Axler, James - Deathlands 16 by Axler James

Author:Axler, James
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Twenty-Five

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The next day was warmer, with a blue sky and a fine, drying wind blowing in from the north.

The corpse had vanished, leaving only dark smudges on the sheer face of the sandstone cliff where it had been chained.

Charlie was in a high good humor after the monstrous demonstration of his power.

"Loved it, didn't they?" he said to his prisoners, once they were outside and manacled again in the bright morning sunlight.

Ryan answered him. "Light a fire and you can be bastard certain to have every stickie in creation rolling on their backs, waving their legs in the air with pleasure."

The bitter verbal attack didn't faze Charlie. "You don't worry me, Ryan Cawdor. Talk's cheap. Only death counts. Sun's above. The stupe's body's probably around a hundred miles downstream by now.

Let the little ones play some with it. Good for them to practice using their hands on norm flesh." He laughed delightedly. "Not that the poor son of a bitch had too much of that left."

THE DISTANCE JUDGEMENT of the stickies' leader was badly flawed.

The mangled, bloodless remains of Red Folsom had finished up a lot closer to the Anasazi village than a hundred miles.

Dean had gone to relieve himself after breakfast that morning, picking his way along the narrow path, deep in congealed mud after the interminable rains of the previous twenty-four hours. The boy had found his father's disappearance extremely difficult to handle, and the knowledge that they'd now lost the trail, on account of the turbulent weather, had plunged him into the depths of misery.

He felt a strong disapproval from the limping Christina Lauren, almost as if she blamed him personally for what had happened. Jak had always been real friendly, but now the albino, only a few years older than Dean, seemed embarrassed to be seen with him, constantly glancing over his shoulder to see if his wife was watching him.

Doc and Mildred had been just as nice to him as ever.

But there was something seriously wrong about J.B. The Armorer was usually calm and taciturn, seeming like his mind kept focusing inward. But since Ryan had been taken, J.B. had been on edge, unable to sit still, looking around at the sound of a raindrop dripping from a high branch, hand fumbling for the butt of his Uzi. Every time they stopped he'd be taking off his glasses, polishing them on a piece of clean rag, just like he was trying to wear the lenses away.

J.B. had been at his worst when they realized that they'd totally lost the track.

He'd clenched his fist, knuckles as white as Jak's hair, his eyes staring blankly through the soaked trees, across the valley. His lips had been moving as though he were cursing under his breath. Dean had wondered whether he'd been praying, but that didn't seem too Likely.

But now the sun was shining, and they were near a raging torrent.

It had only been a thin stream the day before, gurgling and chuckling its way over little green boulders.

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