squinted once, twice and closed \par
his pale blue eyes to refbcus before taking another peek.\par
\par
"What carnival jest is this?" he wondered aloud to himself, for what was looking \par
mutely back at him wasn't his face, no, couldn't be his face, since he knew damn \par
well the visage he was seeing was that of his own sainted father.\par
\par
"No more," he said in a quavering voice, watching his chapped lips move in the \par
mirror's reflection.\par
\par
"Gods of the universe, I can take no more of this. How many more pounds of flesh \par
can I give before nothing is left but barren white bone? Accursed speculum, why \par
do you show me such a terrible sight?"\par
\par
What stared back at him from the mirror was his transformed image, skull-like \par
and hollow-eyed, topped off by the silver-gray hair he knew was his own, matted \par
with dirt and sweat.\par
\par
The hair remained healthy, but the rest of him appeared to have aged more than \par
thirty years. He appeared to be a man of sixty-plus years.\par
\par
At least thirty years, three decades of time, had been foisted upon his \par
personage, and he remembered none of it.\par
\par
Doc smashed his forehead into the reflection while starting to incoherently wail \par
at a fever pitch. A wordless jumble of sounds bubbled out, interrupted only when \par
he had to stop and suck another breath of air into his chest. He banged his head \par
again and again, feeling the mirrored glass crack under the assault and cut his \par
forehead. Blood began to run down his bushy silver eyebrows and the left side of \par
his long nose.\par
\par
Doc looked at the man in the mirror and cackled insanely, until his stomach \par
began to violently cramp, driving him to a crouch. Feeling as though he were \par
about to become violently, messily sick, Doc dropped his trousers and sat on the \par
filthy toilet seat, thankful even in his current state of near-insanity that he \par
hadn't soiled himself.\par
\par
The metal door to the small bath chamber swung open partway, blocked from fully \par
opening by Doc's bony knees. Doc remained hunched over the porcelain toilet, his \par
pants around his ankles and his bare, bony knees sticking pointedly up. His \par
stomach was gurgling, still expunging itself of the vile water he'd drank from a \par
ditch many hours before.\par
\par
The bearded sec man threw in a dingy towel many washings removed from its \par
original color of orange, and spit out a series of orders to the captured man.\par
\par
"Use the tub behind the plastic curtain. Water works. Hope you like cold. When \par
you're clean enough, you moldy old fruit, the baron wants to talk to you."\par
\par
"Baron?" Doc whispered. Such a form of address was medieval to his ears and \par
reeked of the past, not the future land to which Welles had so arrogantly \par
claimed he was sending him. In a quick second, Doc's mind lost the patina of \par
confusion he had feared to be permanent and began clicking on all eight \par
cylinders again.\par
\par
Doc wondered whether he could have been shunted back in time instead of pushed \par
forward. The prospect was grimly appealing, until he considered the appearance \par
and manufacture of the bathroom in which he was now sitting. While it didn't \par
look any more modern than the small bath he'd been allowed to use during his \par
stays in Dulce and Chicago, it was certainly in much poorer condition.\par
\par
Leaning out from his seat, Doc pulled back the dank, slimy shower curtain and \par
looked at the condition of the bathtub. The interior was nearly black. A vapid \par
green millipede as long as his forearm crawled back and forth, all one thousand \par
of the ghastly insect's legs trying vainly to find purchase on the walls of the \par
enamel to crawl out to safety.\par
\par
Although repulsed by the sight, Doc felt a certain kinship with the many-legged \par
insect. He, too, was trapped, and scrambling for a way out, but the walls \par
surrounding him were as smooth as pure spun glass, and in his present condition, \par
just as insurmountable.\par
\par
CHOOSING TO WASH his face and upper body in the sink, Doc had removed the layer \par
of road dust he'd picked up on the trail and was actually feeling halfway human \par
again. A bar of soap would have added to the ease of bathing, but none had been \par
offered and he didn't dare ask. The same gray-bearded man had come to fetch him, \par
making many unfunny comments about the way Doc had "smelled up the shitter" to \par
the amusement of the other fellow who served as his backup.\par
\par
Together, the three had left the bath and entered a long hallway. Once upon a \par
time, Doc noticed, the far side of the hall had been made of nothing but \par
inviting panes of glass, offering a view of the world outside. Now, the glass \par
appeared to have been mostly broken out, and huge slabs of plywood and scavenged \par
metal nailed in place to contain the walkway. One piece of metal used was cut in \par
the shape of a colossal red circle, and a white star rested in the center. The \par
letter ' T'' was in the middle of the star. The color red and the star itself \par
made Doc wonder for a brief moment if he'd ended up inside the borders of Asia, \par
or one of the Soviet states, but no Russian was spoken and the design of the \par
hall furnishings ended this line of thought, as well as seeing the sign's mate \par
farther along, and this time the word "Texaco" could be easily read.\par
\par
"Texas," Doc mused. "Funny. I have been through Houston, and it does not feel \par
hot enough for Texas."\par
\par
The comment earned him two things: a snarled "Shut your mouth," from the bearded \par
man appointed to be his keeper and a whack to the back of the head from the butt \par
of the rifle held by the second guard. While the blow wasn't hard enough to send \par
Doc crashing into unconsciousness, or even send him sprawling to his knees, it \par
was ample and unexpected enough to shake his brain loose from the coherent \par
mooring he'd reestablished and start him careening from topic to topic once more \par
inside his damaged mind.\par
\par
After the long walk down the side hall, Doc and his captors entered through a \par
large double door into a great room, a high-ceilinged monstrosity. The room was \par
empty, barren of any decoration or furniture. Industrial carpet of olive green \par
had been lain upon the floor, muffling the sounds of footsteps. A second carpet, \par
this one of royal red, stretched across the expanse like a lazy tongue that led \par
to a mouth of equally red draperies, slightly parted. Soft, flickering light was \par
escaping from the gap left in the massive curtains, which helped cover the worn \par
condition of the carpets underfoot, royal red and olive green, equally ratty and \par
dirty.\par
\par
A figure behind the curtains beckoned. For a moment, Doc's addled mind proposed \par
the possibility he was but an actor, waiting to go on and deliver his latest \par
performance. Trying to remember his lines, he stopped walking for a second, and \par
struck a pose, one hand on a hip and the other one extended, palm up, just so.\par
\par
Doc cleared his throat.\par
\par
"You got a problem?" his keeper asked.\par
\par
'"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have \par
then" exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his \par
acts being seven ages,"' Doc boomed.\par
\par
The new figure stepped out from behind the curtains and took in the sight of Doc \par
and the waiting guards. He smiled and it was phony and insincere, a cold-hearted \par
smile belonging to a cold-hearted man. It was a smile with no joy, a cruel \par
twisting of the lips, like a pasted-on applique. A dead smile.\par
\par
"Greetings, friend. And who might you be?" Doc said brightly. "I hope I have not \par
missed my cue."\par
\par
"My name is Strasser. Cort Strasser," the man said, silky smooth. "And you \par
haven't missed a damned thing, old man. In fact, you're just in time for the \par
festivities."\par
\par
"Fancy that!" Doc said.\par
\par
"Fancy that," Strasser echoed.\par
\par
Making an "after you" motion and holding out a hand to the gap in the curtains, \par
Strasser stepped aside, the smile across his lower face frozen in place as he \par
waited for Doc to move. As the older gent passed, squinting to see as he entered \par
the dimly lit room beyond the curtains, Strasser cuffed him across the back of \par
the head, causing Doc to stumble forward. He managed to break his fall with his \par
hands, but still landed painfully on his knees, which seemed to have developed \par
all-new aches and pains after his latest mat-trans chron jump.\par
\par
"I'll have none of that crazy babbling, old man, stuff about entrances and \par
exits. Keep it up and the only exit you'll be taking is the slow train West, get \par
me? I've already heard enough of your wailing and crying. If you try and \par
embarrass me in front of the baron, I'll chill you on the spot, one slug right \par
to the head, okay?" Strasser grated from behind.\par
\par
"Take heart that I meant no embarrassment. The words, sir, the words I spoke \par
came from the Bard. And William Shakespeare, for all of his faults, was far from \par
crazy."\par
\par
"Do I look like I give a good long happy shit?" Strasser demanded, his face \par
visibly angry even in the subdued lighting of the wide room.\par
\par
"I must confess, no, you do not," Doc answered truthfully.\par
\par
"So you aren't a total half-wit."\par
\par
Doc didn't reply as he carefully looked around the room in which he knelt. The \par
lighting was as bad as what passed for illumination outside in the great hall, \par
but at the same time the room still seemed bright because of an abundance of \par
mirrors-on the walls, mounted in freestanding racks, on the ceiling above. And \par
in the mirrors were the reflections of lighted candles. Candelabra were placed \par
on a series of small tables that Doc would have recognized as being old even \par
during his boyhood, so this baron had to have an affection for antiques. The \par
scent of incense hung in the air, thick and heavy, almost covering other, more \par
undesirable smells of body odor and decay.\par
\par
The floor beneath his knees was covered in rugs of all sizes, shapes and colors. \par
They were strewed upon the floor in haphazard fashion, overlapping in a \par
scattering of patterns. Doc had the impression that a series of new rugs were \par
brought in on a daily basis and slapped down wherever, covering the older soiled \par
ones.\par
\par
He turned and addressed his reflection in one of the long mirrors. He didn't \par
have to look far to see himself, since the mirrors were indeed mounted all \par
around him. "Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is \par
second childishness, and mere oblivion. Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans \par
everything," Doc said, finishing his earlier scene.\par
\par
"So, you're the one," a voice from on high said. "The one I've been hearing \par
about. What secrets you got to tell me, old man, before we chill your sorry \par
ass?"\par
\par
Chapter Fourteen\par
\par
"At least this maze of stairs is lit," Dean said, memories of the quickly fought \par
but intense battle back at the hospital in Carolina still fresh in his mind. The \par
stairs were made from the same sturdy vanadium steel as the walls, with dark \par
rubber strips on the top of each step for added safety and traction. All in the \par
group had noted the dizzying array of scratches and claw marks left behind in \par
the rubber.\par
\par
"The old one, she told me I would have to stride bravely into the bowels of hell \par
to face my quarry. I know now she was correct," Jorge said firmly. "I visited a \par
seer. She predicted victory for us all, my friends."\par
\par
"If you've been down to hell once, you been there a dozen times," Ryan replied \par
cryptically. A journey into one of the redoubts was nothing new or exciting, and \par
the only difference offered up by this one was the possible presence of the \par
murderous mutated chu-pacabras.\par
\par
As if conjured by his thoughts, a hissing noise like the leaky pipes of some \par
magnificent steam boiler came from a source near the rear of the group.\par
\par
"Company," Ryan said softly as he whirled and quickly spotted the lurking \par
presence of a single chu- pacabras at the wide bend where the stairs turned to \par
wind their way up another level. The large unreadable eyes of the creature \par
peered down at them impassively, as if the goatsucker were waiting for them to \par
make the first move.\par
\par
Unlike the one that had landed on Ryan, this chu-pacabras was at least two feet \par
taller, and much more muscular. Dean decided to himself that he'd prefer to \par
stick with the younger muties, if given a choice in the matter.\par
\par
"Wonder what he wants?" Dean asked.\par
\par
"Hungry. Mebbe," Jak replied. "We snack."\par
\par
"We're on his turf. Must've come in behind us somehow," Krysty said. "Or perhaps \par
he's angry that we chilled his little buddy."\par
\par
"He can stick around and be curious all he wants as long as-" Ryan didn't get to \par
finish his sentence as the hissing creature decided to attack, swooping down in \par
a half-gliding, half-falling motion and landing close to the waiting group. The \par
spines on the monster's back undulated, and the unearthly rainbow wash of colors \par
Soto and Jorge had previously mentioned radiated outward in jagged beams of \par
light.\par
\par
"Trying to hypnotize us," Soto cried.\par
\par
"Too late," Ryan replied, and fired a single burst from his pistol. Despite the \par
baffle silencer, the noise of the shot was distinctly audible in the confines of \par
the stairwell. The 9 mm bullet launched from the powerful blaster hit the \par
squatty creature in the throat and careened up through its neck. The \par
high-velocity impact lifted the four-foot-tall mutie off his feet and \par
hindquarters, raising him until his powerful legs came crashing down, kicking \par
and flailing for balance.\par
\par
Since Ryan had fired up at an angle, the bullet exited out the back of the \par
horror's head, taking a fist-sized chunk of misshapen bone with it.\par
\par
Threads of blood and brain tissue sprayed out in a fine mix of red and gray. The \par
head of the chupa-cabras then lolled back and forth in a half circle on its \par
thick neck before coming to rest awkwardly on a scrawny shoulder, then the \par
entire corpse tumbled down to a resting place on a level floor landing of the \par
stairwell.\par
\par
Ryan had watched impassively as the sack of dead guts flipped past his combat \par
boots.\par
\par
"Wonder how the bastard thing got behind us?" he mused. "I've had more than \par
enough surprises come slinking up from the rear."\par
\par
"Perhaps he followed us from outside the cave door," Jorge said. "Back from \par
another part of the forest of El Yunque."\par
\par
"Knew we should of locked the damn door behind us," J.B. noted.\par
\par
"Well, I don't know how it snuck up on us, lover, but I can tell you something \par
else," Krysty said in a worried tone as she rested a hand on one of Ryan's broad \par
shoulders. "The way my head's been ringing since we set foot in this redoubt, \par
the one you just chilled isn't traveling alone. This place is as cold \par
spiritually as they come. Went through a graveyard after dark on a dare once \par
back in Harmony when I was a little girl. Picked a night with no moon. Half- way \par
in the boneyard the whole world seemed to go quiet. This place gives off the \par
same kind of feeling."\par
\par
"In other words, we should get out of this redoubt," Soto said.\par
\par
"Ready," Jak said succinctly. "Go back lock door."\par
\par
"Scared?" Dean challenged.\par
\par
"Hell, no!" Jak retorted as he turned his ruby eyes on Dean. "You?"\par
\par
Dean cocked his head over at Ryan. "Not with Dad here."\par
\par
"Appreciate the confidence, but there's nothing wrong with a little caution, \par
Dean," Ryan replied. "A man who isn't a bit scared of the unknown might find his \par
nerves are too dead to be much good to him or his allies. Besides, we can't \par
leave. Not yet. Not until we've found the nest and made sure there aren't going \par
to be any more of these things."\par
\par
"This one must've been coming down the stairs for a reason. I don't think he was \par
intentionally following us, otherwise why attack now instead of waiting for a \par
better opportunity? We were just in the way. His home must be down farther in \par
the redoubt," Krysty pointed out.\par
\par
"Okay, we find this home. And then...?" Jorge asked, a sheen of perspiration \par
plainly visible on his neatly trimmed mustache.\par
\par
"And then, once J.B.'s dismantled any of the remaining safety sec systems in \par
this redoubt so we don't get foamed or blasted by fire-retardant gas, we blast \par
this entire redoubt...with whatever sick kind of genetics lab they have \par
precisely at ground zero."\par
\par
"Senor Cawdor, what I said earlier back in the camp? I take it back. I am \par
beginning to like the way your mind works," Jorge beamed.\par
\par
"NoiSE," Jak said, tapping Ryan on the shoulder. "Hear it?"\par
\par
Ryan held his breath and listened hard, but heard nothing more than the \par
heartbeat in his inner ears. He looked down at his friend and shook his head. \par
His hearing was good, but Jak's was even better.\par
\par
"I don't hear anything," Dean said.\par
\par
"Well, I do," Krysty replied, confirming the albino's detections. Like Jak, the \par
woman possessed uncanny abilities of sight and sound, and drew upon them now. \par
"Can't identify what the sound is, though."\par
\par
Jak didn't say anything else, choosing instead to kneel on the metal floor of \par
the redoubt, placing his hands flat on the ground, turning his head sideways, \par
his fine white hair extending outward from the crown of his skull as he leaned \par
his ear against the cool alloy for a closer listen.\par
\par
There were no other sounds but the rhythmic in and out of their own individual \par
breathing patterns. Far off, around a corner, Ryan could just catch the \par
mechanical whir of the redoubt's vent system as it cycled air through the \par
complex. Jak stayed in place, prone on the ground and listening hard, his eyes \par
shut. All eyes were on him, as he strained to listen.\par
\par
"What is it?" Ryan finally asked in a whisper.\par
\par
Jak opened an eye and peered up at Ryan. "Vibrations," the albino said. "Hard \par
tell. Floor solid, metal on rock."\par
\par
"You don't really hear them, you just feel them," J.B. added, shifting the \par
M-4000 scattergun from the crook of his left arm to his right.\par
\par
"Uh-huh," Jak agreed, standing.\par
\par
"Must be something big, or lots of somethings big to cause enough of a vibration \par
to be felt on flooring as solid as this," Jorge said.\par
\par
"Could be the chupacabras nest, Dad," Dean added.\par
\par
"Still not picking up any vibes, lover. Earlier on, I could. Now, there's \par
nothing. Almost like I'm being jammed by the little bastards."\par
\par
"Jammed?" Ryan replied. The term didn't seem to fit in with life functions.\par
\par
The redhead shot him a look, her fiery hair undulating about her face and \par
shoulders. "Best word I could come up with for how I'm feeling."\par
\par
"The chupacabras have long been rumored to possess the power to cloud the minds \par
of men and women, Krysty Wroth," Soto said. "Make them feel weak, powerless, \par
sick enough to vomit. Entire groups of people have been driven to nausea when \par
faced with a single chupacabras. Your special gifts might indeed be compromised \par
in combating the goatsuckers."\par
\par
"Which way you think the vibrations were coming from, Jak?"\par
\par
The teen pondered Krysty's question for a few seconds, then pointed at the left \par
fork of the twin corridors. "Down there."\par
\par
Soto stepped over and looked at a laminated wall map. "That passage leads to an \par
area called Research and Development. Entry Absolutely Forbidden To All but B12 \par
Cleared Personnel."\par
\par
"Good thing we've got a B12 clearance isn't it?" J.B. said.\par
\par
THE DESIGN OF THE LAB was reminiscent of others they'd previously seen in \par
military redoubts. Entry-ways provided by polished air locks of silver chromium \par
rings irised open and closed at the touch of a keypad, each hexagonal-shaped \par
chamber leading into a massive central control area. That, in turn, looked \par
either out and across an interior room or down on med-sterile arenas where the \par
actual grunt work was performed, and in the case of genetic manipulation and the \par
creation of mutants, where the products of said experiments were housed and \par
caged.\par
\par
The lab area below was dim. All of the fluorescent strip lights that usually \par
illuminated redoubts had either burned out or had been broken and removed. No \par
movement could be seen among the darker shapes of the tables, cages and other \par
pieces of larger gear on the lab floor.\par
\par
One of the cages was close to the ob window, and allowed the group to see that \par
it was made of clear armaglass on three sides and solid steel on top and bottom. \par
A fourth wall was a mix of vanadium bars and a sliding armaglass portal. From \par
his viewpoint, Ryan noted most of the other cells also appeared empty.\par
\par
The closest of the confinement cages showed damage-claw marks.\par
\par
Massive panes of thick and clear armaglass kept the overlords separate from \par
their charges. A series of interior vid cameras were mounted high along the \par
ceiling. Black-and-white vid monitors that took the images seen by the cameras \par
and played them back in the ob booth were mounted in a wire rack next to the \par
armaglass. At the moment, most of the monitor screens were dark. The two still \par
functioning replayed views of what they could already see on the main lab floor \par
below.\par
\par
Down at the other end of the ob window, Soto gave a startled shriek.\par
\par
Hell eyes gazed back at him through the glass.\par
\par
Then, unexpectedly, more eyes appeared as a mass of the chupacabras hovered \par
inside, silent, like a swarm of angry insects.\par
\par
"How many you count?" J.B. asked.\par
\par
"Eight. Nine. A dozen. Shit," Dean replied.\par
\par
"Wonder how they're getting in and out? That section below looks sealed," Ryan \par
noted.\par
\par
The voiced question was answered when a wall-mounted vent covering clattered to \par
the floor, followed by a beating sound of wings and a hissing noise almost \par
painful to the eardrum.\par
\par
"They're in the redoubt's air ventilation system," Ryan said in disbelief.\par
\par
"Bastards must be contortionists," J.B. replied, setting the sights of the \par
M-4000 scattergun and preparing to fire. He blinked once, twice, and focused. \par
One thing about using the scattergun-precise aim was the last thing a man needed \par
to worry about.\par
\par
The scout for the chupacabras delegation came bounding over, a fleshy ping-pong \par
ball with bat wings and glowing eyes. J.B. didn't hesitate as he gently caressed \par
the trigger. A double load of fle-chettes burst from the wide bore of the \par
blaster, spinning for their intended target.\par
\par
The squat beast exploded like a burst party balloon, spraying blood and entrails \par
in all directions. A pungent stench of sulfur wafted into J.B.'s nostrils and he \par
straggled to hold back a sneeze, but failed mightily.\par
\par
"That's one," J.B. muttered, sniffing lustily.\par
\par
A trio of the hell-beasts bounded out this time, keeping their distance from one \par
another as they came at the party of humans. Krysty rolled across the ob floor \par
toward the cover of a fallen table, hoping for a clear shot. She was moving on \par
instinct in a desperate series of maneuvers, keeping low as one of the creatures \par
zeroed in, hissing in triumph. Her bare arms and hands hit broken glass where \par
beakers and other glass paraphernalia had fallen and shattered after the table \par
had been overturned.\par
\par
"Dammit!" she cursed as a half-dozen cuts and punctures oozed fresh blood from \par
her skin. The injuries weren't life threatening, but they blazed hotly with \par
pain. She lifted her left hand to her mouth and using her teeth, gingerly pulled \par
one of the larger slivers of glass from her throbbing palm.\par
\par
The scent of blood sent the pursuing chupacabras into a spastic dance of joy. \par
The ugly beast waved its arms, waggled its wings and shook its pear-shaped \par
abdomen, all the while cocking its head and sniffing the air. A hop, two more \par
and it was on the spot where Krysty had just left a few drops of crimson fluid \par
behind as she rolled away through the jagged hunks of glass.\par
\par
A long, pink tongue lolled out of the beast's mouth and stretched out and down \par
to lap at the fresh blood. While the creature was distracted, Krysty scrambled \par
onto her stomach and crawled on her bleeding hands and knees behind the \par
sanctuary of the fallen lab table.\par
\par
Across the room, Jak pulled the Colt and fast-sighted, pulling back the hammer \par
of the blaster in a one-two motion so quickly that the twin shots fired sounded \par
like one. The first round missed by less than an inch the creature approaching \par
Krysty. The second landed on target, hitting the mutie high in the general area \par
of the shoulder and driving the beast backward and to the ground.\par
\par
The chupacabras unleashed a wail of pain, and Jak was beset by one of the \par
creature's brothers. Jak went for lower ground too, taking a dive like an \par
Olympic swimmer and rolling nimbly with the agility of a born athlete as he came \par
up into a crouched position with Colt in hand next to Krysty. Even in the taut \par
danger of the moment, Krysty couldn't help but notice the lithe albino wasn't \par
even breathing hard.\par
\par
The youth fired two more bullets, and both rammed home, blowing a fist-sized \par
hole in the chupacabras's midsection. The mutie flipped backward from the force \par
of the gunshots, screeching in agony for a few long seconds before dying.\par
\par
"Need practice. Not good with gun as knives," Jak said casually to the woman at \par
his side.\par
\par
"Good enough," Krysty answered with a smile.\par
\par
"I think we have found the nest, Ryan Cawdor," Soto called out, his face flushed \par
red with adrenaline and fear.\par
\par
"You think?" Ryan replied, biting back a more sarcastic remark. "We've been \par
lucky so far, but I think we need to back off. J.B., we got enough in the way of \par
those grens you boosted from Jamaisvous to close this place down?"\par
\par
"Yeah," the smaller man replied, patting a pocket of his jacket.\par
\par
"Everybody head for the stairs!" Ryan bellowed. "J.B. and I will lay down \par
covering fire. We're going to blast and seal them in!"\par
\par
Ryan didn't have to give the order twice. There was a scramble as Krysty, Jak, \par
Dean, Soto and Jorge hit the silver ring of the air lock. J.B. had the Uzi set \par
on 3-round bursts, periodically fanning the duct where the creatures had entered \par
the deck of the lab.\par
\par
"Everybody's out."\par
\par
"Okay," the Armorer replied, taking out one of the four unusual, small, yet \par
deadly high-ex grens he'd taken from El Morro. "I'm setting the timer for twenty \par
seconds."\par
\par
"See you outside," Ryan replied, and exited the room.\par
\par
J.B. flicked a small timer switch and gave an underhanded toss, landing the gren \par
inside the open vent of the circulation system, and then he was gone, out of the \par
room, through the air lock and into the outside hallway, running with the others \par
even as the walls shook and the loud sound of the gren explosion echoed through \par
the lower section of the redoubt.\par
\par
The group kept moving, Ryan now in the lead, as they made their way back to the \par
emergency stairwell.\par
\par
"Missed a few!" J.B. bellowed, and fired off a stream of lead behind him, taking \par
down one of the pursuing chupacabras that had waddled out of the haze the \par
high-ex gren had created.\par
\par
The stairs reverberated the terrific clatter as the group climbed higher and \par
higher, continuing their way to the top.\par
\par
And below, more of the fearsome chupacabras gathered, ten or more by the \par
Armorer's quick count. Apparently there had been more of them elsewhere in the \par
redoubt, or more likely, in the air circulation system. They were joining \par
forces, as if a silent, psychic message had gone out to all of them to garner \par
their strength to take on the threat.\par
\par
"I'm going to drop another gren in ten seconds," J.B. warned.\par
\par
"In the stairwell?" Jorge asked. "You'll kill us all!"\par
\par
"Keep moving," Ryan replied. "J.B. knows what he's doing."\par
\par
The Armorer threw a second gren behind him, counting down loudly as he ran, \par
relying on the decreasing numbers to speed his comrades. He'd set the timer for \par
ten seconds, but as always with old ordnance, trusting the fuses to perform \par
accurately was like plotting the path of a lightning strike. You always heard \par
the thunder after the bolt had fallen.\par
\par
Ten seconds later, and the stairs underfoot seemed to try to grab their own \par
ankles in an attempt to lift themselves from then- moorings, hurling all those \par
on them into the air. Each member of the group had known to keep at least one \par
hand on the railing, and some had placed both for an extra-secure grip near the \par
end of J.B.'s shouted countdown, but such precautions were still not enough to \par
keep them on their feet once the gren went off in a massive exhalation of fire \par
and concussive force.\par
\par
"Help!" Soto cried as he pitched over the rail, his legs dangling into the \par
rising cloud of smoke and debris. Managing to grab the bottom rail, he hung on \par
for dear life until Ryan and Dean could reach over to rescue him from plummeting \par
downward.\par
\par
"Help, somebody!" he screamed again as they tugged. "It's got me, one of them's \par
got me!"\par
\par
Krysty was there, thumbing back the action on her.38-caliber Smith & Wesson \par
blaster and firing three bullets, one-two-three in rapid succession as she \par
pulled the trigger, taking aim not so much at the horror that had attached \par
itself to the squirming Puerto Rican hanging over the banister, but instead \par
taking greater pains not to shoot the man who needed the assistance.\par
\par
The chupacabras was nearly completely hidden in the smoky haze of the damaged \par
stairwell.\par
\par
"It's biting me!" Soto screamed. "Blast it! Blast the fucker!"\par
\par
Krysty fired another volley of shots, and this time one of the bullets found a \par
home in a vital organ of the creature. The clawed hands went slack as it fell \par
from the helpless and kicking Soto.\par
\par
At the back of the stairs, J.B. reached into a pocket and took out a third gren, \par
his fingers flying as he set it for yet another ten-second fuse.\par
\par
"I'm sending down another package," he yelled as he pulled the ring and opened \par
his hand, releasing the gren on its deadly path.\par
\par
"J.B. Wait-" Ryan called, a fraction of a second too late.\par
\par
"What?" the Armorer asked tersely, before continuing the countdown. "Nine-"\par
\par
"We've got company."\par
\par
Above them glowed three pairs of eyes.\par
\par
"Dark night," the Armorer said, disgusted.\par
\par
"Going to get darker," Jorge replied.\par
\par
Chapter Fifteen\par
\par
Mildred had awakened in her quarters before dawn, much earlier than she would \par
have liked, but she was a person usually unable to fall back asleep once she was \par
roused from slumber. Without getting up from the bed and keeping busy, she knew \par
she'd end up missing J.B.'s presence at her side and staring at the ceiling even \par
as fatigue continued to rest upon her weary bones.\par
\par
What had awakened her? The room was surprisingly cool, the stone construction \par
within the fortress not holding any of the previous day's heat.\par
\par
Her bladder twinged as if in answer.\par
\par
"Too much wine," she said aloud, and then giggled. "Drink too much and you have \par
to prime the pump."\par
\par
As she padded barefoot down the stone hallway toward the washroom of this \par
section of the fortress, she strode past Doc's room.\par
\par
The door to the old man's quarters was hanging open. Curious, Mildred looked \par
inside, and immediately realized from the taut bedspread and perfectly centered \par
pillow the bed hadn't yet been slept in, nor had someone lain on top for a quick \par
nap.\par
\par
Unlike herself, Mildred knew from the many times they'd shared a campsite \par
together that Doc was a man who could sleep through anything.\par
\par
So where was he now? Worried, she took a moment to retrieve her clothing, \par
shrugging into the blue dress Jamaisvous had given her the previous morning, \par
since it was close at hand. She also picked up her blaster, holding it at her \par
side as she started looking. Her search led her to the control room of the oddly \par
configured mat-trans unit that Silas Jamaisvous had modified in the bowels of \par
the mighty fortress.\par
\par
Her eyes went first to Doc, who was standing next to the mat-trans chamber, the \par
door of the booth open and the handle gripped in one hand as if he were saying a \par
silent prayer before entering. Doc wore a guilty hangdog look, like a naughty \par
pet caught in the midst of shredding a favorite sock or shoe. He twisted his \par
swordstick in his other hand.\par
\par
Mildred then directed her intense gaze at Jamaisvous, who was sitting at a \par
control center with his back to her. Various comps, vid screens and readouts \par
were actively chattering and blinking away in front of him.\par
\par
"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" Mildred demanded loudly.\par
\par
He turned and gave his unexpected guest a quick smile. "What am I doing, Dr. \par
Wyeth? What I've been doing for two long years now. I am conducting an \par
experiment. You were not expected nor invited for this final phase, but you are \par
more than welcome to watch."\par
\par
Mildred took one step forward, and a sec man in green pants and black T-shirt \par
stepped into view from his hidden vantage point next to a tall comp data bank.\par
\par
"Garcia?"\par
\par
"Lopez."\par
\par
"Sorry, I get you two confused."\par
\par
"That's okay, Dr. Wyeth. I have trouble telling your people apart, too."\par
\par
Mildred started to stride forward once more, and the sec man lowered his weapon \par
in reply.\par
\par
"Uh-uh. You may watch, but don't think of interfering," Jamaisvous said easily.\par
\par
"What are you going to do, Doc?" Mildred asked.\par
\par
Jamaisvous spoke instead. "Dr. Tanner is going to add the final piece to the \par
puzzle of chron-jumping. I've given him a series of medical injections to \par
counter some of the temporal side effects, and now we're going to try to trawl \par
him forward and back in tune. If this works, everybody wins."\par
\par
"And if it doesn't, Doc ends up dead. Or worse."\par
\par
"I do not think my life could get much worse, Dr. Wyeth," Doc replied sadly. \par
"This is my decision."\par
\par
"Uh-uh," Mildred replied. "You need to think this out."\par
\par
"He has made his decision," Jamaisvous snarled, spinning toward the woman. \par
"Imagine waking up, Mildred, and discovering you had no human companionship to \par
welcome you into the future. I wish I had been a freezie instead of a trawl. I \par
had to shoot myself forward just to survive the coming war, only unlike Dr. \par
Tanner, I used another mat-trans chamber as a destination point. \par
Chamber-to-chamber time trawls are a hell of a lot safer in case anything goes \par
wrong."\par
\par
"You lied."\par
\par
Jamaisvous continued to speak, paying no attention to Mildred's accusations. "I \par
made it there alive, but I was the only one, and when I checked the rest of the \par
redoubt, I discovered all of my fellow sleepers were mutants, ugly little demons \par
waiting, sleeping and dreaming their dark thoughts."\par
\par
"The chupacabras...1" Mildred asked with dawning realization.\par
\par
"Yes. I sent some of them back, you know. Back in time, right from the source of \par
the first redoubt in El Yunque," Jamaisvous said with a smirk. "I was only able \par
to do this six times before the power fluctuations from the failing nuke \par
generator started to create massive problems."\par
\par
"What kinds of problems?" Mildred asked, her mind racing as she tried to think \par
of a way out of the situation in which she now found herself and Doc trapped.\par
\par
' 'Most of them were computer related. It takes an infinite number of \par
calculations to accomplish even a simple same-time mat-trans jump. When you add \par
the complication of a temporal destination, even more juice is needed. The \par
chupacabras, as the locals dubbed them, would not have been my first choice as \par
test subjects, but since I was there and they were the only other living \par
creatures at my disposal, I made do."\par
\par
"You made do by sending violent, murderous creatures into the past?" Doc asked \par
in tones of disbelief.\par
\par
Jamaisvous shrugged. "Frankly I was curious to see if such moronic boobs would \par
survive a reverse time-trawl intact. The information stream I beamed into the \par
quantum interface and bounced back for a picture never did function \par
correctly-then again, the masters of Chronos never perfected the chronal window \par
for temporal peeping, either."\par
\par
The whitecoat turned back to Doc. "As I recall, that was another reason for \par
their delight in you, Dr. Tanner. They'd somehow managed to keep the window open \par
into your particular time and locale, actually getting some video footage of you \par
and your wife doddering around the wooden sidewalks of Omaha"\par
\par
"I know," Doc replied quietly. "I have seen the tape."\par
\par
"The goatsuckers... You said you sent them back?'' Mildred prodded, wanting to \par
keep him talking, wanting to extend the situation before Doc crawled into the \par
waiting gateway.\par
\par
"Right! And from published reports of the time, I was even more successful than \par
I could have dreamed. Amusingly enough, the media of the 1990s deemed the \par
genetically created chupacabras a living creature designed for war, as having \par
extraterrestrial origins."\par
\par
"You're right," Mildred said. "Soto and Jorge, from Old San Juan, had researched \par
those accounts, too."\par
\par
Jamaisvous gestured with both hands, adding a visual commentary as he talked in \par
the clipped manner he assumed when spewing information. "Imagine! Savor the \par
irony! Packs of EBEs-extraterrestrial biological entities-flying over the \par
islands of the Caribbean! Bug-eyed Martians wanting a beach vacation! All of \par
them, racing around the Puerto Rican countryside in then- flying saucers, taking \par
time out to suck the blood from goats and cows in some arcane ceremony. Utterly \par
hilarious."\par
\par
"None of them were ever captured or found?"\par
\par
"Of course they were! The United States government, the 'aboveboard' contingent, \par
knew something strange was going on after they took away a pair of the beasts \par
from the island to the mainland for observation and autopsy, but their response \par
was predictable. Taint the evidence and ridicule the believers, while destroying \par
or distorting any real proof."\par
\par
Mildred realized where this was leading. "They could tell the chupacabras were \par
genetically engineered creations, couldn't they?"\par
\par
"Of course! And here's the kicker. They took what they could learn from the two \par
animals and used what they thought were alien strands of DNA to make their own \par
living, breathing chupacabras! Next thing you know, we have a paradox. Take into \par
account the eternal question of the chicken or the egg? Doesn't matter any \par
longer, for you no longer needed the egg in the first place! Which came \par
first-the future or the past? Damned if I can say for sure, but it certainly \par
makes for top-notch entertainment."\par
\par
"I'm not a geneticist, but this sounds far-fetched even to me."\par
\par
"Not when invoking chimeric DNA, Dr. Wyeth."\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
'' 'A fearful creature, great and swift of foot and strong, whose breath was \par
flame unquenchable,'" Doc said from his position at the opening of the gateway, \par
pulling up specs from the depths of his incredible memory.\par
\par
"Sounds like he needs a bottle of mouthwash," Mildred retorted. She'd heard \par
Doc's lengthy dissertations on these topics before, and the end result was \par
always one of two things: either Doc's yammering drove her to distraction or \par
bored her to tears. Now, she welcomed it, knowing as long as she kept the \par
discussion going, the odds were greater of holding these two off until Ryan \par
returned, hoping the one-eyed man would never allow Doc to take such a risk \par
without knowing more about the boundaries.\par
\par
"The Chimera was a mythical fire-breathing monster, with the great head of a \par
lion, the body of a goat and the tail of a hissing, striking serpent," Doc \par
continued. "Held to be unconquerable, with the ability to spit bolts of \par
fire...until Bellerophon rode winged Pegasus up and over the beast, shooting her \par
with arrows from a safe distance with no risk to himself."\par
\par
' 'You know, I used to enjoy mythology until I met you," Mildred said wearily.\par
\par
Jamaisvous laughed in delight. "She's right! Count on you, Dr. Tanner, to ruin \par
all the fun. But, he's correct in his words, Dr. Wyeth. The term 'chi- meric' \par
does indeed come from mythological origins and, in this instance, refers to \par
certain combinations of DNA. Take genetic material from one animal, and place it \par
in another. Shake well, and see what surprise combo you've come up with this \par
tune."\par
\par
"Playing God," the woman said with a frown.\par
\par
"I agree. I also postulate that if man has reached the heights of such creation \par
and manipulation of life, then man has become godlike."\par
\par
"I don't agree," Mildred said. "I've always believed there are limits, and lines \par
that should not be crossed."\par
\par
"This from an expert in the field of cryonics? What about the eternal body and \par
soul debate? The morality of freezing the dead for eventual reanima-tion? Dr. \par
Frankenstein would have heartily approved of your field, Mildred."\par
\par
"There's a big difference between trying to preserve existing life and creating \par
anew, Silas," Mildred pointed out.\par
\par
"Perhaps, but it doesn't matter here. Like yourself, Dr. Wyeth, genetics aren't \par
my specialty, but I'm a fast learner and have spent quite a few nights going \par
through the existing videotapes of the many processes that led to the creation \par
of the mutants known as chupacabras. Here a protoplast, there a hybrid and \par
boom-a single cell containing the chromosomes of both parent cells. I believe \par
vectors were also used, a vector being an unsuspecting DNA molecule into which \par
foreign DNA can be easily inserted."\par
\par
"There goes the neighborhood."\par
\par
"Yes. Once you've added the new element to the old, you then have an entirely \par
different creation that is fully accepted and taken up by the confused host \par
cell."\par
\par
"All you're describing to me is pantropic science," Mildred said. "I've seen it \par
and experienced the horror of it firsthand. Why the government didn't think a \par
nuclear conflagration was sufficient punishment for the world is beyond me, but \par
the artificial creations generated by the distortions of nature make me sick to \par
even call myself a member of the human race."\par
\par
Jamaisvous laid a hand over his heart. "Spoken like a true patriot, my dear. \par
Still, Dr. Tanner and I have an appointment to keep, right?"\par
\par
"Yes," Doc replied.\par
\par
Then, Mildred surprised them all. She raised her pistol and fired a quick shot \par
into the heart of one of the comps on the table next to Jamaisvous, followed by \par
a bold lunge for Doc, which was doomed to failure by the equally quick reaction \par
time of Garcia, who pulled a small black-and-silver handheld device from his \par
belt and shoved the suddenly sparking gadget against Mildred's body.\par
\par
The last thing Mildred saw before being plunged into unconsciousness was the \par
electric-blue strike of a compressed lightning blast.\par
\par
"You COULDN'T BACK OFF, could you? I'm sorry, Dr. Wyeth. Sorry for both of us." \par
The leader of the El Morro Fortress glared down at his guest, all pretense of \par
polite host long lost. The tazer Garcia had used to subdue Mildred emitted faint \par
crackling sounds as Jamaisvous, who'd taken control of the woman's target \par
pistol, idly caressed the hammer of the firing mechanism. "I suppose I should \par
kill you to insure my plans of succeeding, but I'm a fair man, so what I do \par
depends on you."\par
\par
Mildred held her ground. "What a load. You live to brag and talk. Kill me and \par
you're back to expressing glee to your own reflection in the mirror. I'm sure \par
the locals don't exactly comprehend the full import of what you've got set up \par
here."\par
\par
"A parry of ego, eh, Dr. Wyeth? I can handle being alone. I've been alone \par
before. I kind of like it."\par
\par
Mildred got to her feet, realizing part of one breast was exposed by the low-cut \par
blue dress. She lingered as she pushed herself up, allowing Jamaisvous a long \par
look at her cleavage.\par
\par
"There's always room for discussion, Silas...and nobody likes being alone," she \par
said in her huskiest voice.\par
\par
"Please, don't come any closer. I hate heroes, especially misguided, oversexed \par
ones. I daresay none of us wants any more shooting in here, what with such \par
delicate and irreplaceable equipment lying about," Jamaisvous said. He waved an \par
impatient hand at Doc. "Go ahead, Theophilus! We can't get started until you're \par
encased inside."\par
\par
"I beg you, Dr. Jamaisvous, do not hurt my friends," he implored.\par
\par
"That's entirely up to them, isn't it? Now go. Fly."\par
\par
Doc did as ordered, stepping into the gateway and closing the door with a soft \par
click.\par
\par
Mildred, her racing heartbeat belying the fine sheen of sweat on her face and \par
forehead, stepped over briskly, not caring if she was shot, and began to pound \par
on the blue armaglass of the gateway chamber with both fists. From within, if he \par
skewed his eyes, Doc could make out her faint, shadowy outline.\par
\par
"Doc! Don't do it! Doc!" she screamed, even as the tendrils of mist began to \par
form and collect inside the chamber like a damp embrace from an old friend. \par
"He's using you! Using you as a test subject, you crazy old fart! He doesn't \par
care if you live or die! Doc!"\par
\par
There was an incredibly bright light from inside the sheltered chamber, filtered \par
by the colored armaglass but still as bright as the noonday sun. All of the \par
secondary lights and comp banks in the room dimmed in intensity as the light \par
within the mat-trans unit reached blinding levels. Mildred closed her eyes and \par
still was blinded, finally having to turn her back to the light to save her \par
overloaded visual receptors.\par
\par
Then, he was gone again. There was no fading or even the sudden violent changes \par
in the air and gravitation fabric as the last time he'd been taken by time \par
trawl.\par
\par
He just ceased to be.\par
\par
Doc Tanner...wasn't.\par
\par
"The chron jump is now in progress," Jamaisvous announced calmly. "First \par
stop-tomorrow."\par
\par
Mocsin, Montana, 2095\par
\par
Doc TANNER STARED UP toward the voice that had just threatened to kill him, his \par
eyes falling on a kind of stepped pyramid, approximately twelve feet high, wide \par
at the bottom and tapering off to a smaller, flat top, upon which rested a wide, \par
high-backed wing chair draped in the stars and stripes of an American\par
\par
Sitting in the chair and on the flag was a man, dressed in a dingy robe of \par
purple silk, with a dirty white fur collar. Purple silken pajamas could be \par
glimpsed beneath the folds of the half-open robe. The man was wearing black \par
knee-length riding boots whose sheen caught the reflection of many candles. He \par
was fat, but not grotesque, although the potential for obesity of an \par
incapacitating manner was present in his fleshy face and build. A white scarf, \par
brighter and cleaner than the fur collar of the gown, was wrapped around his \par
throat.\par
\par
Short, white hair topped the man's head, which craned down as he peered intently \par
at the kneeling figure of Doc Tanner with mild curiosity. The room was silent as \par
he stared Doc down. Pausing only to take out and light up a ridiculously large \par
cigar with an odor even more cloying and sweet that the burning pots of incense, \par
he finally decided to speak.\par
\par
"Who the fuck are you?" the fat man asked, blowing out a plume of smoke.\par
\par
"Tanner. Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner," Doc replied, getting enough of a whiff \par
to note the cigar wasn't made of tobacco, but could be traced instead to the \par
cannabis plant.\par
\par
The revelation made the baron's ears perk up. "Doctor? Medical doc?" Teague \par
asked eagerly, looking past Doc to his right-hand man, Cort Strasser. Strasser \par
made no overt movement to indicate yea or nay, allowing the kneeling man as much \par
rope as required to hang himself.\par
\par
"No, my friend. Philosophy. Philosophy and..." Tanner discovered the years of \par
scientific training he'd taken had vanished from his mind, vanished to such a \par
degree he was having trouble even recalling what his second major in university \par
might have been.\par
\par
"Sounds like a bullshitter to me. He come into Mocsin with tribute?"\par
\par
"Nothing on him, Baron, except for these." The bearded sec man reached into a \par
canvas shoulder bag and held out a pair of perfect metal spheres, each about the \par
size of a baseball. Strasser took the offered globes and walked up the steps to \par
the top of Teague's bizarre indoor pyramid. The overweight baron had ordered the \par
pyramid built as his throne, having been advised that a pyramid was a power \par
object, and by sitting atop one he could harness the latent energies and become \par
a stronger leader.\par
\par
At first Baron Teague had been hesitant, but after discussing the matter with \par
his closest advisers, in- cluding Cort Strasser, he decided a pyramid was just \par
what he needed.\par
\par
With almost superhuman effort Strasser had managed to keep from erupting into \par
gales of laughter at the sight of his boss perched atop the pretentious \par
construct, and word quickly escaped into Mocsin that the good baron was becoming \par
loonier and loonier each day. It was an assumption Strasser had done nothing to \par
suppress.\par
\par
Cort Strasser had his own plans for Mocsin and for the ville's leader.\par
\par
"Balls," league said confidently, rolling one of the spheres between two fleshy \par
hands.\par
\par
"That's right," Strasser agreed, ever the vigilant yes-man. "Balls."\par
\par
Teague didn't appear to be impressed. He gave a great sigh that seemed to start \par
low in the pit of his doughy stomach and then come hurtling out of his open \par
mouth. Strasser and the other sec men in the room knew the signs. Their boss was \par
bored. "So, this old fart's no peddler or trader, since he offers nothing of \par
value in the way of hard goods, correct?"\par
\par
"Correct," Strasser replied.\par
\par
"And he's too dried up to be worth fucking or selling his ass," Teague \par
continued. "So a thriving career as a male gaudy seems to be out."\par
\par
"Right."\par
\par
Teague leaned forward ever so slightly and fixed Doc with a contemptuous stare. \par
"My question is, what do you have to offer me, old man?''\par
\par
"First, uh, my good fellow," Doc began, trying to summon the courage to ignore \par
the men with high-powered weapons surrounding him and fixate instead on the \par
unarmed baron.\par
\par
"Baron," Teague corrected in a frosty tone.\par
\par
"My good, um, Baron," Doc said nervously, but without pause, "I am not old. \par
Haggard, yes, I will accept that description. But old, never."\par
\par
"Seems like you're in a powerful world of denial, old man," Strasser said, and \par
the other men in the room chuckled. Teague didn't acknowledge the crack, another \par
sign of Strasser's continually growing power, since a year ago the baron would \par
have slapped his second-in-command down either verbally or physically for daring \par
to comment during one of his interrogations.\par
\par
Doc pressed on, keeping his chin high as he looked up at the seated baron of \par
Mocsin. "Second, I am a teacher, a man of learning who wishes to share his \par
knowledge."\par
\par
"Teacher?" A wash of confusion passed over Teague's ruddy face. "Teach what?"\par
\par
"The sciences," Doc replied.\par
\par
"Tech?" the baron asked with the first active look of interest he'd shown since \par
Doc's arrival.\par
\par
Now it was Doc's turn to be confused. "Beg pardon?"\par
\par
"Tech. Hardware. Machines," Teague replied impatiently. "You a fixer? I can \par
always use a fixer. Or a techie. Know anything about engines? Comps? What's your \par
field?"\par
\par
Doc shook his head sadly. "No, mechanical apparatuses are not my forte. 'Tech' \par
is not my calling."\par
\par
Teague shook his head, already bored again. The siren call of the addict was \par
starting to whisper in his ear, and he grew weary of discussing job descriptions \par
with Doc Tanner. The glowing pipe, the oversized joint of happyweed, both were \par
waiting for him and Teague wanted to feel the burning sensation between his lips \par
and teeth.\par
\par
But not until business was done. Baron Jordan Teague hadn't backslid so much as \par
to reveal his addiction openly to his underlings. At least, not yet.\par
\par
"We have no use of theory here, Doctor," he finally said. "I need men who can \par
produce results. You sound like a user, a taker, a man with nothing to offer."\par
\par
"Begging your pardon, Baron Teague...?" Stras-ser said in a polite tone.\par
\par
Teague matched it, answering as if they were seated together at a banquet table \par
passing a basket of biscuits instead of deciding Doc's fate. "Yes, Cort?" he \par
asked.\par
\par
Strasser stepped up beside Doc and placed a friendly arm around the man's skinny \par
shoulders. "I think you've got Doc all wrong. He does serve a purpose."\par
\par
Teague wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his purple robe. He needed a fix, and \par
soon. "Enlighten me, please, Cort, for I sure as hell don't see it."\par
\par
Strasser pulled back the friendly arm and used it to slap Doc on the \par
back...hard. "He's a fun guy, a clown. He can help keep us entertained. He tells \par
great stories. Recites Shakespeare! Why, I bet he even sings and dances once you \par
get a few beers in him."\par
\par
Doc stayed on his feet, gritting his fine teeth against the pain now throbbing \par
between his bony shoulder blades. "I am no man's monkey, Mr. Strasser."\par
\par
"That's what you think." Strasser jerked a thumb in a downward motion. "Let me \par
have him, Baron. I'll find a use for old Doc here. Train him up good and when \par
you least expect it, I'll drag his sorry ass out for a show."\par
\par
Teague nodded, the bored mask back on his fleshy face. The drugs were in his \par
left robe pocket and it took all of his self-control to stop from pulling them \par
out and lighting up. "He's yours, Cort. You found him, you're responsible for \par
him. Now leave me, all of you. I need time alone to think and meditate upon my \par
current affairs of state."\par
\par
Strasser bowed. "Yes, my lord."\par
\par
"UNHAND ME, SIR!" Doc yelled at the sec man.\par
\par
The bearded man obliged, pushing Doc into the filthy basement room. The walls \par
were a mix of earth and heavy stone; the floor damp and muddy. The room was \par
barren, no furniture or windows, only the single wooden door with the tiny \par
window cut in the upper section for viewing.\par
\par
"You just don't get it, do you, old man? I think you need a lesson in manners."\par
\par
Strasser slapped Doc across the face with the back of his hand, sending him \par
stumbling sideways into the wall. While Doc was no coward, he wasn't a seasoned \par
fighter either, and the events that had seen him taken from the end of the year \par
2000 and dropped nearly one hundred years into this future hellhole had robbed \par
him of almost all his strength.\par
\par
Doc raised an arm, managing to block a second punch. He felt his entire shoulder \par
go numb from the force of the blow. Strasser gave a nasty snort of laughter and \par
feinted with his right fist, taking advantage of his victim's hapless avoidance \par
to easily kick out with a booted foot, catching his prisoner in the kneecap.\par
\par
Doc screamed in pain and went down on the earthen floor.\par
\par
"Strip him," Strasser ordered and the two sec men bent down to comply, pulling \par
away the well-worn clothing, the grimy long underwear.\par
\par
"You animal."\par
\par
Strasser laughed, and his amusement was as false and cold as his smile. "No, \par
you're the animal here, Doc, and I'm going to enjoy proving it. I hope you can \par
get it up, because I've got a special job for you. One you're gonna like."\par
\par
"Get it...up?" Doc asked, confused by the slang.\par
\par
The second sec man laughed, pointing at Doc's genitals. "Even if he does pop a \par
boner, I don't think it's going to amount to much!"\par
\par
Strasser strode over with his hand on his hips and looked down. "Doc, you've \par
just been appointed\par
\par
Mocsin's ambassador of swine, and as such, your number-one duty is to service \par
all the female members of your entourage. You might as well save your \par
strength-you're going to need it all for your harem."\par
\par
The sec men gathered around and laughed heartily at Strasser's edict.\par
\par
Doc looked horrified. "Bestiality?" he said, a shudder of revulsion running down \par
from his nape to the back of his thighs.\par
\par
Strasser laughed again, slapping Doc on the back. "See? Quips like that are what \par
make you the top funny fellow in Deathlands. 'Bestiality,' he says. That's a \par
mighty fancy word for fucking, old man, and that's what you are to me now, \par
Mocsin's very own piggy-humper."\par
\par
Doc wasn't smiling. The joke was taking a nasty turn. "I'll not lie with swine," \par
he declared as firmly as he could, but to his own ears the declaration came out \par
in a breathy quaver of a voice.\par
\par
Strasser kept the pasted-on smile. He reached out and poked a heavy finger in \par
the center of Doc's scrawny chest, catching him right at the top of the \par
breastbone with each painful jab. "You'll do whatever the hell I tell you to do, \par
and come back asking for more, you crazy old loon! Take pride in your new \par
position, and thank me for not chilling you right now."\par
\par
"Frankly, sir, I would rather be dead," Doc said.\par
\par
"That can be arranged. Bring him."\par
\par
Too exhausted to really care anymore, Doc offered little resistance as he was \par
taken through the halls of Baron Teague's manse and out a back door to a waiting \par
wag. The ride to the compound where the pigs were kept was short, and soon Doc \par
found himself standing in front of a wide wooden gate looking at the dozens of \par
muddy sows within.\par
\par
"Toss him into the pit. I'll be standing on the observation platform above. And \par
he stays until he's shown his love and affection to the pig of his choice."\par
\par
Doc gave out a bellow of protest, which was clamped down to a whimpering sound, \par
like a whipped dog, after Strasser smashed the butt of a shotgun into Doc's gut. \par
Soon he found himself standing among the terrible-smelling pigs.\par
\par
"And Doc, don't take too long, or I might see if you prefer porking piggies of \par
the same sex. Being a pig-fucker is bad enough, but a homo pig-fucker is even \par
worse," Strasser yelled down from above, much to the amusement of his lackeys.\par
\par
The long hour spent in the pen seemed like the most painful nightmare Doc had \par
been forced to endure since being taken away from his wife and children, and as \par
it was, only by focusing on their faces and voices and memories was he able to \par
detach himself from the current situation he was being forced to participate in \par
and do the requested deed.\par
\par
Never in his life had he felt so degraded and alone.\par
\par
Chapter Sixteen\par
\par
In Puerto Rico, within the confines of a modified mat-trans gateway designed not \par
only for simultaneous matter transfer but also for quantum leaps into the past \par
or future, the gaunt figure known to friends and family as Dr. Theophilus \par
Algernon Tanner ceased to exist.\par
\par
The man, Doc Tanner...wasn't.\par
\par
Yet, he was, and there he stood, his knees unbowed, in the center of a mat-trans \par
chamber. "Most curious," he murmured to himself. "I usually return to these \par
unearthly carrels horizontal and sick of mind and body, not erect and \par
invigorated." Other than the queer sensation of tingling flesh, as if he were \par
covered in a layer of squirming insects, Doc felt wide-eyed and alert.\par
\par
His eyes searched the colors of the tinted arma-glass walls and saw they were an \par
unfamiliar brown. No sign of blue was to be seen anywhere around him. He touched \par
a wall and received a slight electric shock. Looking at his hand and arm, Doc \par
noted a faint halo of light that seemed to dance around his entire body, like a \par
glistening silver cloak of silk.\par
\par
"I wonder where this might be?" he said softly, debating whether to cross the \par
small room and open the waiting door or remain standing until he had more \par
opportunity to assess his situation. He regretted the absence of his trusty Le \par
Mat now more than ever, and cursed himself for a fool for having left it behind \par
in Puerto Rico. He could stand there as long as he liked, but eventually would \par
need to cross the threshold and see what waited outside.\par
\par
If events held to the norm, outside would be an anteroom leading to the control \par
center for the mat-trans gateway he now resided in. Some blinking lights, a few \par
soft noises of comps talking to themselves in binary clicks and Doc would be all \par
alone. He hoped. Squatters in redoubts were rarely the friendly sort.\par
\par
All of this was true, if events held to the norm.\par
\par
Pausing cost Doc any element of surprise. While he stood woolgathering, the \par
heavy armaglass chamber door swung open.\par
\par
"He who hesitates is lost," flitted through his brain. If Ryan were here, he'd \par
undoubtedly remark that such an expression sounded like something the Trader \par
would say. Doc had met the Trader, and spent many a day traveling in his \par
company. Despite the origins of the phrase, the Trader would have agreed with \par
the words, or at the very least, the sentiment.\par
\par
Doc held his ebony swordstick in both of his elegant hands, long fingers wrapped \par
around his lone possession in a manner indicating there would be no taking of \par
the cane unless he were unconscious or dead, the latter being most likely. One \par
of his age-spotted hands was at the base of the silver lion's head atop the \par
stick, and the other was lower, ready to unsheathe the hidden blade \par
within-readying himself, for what, he did not know-but he wanted to be as \par
prepared as a man facing the unknown could be.\par
\par
He peered out through the open door and into the anteroom and spotted three \par
figures, all dressed identically in formfitting white bodysuits.\par
\par
The suits were the only thing the trio shared in common. The man standing \par
slightly in the lead was Caucasian, with a high forehead and thin lips. A pair \par
of steely blue-gray eyes were sunk above high, almost regal cheekbones. It was a \par
cruel face, Doc decided. Next to him was an older man, with dark brown coloring \par
similar to Mildred's, although Mildred had never sported shoulders as wide as \par
the ones atop this man's torso. He had a long, heavy-jawed face adorned with a \par
thick black mustache and a frowning, suspicious expression.\par
\par
The third member of the white bodysuit club was one of the most striking \par
examples of feminine beauty Doc could remember ever seeing, rivaling Krysty for \par
pulchritude. Her honey-blond hair was a tousled mane of wavy thickness atop the \par
most delicate of features, and like Krysty she had eyes of deepest emerald. A \par
graceful swanlike neck led to a slender body of curves, accented even more by \par
the hug of the white clothing she wore.\par
\par
None of them appeared to be armed with the usual plethora of weapons he was used \par
to seeing on denizens of Deathlands, a fact that allowed Doc to release the deep \par
gulp of air he'd taken by reflex when the door to the chamber had opened. As Doc \par
exhaled, he noted they didn't seem to be intent on inflicting or creating any \par
immediate harm. For now, they merely gawked. Doc could handle gawkers. He \par
decided to turn on the charm and allowed himself to grin nervously, revealing \par
his perfect white teeth.\par
\par
"By the Three Kennedys! Something tells me I'm not in Omaha," he said by way of \par
greeting.\par
\par
Hearing the booming basso profundo voice echoing from within the chamber, a \par
fourth man joined the others, also dressed in the tight-fitting white bodysuit, \par
which Doc couldn't help but note was nowhere near as flattering as it looked on \par
the other three. The new arrival was in a wheelchair and didn't appear at all \par
happy to be so confined, the arm movements he used to wheel himself over \par
impatient and quick.\par
\par
The man in the wheelchair was much older than the other three, with decades on \par
Doc's own elderly appearance. A pair of thick-lensed glasses were perched on his \par
long nose, and a small mechanical hearing aid was attached to the right \par
earpiece. The man's appearance and manner vividly reminded Doc of a perpetually \par
annoyed old chemistry professor he'd been forced to suffer under during a long \par
fall semester of his stay at Harvard.\par
\par
Armed with blasters or not, Doc realized he was rapidly becoming outnumbered. He \par
took a cautious half step back, quickly turning the lion's head on the \par
swordstick with a twist of a wrist, rewarded by the appearance of a half-foot of \par
glittering, razored steel from the stick's sheath.\par
\par
At the same instant, the halo of light scurrying around his lean body exuded \par
curling, crackling strings of pure energy, and the skin-crawling sensation was \par
replaced with a much more uncomfortable jabbing feeling, as if ten thousand tiny \par
needles were all being shoved into the upper epidermis of his skin at once.\par
\par
"It's cycling again!" a voice cried out. "We've got to seal the chamber! We \par
don't know the wavelengths of that radiation! It could be fatal, or could \par
contaminate the redoubt if it's not contained!"\par
\par
By this time, Doc had no idea who was speaking, since his vision was starting to \par
break down into streaks of multicolored light, followed by a sodden darkness all \par
too familiar to anyone who'd previously traveled on the mat-trans express.\par
\par
SILVER ARMAGLASS.\par
\par
Silver, the color of betrayal. He knew the mat-trans chamber from a previous \par
visit, and now, here he was again. Doc had felt the sting of betrayal that dark \par
day, the cold flush of having one's trust rejected because of suspicion or fear \par
radiating out from his helpless body.\par
\par
"What's that panel of numbers and letters by the side of the door?" a woman's \par
voice asked him, mere moments before the event that he knew was soon to occur.\par
\par
"Control codes," Doc heard himself reply. "Sadly, at the time of what is called \par
skydark, all of the relevant documentation and comp disks have been wiped clean \par
or destroyed or have quite simply vanished. So we have no way at all of \par
understanding what any combination might do."\par
\par
"Makes me nervous, Doc," the woman said. "Going into this strange-looking room \par
and closing the door to wake up somewhere else. Makes me claustrophobic."\par
\par
Doc watched himself give the woman his most reassuring smile. "Nonsense, my \par
dear," he told her. "As long as I am at your side, no harm shall come to you."\par
\par
He had turned to look down at the attractive woman standing outside of the \par
mat-trans chamber next to him, one of her hands curled tightly in his own. She \par
was around average height, five foot six or so with the lean build of a woman \par
used to moving. Her golden shoulder-length hair was streaked with the first \par
tints of the eventual waterfall of gray to come. Against the blond hair, her \par
deeply tanned face and neck looked even darker than they truly were, but the sun \par
had been kind and her face remained relatively wrinkle-free, despite her age of \par
forty-three and continual exposure to the elements.\par
\par
Another blonde. Doc hadn't felt an attraction to any woman since Lori Quint's \par
untimely demise, but this one was different. Where Lori had been headstrong and \par
pumped with the self-aggrandizement of youth, this woman was mature and \par
cautious. Doc liked that, liked the white flash of her smile and the calm \par
assessment in her dark eyes.\par
\par
Susan "Sukie" Smith, originally from Rice Falls,\par
\par
Wisconsin, had a past as tragic as his own, maybe even more so in terms of loss \par
and heartache. Now, she was on her way out west seeking her sister in hopes of \par
reclaiming the last remnants of her scattered and mostly dead family.\par
\par
She wore a divided blue skirt with a few patches over well-worn riding boots, \par
along with a dingy white blouse and a jacket that matched the blue in the skirt. \par
A necklace of rough-cut turquoise and pewter around her long slender neck \par
completed the ensemble.\par
\par
When they'd first met, she had the advantage on Doc with an autopistol and a \par
hankering to fire, only to come forward after they'd talked to collapse before \par
him in a tumble of unconscious limbs and bright red blood. He later learned the \par
wound had been given to her by a man who she hired as a guide. In return for her \par
injury, she'd chilled the man with his own blade, and had been going it alone \par
until encountering Doc.\par
\par
The spark of attraction had been there between the two, and Doc had delighted in \par
engaging in a sprawl of days of consensual lovemaking and leisurely travel in \par
some of the most beautiful country he'd ever seen. Now, Sukie was at his side in \par
front of the mat-trans chamber, along with all the other members of Ryan \par
Cawdor's group of survivalists. There had been no hesitation in letting her \par
accompany them- if the woman was good enough for Doc, there would be no \par
disputing her place in the group of friends. Although hardened by the harshness \par
of her life, she was friendly enough, although still sticking close to Doc.\par
\par
Like most people at first, she was attempting to grasp the complexities of the \par
matter-transfer process. Doc had explained the process to her as best as he \par
could, promising her that he'd spent more time than he cared to tell within the \par
various six-sided armaglass chambers jumping to and fro and he was still in one \par
piece.\par
\par
So, she'd agreed, and entered with the rest of them, Krysty, Jak, Dean, J.B., \par
Mildred, the Trader and Abe-both of whom were traveling with the companions at \par
the time-and Doc himself, who felt slightly guilty since none of them actually \par
liked jumping, and he was the one who usually came out on the other end \par
suffering the most. Yet he still had to put on a brave face for his lady. \par
Outside in the ruin of the anteroom next to the chamber, Ryan had waited until \par
all were safe and seated inside before stepping into the booth himself and \par
closing the door.\par
\par
Once closed, the door triggered the auto mechanism of the mat-trans and the \par
incredible process, so familiar to everyone, began once more.\par
\par
Familiar to all but Sukie Smith, who sat stiffly next to Doc, her face a twist \par
of worry as the metal disks began to hum like a thousand stirred bees and the \par
swirling mists fell around their shoulders like a gentle cloak, gray-white mists \par
that started high before falling to the floor and wrapping around each form \par
inside the chamber.\par
\par
Doc had promised that no harm would come to her, as long as he was alive to be \par
her champion, and Sukie had smiled weakly in return.\par
\par
The humming grew louder and the light of the chamber became brighter and Doc \par
closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't dream, and if he did, that Sukie would be in \par
whatever mental confabulation his slumbering mind conjured.\par
\par
"No."\par
\par
A simple word, said very clearly and distinctly came from the woman at his side.\par
\par
The transitional phase of the mat-trans jump was almost complete, and Doc had to \par
struggle to open his eyes to focus on what he'd heard and the implications of \par
the single spoken syllable. Across from Doc and Sukie, Ryan saw what was \par
happening, even as he battled to keep his own eye open. J.B., his vision dulled \par
by the removal of his specs, also tried to react, but found his body numb and \par
impossibly slow to respond to the mental commands he was issuing.\par
\par
Sukie Smith, who'd buried a quartet of husbands during her rough struggle to \par
survive in Deathlands, who'd endured all the hell an attractive woman faced in a \par
lawless land of cruel men and still managed to retain the capacity to love, \par
who'd encountered a curious older man with a lilt in his voice and the flowery \par
speeches of a true romantic and for a week of her hard life bought into the \par
fantasy of being swept off her feet, now stared into the unfathomable face of \par
the unknown and was frightened to death.\par
\par
Fear pumping into her lithe body, she was already up into a crouch and lurching \par
clumsily toward the closed mat-trans chamber door, her mouth working soundlessly \par
with only a few words escaping to the ears of those sitting around her, and all \par
could hear and make sense of only two: "Doc" and "sorry" and "sorry" and "Doc." \par
They were spoken over and over like a tape on auto-loop, even as her very atoms \par
were scattered to the four winds on a subatomic level.\par
\par
The future Doc Tanner watched all of this from outside the gateway, saw the door \par
open a crack, saw the world erupt, saw Sukie die from the other side.\par
\par
This time, when he felt the tugging of the temporal leash trawling him to yet \par
another locale, he was more than relieved.\par
\par
Doc OPENED HIS EYES and realized he was slumped on his feet against the side of \par
a wooden wall. His legs were tingling with needles of pain, and he could barely \par
stand. Flakes of chipped white paint stuck to his jacket and the side of his \par
face as he leaned for support, his presence hidden away by the shelter of an \par
empty doorway, and struggled to fight back grief for Sukie, grief and guilt that \par
were already intermingling with new emotions brought on by what he was now \par
viewing from the span of a single muddy street away.\par
\par
He gave an audible gasp when he first saw himself, his wife, his children.\par
\par
"So young," he whispered to himself. "Too young."\par
\par
There was no stopping the tears now, and his vi- sion blurred and the scene ran \par
like melting paint. The out-of-body experience was taking a great toll \par
physically, but mentally he felt numb. Dead.\par
\par
He wanted to run to them, to grab up Rachel in his arms and spin her in a circle \par
and never stop holding her, spin her as she laughed and laughed, like she always \par
did-like she always had-until she squealed for him to stop.\par
\par
But he knew there would be no such reunion, for how could he confront himself? \par
The Theo Tanner walking down that wooden sidewalk with his wife and children had \par
no clue, no concept of the disaster soon to befall, and even if he was \par
forewarned, how would it change the future?\par
\par
Then, with the clarity of old, the acute mental sharpness he'd once possessed, \par
he recalled words he'd once read on a monitor screen during his captivity with \par
Operation Chronos, words that had haunted him greatly with their implication \par
then, and even more so now as each syllable came rushing back with the fury of a \par
hurricane:\par
\par
Temporal anomalies are not clearly understood, nor easily explained. Evidence is \par
limited as experiments have not proceeded far or fast. Most experts hypothesize \par
that time is multistranded. There is at any one second millions upon millions of \par
time possibilities, an infinite choice of parallel futures, any or all of which \par
will persist. Thus, it is believed that the classic example of a person \par
traveling back into the past to alter his own present is false. He will alter \par
only one of the parallel streams, but his own present will not change. He could \par
be killed in the past, but his own time stream will not be sullied by the \par
disturbance. But in one universe, he will cease to exist. That is all that is \par
known.\par
\par
"That is all that is known," Doc whispered.\par
\par
Then, he knew what he had to do. Whether or not the theorists at Chronos were \par
correct in their extrapolation and understanding of how the time stream worked, \par
he still had to warn himself. However, before he could reach his family, he felt \par
his teeth begin to hum, a hum that stretched through his skull and nasal cavity.\par
\par
The chronal transport process was beginning once more.\par
\par
Doc took a single step forward and felt his metabolism start to slow, freezing \par
into place as if his very bones were made of ice, and his skin frosted on. He \par
tried to call out, cursing himself now for playing coy and not immediately going \par
up the steps to his own front door and grabbing his young face in his hands and \par
screaming: "It's over, Theo! Everything falls apart! The center cannot hold! For \par
I am you and you are me and right now, in this reality, we are both separate \par
entities and by God, you must do all in your power to prevent this Dickens-like \par
apparition that has appeared on your doorstep from coming to pass!"\par
\par
He had done none of these things. Hesitation had cost him dearly once more. When \par
the trawl of the mat-trans unit finished locking and sucked him away from that \par
plane of existence, he welcomed the nightmares to come. He hoped for them to \par
never end as eternal punishment-the dark dangerous visions of the dead.\par
\par
Chapter Seventeen\par
\par
"We've got seven seconds," J.B. said tightly, his voice even as it measured out \par
the unstoppable countdown he'd started when setting the fuse on the grenade. His \par
eyes were wide behind the lenses of his wire-rim spectacles as he continued to \par
list the numbers backward to the eventual zero and its explosive conclusion. \par
"Six, five."\par
\par
"Let's gamble these ugly bastards haven't learned to count. On two from J.B., \par
everyone go flat," Ryan said, tensing his body in preparation as he spoke loudly \par
over the verbal countdown.\par
\par
"Four, three," J.B. continued softly, continuing to count even as Ryan had given \par
the order. "Two-"\par
\par
Jorge, Soto, J.B., Ryan, Krysty and Dean dived to their knees and stomachs like \par
dropped stones. Seeing their prey suddenly collapse into horizontal positions, \par
the waiting trio of chupacabras, who had activated the weird bioengineered \par
hypnotic spines along their backs the moment they had been spotted, interpreted \par
the movements as a sign of submission, and sprang forward with their wings open \par
to hungrily attack.\par
\par
As such, all of the horrid mutations were facing the brunt of the explosion when \par
it came rushing upward in a hot spray of dust and debris. Miraculously none of \par
the companions were shaken from the stairs, but there were multiple creaks and \par
groans from the stressed metal of the framework they all hung onto.\par
\par
"They weren't below. Got above us somehow," Jorge said softly as the dust \par
settled.\par
\par
"The vents," Ryan said, coughing. "The bastards are probably spread all over the \par
redoubt."\par
\par
"Then we need to seal this entire complex," Soto said, limping from an injury \par
sustained earlier during the fighting.\par
\par
"If we live long enough to get to the door," Jorge replied pessimistically.\par
\par
"Oh, we'll live that long, no problem," J.B. snarled. "I've got to have a long \par
talk with our prissy friend back at the fortress before I can take time enough \par
to die."\par
\par
J.B.'s THREAT WAS PROVED to be true. There were a few more sporadic attacks from \par
random chupacabras, but now all in the group were prepared to deal with the \par
creatures and their methods of murder. Soto used his rusty revolver to take down \par
one, while Jorge's long blaster was good for two more. At one point, Soto looked \par
incredibly sad, remarking to all, "I find it hard to believe my people spent so \par
much time frightened of these creatures."\par
\par
At the exit back into the cavern, J.B. took the last of the four grens and set \par
the time for thirty seconds, tossing it inside as Ryan reversed the code and \par
brought the massive vanadium steel door sliding down with a ring of finality.\par
\par
Outside, the sun had come up.\par
\par
Ryan sat at the wheel of the Jeep, turned the ignition key, and was rewarded \par
with the thrum of the small wag's engine firing into life.\par
\par
"Now, we settle accounts with Jamaisvous," he stated.\par
\par
THE TRIP BACK to Old San Juan was speedy and uneventful, except for the \par
discovery that the injuries inflicted upon Soto's foot were worse than he'd let \par
on. He apologized profusely for being unable to accompany the others to El \par
Morro, but Ryan would hear none of it, and insisted Jorge stay with his friend.\par
\par
"There's enough of us here to take care of business," he told the two men.\par
\par
When the group of companions reached the imposing fortress, all was quiet \par
inside. No table had been set for breakfast, and other than the cook and her \par
daughter, no sec men-or, for that matter, no Doc Tanner or Mildred Wyeth or \par
Silas Jamaisvous-were to be found.\par
\par
"Gateway," Jak suggested, and they traced then-steps back along the path taken \par
mere days before when Jamaisvous had led them up into the living quarters of the \par
fortress.\par
\par
"Halt, Cawdor!" a voice rang out.\par
\par
The barrel-chested sec guard stood firm at the open hallway leading to the inner \par
bowels of the fortress where Jamaisvous had installed his modified gateway and \par
temporal laboratories. The hefty Tec 10 blaster was held ready, a silent \par
deterrent backing up its master. There was nowhere to duck for safe cover in the \par
hall, a tidy piece of extra security that the guard seemed well aware of from \par
his position.\par
\par
"Hold up," Ryan said to the others. "I don't think we're welcome."\par
\par
"Where's Luis?" the sec man asked.\par
\par
"He ate something that didn't agree with him," Ryan said blandly.\par
\par
"Que?"\par
\par
"Forget it."\par
\par
The guard sneered. "Where is the rest of your merry band of chupacabras \par
hunters?"\par
\par
"They're back at home with their families," Krysty replied. "Glad to be alive \par
and proud to have accomplished something to help their people instead of \par
cowering up here in this fortress."\par
\par
"They're all scared. Too frightened to come up here to El Morro. Frightened the \par
chupacabras is going to come hopping out of a rathole and bite them on the ass!"\par
\par
Ryan's visage managed to grow even more defiant. "So you say, but I didn't see \par
you volunteering to go tramping around in El Yunque either."\par
\par
"I was not assigned. My duties were here."\par
\par
"Sure, much easier to let someone else take the risks, isn't it?" Dean said.\par
\par
"You watch your mouth, boy, or I'll-"\par
\par
"You'll what?" Ryan challenged. "Which one of the matching set are you, anyway?"\par
\par
My brother is busy. You have no right to be here. Unless you want to take this \par
beyond words, I suggest you back up. Now."\par
\par
Ryan felt the anger flare inside his brain, but he kept it under control, \par
leashed. "Step aside, Lopez. I've got business with your boss."\par
\par
The guard frowned. ' 'Dr. Jamaisvous left strict orders not to be disturbed."\par
\par
"Your precious doctor has been playing you and your people for fools," Krysty \par
said. "We just got back from ground zero for chupacabras."\par
\par
Lopez looked at the long-limbed redhead with a confident smirk. "El chupacabras \par
doesn't exist. Old tales told to children to frighten them into bed."\par
\par
Ryan jerked up his bandaged hand to the fresh scabbing on his face. "I didn't \par
get these cuts shaving, Lopez. Nor did any of the rest of us. Every scab and \par
bruise you see on us came from one of those mutie sons of bitches, and your \par
master, the mighty Dr. Silas Jamaisvous is the one responsible for unleashing \par
them on San Juan."\par
\par
Lopez wasn't convinced. "You lie. How is this possible?''\par
\par
"I'm not saying he did it on purpose-mebbe he screwed up somehow when he came to \par
San Juan and took over this fortress. But I do know he's the one behind the \par
chupacabras problem, and I want to discuss it with him. Now."\par
\par
"My brother has been as polite to you as possible. I think words are not going \par
to convince you, Caw-dor." On that note of menace, the second of the twin sec \par
men, Lopez's brother, Garcia, stepped around the comer behind the group, his \par
matching Tec 10 leveled and ready.\par
\par
Ryan kept his cool on the surface. Things were going south triple fast, and \par
every second they spent in pointless debate with Jamaisvous's watchdogs was a \par
second more that could spell disaster for Doc and Mildred, neither of whom had \par
been found in the upper levels of the living areas of the fortress.\par
\par
Caught in the makings of a cross fire, Ryan had no choice. Trusting his comrades \par
in arms to match his movements, he pulled the SIG-Sauer in a practiced fast draw \par
the most hardened of the mythical old Western gunslingers would have been \par
envious of and squeezed the trigger. A single 9 mm bullet blasted out of the end \par
of the pistol, the explosive sound muffled to a large degree by the baffle \par
silencer.\par
\par
Lopez never even had a chance to use his rifle as the slug from the SIG-Sauer \par
punched through his forehead, lifting the red headband from his hair, along with \par
a bloody chunk of his bony scalp.\par
\par
Even as Ryan was taking the most direct method of reasoning with the sec man \par
blocking their path, J.B. was following through on his own end with the Uzi, \par
lifting the half-hidden machine pistol from under his jacket and sending a \par
string of steel-jacketed bullets in a wavy pattern across the midsection of the \par
backup sec man. Two of the slugs struck true, into the sec man's muscled torso.\par
\par
At such close range, neither bullet stayed in the body, but instead hurtled out \par
the back of the falling figure with enough energy to strike the stone wall \par
behind the sec man. One went into the wall and stayed, the other ricocheted off \par
and buried itself in the stone floor.\par
\par
Unlike his brother, Garcia was able to fire off a few shots from his Tec 10, but \par
they went high and wild, sailing over Jak and Dean, plucking at their hair. They \par
also passed over Krysty's red head, since she had used her full body weight to \par
shove the two boys to the floor.\par
\par
She hadn't worried about the use of her own pistol. If Ryan and J.B. had failed \par
in their attempt to take down the twin sec men, the group of friends would have \par
been chilled faster by the autofire than a succeeding hail of returned fire \par
would have allowed anyway.\par
\par
The firefight was over in a handful of seconds.\par
\par
Ryan stood calmly, not looking back to see the status of those behind him, but \par
keeping his eye on the fallen sec man in front of him. "Everybody okay?" he \par
asked.\par
\par
The voices of his friends and family chimed out in affirmative.\par
\par
Stepping forward lightly, Ryan nudged Lopez with his toe, but it was obvious \par
that the sec man wouldn't be moving ever again. On the other end, Garcia took a \par
few more seconds to die, but no parting words of defiance came from his lips as \par
he blew bloody bubbles of saliva. A spreading pool of red was on his chest and \par
pouring out from his back where he lay in wet vermilion.\par
\par
Ryan held on to the SIG-Sauer, having reloaded the clip outside El Morro. "This \par
is getting bloodier by the bastard minute. I want to find Doc and Mildred and \par
get the hell out of this place in one piece." "I agree, lover," Krysty said. \par
"Seems sunny Puerto Rico has lost all of its appeal."\par
\par
"WHAT WAS that noise?" Jamaisvous asked, having sent the sec man ahead before \par
bringing Mildred out from the control room of the mat-trans unit. He paused, and \par
sealed the gateway and comps behind him with unbreakable vanadium steel.\par
\par
"What noise?" Mildred replied.\par
\par
"Gunshots. I heard gunshots." Jamaisvous was moving now and gestured with the \par
barrel of his weapon for her to step ahead of him. He kept the heavy Czech \par
target pistol leveled at Mildred's head, the pleated braids of her hair clacking \par
gently against the barrel of the blaster every time she took a breath. His right \par
hand was now handcuffed to her left, and he used the handgun with the ease of \par
the ambidextrous as he moved her along.\par
\par
"Going somewhere, Silas?"\par
\par
The man in the long white coat jerked Mildred closer, startled by the sound of \par
Ryan's voice. "Caw-dor. Back from chasing chupacabrasT'\par
\par
"Yeah." Ryan stepped forward, backed by J.B. and Jak. Krysty and Dean hovered as \par
closely as they could, their weapons also ready if Ryan gave the word. "Your \par
mutie buddies back at the redoubt send their regards."\par
\par
"How nice. You'll have to thank them for me."\par
\par
"You okay, Millie?" J.B. asked softly.\par
\par
"Can't complain," she said. "Some piece of shit stole my pistol."\par
\par
"Borrowed, Dr. Wyeth. Borrowed," Jamaisvous replied, tugging her arm back \par
harshly and making her wince.\par
\par
"Where's Doc?" Ryan asked, his voice tight with menace. Mildred started to \par
answer, but Jamaisvous jammed the muzzle of the target pistol against her skull, \par
which silenced her but drew forth a dangerous, almost imperceptible growl of \par
anger from J.B.\par
\par
"I honestly don't know. Quite a span of years for him to choose from, actually. \par
I sent him forward and I sent him back and back again and forward, with this \par
being the final stop. He should be arriving inside the chamber any moment now, \par
but I imagine after four chron jumps he's not going to be feeling all that \par
peppy, so I wouldn't count on an assist from the good Dr. Tanner anytime soon." \par
Jamaisvous paused. "I was about to take Dr. Wyeth in search of some medical \par
supplies, just in case he does make the trip in one coherent piece."\par
\par
"Oh, yeah. Right. You're a real concerned guy, Silas." Ryan's blue eye was alert \par
and watching, waiting to find a chink in the mad doctor's armor so he could take \par
him out without hurting Mildred.\par
\par
"Thanks, I'm sure. Hey, I make the effort. I want to be acknowledged, okay?"\par
\par
"As what, an asshole?" Mildred asked.\par
\par
"Shut your mouth," Jamaisvous whispered, his face close to her own. "Shut your \par
mouth or I'll shut it for you."\par
\par
"Your play," Ryan said. "What do you want to do, here? Make the wrong move, and \par
we'll chill you so fast you'll be dead before hitting the floor."\par
\par
"I wouldn't want that, Cawdor. Not when I'm so close. So, in old-world \par
vernacular, what say we play 'Let's make a deal."'\par
\par
Ryan smiled back wolfishly. "I don't negotiate with crazy sons of bitches like \par
you, Silas. Always come out on the short end of the stick.''\par
\par
"Who's negotiating, Cawdor? Mildred lives, I live, we all live! Hell of a deal, \par
I think, and best of all, we get to posture and preen and fight another day." As \par
he spoke, Jamaisvous was slowly working his way backward to the heavy steel door \par
leading to the mat-trans gateway and control room. "I've been working toward an \par
agenda for the last two years, and your arrival only accelerated my plans. In \par
fact your timing was perfect."\par
\par
"What are you talking about?" Ryan asked.\par
\par
"He lied, Ryan," Mildred said tightly. "He was never placed in cryo suspension. \par
He's a time traveler, just like Michael Brother and Doc."\par
\par
"Guilty as charged, Cawdor. And like your precious Doc Tanner, I want to go back \par
home, but unlike him, I have the means and the wherewithal to carry though with \par
the plan!"\par
\par
His back now up against the door, Jamaisvous reached behind with the hand cuffed \par
to Mildred's and keyed the entry buttons, and in reply, the door slid upward \par
into the ceiling. Backing into the doorway of the room, he shoved Mildred \par
forward and hit the lever that brought the door slamming back down.\par
\par
The same door cut the chain linking the manacles, expediently freeing Mildred \par
and Jamaisvous from each other without the worry of using the key.\par
\par
The Armorer was at his lover's side in an instant, his usual poker face animated \par
with concern. "You okay, Millie?" he asked.\par
\par
"Fine. Have to get held hostage more often," she remarked. "Actually seems to \par
have got a rise out of you."\par
\par
"Have to admit one thing, lover," Krysty said to Ryan as she helped J.B. pull \par
Mildred to her feet.\par
\par
"What?" Ryan barked back as he glared at the door.\par
\par
"Jamaisvous does have style."\par
\par
"Fuck him and fuck his style," Ryan snorted, glaring at the reinforced metal \par
door leading into the control chamber for the mat-trans chron unit. Despite his \par
glowering, the door remained shut. Ryan had heard the sound of an auto lock \par
being thrown from the other side, the bolt sliding solidly home once Jamaisvous \par
had gone through.\par
\par
Furious beyond reason, the one-eyed warrior pulled his SIG-Sauer from his \par
holster and was about to unleash a hail of 9 mm bullets into the lock when \par
Mildred screamed out shrilly for him to stop.\par
\par
"What? He get to you?" Ryan snarled, his eye sweeping up and down the \par
physician's body, taking in the new clothing Mildred was wearing. The blaster \par
swiveled in his hand, the muzzle pointing from the door to Mildred's midsection. \par
The one-eyed man's face was a study in barely contained scarlet rage, the flush \par
of heat brightening the scar stretching down his cheek.\par
\par
"Screw you, Ryan," Mildred retorted hotly. The handcuff was still attached to \par
one of her wrists and the shiny metal caught the light in the room and cast off \par
a series of quick reflections, accenting her words. "I yelled for you to put on \par
the brakes because a stray bullet could end up blasting one of the mat-trans \par
comps behind the door. The last thing we want right now is to have lead flying \par
through some of the operating machinery. It's not worth risking our only way out \par
of here for Jamaisvous."\par
\par
"Isn't it?" the tall man said, barely repressing his anger as he spit his reply \par
from behind clenched teeth. "Isn't it?"\par
\par
"Easy, lover," Krysty said from behind Ryan. "There's Doc to think about, too-he \par
might be in there."\par
\par
Ryan didn't acknowledge Krysty's admonishment, choosing instead to glare at \par
Mildred and hold her equally intent gaze for a span of five seconds before \par
allowing himself to wind back his nerves a notch.\par
\par
"Okay. Okay. You're right, Mildred. My anger got ahead of my brain,'' Ryan said \par
tersely, discarding the matter and hoping the woman wouldn't press him. Mildred \par
remained silent, and Ryan gratefully turned his attention to his longtime friend \par
and partner.\par
\par
'J.B.?"\par
\par
"On it," the Armorer replied, pushing past with his lock picks already in hand. \par
The smaller man knelt and examined the lock from behind his spectacles. He \par
didn't move, as he studied the mechanism he was facing. "Shit," he finally \par
announced, settling back on his haunches.\par
\par
"What?" Ryan demanded. "This can't be any worse than fixing that mat-trans unit \par
back in Greenland!"\par
\par
J.B. threw up his hand and gestured at the mag lock. "Want to bet?"\par
\par
Crater Lake, Oregon, 2096\par
\par
Doc TANNER WAS playing with his balls.\par
\par
At least, that's what Ryan Cawdor called the oddly perfect metal orbs his \par
companion was manipulating with his fingertips. Both Doc and Ryan had thought \par
the twin spheroids lost back in the inferno of Jordan Teague's manse during the \par
fiery destruction of the pesthole known as Mocsin, but one of their companions \par
had recovered the chunks of metal from the corpse of an overeager sec man and \par
turned them over to Ryan for safekeeping.\par
\par
Now, weeks after the fact, Ryan had remembered the balls weighing down the \par
left-hand pocket of his long coat and gave them back to Doc. Upon their return, \par
the man's lined face had lit up and his eyes watered with shining tears, making \par
Ryan feel more than a bit embarrassed.\par
\par
"Hell, Doc, they're only a few hunks of metal," Ryan had insisted.\par
\par
Doc wasn't to be swayed. "Not to me, Ryan. Thank you. Thank you."\par
\par
Now that he had them back in his hands, Doc was as happy as a child with a new \par
toy. Everyone had queried Doc as to what the things were, but the odd-speaking \par
man had been evasive. He preferred to call them his "spheres to the past, \par
present and future." Ryan wasn't sure what Doc meant by that designation, but as \par
far as he was concerned, the old man was welcome to call them whatever he \par
wished, since he'd been right about the gateways: the matter-transfer units; the \par
physics-breaking reality of the transfer of matter, both nonliving and organic; \par
point A to point X and back to point Q without the worry of having to travel in \par
a straight line to get there in the quickest possible fashion; a genuine way out \par
of a situation minus the dangers of overland transport by animal or wag or foot.\par
\par
Such high-concept science fiction was the last thing Ryan expected to find \par
hidden in the heart of the secret underground military labyrinth he and his \par
friends had stumbled into, deep in the dark hills of the lands once known \par
collectively as Montana. All the talk of murderous fog with claws and teeth \par
guarding over a great treasure meant nothing to the one-eyed man, since he \par
considered himself by and large to be a stone-cold pragmatist.\par
\par
It turned out that the treasure lurking high in the Darks was one of the \par
original gateways, guarded by the scientifically created demon dog of hell \par
itself, Cerberus. Ryan pondered the memories of the chill of the wind in that \par
frosty piece of hell, the wet coldness like a damp shroud draped across his \par
scarred face and decided if he had any choice, any choice at all, he'd never go \par
back to that particular desolate chunk of death-strewed landscape. It was the \par
land of the breathing fog, contracting and expanding, alive with cloudy gray \par
tendrils of mist and muck that elongated away from the central mass, the \par
towering mist with the strange pulsating light located inside the center. If a \par
man got too close, tentacles would come slithering out, impossibly fast, and \par
once they touched flesh, the fog became solid, pulling prey into the central \par
body away from gaping human eyes.\par
\par
Then came the smell of burning ozone, and the sparks, and the inhuman shrieking.\par
\par
The fog was alive, somehow, and sentient.\par
\par
There was no way of getting past the swaying mass safely. If one wanted to go \par
forward, one had to figure out a way to punch a hole and go through the thick \par
mist.\par
\par
Until seeing it for himself those long months ago, Ryan had taken the \par
descriptions of the fog he'd been given back in Mocsin as exaggeration. The \par
one-eyed man had been confident that once he came face-to-face with...it, \par
getting past would be a simple matter of running through or climbing around.\par
\par
Now that he was standing in such near proximity to the storm cloud, Ryan \par
realized with a mix of awe and fear that he was confronted with a primal force \par
that functioned beyond his own understanding of natural laws and science.\par
\par
"We could try some grenades," someone suggested.\par
\par
"Might do," Ryan agreed. "No other trail. No way under it. Damn thing hangs over \par
the edge of that sheer cliff. No way over it, and we can't go back with \par
Strasser's men after us, that's for damn sure."\par
\par
"And what's to stop the fog from reaching upward into the air as well?" Doc had \par
added softly, his normal baritone pitched higher in a singsong tenor voice. "And \par
pulling us down, down, down into the shimmering abyss?"\par
\par
Ryan was quiet as he pondered the options. "Blow it," he ordered.\par
\par
High-ex and incendiary grens were hurled into the gray mass. Noise and fire came \par
whirling out, along with some minor bits of shrapnel made up of rocks and ice, \par
and still the fog hovered, stopping at the bend of the trail, a huge wall of \par
sheer mist.\par
\par
"Fireblast," Ryan muttered.\par
\par
"No, not fire, nor blast. Antimatter, Mr. Cawdor," Doc had replied, inspired by \par
the epithet. "I believe that might do the trick. Implode, and the foul fiend \par
will be undone-it will separate from its source."\par
\par
"Implo gren. Turn that chiller inside out. Yeah," J.B. had agreed. "Good idea."\par
\par
Two of the small bombs were hurled into the mass. Twin hollow booms came \par
bursting out, followed by an elaborate sucking sensation as the grens imploded, \par
pulling all surrounding matter inward into a vacuum of limitless, impossible \par
smallness. The fog began to uncoil, the spectral tendrils now nothing more than \par
dropped bits of string fluttering outward and dissipating; disappearing into \par
frail streamers that crumbled in upon themselves.\par
\par
Then the hellish fog was gone. In front of them, past the edge of the ravine, \par
was the sanctuary they sought. Inside the nondescript building built flush \par
against the mountain itself, and unknown to all of them but Doc, was the \par
gateway, the path out of the Black Hills and into a new situation, a new part of \par
Deathlands, a direct line on a one-way trip hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of \par
miles away.\par
\par
Ryan shook his mind free of the memory of that early discovery, and moved on to \par
the next. Considering how his group of friends had already begun to grow \par
acclimated to the process of matter transfer, coming across a sterile scientific \par
stronghold like the Wizard Island Complex for Scientific Advancement was no big \par
deal. The hidden secrets of Deathlands were beginning to be told, and with each \par
new revelation came numbness, disbelief and finally, acceptance. It was hard to \par
dispute the nose on your face.\par
\par
"Pandora's box," Doc answered him in a whispered voice.\par
\par
The words took Ryan out of his reverie. "Who's Pandora? She kin to the Emily you \par
keep talking about?"\par
\par
Doc sniffed. "No, Pandora has no ties to my own beloved Emily, and I should ask \par
how you know her name, but I suspect I have begun my old habits of babbling in \par
my sleep."\par
\par
Ryan looked over and met Doc's blue eyes. "Might have heard tell of her that \par
way, yeah."\par
\par
"I shall endeavor to keep quiet from now on," the old man replied. "As for Miss \par
Pandora and her box, well, it is better known as 'the gift of all.' The revenge \par
of the gods upon all mankind. She was a laughing, beautiful creature set upon \par
this mortal plain by Zeus, who also gave her a shining box filled with all \par
things evil and harmful to man and bade her never to open it, while knowing the \par
foolishness of such a decree."\par
\par
"Yeah, most women are powerful nosy," Ryan agreed with a smirk.\par
\par
"And, alas, her curiosity was unstoppable and she flung open the lid unleashing \par
the terrors and plagues within and filled our world with all that is vile, \par
unclean and dark. Still, good Pandora was able to slam the box closed in time to \par
keep a single bit of good within."\par
\par
Ryan scratched his arm and nodded. "Bit of good in everybody, I guess. Even \par
Trader used to believe that, with the added homily that it paid to keep a watch \par
on that bit of good by sleeping with one eye open at all times."\par
\par
Doc fixed Ryan with a look. "What was kept in that casket of Pandora's was hope, \par
Mr. Cawdor. Hope. And to this day hope remains mankind's sole comfort in \par
misfortune."\par
\par
"Is that what keeps your engine running, Doc?" the man with the eye patch asked. \par
"Hope?"\par
\par
Doc didn't reply, but Ryan saw his long fingers wrap around one of the two small \par
gray globes and hoist it up.\par
\par
"Hope, Ryan Cawdor, and a spirited game of catch," Doc said, his deep voice \par
resonating as he underhanded the metallic orb to Ryan. "Catch."\par
\par
Ryan caught and examined the spheroid with his bright blue eye. There was \par
nothing unusual about the ball at least, as far as he could tell. The younger \par
man was unsure why his new friend was so fascinated with the pair, so he decided \par
to ask Doc again what the big deal was over twin hunks of metal.\par
\par
"Oh, yes, yes, I have ignited your interest, yes," Doc said, losing the air of \par
pomposity he'd been wearing and replacing it with the vocal inflections and \par
smiling face of a young boy.\par
\par
"Damn straight. First, I thought your little eggs were some kind of grens, but \par
the way you keep tossing them around cured me of that assumption."\par
\par
"These simple little objects, Mr. Cawdor. They were the first," Doc stated with \par
a twinkle in his eye.\par
\par
"The first what?" Ryan asked, baffled as usual by the gaunt man's predilection \par
for understatement and riddles. Ryan's moods in talking with Doc ranged from \par
amazement at the knowledge the man possessed about predark artifacts and history \par
to sheer unadulterated rage at having to play Doc's twisted version of his own \par
private guessing game.\par
\par
"The first to make the trip, there and back again."\par
\par
Doc said, waggling his bushy white eyebrows on the last three words.\par
\par
"You mean to use the gateways?" Ryan asked.\par
\par
Doc smiled broadly, revealing a frightening array of perfect white teeth.\par
\par
"Ah, in a manner of speaking, yes. You are correct, sir. Like myself, these \par
little balls were test subjects. Hurled back and forth, in and out. Unlike \par
myself, they made the journey sane, whole, intact. No, uh, no added wrinkles. No \par
moss on these rolling stones, no, sir."\par
\par
Ryan glared at the man sitting across from him before getting to his feet and \par
tossing back the metal ball. "There are times, Doc, when I just don't get you," \par
he said disgustedly.\par
\par
Doc shrugged, and idly switched the thrown sphere from one hand to another. "I \par
know. There are times, friend Ryan, when I do not get myself."\par
\par
LATER THAT EVENING, Ryan and Krysty headed toward the depths of the massive \par
information storage and retrieval room located within the walls of the Wizard \par
Island Complex for Scientific Advancement.\par
\par
The leader of Wizard Island had called Doc Tanner by name when he first saw him, \par
despite neither one of them ever having met.\par
\par
Why this was so, Doc couldn't-or wouldn't- say.\par
\par
So, Ryan had decided to take a trip to the island complex's library.\par
\par
And that's where Doc had come upon them later, as they huddled in front of a \par
computer, ready to view the contents of a disc that came from an envelope with \par
TT/CJ/Ce marked on the front. Now they were staring at a message on the screen: \par
Access denied. Refer to subcode CJ, all sees. Go to mainframe on limit/inject. \par
Enter code now for reading.\par
\par
"It's E, then M and finally Y," Doc said quietly from behind. "Spells 'emy.' \par
Almost spells Emily, does it not? Ah, yes, the proper codes, I always lacked the \par
proper codes. However, in this case, I can point you on the right path, since \par
fate or a higher hand has decreed that you see a listing of all my fascinating \par
past."\par
\par
Knowing the voice, Ryan didn't even turn from the monitor screen as he quickly \par
tapped in the three letters and pressed enter, and was rewarded with a series of \par
glowing green letters that laid out all the cards on the felt of the playing \par
table.\par
\par
Subject. Tanner, Theophilus Algernon. Doctor of Science, Harvard. Doctor of \par
Philosophy, Oxford University, England. Birth date and location. South \par
Strafford, Vermont. February 14, 1868. Married June 17, 1891. Wife, Emily \par
Louise, nee Chandler. Children, two. Rachel and Jolyon.\par
\par
"Can't be the same man," Ryan murmured as he navigated a cursor light down to \par
tool bar on the comp screen and clicked on a visual button. In response, a mug \par
shot of a sad-looking man in his early thirties popped up in a window. The \par
portrait was unmistakably their own Doc Tanner, a much younger version minus the \par
complex map of age that now lined his face, but the bright blue eyes that still \par
held a wink of childhood, and the strong white teeth being shown for the camera \par
were one and the same.\par
\par
Ryan clicked off the photo display and went back to the text of the file, \par
reading farther down beyond the initial entry of biographical information. "No \par
wonder they knew you when we showed up here, Doc. You were in their files, your \par
pic, your bio- stored in here with all kinds of overlapping entries regarding \par
time trawling and matter transfer," he whispered, as both he and Krysty read the \par
secrets presented before their astonished eyes.\par
\par
"And do you believe what you read, Ryan?" Doc replied.\par
\par
"Yeah, I guess. Explains a lot. According to this, you were the only success in \par
their entire time-trawling program."\par
\par
"There are varying degrees of success, Ryan Caw-dor," Doc said in a choked \par
voice, before turning and exiting the library, running from the truths it \par
housed.\par
\par
"I'll go after him," Krysty said. "He sounded pretty upset."\par
\par
Ryan held out a restraining arm. "Wait a sec, I'm about done here. We'll go \par
together."\par
\par
Going to the end of the document, Ryan and Krysty read the final entry:\par
\par
Subject's refusal to become reconciled to tern- poral correction proved \par
difficult. Several abortive attempts to bribe or cheat his way into the chron \par
chambers were undeniable evidence of his overwhelming desire to travel back to \par
his own tune. Subject's constant attempts to rejoin "beloved Emily" and his own \par
century became a considerable irritant. Dr. Tanner was taken by the appropriate \par
responsible authorities and placed under restricted access and egress. When this \par
proved to be an unsuccessful deterrent, subject was used in final-stage trawl \par
and pushed along via temporal conduit to future setting, destination and \par
chronological year, unknown.\par
\par
"The arrogant bastards," Ryan muttered.\par
\par
"There's a whole lot of names here, topped by some whitecoat named Herman \par
Welles, who was apparently Doc's keeper during his years as a guest of this \par
Operation Chronos," Krysty said.\par
\par
"Ancient history, I guess," the raven-haired man retorted as he turned the comp \par
console off, leaving the information disc inside the drive.\par
\par
Outside the massive vault of the library, they found Doc waiting for them, his \par
head hung low. The older man's eyes were red from crying, and he appeared even \par
more downbeat than usual.\par
\par
"You read it all?" Doc asked.\par
\par
Ryan replied in the affirmative.\par
\par
"I am so alone, my dear Ryan and Krysty. A mere speck of infinity, two centuries \par
old, with my wife and children long dead. Yet in their world, they are all \par
alive. And waiting. Waiting for me to return. So you see, I still cherish the \par
hope that one day I will be able to go back to them if the right gateway is \par
found. Now, if you will excuse me, I think time alone might do my weary soul \par
some good."\par
\par
Doc turned and left the couple in the hallway. They watched his back as he \par
slowly made his way down to the bend in the corner and disappeared from sight.\par
\par
Chapter Eighteen\par
\par
Within the main control room of El Morro's secured matter-transfer gateway \par
complex, the heavy steel and armaglass door to the six-sided unit was hanging \par
open on twin counterbalanced hinges, waiting to be closed in order to start yet \par
another chron jump.\par
\par
"Tanner!" Jamaisvous called out as he unlocked the single handcuff manacle left \par
on his aching wrist. "You alive, Tanner?"\par
\par
Of the temporal-skipping Doc Tanner there was no sign, save a few splatters of \par
fresh red blood near the door to the chamber. Stepping over lightly to the \par
gateway door, Jamaisvous rubbed a finger across one of the drips and it came \par
back smeared with the crimson fluid.\par
\par
"Still fresh. I'd say somebody's got a bloody nose," Jamaisvous said easily, the \par
target pistol held loosely in one hand, ready for firing at the instant Doc \par
might be stupid enough to reveal himself. Although he wasn't about to admit it, \par
Jamaisvous was impressed. He'd expected Tanner to have been a mewling, puking \par
wad of skin and bones hunched in the fetal position in the center of the \par
gateway, already dead or wishing to be out of his misery. That the old man had \par
instead possessed the stamina to stagger out of the gateway chamber and find a \par
place to hide increased his respect for his fellow time traveler.\par
\par
"I must thank you for allowing me to track and observe your vital signs during \par
the trawls, Dr. Tanner," Jamaisvous continued as he scanned the room, eyeballing \par
the banks of comps and debating whether there was enough room for a man to \par
conceal himself behind them, his back pressed tight against the wall. Jamaisvous \par
stepped closer, but saw nothing.\par
\par
"Details of your resiliency were the final components required before I \par
attempted my own return trip into the past, and I must say that your survival \par
now tells me that with the proper usage of drugs I can make my own time jaunt \par
without fear of being ripped apart in the temporal matrix once my molecules have \par
been reassembled in the final stage."\par
\par
Still peering warily at his surroundings, trying to deduce where Doc had gone to \par
ground, Jamaisvous walked to the central comp console. Within the combination of \par
control room, observation lounge and actual mat-trans gateway, there were a \par
dozen places Tanner might have chosen to secure himself. Jamaisvous was loath to \par
fire his weapon indiscriminately, not wishing to damage any of the sensitive \par
operating gear in the room.\par
\par
' 'You see, Tanner, it all boils down to takeoffs and landings," he said to the \par
room, turning and speaking to all directions, since he didn't know where his \par
audience of one was secluded. "In my experiences when trawling, we usually \par
succeeded in picking up our living subjects, but where we consistently failed \par
was in handing them off safely in one piece at the other end. Made for most \par
messy landings."\par
\par
Jamaisvous now wondered if Tanner hadn't just slunk off into a corner somewhere \par
and died, like a wounded animal. However likely that possibility might be, he \par
didn't want to take the chance, so he continued to speak as he stared at one of \par
the comp monitors that had been tracking Doc's temporal processes.\par
\par
"The same thing applied in our attempts to send back living matter to select \par
times in the past. We'd break apart whatever living tissue we were sending down \par
the line-monkeys, chupacabras, humans-it didn't matter, either way. We would \par
disassemble them in the gateway using the same process designed for safely \par
traveling from one locale to another, shoot their atoms into a quantum field, \par
steer it to the precise instant in the past and bring them back to their \par
corporeal forms-only during rematerialization they never held their shape."\par
\par
Jamaisvous paused, then smacked one fist into his other open hand with a smack. \par
"Pow! Instant disruption. It would have made for a most effective weapon if we \par
could have taken the time to channel the stream somehow and direct it, but I \par
digress."\par
\par
Taking his eyes from the monitor screen and back to the control room, Jamaisvous \par
typed in commands one-handed, pausing either to check what the screen revealed \par
or to push the compact mouse control located next to the comp keyboard. Despite \par
his unease of where Doc might be lurking, and over whether\par
\par
Ryan and his band of thugs would come busting down the door with blasters \par
blazing, the gray-haired man smiled at the readouts the comp was presenting to \par
him in a rush of numerals and codes.\par
\par
"Takeoffs and landings. There are no mat-trans chambers in the past, and we can \par
only guess if they exist in the future, and believe you me, those of us who knew \par
what was coming down early in the year 2001 weren't counting on the future's \par
hospitality," Jamaisvous said with a chuckle. "So, more tests were needed, but \par
we ran out of time...thanks to you. If you'd agreed to go back like a good \par
little boy, and if we could have delivered you safely, all of this might have \par
been moot and you'd be considered one of the architects of a brave new world."\par
\par
Jamaisvous touched a key on the panel of the comp and nodded as the screen \par
flickered and changed. "At least, in a perfect world," he added softly. "Only, \par
if."\par
\par
The stone walls of the room remained silent.\par
\par
"I imagine you're not feeling so hot, Tanner. That's to be understood," he said, \par
continuing to speak even as he dropped his guard, stepping closer to the comp. \par
"I honestly did doubt you'd make it back alive, although I hoped there was \par
something about your stubbornness that carried you through safely from past to \par
present to future. Now I know. Even if you did make it you'd arrive here in \par
pieces, but from what this screen is saying to me my adjustments to the quantum \par
phase interface and time-trawl bubble matrix were a success. I appreciate your \par
willingness to lend a hand, so let's deal. You stay tucked away in your shell \par
until I'm out of here, and I won't blow your brains all over the room. Then you \par
can enjoy this brave new world as much as you like."\par
\par
As a response, Jamaisvous felt a white-hot needle pierce deeply into his upper \par
thigh. He shrieked in stunned surprise, staggering back in time to see the tip \par
of Doc's swordstick pull free from his flesh. The blade had been thrust outward \par
from beneath the desk where the comp system rested, beneath the desk in the \par
alcove where Doc had been hiding.\par
\par
Doc had been forced to crawl into the nook, knowing Jamaisvous would undoubtedly \par
want to check any temporal readings from his journey, and while there he'd \par
listened and waited.\par
\par
Doc had struck blind, aiming his jab by the sound of his foe's voice, but the \par
angle was awkward and the old man wasn't up to delivering any kind of real force \par
behind the assault. He'd hoped to land his rapier into the soft gut of the \par
long-winded lord of El Morro, but the blow landed low.\par
\par
Still, the blade sunk deep, and the sharp bite was ample to send Jamaisvous \par
spiraling backward, the blaster sailing away from his outstretched hand as he \par
fell against an empty swivel chair and completely lost his footing, flipping \par
over the piece of wheeled furniture and crashing to the heavy stone floor, his \par
lab coat tangled around his body.\par
\par
"I have read Huxley's book, Jamaisvous, and found it lacking. And you, sir, are \par
entirely too much in love with the sound of your own voice," Doc said, his rich \par
baritone a cracked whisper of its usual self, like the unearthly dry rustling of \par
fall leaves as stiff October winds whipped through gathered piles. A mad \par
sepulchral whisper was what came out of Doc as he hunched his way out of hiding, \par
crawling stiffly from his lair like some crazed angular spider.\par
\par
The lower half of his face was a smear of vermilion where the final chron jump \par
had caused something in his septum to burst in protest, and when combined with \par
his high forehead, his long silver-white hair coiling about his shoulders and \par
the glistening white of his perfect teeth shining like pearls within the red \par
smear coating his lower face, he looked utterly, irreversibly, mad.\par
\par
Jamaisvous had been shocked into a frightened silence, and he scrambled to his \par
footing as quickly as possible, logic replaced by blind terror. The only sound \par
he made came from the numerous phlegmy intakes of air his body was requiring as \par
it struggled to control the flight response.\par
\par
An expression of complete and total hate transformed Doc Tanner's bloody visage \par
as he wrapped spindly fingers around one of Jamaisvous's feet and pulled the \par
stunned overlord of Chronos closer.\par
\par
"You...were...there!" Tanner hissed in a spray of pink saliva, his words coming \par
faster, the sentences breaking down into one long stream of slurred accusations \par
as for a brief and shining moment his mind became clear and Jamaisvous's face \par
shimmered into stark clarity and focus-but only in a memory, in a view Doc had \par
snatched as he was hurled into the gateway by Welles and his security team, a \par
glimpse of a solitary figure standing slightly back and watching the struggle to \par
shoot the most unwilling subject into the future.\par
\par
"You were there," Doc repeated, trying to bring his foe down through fading \par
brute strength. "Lurking in the shadows, observing when I was trawled from that \par
pit of filth, another hundred years of my life stolen away in a single \par
heartbeat! You were there, snickering when I was sent screaming into this future \par
hellhole of a world, taken from the arms of my wife, my children, you were \par
there, you arrogant son of a bitch, you were there!"\par
\par
"Of course I was there, you quote-spouting hayseed!" Jamaisvous gasped in \par
response, finally finding his voice as he stomped down with his injured leg, \par
trying to free himself from Doc's iron grip. "If I were not, how could I know \par
anything of how Operation Chronos was designed? Sure, I read the manual, but \par
hell's bells, man! I could never hope to master it without some prior \par
knowledge!"\par
\par
"If you knew so much, why did you need me?" Doc asked as he continued to hang \par
on, dragged across the floor as Jamaisvous moved closer to the dormant mat-trans \par
chamber.\par
\par
"Even with what I knew then-and combined with what I know now-it's not enough! \par
Not near enough, damn your eyes! We never fully understood how the \par
matter-conversion array could be realigned for temporal transport! It was a \par
working theory, goddammit! A fluke! And so were you!"\par
\par
"I do not accept such simple explanations, then or now."\par
\par
"Perhaps if you had been less inclined to sabotage and violence, and instead \par
focused on doing as you were asked, you would have been returned to your wife \par
and family. Instead, you made dealing with you a most unpleasant experience, and \par
finally, tragically, they decided to cut their losses and get rid of you in a \par
manner that best suited their immediate needs. They'd been peeping into the \par
future and a few, a select few, saw what was coming."\par
\par
"Armageddon."\par
\par
"Yes. I suspected but never really knew for sure. Word had gone out among the \par
power elite, and the puppet masters can rarely keep a silent tongue in their \par
empty heads. You were supposed to be trawled backward in an attempt to alter the \par
future time line. Too bad you were too damn arrogant to stick to the bargain."\par
\par
Doc felt his heart ache with agony. Every word out of Jamaisvous's mouth was a \par
reminder of what he had lost.\par
\par
No, not lost.\par
\par
What had been taken from him, boldly snatched away even as he had been snatched \par
like a flailing rag doll and tossed into the unforgiving winds of a cyclone.\par
\par
"You are the reason for your eventual downfall, Tanner, not I."\par
\par
And then, Tanner's remorse and grief were transformed into a new mass of \par
emotions, and the driving one pulsing through his brain and heart was hate. He \par
pulled on the captured foot harder, trying to twist it into a painful position.\par
\par
Jamaisvous swayed on his feet, stomping down again and again on Doc's forearm \par
and wrist to release the insanely tight grip the man had on his ankle. Freeing \par
himself, the self-appointed lord of El Morro Fortress stumbled toward the \par
mat-trans chamber, ready to flee and abdicate his domain. He looked around, his \par
eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to find the lost blaster, but he didn't see \par
it. What he did see was Dr. Tanner determinedly crawling toward him.\par
\par
"You just don't get it, do you?" Jamaisvous snarled. "You never did." And then \par
he lashed out at the crawling figure, using his good leg as support to raise his \par
other, bleeding leg in a kick and driving home the point of his polished dress \par
shoe right into Doc's chin, snapping the man's head back and causing his upper \par
body to go high before slamming down painfully face-first to the hard floor.\par
\par
"Sorry to chat and run, but I really must make this important date," Jamaisvous \par
said in a breathy voice, and followed up the statement with a peal of hysterical \par
laughter. "For, 'I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date!' So late! Too \par
late!"\par
\par
Nearly unconscious, Doc still managed to drag himself up to watch as Jamaisvous \par
entered the mat-trans chamber and pulled closed the armaglass door. Now, even as \par
the cycle began, and the burst of light erupted within the room and the peals of \par
fog came slithering out from the shimmering metal disks that broke down the \par
molecules of whatever, whoever was inside, Tanner made it up to his side, using \par
one arm to prop himself in a secure position while his other hand splayed \par
awkwardly on the desktop next to him.\par
\par
His fingers felt, searching until they came across the plastic surface of the \par
keyboard. Doc pulled it toward himself, twisting his hand in the mire of cables \par
behind the monitor linking the comp, pulled it hard, using what was left of his \par
fading strength along with his body weight.\par
\par
Then, with a final Herculean effort, Doc yanked down, bringing the central \par
processing unit and monitor onto the hard floor, where they both erupted on \par
impact into a mass of sparks, impacting at precisely the same moment that the \par
long figure standing inside the mat-trans unit ceased to exist...at least, at \par
this particular location at this particular time.\par
\par
Chapter Nineteen\par
\par
"Shit."\par
\par
"What?" Krysty asked. The Armorer was almost always a study of grace under \par
pressure. For him to allow himself the luxury of a curse meant he'd hit an \par
unexpected block.\par
\par
"Shit, shit, shit. This will take a moment," J.B. replied, fishing through his \par
jacket pockets for the needed implement as he continued to speak. "This is a mag \par
lock. Not the hardest kind to navigate past, but they can be triple-damn \par
annoying minus the proper tool. I need an electric wand to reverse the polarity. \par
Once that's taken care of, we'll be on him in no time."\par
\par
"You got one of those wands?" Dean asked.\par
\par
"Please," J.B. said, sounding offended.\par
\par
"Sorry."\par
\par
"No time, indeed. No time is what I fear the most, John," Mildred murmured, lost \par
in her own inner thoughts. "I never should have allowed Doc to participate in \par
Jamaisvous's mad experiments."\par
\par
"I imagine you didn't have much of a choice. Doc's his own man. Always has \par
been," Ryan said. "He'd be willing to try anything to get back to his wife and \par
kids."\par
\par
J.B. twisted the end of the cylinder-shaped handle of the wand he was \par
manipulating and pushed at the locked door. "Wrong frequency," he said to \par
himself and took out a second device, working with it and trying to keep \par
focused.\par
\par
"How much longer?" Mildred asked.\par
\par
"Ease up, man's workin' on it," Ryan said.\par
\par
"What, now you're preaching patience to me, Ryan?" Mildred retorted.\par
\par
Ryan grinned. "Guess so."\par
\par
"Got it," J.B. announced. The Armorer had brought forth the necessary tool on \par
the third try and had inserted it into the join between latch and door. Using \par
both hands he twisted it back and forth, and was now rewarded with a loud \par
ka-thak, indicating the sliding sec door was loose in the frame.\par
\par
Ryan gestured with his chin and Jak stepped up to cover him as he slid the heavy \par
door into the recessed area in the stone wall. "Anything?" he asked the albino, \par
who was positioned better to look inside. Jak shook his head no.\par
\par
The one-eyed man held up a hand and counted silently with his fingers. \par
One...two...three, and he stepped inside, Jak and Krysty both backing him up.\par
\par
Inside, the control room appeared immaculate at first glance, same as before \par
until one looked closer and saw the disarray of a dropped file of sheets of \par
paper, along with a splattering of blood on a comp keyboard and farther down on \par
the floor itself, a prone Doc Tanner, who was still bleeding from the nose.\par
\par
"Gaia, Doc. Are you okay?" Krysty asked as she and Dean both knelt next to the \par
elder man.\par
\par
"How do I look?" he asked weakly.\par
\par
"Like hell," Dean said.\par
\par
"Perfect. Exactly how I feel, my boy," Doc replied. "Is Jamaisvous...?"\par
\par
"Yeah, he's gone," Krysty replied.\par
\par
Inside the shining blue of the tinted armaglass chamber, the unique heavy vapor \par
created during and after a jump was dissipating and only a few sparks of \par
electrical energy were zipping about, lightning blasts among the dunning clouds. \par
Even through the thick armaglass, Ryan could see the gateway was empty. Running \par
over, he pulled open the door anyway, lifting up the latch and pushing it \par
inward. The unholy arid smell of burned ozone mixed with wet cloth that was \par
always left behind after a jump assaulted his nostrils.\par
\par
Ryan felt his teeth grind in frustration as he realized another odor was mixed \par
with the gateway's stench-the bitter smell of defeat. Jamaisvous was gone, long \par
gone, the empty floor tiles creaking, mocking Ryan, as they cooled.\par
\par
"Go after bastard," Jak spit, stepping up the steps into the chamber behind \par
Ryan. "Use button: Last Destination. Follow him."\par
\par
"Not a good idea," Mildred called from outside the gateway interior. She was \par
standing next to a flashing comp monitor screen on the lower floor where the \par
control readouts were downloading.\par
\par
"Worked before," Jak insisted as he left the chamber.\par
\par
"Won't work. Not this time." The stocky woman was leaning over one of the flat \par
tables and staring at a monitor. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, J.B. \par
shot her an approving look. Since she was still wearing the antique clothing \par
provided by Jamaisvous, Mildred was displaying a generous sampling of cleavage \par
in the low-cut dress.\par
\par
Mildred didn't notice. Perhaps if she had, the whitecoat's words on dressing to \par
attract your man would have come back to her.\par
\par
Symbols and numerals flickered on the comp's monitor screen, creating row upon \par
row of single-spaced coded information. "I think Jamaisvous expected us to try \par
and track his moves. If we go after him, there's no telling where we might end \par
up."\par
\par
"Or when," Doc added disdainfully. He was now standing, leaning on Dean and on \par
his swordstick, which Krysty had retrieved from where it had been thrown across \par
the room.\par
\par
"Exactly, or when. I'll have to try and shut down the system, reboot and keep my \par
fingers crossed everything comes back on-line. Otherwise, we're either going to \par
have to go native and share the island with the chupacabras, or else find a boat \par
and sail back to Deathlands."\par
\par
"Doubt there's many of the chupacabras left," Krysty said. "We found the nest. \par
They were coming out of the redoubt in El Yunque."\par
\par
Mildred pointed a finger at a block of blinking numbers in the upper right \par
corner of the monitor. The numbers were in a constant state of motion, the \par
numerals flickering as they changed back and forth. "He's using some sort of \par
randomizer here. I don't know all the redoubt codes and destinations, but even \par
if I did, we'd be rolling the dice with little chance of following him."\par
\par
A beeping sound caught the woman's attention and she crossed over to the fallen \par
CPU and monitor that Doc had broken. The screen was still functioning despite \par
the large crack running down the face.\par
\par
"What happened here?" she asked, kneeling as best she could, trying to avoid \par
cutting her bare knees on the broken plastic and glass. "Doc?"\par
\par
"Pulled it down...trying to get back to my feet."\par
\par
"I think you might have done more than knock over a computer," she said,, \par
tilting her head for a better look at the comp. "This one was acting as the \par
guidance system for Jamaisvous's destination. He didn't enter a code manually at \par
the gateway. He was operating it from a preset in here. You took it offline at \par
the same time he jumped out of here and it switched over to the back-up system, \par
the same one running the randomizer."\par
\par
"Meaning what, Millie?" J.B. asked.\par
\par
"Meaning Jamaisvous is going to make his chron jump, but when or where I have no \par
idea. I'd say wherever he ends up, it won't be where he thought he was going."\par
\par
"What about us?" Dean asked. "We stuck here?"\par
\par
"No. Like I said, I'll have to try and shut all this down. Doc, you can help me. \par
Once we reboot and bring it all back on-line, any presets should be erased."\par
\par
"Do what you have to do, Mildred," Ryan said wearily. "When you think the system \par
is safe, we'll try another jump."\par
\par
"Any danger of our boy Silas popping back here?" Krysty asked. She was standing \par
next to the open door of the gateway.\par
\par
Mildred shook her head. "There's always a possibility, but I doubt he'd return \par
here so soon. Besides, we keep the door open and he can't reuse this gateway \par
anyway."\par
\par
"If does, take care of him," Jak said, grinning. "Take care of him good."\par
\par
A DAY PASSED before Mildred gave the word they could use the mat-trans chamber \par
and be on their way. She'd changed back into her usual clothing, leaving the \par
gaily colored dress and the shiny baubles behind. Her target pistol had been \par
recovered from the control room undamaged. There would be little or no use for \par
finery where she was going, and after Jamaisvous's treatment of Doc and betrayal \par
of the others, including the poor locals who called Puerto Rico home, Mildred \par
had no interest in hanging on to memories or souvenirs.\par
\par
Save one.\par
\par
Dean watched with interest as Mildred touched a small button on the front plate \par
of a desktop comp. A drawer slid out of a recessed area when summoned.\par
\par
In the drawer tray rested a single compact disc. The disc was silver and clean, \par
with no identifying marks or words. The woman carefully removed the disc from \par
the drawer between thumb and forefinger, taking care not to touch the shining \par
surface, and placed it snugly within a waiting nondescript jewel box cover.\par
\par
"What's on the disc, Mildred?" Dean inquired. The boy had seen both computer \par
disks and CDs with recorded music during his education at the Brody School in \par
Colorado, and knew they were used for information storage and retrieval.\par
\par
"Got pretty good with comps at Brody's," the boy said casually, peering over \par
Mildred's shoulder.\par
\par
"So you've told me before," the woman replied.\par
\par
"I liked the games-some of them were on discs like the one you've got. Smoking \par
fun. In one, you beamed in a mat-trans and got to go round blasting hell out of \par
muties in old redoubts and space stations on other planets. My fave weapon was \par
the B.F.G."\par
\par
Mildred bit. "Bee Eff Gee?"\par
\par
"Big fucking gun," Dean said. "Totally bitching boss blaster."\par
\par
"That's one thing that never has changed with computers," Mildred sighed, \par
remembering her own weekend addictions to the role-playing fantasy worlds a good \par
game could provide. She'd never been too fond of the violent ones, but instead \par
liked the ones that featured puzzle-solving to advance.\par
\par
"So, is that a game?" Dean asked.\par
\par
"No, I'm afraid not. This disc contains Jamais- vous's listing of all the \par
mat-trans units, both in and out of Deathlands," she replied. "A greatest-hits \par
catalog of the world's gateways. In his haste to make a retreat, he must have \par
forgotten to take it with him. He's encrypted the list, and I don't have his \par
password to access the codes, but in the future, with Doc's help, maybe I can \par
circumvent his security tech and we'll have our personal guide to Deathlands and \par
beyond."\par
\par
"Waste of time," Ryan said, stepping next to the duo. "That just adds weight to \par
your load."\par
\par
"You think?" Mildred replied. "You honestly think so?"\par
\par
"Yeah," the one-eyed man replied without hesitation. "Wouldn't have said so \par
otherwise."\par
\par
Mildred held the disc high in one hand and pondered for a moment, before tucking \par
it inside the lining of her denim jacket. "No offense, Ryan, but I hope to make \par
you eat those words someday."\par
\par
"Suit yourself," he said, and walked back over to where Krysty and Doc were \par
standing together. The older man was trying to show her something on the comp, \par
but between his own shaky memory and the redhead's lack of interest, neither \par
seemed to be enjoying the demonstration.\par
\par
"I knew the code, once upon a time," Doc said bitterly as he stared at the blue \par
armaglass of the mat-trans unit. "I knew it like my own address, knew it like \par
the date of the births of my children. No longer."\par
\par
"What code is that?" Krysty replied, having no- ticed Doc's intense frown as he \par
glared at the gateway.\par
\par
"The gateway code. The numbers that would enable me to return to my sweet \par
Emily."\par
\par
"You mean, you could have programmed any one of the mat-trans units to take you \par
back?"\par
\par
"Once, alas, yes. I could have, although let me add that some mat-trans chambers \par
are more inclined to be taken for a temporal spin than others, but I could have \par
attempted them all until I found the correct vehicle to allow my passage."\par
\par
"How did you know the code, Doc?"\par
\par
"I reached past Cerberus's yawning maw and down his heated throat and down \par
farther even into his vile stomach and I pulled it out, dear girl."\par
\par
"There's a lovely image," Krysty said.\par
\par
Doc cocked an eyebrow, giving his lined face a quizzical, yet stern look. \par
"Computers. When I was a younger man with a far keener intellect, I adapted to \par
their encrypted uses in a most timely fashion while being held prisoner as a \par
member of Operation Chronos. I never did learn to type worth a damn, I fear, \par
since I kept looking at the keyboard, but I was a demon with that little \par
track-ball thing. A rodent, I think they called it."\par
\par
"A mouse, Doc," Dean said, stepping next to Krysty. The younger Cawdor had been \par
listening to the conversation, but not wanting to be accused of eavesdropping he \par
decided to join in with his full presence.\par
\par
Doc gave the boy a quick toothy smile. "Yes, a mouse! Well done, lad! Your \par
knowledge is growing by leaps and bounds! Yes, Theo Tanner was greased lightning \par
with a mouse."\par
\par
"I don't get it," Krysty said, running a hand through her flaming red hair. The \par
prehensile locks responded in kind to her grooming, arranging themselves around \par
her shoulders. Used to the way the redhead's hair acted and reacted like a \par
living thing, neither Doc nor Dean commented.\par
\par
"Get what, dear Krysty?" Doc replied, looking blank for a second.\par
\par
"The code, Doc. Did you forget or something?" Dean asked.\par
\par
"Or something. When I was sent forward into the future, my physical form \par
suffered in transport. Overnight, I aged thirty years in body, if not in soul, \par
and much of my earlier keenness was damaged as well. Short-term memory loss, \par
young Dean. I remember more of the horrors, but less of the routine day-today \par
details. As for the gateway code that I ripped out of the innards of that black \par
project, now all my mind gives up is a fleeting number, here or there, with no \par
order, rhyme or reason."\par
\par
"Well, hell Doc, if you had the code, why didn't you use it?" Ryan asked \par
bluntly.\par
\par
"I tried, Ryan, God knows I tried my best," the old man replied in a whisper.\par
\par
"Well, I was thinking," Ryan began. "All this with Jamaisvous might have been \par
avoided if I'd been quicker on the draw. I still can't believe you didn't want \par
us to know you were going to try and trawl back to your wife and kids while we \par
were gone, Doc."\par
\par
"I feared you might try to stop me."\par
\par
"No. Your choice. You would have had my vote no matter what you did."\par
\par
"There are all kinds of support, Ryan," Doc said softly. "While you might not be \par
conversant in the mathematics used in time trawling, I sleep easier knowing you \par
are at my back."\par
\par
Ryan smiled, the expression pulling back the ghastly scar on his right cheek, \par
and clasped Doc firmly on the shoulder. "You've always been a stand-up guy, Doc. \par
From the first time we met, I just knew you were going to drag my ass into all \par
kinds of craziness. I thank you now for not proving me wrong."\par
\par
Doc beamed. "My friend, I do believe I have been insulted, but I do not take it \par
personally."\par
\par
Across the room, Mildred made a final adjustment and switched off a comp \par
monitor. "What do you think, Dean? About the disc?" Mildred asked.\par
\par
"Me? Boy, I think being able to find our way around would be a hot pipe," Dean \par
said, picturing a future when they could choose their destinations within the \par
mat-trans units.\par
\par
"Dean, that would be worth two hot pipes," Mildred replied with a grin.\par
\par
J.B. stepped over and placed an arm around Mildred's shoulders, giving her a \par
squeeze. "What's going on?" he asked. At the chamber, Ryan was waiting for the \par
rest of the group to step inside, before closing the door and triggering a new \par
jump to take them into another part of the world-or Deathlands.\par
\par
"Nothing, John, just making a small investment in our future."\par
\par
J.B. cocked his head, then nodded. "Sounds good."\par
\par
Mildred kissed him on the cheek. "Doesn't it, though?"\par
\par
Epilogue\par
\par
"Heavens, sir, are you hurt?"\par
\par
At the sound of the query, Dr. Silas Jamaisvous, or, rather, Torrence Silas \par
Burr, as he'd been known in a previous life a long time ago, opened his cold \par
pale eyes. Above him was a woman in her late twenties with a delicate \par
heart-shaped face dressed in period clothing of what he associated with being \par
late Victorian. She looked concerned, almost frantic, about the status of his \par
well-being.\par
\par
Jamaisvous didn't recognize the woman, so his first thought of being awakened \par
from a lengthy bad dream was probably incorrect, although up until this instant \par
of hearing the new voice, he'd been under the impression of plummeting downward \par
from a great height with no visible sign of ground below. Since he'd been having \par
the same nightmare of falling since he was a young boy, he'd assumed he was \par
indeed sleeping.\par
\par
But who was the woman?\par
\par
The line of thought was doubly rammed home by the fact he was resting on a hard \par
surface, not a mattress, and he could look down his prone body and see a \par
slightly scuffed pair of black dress shoes, and for all his eccentricities, \par
Jamaisvous wasn't inclined to wear shoes to bed.\par
\par
He turned his attention back to the lady in the old-style dress standing over \par
him. A gingham bonnet was tied tightly over her auburn hair, but a few wisps had \par
escaped from the top and dangled coquettishly over her creamy white forehead. \par
She looked so worried, so fragile, that Jamaisvous had to stop himself from \par
reaching up and tucking the stray hairs back where they belonged...while \par
offering up his own words of reassurance that everything would be all right.\par
\par
"Can you hear me?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"\par
\par
"No," he said from his supine position. "I fell, I think."\par
\par
She shook her head in a manner indicating she knew exactly what he was talking \par
about, which was good, for Jamaisvous was still attempting to find his \par
footing-at least, in a figurative manner. He was glad she hadn't expressed any \par
curiosity over how a man fell and ended up prostrate on his back. Until the \par
queasy sensation in his stomach went away, he was quite content to remain flat \par
on his back until he had to try to move his inclined body.\par
\par
"This lot is a hazard," the woman scolded, her eyes raking over the empty area \par
in which Jamaisvous was resting. "Fencing should be put hi place if construction \par
is going to be continually delayed, else children and adults alike shall \par
continue to use it as the quickest route between two points!"\par
\par
Jamaisvous merely listened to the tirade and took in a breath of oxygen, feeling \par
the cool of the dusky air flow agreeably into his lungs. The air tasted good and \par
clean, but there was no hint of salt, which even if his own eyes hadn't provided \par
a series of essential clues, told him he was by no means still in Puerto Rico.\par
\par
"Of course, I'd expect to find children playing their games here as opposed to a \par
man dressed in the formal attire of a scientist, although I must say I am not \par
familiar with the cut of ascot around your neck," the woman continued as she \par
fetched a swallow's-eye blue kerchief from the sleeve of her dress. "Your nose \par
is bleeding. Here, press this against your left nostril. If any blood gets on \par
that white lab coat you will never be able to wash it out."\par
\par
Jamaisvous took the proffered piece of cloth and wiped his nose, bringing back a \par
bright smattering of blood. He then stuck out his tongue, running it along the \par
exterior of his upper lip. The blood he tasted was indeed fresh.\par
\par
"My ascot...?" he asked, finally comprehending the first half of the woman's \par
statement.\par
\par
"Around your neck," she said, and mimed tying a bow around her own graceful \par
throat.\par
\par
"Oh! My tie. Um, yes. New fashion. From Europe," he said dryly.\par
\par
"Ah, that explains it!" she replied brightly, kneeling and offering a hand to \par
help raise and support the bleeding Jamaisvous.\par
\par
"Explains what?" he asked.\par
\par
"Your attire, sir. And your accent."\par
\par
Jamaisvous sat up slowly, letting his benefactor's arm do most of the support \par
work. Directly in front of him was a weather-beaten wooden sign staked in the \par
dirt. In black faded letters on white-painted weatherboard the sign read Opening \par
Soon, A New Boutique of Bargains! and at the bottom was a name printed in block \par
capitals: Mr. Wesley Keith Johnson, Esq.\par
\par
"Might I ask your name, sir?"\par
\par
"Silas," he replied, and suppressed the silly urge to add "Mariner," choosing \par
instead to stay with "Jamaisvous. Dr. Silas Jamaisvous."\par
\par
"Doctor? You are a physician?"\par
\par
"No, madam, I'm a scientist."\par
\par
"You must meet my husband. He should be home by now. He is a scientist, too!" \par
the woman chatted, steadying him to his feet as he carefully stood.\par
\par
Jamaisvous swayed like a child's kite in a gale-force wind and his injured leg \par
folded when he tried to place his weight on the limb. Crusted blood could be \par
seen on his pants where he'd suffered a previous wound, but only if one looked \par
closely, and his newfound friend seemed more interested in his face and the \par
obvious nosebleed.\par
\par
"I appreciate your kindness. Tell me, dear. Who are you?" Jamaisvous asked, his \par
voice gaining strength as he managed to finally stand erect without falling. A \par
train of thought was on a runaway collision with an idea he was developing, and \par
if what he suspected was true, then the gods of the cosmos were certainly having \par
a belly laugh at his expense right now.\par
\par
The young woman held out a hand gloved in white lace and said in a gracious \par
tone, "My name is Emily, sir. Emily Tanner."\par
\par
The End \par
\par
}