Deathlands 01 Pilgrimage to Hell by James Axler

Author:James Axler [Axler, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-28T20:22:39+00:00

in. Didn't ya, Liz?"

The Lizard, a tall thin mutie with a long nose and bluish squamous skin, stood

up at his table. He looked puzzled.

"Sure, M-miss Charlie. Wh-what's ya p-problem, Ca-ca-ca-captain?" The Lizard's

speech impediment made it sound as if he was saying "caca" deliberately, and,

knowing his sense of humor, he probably was.

Hagic looked murderous. He began to swing the H&K up, and Ryan thought this

whole business had gone on long enough.

Ryan said, "You mean the wimpy little fucker who galloped through here just

now?"

Hagic paused before turning to face him. Ryan could almost hear the pinwheels of

his tiny brain creaking slowly into action. Hagic knew something; more to the

point, he knew something was up, was going on—possibly right now, at this very

moment. But Hagic was a stupe of the first water. A smile darted across his

sallow features. It was probably meant to be friendly but it simply made him

look sly. His squint didn't help.

"Ryan. Good to, uh, see ya." He switched his wall-eyed stare to the rear of the

room. "You, uh, say you see a guy…"

"Guy come in here, like there were rad rats chewing his ass? Sure. C'mon. Show

you where he went."

As he said this he turned away from Hagic, began striding down the room, aware

of Charlie's pop-eyed gaze on his right, but also aware, just, of a flicker of

dark amusement fleeing across the ugly features of Ole One-Eye down the room,

"Shifty little bastard he looked to me."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the mirrors, could see Hagic

following, three men in tow. And as he was speaking, his back to Hagic, his open

coat cloaking his movements, his left hand was smoothly cross-drawing the

SIG-Sauer, his right feeling his belt, fingers unpopping a pouch, drawing from

it a stubby little suppressor, screwing it into the SIG's barrel.

"Door here. Yeah, curtain."

That was a pisser. He couldn't not draw the curtain back, leave it closed. Even

Hagic would smell a rat. As he slid the heavy material to one side he heard Ole

One-Eye berating Chewy the Chase in a loud voice, Chev's angry tones replying.

Good. Even some noise was useful, attention grabbing just when it was needed. He

wondered what the hell was beyond the door. He wondered how he would play what

now had to be played.

Sometimes a response had to be purely automatic; you had to work blind and the

nature of the killing ground was in the lap of the gods. The suppressor was

tight. He carefully pushed the gun inside his pants but with plenty of grip

available for instant draw.

A door faced him. It opened inward, toward him. That was a bonus. He pulled it

open, smiled. He was in a small lobby. To one side, carpeted wooden stairs rose

to a narrow landing before doubling back. He could see the upper portion of the

staircase through its banister posts. A lamp hung low on a chain from the

lobby's ceiling.

"Stay here," Hagic's voice sounded in Ryan's ear.

Magic's three sec men pushed past him and began to mount the first flight of

stairs.

"Bad character, huh?" murmured Ryan.

Hagic moved closer, inclined his head toward Ryan's.

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