Chapter One

 

 

Several days later

 

They heard the screamwings before they saw them.

 

Ryan Cawdor whirled, his hand making a reflexive move toward the butt of the SIG-Sauer holstered at his hip.

 

Jak Lauren inclined his white-haired head to the west. "Swarm screamwings. Stirred by vibrations wag's engine."

 

Ryan looked behind him at the flat curve of black roadway fifty yards away. The Hotspur Hussar Armored Land Rover sat there, the powerful turbocharged V-8 engine idling with a muted throb. On the far side of the road, Krysty Wroth's bright red hair shone through the underbrush like a torch. She was examining the shrubs, searching for edible berries. She hadn't heard the high-pitched whistling shrieks floating up from behind the western hills.

 

The one-eyed man turned back to the wooded foothills, which were at least a quarter of a mile away, dotted with large bushy growths. The shrieks were rising in volume.

 

At his and Jak's insistence, the wag had stopped so the companions could stretch their legs and relieve themselves after a six-hour drive. Ryan assumed J. B. Dix was inside the vehicle with Mildred Wyeth and Doc Tanner. At least he hoped so.

 

Jak jerked his thumb back toward the road. The scar-faced teenager's lips were set in a grim line, his ruby eyes narrowed. "Better move. Screamwings on top us soon."

 

Ryan and Jak returned to the wag at a trot, casting glances behind them. They still saw nothing, but the cacophony of eerie cries grew louder by the second.

 

"Everybody back aboard!" Ryan shouted. "Screamwings!" Krysty ran back up the slope to the roadbed. J.B. pushed open the side door panel. The wiry, bespectacled weaponsmith climbed out, holding his Smith amp; Wesson M-4000 shotgun tightly. His Uzi hung from a lanyard across his narrow chest.

 

"Where?" he demanded.

 

Jak gestured back toward the hills. "Hear?"

 

"Yeah. Getting close."

 

Poking his head into the wag, Ryan saw no sign of Mildred or Doc. He looked across the roof of the vehicle, then cupped his hands and bellowed, "Mildred! Doc!"

 

From the tangled underbrush on the other side of the roadway, he heard a faint response from Doc.

 

Krysty made a move in that direction. "I'll get them."

 

Ryan checked the move by grabbing her arm. "Stay put. Get inside and button up."

 

He turned to J.B. "Kill the engine."

 

The red-haired woman looked anxiously toward the foothills. Already the leathery rustling of hundreds of wings was mixing with the weird shrieks. "Can't we outrun them?"

 

Ryan shook his head. "Worst thing we can do. Screamwings can't see unless something's moving. If we can't be on the move before the flock gets here, we've got to stay put. Leastways, that's what I'm told."

 

He unleathered his pistol and ran across the shoulder of the road, down the gentle slope, and blundered through the undergrowth. He glanced back once and glimpsed a dark, twisting mass uncoiling from the far side of the hills, silhouetted by the sunset.

 

Screamwings were rare, even in this region of Deathlands. Ryan had never seen them, but he had heard plenty of stories about isolated settlements being completely wiped out by ravenous hordes of the winged predators.

 

He ran through the undergrowth, waist-high weeds and tangled brush, heedless of the thorns snagging his clothes and tearing his skin. He kept shouting Mildred's and Doc's names. He reached a small clearing in the overgrown vegetation, just as the stocky woman and the tall, skinny man appeared on the opposite side.

 

Relief welled up inside him. "You weren't supposed to wander far."

 

Mildred ran a hand through her beaded plaits of hair. "Sorry, Ryan."

 

"My fault," Doc said. Small twigs and leaves were snarled in his shaggy silvery white hair. He gestured with his lion's-head ebony swordstick, which concealed a rapier of the finest Toledo steel. "I'd hoped to find a blackberry patch in this morass. I fear my enthusiasm for pies and muffins infected the lady."

 

"Let's hope our visitors don't have your sweet tooth," Ryan said.

 

Doc angled an eyebrow at him. "Pardon?"

 

"Screamwings. A swarm is on its way."

 

They heard the beat of wings, and their faces registered their fear.

 

"Don't move unless you have to," Ryan said. "Stand stock-still and hope the screamwings will pass us and the wag by."

 

The three formed a rough circle, standing back to back. Ryan faced the way he had come, the SIG-Sauer held in a two-handed grip, barrel pointed upward. He waited for the first glimpse of the screamwings and didn't have to wait long.

 

Several black shapes held aloft by furiously fluttering wings darted above the overgrowth, dipping and banking and diving. Ryan tried to keep them framed within his limited field of vision, but it was nearly impossible. The speed and maneuverability of the creatures was remarkable.

 

Ryan stopped trying to follow their blindingly fast movements and concentrated only on staying as motionless as he could.

 

Suddenly a screamwing landed on the upraised barrel of the SIG-Sauer.

 

The screamwing was barely six inches long, though its wingspread was over two feet. It was scaled and clawed, with a wide mouth full of rows of serrated, pointed teeth. Leathery, talon-tipped wings whipped the air. Longer, curving claws were on the hind legs. A long tail lashed around the built-in baffle silencer as it sought to secure its perch. Unblinking eyes, like chips of cold obsidian, glared around.

 

Ryan had seen any number of mutated animals in Deathlands, but he had never seen one that looked like predatory death stripped down to its bare essentials. He couldn't even guess at what predark life-form the screamwing had sprung from.

 

He remembered Mildred once commenting that most mutations were random, sometimes not a case of evolution, but devolution. Perhaps the screamwings were some species of hunting bird that had regressed to their reptilian roots. Like snakes, the screamwings had no conventional organs of hearing, but relied on supersensitive nervous systems to detect sound vibrations in the air and ground.

 

The creature crouched there, turning its head jerkily back and forth. Ryan saw its rear claws tear small scratches in the steel of the SIG-Sauer. It took all of his willpower to hold the blaster steady. He had no idea if a shriek from the thing would draw the flock to the clearing, or if it would decide to take an experimental bite out of his hand.

 

The screamwing opened and shut its jaws with a clashing of teeth, looking almost evil.

 

Then it launched itself from the barrel of the blaster, the point of its tail brushing the patch over Ryan's left eye, a puff of air fanning his right. It took all of the man's self-control not to flinch. Not too long ago an accident had taken the sight from his good eye, and he had been rendered completely blind. Though he had recovered his vision, he was still overly cautious about risking it again. Fortunately the screamwing showed no further interest in him. It flew in a rapid circle around the clearing, then flapped from sight.

 

Ryan lowered his arms, trying to steady his nerves and bring his breathing back to normal. He heard the shrieking and leathery slap of wings from the road, and an occasional muffled thud as if the little demons were trying to batter their way into the wag.

 

Since the wag carried three-inch-thick armor plate, he doubted the screamwings could inflict much damage, but the vehicle's six tires were another matter. If they found they liked the taste of rubber, he and his friends would be stranded in the hills.

 

Then, over the shrieks and flutterings, came the staccato hammering of J.B.'s Uzi.

 

Mildred tensed. "They may need our help."

 

Ryan nodded curtly. "Let's move. Doc, take the point. Your blaster has a wider spread."

 

The three went as quickly as they dared through the underbrush, eyes scanning the area all around and above. When they reached the perimeter of the brush, they sank to their knees.

 

The surface of the wag was acrawl with scaled black bodies, snapping teeth and beating wings. Though the engine had been silenced, the little predators had still zeroed in on the vehicle as the source of the vibrations. Another group swirled, swooped and screamed above it.

 

J.B. had one of the shuttered gun ports open just enough to accommodate the barrel of his Uzi. He was firing it in short bursts, not really aiming. Some of the creatures fell, dropping with thrashing thumps to the blacktop, where they were set upon by other members of the swarm.

 

A screamwing soared toward Doc, gliding on the air currents. Ryan unlimbered the eighteen-inch panga at his waist and sliced the creature in two with a single upward stroke. So razor keen was the edge of the blade that it met almost no resistance when it cut through the creature.

 

Unfortunately it had time to voice a thin scream before its hindquarters and torso parted company. Drawn by the sound of pain, a clot of screamwings detached themselves from the mass circling the wag and fluttered in the direction of Ryan, Doc and Mildred. Doc triggered the Le Mat. Deadly 18-gauge grapeshot ripped a huge hole through the swarm. Small bodies rained to the ground, blood and viscera spraying in all directions. The survivors swerved and rejoined the rest of the circling flock.

 

"By the Three Kennedys," Doc whispered. "Archaeopteryx. The earliest known ancestor of the modern bird."

 

"That's what the screamwings are?"

 

"Except the archaeopteryx was believed to have feathers. These things are more reptile than bird."

 

"Reptile or bird," Ryan replied, "they've got us in a bastard fix."

 

Ryan quickly considered and discarded several plans. Even if he, Mildred and Doc could brave their way through the gauntlet of deadly demons and get back inside the wag more or less intact, the single-minded predators might very well cling to it forever, or until they died of starvation. The only option seemed to be waiting them out, hoping the screamwings would tire of trying to chew armor plating and seek out more palatable prey.

 

Then another possibility arose. In the distance, clearly audible over the racket of the creatures, came the buzzing roar of a small engine.