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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
"Out there. Know that. Hundreds of them. Fence kept them out. Fire draws them.
The explosion must've carried for fuckin' miles at night. They want revenge
for what we done.
Hundreds of them. Suckers with those razor teeth to strip a man to the bare
bone. The flames'll bring them. Hundreds of the fuckers."
Even as Ryan and J.B. began to make their cautious way across the compound,
the withdrawal began. Leaving their dead and their wounded, the sec force
simply melted away into the night, breaking the locks off the rear gate to the
ville and moving off in small groups into the waiting woods.
Altogether about forty or so left the camp, most of them heading for the
Sippi.
No more than three of them eventually reached safety and civilization. The
rest perished beneath the dark pines.
THE WOODS FOR MILES around were moving.
As the dawn gathered power, the shadows became visible. Slumped, stooping
figures shuffled with surprising speed through the narrow paths and trails,
dull eyes fixed on their bare feet. Suckered hands grasped at the air, and
mouths sagged open, thick threads of blood-flecked yellow-green phlegm
dribbling over scarred chests.
They followed the omnipotent lure of the distant explosion that had stirred
the land all about, woken the creatures from their crimson dreams of torture
and agony and fire. The smell and flavor of flames, deep in the heart of the
forest, stirred their twisted souls.
There was a destination for them, all coming together from every quarter of
the compass, heading for the place of dying and heat, where their dull minds
knew their bitter enemies lived.
It was a time of coming together.
Very soon.
KRYSTY RAN into the open door of the largest of the buildings in the compound.
A
small fire burned brightly in one corner of the pitched roof, but the rest was
relatively untouched. She was ready to encounter sec men, but the whole place
was deserted.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
The smell of sweat and stale food and liquor lingered in the air, still riding
over the stench of gasoline that permeated the whole ville.
It was dark, the main generator of the camp having ceased to function in the
past four or five minutes, but enough light was filtering in from the coming
morning for them to see their way inside.
"Wolfram's room," Mildred said, pushing open a side door, shaking her head in
disgust at the 3-D pornographic posters that covered the walls. There were
heavy floral draperies over the shuttered windows and soft scatter cushions in
pallid shades of silk and satin. By the bed lay a plaited whip, with matted
thongs. A ceramic Buddha held several sticks of highly scented incense that
still smoldered. "More like a whore's boudoir," she commented before moving
down the corridor.
"The Magus." Krysty paused in an open doorway to a totally bare room, painted
in various shades of gray, panels of steel drilled to the walls. It contained
a single iron-
framed bed, covered by one white blanket. A black chest of drawers seemed to
hold all of the Magus's possessions. The only ornamentation was a length of
coiled chrome chain, dangling from a corner of the ceiling.
Krysty shuddered at the bleak chill.
"Where are& ?"
"There." Mildred had gone ahead into the open space that had been used as a
dining room. On a side table were all of their weapons.
Krysty snatched up her own Smith & Wesson double-action 640, checking
automatically that it was fully charged. Mildred kissed her Czech ZKR 551
target pistol, weighing it in her hand, knowing immediately from the balance
that it held all six of the big Smith &
Wesson .38 rounds.
"Now let's do some business," she said.
Had they looked around, they would have glimpsed a tall, elongated silhouette
of a man standing stock-still, behind them, in the entrance to the building.
He was less than a dozen paces from them, his goatlike head to one side, a
bitter half smile on his twisted mouth.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
The Magus turned to Wolfram, who was about to push past him, checking him with
a hand on the arm.
"No," he whispered. "The race is lost. They have their blasters and the others
are coming."
"We can get men "
"No, Gert. A wise man knows when to fold his hand and quietly leave. The rats
have deserted the ship, and we are sinking. I feel company coming through the
woods toward us. They will not be merciful." He touched Wolfram lightly on the
cheek with a steel-
tipped index finger. "Farewell."
Next moment the hall was empty, and Gert Wolfram was standing alone.
THE FRIENDS MET UP in the shadowy hallway of the main building.
"No time for talk," Ryan said. "Reckon stickies'll be on their way from every
damned direction. Sec men have done a runner. Get your blasters and we'll head
out."
"Seen Wolfram or Magus?" Jak asked, strapping on his satin-finish Colt Python,
the blaster banging against his skinny thigh.
Krysty nodded. "They were both after us, but they've vanished."
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"Keep a watch out for them," J.B. warned, snatching the moment to give Mildred
a quick hug and kiss. "Still time for them to do some back-shooting."
Doc flourished his rapier, half drawing it from the ebony sheath. "Sooner we
get away from this jungle hellhole, the happier I shall be."
J.B. looked at Ryan. "We can stand and fight the muties when they get here.
And I reckon that won't be long."
"Can't we hide in the forest?" Krysty asked.
Ryan sniffed, looking around the deserted compound. "Guess not, lover. Wolfram
said
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon they had a shit-lot of
stickies. Could be a hundred or more. They come in from out there with the way
they got of scenting norms& " His eye was caught by the first dawn light on the
canopy of the bobbing balloon. "No," he said. "There's our way."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The only pause came as they reached the rear gates of the fortress, which
swung open on their broken hinges. A sec man was lying by them, hideously
burned, resembling a charred log with jagged branches. One bloody eye blinked
open from the blackened skin of his face, and his tongueless mouth opened and
closed.
Ryan barely broke stride, unsheathing the panga in a whisper of steel and
kneeling to slit the dying man's throat, dodging the flood of arterial blood.
"Getting soft in old age, Ryan," Jak mocked.
"Nothing's forever," he replied, heading through the fringe of the trees,
along the beaten track to the balloon.
A metal-runged ladder dangled from it, and a mooring line with a large grapnel
dug deep into the soft ground.
"Will that fragile basket carry us all in safety?" Doc asked doubtfully.
"Sure. And the wind's from the west. Take us roughly in the right direction to
get back to the redoubt." Ryan tugged at the line. "Let's all get aboard,
friends. I'll get ready to let her free. J.B., set light to the burner."
There was a flicker of flame and then a deep roar as the large gas jet caught
fire. Ryan guessed that the balloon probably operated on a dual system. It was
something he'd come across a couple of times before in other parts of
Deathlands. There would be two layered skins, one of which would contain a
quantity of some light gas, like helium. Rare and expensive. The second would
be a more conventional backup of heated gas, and this was
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