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half-dozen sec men.
They'd been waiting patiently in the shadows of the deck as she had led the
others toward their cabins, all holding cocked automatics.
There was a shout above the noise of the thundering steam organ. "Got you
cold!"
Jak stepped back and drew his Magnum, and was immediately clubbed to the deck
from behind, falling unconscious at the feet of his attacker. "Don't nobody
else try to get fucking triple-stupe, and you all stay living and unhurt."
"Pick up the kid," he said to one of his colleagues.
"He's not a kid," Krysty told him, aware of what a feeble response that was.
"Don't give a fuck, Krysty," said the apparent leader of the ambush. "Keep
your hands high while we take away the blasters. Then move on around the back
of the boat to the left side."
"Port," Doc said mockingly.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
The man laughed, the sound devoid of any humor. "That so? Best keep your flap
shut, Doc, or you'll be on the deck with the kid."
The guns were removed with professional ease, though Krysty noticed that they
had missed some of Jak's knives. And they ignored Doc's swordstick.
"Move it."
"Could dive for it," Mildred whispered. "Never hit us in this fog."
"Shut the fuck up, you black bitch!"
Mildred turned instantly on the man, and he backed away from the flaming anger
in her face, even though he was the one holding the gun.
Krysty thought about Mildred's suggestion, and blanked it. Jak wasn't a strong
swimmer, nor was Doc. And they could easily get lost in the mist, in a river
that was at least a half-
mile wide. It wasn't a gamble worth the taking.
She laid a hand on Mildred's arm, calming her rage. "Later," she breathed.
They moved around the stern of the vessel, along the port side, where Krysty
saw a boat waiting, with a double outboard engine, tied to the lowered
gangway. It began to look as if they were victims of a complex conspiracy that
probably involved Captain Huston and some of his crew, including the invisible
musician pumping away at the calliope, covering the noise of the boat's engine
as it had arrived alongside the
Golden Eagle
.
Three more armed men were already in the boat, one holding the tiller. The
leader of the sec group gestured to Krysty, Mildred and Doc. "Down the ladder
and into the boat.
Quick and easy. Any of you make a break, the others die that moment."
It was done smoothly. Jak was dumped, moaning feebly, in the bottom of the
boat, while the engine revved up. Krysty stood in the stern, peering up toward
the dim spot of golden light that was the bridge of the stern-wheeler,
wondering if Ryan was there. If Ryan was still living.
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At that moment the calliope stopped playing, and the boat moved away into the
center of the Sippi. Krysty watched the Golden Eagle vanish behind her.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
FOR A MOMENT Ryan considered plunging off the bridge into the river, but there
were too many reasons not to risk it. The powerful motorboat was gone, and he
could easily lose his way in the fog in the enormously wide Sippi. Also, the
bridge was around sixty feet from the water.
"Please don't make me have you both shot, my dear Ryan," Wolfram urged.
Slowly he turned and followed J.B. into the brightly lit bridge, pulling the
door shut behind them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Looks like we owe you a vote of thanks for looking after us so well,
Captain," Ryan said bitterly. "Carrying on the great naval tradition, huh?"
"Won't forget it, Captain," J.B. added. "Worth our remembering."
Huston's ruddy face was pale, a line of strain etched deep around his eyes and
mouth. He shook his head at the two prisoners. "Not my fault," he muttered.
"You don't know what they said they'd do if I didn't "
The Magus patted Huston on the shoulder, and the captain jumped as though the
man's touch were tainted with high voltage. "Man has to do what other men tell
him to do." The curiously dead metallic eyes turned toward Ryan. "Just the
kind of thing our dear mutual comrade the Trader would have said."
"Better if you give your blasters to us," Wolfram suggested jovially, as if he
were asking them if they wanted to take off their coats before eating.
"And his knife," the Magus hissed. "The long, honed butcher's blade. And
search the
Armorer with a very special care. I recall his pockets were sometimes filled
with delicious toys. Plas-ex and grens."
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
"That was then, Magus, and this is now," J.B. said, holding out his arms
sideways, allowing the lean, part-android to search him. "Wasting time. Those
days of explosives and implodes are long, long gone."
"Prefer to spend your time with time-jump black bitches, do you?"
J.B. didn't rise to the sneered taunt. "Better person than you could ever be,
Magus," he replied calmly.
Wolfram giggled. "This is so like olden times, is it not? So many memories
that we share.
Some truths and some false memories. How given we old men are to the vice of
lying, Ryan Cawdor. I have a question for you, my old comrade-in-arms."
"Ask it. Doesn't mean I'll answer it."
"Where is your little boy, Dean? We sadly lost track of him some weeks ago. It
would have been so nice to have the mongrel cur of that she-panther, Sharona."
Ryan was shaken to the core as he realized how the two cold-hearts had been
following him and the others through Deathlands. And how much they seemed to
know. "Boy ran away, down near Death Valley," he said. Least that was one
thing they didn't know.
Wouldn't ever know.
Wolfram nodded, still smiling. He reached to tug out a large black satin
kerchief and wiped sweat off his high forehead. "A lie, of course. But we
shall find time to ask that and so many, many questions, Ryan."
"Go fuck a dead scabbie, Gert."
"You will answer," the Magus said, pointing at Ryan's good eye with his
gleaming nail.
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"Nothing on this blighted earth is more certain."
"What'll make us talk?" J.B. asked, moving closer to Ryan, spotting the vein
that throbbed across his friend's temple and the way the great cicatrix of the
scar in his cheek was purple and twitching. They were dangerous signs that
Ryan's temper was slipping from his control.
"How to make you talk, friends?" Wolfram threw back his head and bellowed with
laughter, his jowls quivering, belly rippling. Opening his mouth, he sang in
an
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon unexpectedly high, pure lyric
tenor. " 'If you had wings like Noah's dove, then you'd sail up the river to
the ones you love.' " He stopped, his jolly face turning to greasy planes of
wind-washed bone, eyes narrowing with anger. "But you don't have wings, like
Noah's dove, do you, Ryan Cawdor? Do you, John Barrymore Dix? No, you do not."
Neither man answered, though the truth of Wolfram's mocking was unanswerable.
Krysty, Mildred, Doc and Jak were gone, spirited away either up or down the
big river, out of reach into the drifting fog, helpless prisoners.
"Get to it," Ryan said wearily, trying not to show his own despair.
The Magus turned to the captain. "Do you have the private dining room ready?"
"Yes."
"There will be no need for you to join us, Captain."
"Fine with me." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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