Axler, James - Deathlands 66 by Axler James

Author:Axler, James
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Ten

For the next couple of days Mildred kept some distance between herself and the rest of the companions.

Although she wanted to know what Ryan had to say about Barras's revelation, and if they would act upon it, she was also aware that J.B. had been stung by her suspicions and that at least some of his anger

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would communicate itself to the others. She wanted time for this to subside, and for herself to gain some kind of equilibrium after the wild seesaw of her own emotions had stabilized.

Besides which, there was work to be done. The preparations for the exodus were nearing completion.

The tree felling had been completed and the companions were now at work on the beaches, helping to build boats and seaworthy rafts from the wood they had helped to fell. It was an easier situation for them, as the beach was nearer the ville and, in a more open environment, it was easier to keep alert and to look out for your back. Not that this was as necessary as before. The radical separatists who had been detailed to tree felling weren't allowed to work on the boats and rafts. Markos, in consultation with Sineta and Mildred, had felt that it may be too tempting for those radicals who were in favor of sabotage to loosen a few joints, slacken a few ropes, and so delay or scupper attempts to leave the island.

Mildred, meanwhile, had neared the completion of her own tasks. The Pilatans had the majority of the personal belongings and the tools of their trade packed and ready, leaving only the necessities for the time up until departure. The treasures of the ville, the armory, and the paintings and writings that charted the history of the ville were also carefully packed, along with food supplies and farming tools.

There was, however, the one treasure that still remained unclaimed, and time was growing short.

Mildred had stalled Barras when he had asked to see her, but the old man was growing impatient and nervous on the matter.

"I do not have long, Mildred Wyeth—a matter of days, mebbe not even that," he had whispered to her on her last visit. "How can I join my ancestors on the long journey knowing that I have let them down in the this manner, that I have betrayed my people?"

Mildred looked at him. She couldn't argue with his self-diagnosis. He was little more than ashen parchment skin stretched over a skeleton that seemed to shrink into itself with each passing day. His eyes were cloudy, so that she could no longer tell if he was focused on this world or one that he could see beyond this life. His voice was little more than a harsh, croaking whisper.

She would have to act soon, or she was sure that he was right. He would buy the farm without being satisfied. When she'd left the baron on that day, she decided that she would have to act immediately.

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