Chapter Twelve

 

 

Ryan woke after four hours of sleep. Natural light filled the cave. Even with the uninterrupted sleep, his body felt drained and stiff.

 

Before opening his eye, he explored the cave with his other senses. Being temporarily blind not so long ago had reiterated how important those senses were.

 

There was a tang of something citrusy in the air that didn't belong to the pines outside the cave. He figured it was from one of the self-heats that had come with a dessert side. Logs crackled on the fire, and smoke burned his nasal passages. The blankets were smooth against his skin, and not as cool as they'd been during the night, but he was aware of the empty space where Krysty had been.

 

A foot scraped across the rough floor.

 

Automatically Ryan's hand curled around the blaster under the jacket he'd used as a pillow during the night. He brought it out and opened his eye.

 

"Me, lover." Krysty stood on the other side of the cave.

 

No one else was in the cave.

 

Ryan flipped the blaster's safety back on. "Morning."

 

"Yeah, it is," Krysty agreed.

 

"Where's everybody else?" Ryan pushed himself up from the floor, hurting in almost every muscle and joint. The battle yesterday and the hike in the cold all night had taken its toll.

 

"Jak's hunting," Krysty said as she lifted a small coffeepot from the camp fire. She'd packed it at the redoubt, and no one had grumbled about the extra weight or the coffee bag. The coffee sub came in premeasured bags, but even running them through again as drip, they weren't going to last as long as everyone would have wished. "Mildred went with him. More to stretch her legs than anything. I can't see her being an asset to Jak's hunting."

 

Ryan grunted his agreement and took the cup of coffee sub Krysty offered.

 

"Jak thought he saw some deer tracks during his rounds this morning."

 

"Fresh meat would be good," Ryan said. "If we have the time." He raised his eyebrow when he looked at her.

 

"J.B. stood last watch this morning," Krysty said. "He didn't see anything."

 

"He and Doc?"

 

"Trying to get their bearings. J.B.'s got his sextant and Doc's looking for signposts."

 

"Come up with anything?"

 

"J.B. says England, or at least Western Europe."

 

Ryan nodded. "What time is it?"

 

"A half hour after dawn. Mebbe a little more. Why? There something you need to do?"

 

"Just look things over a little. See what needs doing." Ryan set his chron, guessing dawn to be around six o'clock in the spring no matter where they were.

 

"Think mebbe it can wait awhile?" Krysty asked with a smile. "I haven't told you about my surprise yet."

 

 

 

KRYSTY TOOK THE LEAD through the fissure at the back of the cave. "I kept feeling like there was more moisture inside the cave than there should have been. Even taking the frost and wet weather into account. So I took a peek through here."

 

Ryan followed her, trailing a free hand along the rough sides of the fissure. It was a tight fit with his broad shoulders. There was a gradual downgrade.

 

Krysty carried a torch, and the flickering flame nibbled at the fissure sides above them. Ryan couldn't tell how far up it went. He lost sight of it in the encroaching darkness.

 

Less than twenty yards farther in, Krysty suddenly had room to step aside. "What do you think?"

 

The cavern was close to thirty feet across and almost circular. A hole in the roof forty feet up let in a weak cone of light that mostly stayed on one of the limestone walls and showed the various strata that indicated erosion. In its center was a natural cistern filled with the bluest water that Ryan had seen in a long time. It was still and placid, looking like a jewel's planed surface.

 

"It's heated, too," Krysty said. "It must be linked to an underground stream somewhere."

 

"How deep?" Ryan had noticed that her hair was soaking wet.

 

"I couldn't find the bottom," Krysty replied. "You want to try?"

 

Ryan grinned, indicating his bloodstained clothing. "Yeah. Mebbe do a little laundry at the same time. Have you told the others?"

 

"Not yet. Felt kind of bad about it, too, but they're busy doing their thing. Figured we'd have time for all of us. Somebody has to go first. To test the water, so to speak."

 

"All right." Ryan made a neat pile of his clothing at the edge of the pool and stuck his blaster out of sight between the folds. He put a foot in the water, surprised to find it pleasantly warm.

 

"Didn't want to get out once I got in," Krysty said. "Had to make myself. Shamed myself for being selfish."

 

Ryan eased his body into the water and let it close over him. "Easy to see why you'd have problems getting out." He let go of the side and swam, exalting in the feel of the water against his body. He dived under for a moment, following the stray beams of sunlight bouncing off the limestone wall and streaking down into the pool until he couldn't see them anymore. By then his lungs were near to bursting.

 

By the time he reached the surface again, black spots were whirling in his vision. He floated on his back.

 

Krysty swam to him. "It's not so deep over here, lover. Want to join me?" Her smile made promises.

 

Ryan went with her willingly. From what he could see, the pool went mostly straight down to where it probably joined with an underground stream.

 

"Now we're alone," Krysty reached out for him and pulled him in. Her breasts were only partially submerged and looked like pale globes in the blue water. Her pink nipples were high and tight.

 

Ryan took her into his arms and pulled her close. They stood in what felt like loose sand. She kissed him hotly, and he could feel the need on fire inside her, matching his own.

 

"Next time," Krysty said, "we'll go slower, but for now I want you inside me." She broke the embrace and pulled him toward the bank. They were on the other side of the pool. "Since I found this spot, I've been thinking about this."

 

At the edge of the pool, the water was only a little above knee-high. The air felt cooler now that he was outside the water, but just enough to prickle Ryan's skin without becoming uncomfortable.

 

Krysty pulled him against her, leaving her back to his front. Ryan felt his erection slide through her parted thighs, gliding against her skin. He pumped slowly, teasing her by letting his cock rub across the lips of her vagina without penetrating. He cupped her breasts in his hands and squeezed them with just the right amount of pressure as he nibbled the back of her neck.

 

Krysty moaned in pleasure, pressing into him with her hips. "Don't wait." She freed his hands from her breasts and bent forward, resting her upper body on the stone bank. "Now."

 

Ryan moved into her, thrusting forward, sinking his length into her, Krysty meeting him stroke for delicious stroke.

 

Ryan's orgasm welled up in him, and he held it back as long as he could. But Krysty had to have felt it, too, because she redoubled her efforts. Then he felt her inner contractions, and he exploded, filling her.

 

They stood there on trembling legs, their passion finally spent.

 

It wasn't until the second shot sounded that Ryan was certain that he was still hearing the echoes of the first.

 

 

 

MILDRED SAT in the tall grass on the mountainside and watched Jak work. At least, she tried to. The albino, however, was as elusive as smoke.

 

She wore the coat she'd taken from the redoubt and wrapped her arms around her knees. It wasn't too cold, but she hadn't quite brushed off the chill she'd gotten from rereading sections of the journal she'd found. Drake Burroughs, U.S. Army, was one sick, crazy bastard. That was her professional opinion, as well as personal one.

 

She was glad to be shut of him and hoped it stayed that way.

 

Down the mountainside a deer appeared only a few feet from the tree Jak had climbed into. He'd positioned himself over a watering hole formed in a depression in the mountain stone. Hoof prints and paw prints had offered mute testimony to the fact that it was frequented by the local wildlife.

 

The deer was a male, showing an impressive rack as he raised his head, scenting the air, then moving in a little closer.

 

Mildred watched tensely, hugging herself. She'd never really favored deer hunting back in the twentieth century. But then a lot of hunters had stalked deer for trophies. Jak was hunting this one to feed them. It meant survival.

 

The deer walked to the edge of the pool and froze, head cocked as he listened.

 

Mildred's breath was tight in her lungs as she watched. All morning long she'd read of the murders committed by Burroughs and his people in the redoubt. Toward the end there'd been mass executions until Burroughs had reduced the populace of the complex to a number he could easily control.

 

Watching the sleek animal drop his muzzle to the water and start to drink, she found that part of her wanted to scare it away, but the realistic part knew and accepted what had to be done.

 

Jak dropped from the tree like a cat. One gleaming leaf-bladed knife was in his hand as he fell. His free hand swung around the animal's neck and caught the chin as the buck raised his head.

 

The deer fought to shake Jak off, yet the youth clung to him fiercely, avoiding the sharp-tipped horns that raked toward his face. Lying alongside the deer's back, Jak sunk the knife into his neck and severed the throat.

 

Bright blood spilled to the ground as the buck continued to struggle to break free. Jak hung on, his face tucked up under his shoulder protectively. Within seconds life left the animal. His legs shivered and would no longer take the weight, then the buck collapsed.

 

Mildred watched as the teenager pushed himself up from the deer. He started to clean his knife in the grass nearby, then froze.

 

Shoving the journal in her pocket, Mildred stood and drew the ZKR 551. The albino, she knew, wasn't given to false starts. She scanned the terrain, wondering what had set Jak on edge. But then she felt it, too, like silent talons running down the back of her neck. She knew someone was out there watching them.

 

Whoever their stalkers were, Mildred knew they were good, because they'd gotten to almost within a hundred paces of Jak before he had them on his sensory radar screen. The youth drew his .357 Colt Python and fired a shot down the mountainside.

 

Abruptly green-garbed men scattered from the area, leaving one of their number sprawled on the ground clutching his leg. The others quickly found positions behind trees and outcroppings.

 

The return fire, from blasters and crossbows, drove Jak to ground. The teenager didn't light in one spot, though; he just hunkered down and kept covering distance.

 

Four of the green-clad men broke from their positions at the urging of another, all of them chasing Jak.

 

Mildred steadied herself against the nearest tree, the Czech-built pistol at full extension. She cracked off three rounds in quick succession. At least one of them went through one man's face, and another went spinning away. The others dived to the ground.

 

Jak vanished.

 

Mildred knew they had only a couple minutes to make an escape before the attack party overran their position. She finished off the other three shots, then ducked as bullets slammed into the tree and cut through the grass and brush around her. Breaking open the cylinder, she reloaded quickly.

 

She pushed away from the tree, already figuring out the path she was going to take to get back to the cave. Jak would get there ahead of the others, so they'd know she was coming.

 

Keeping her pistol close to her, Mildred used her other hand to slap branches and brush out of the way as she ran. She didn't think she had much of a chance of outrunning the men behind her, but she had to try.

 

An attacker came out of the brush ahead of her with his pistol already raised.

 

Without hesitation, firing on the fly, Mildred put a bullet into the man's throat. He went over backward, blood gouting out the front of his neck.

 

Two shots cracked around her. At first she thought she'd been hit. But there was no pain, no numbness. A heartbeat later a green-clad man dropped from a tree in front of her. He landed in a loose-limbed sprawl, the top of his head missing.

 

"Jak," she said, because it had to have been him. The fear was working in her, feeding her adrenaline as the fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. She vaulted the dead man in front of her.

 

Before she had time to touch down on the other side, a man hurtled from the brush, driving a forearm deep into her side. Her breath came out in a rush, and it felt as though her ribs snapped. She slammed against the ground, but she managed to keep her fist tight around her blaster. Rough bark and splintered branches lacerated the side of her face. Blood spit into her eye as she tried to roll over on her stomach and bring the .38 up at the same time.

 

"Alive!" a deep voice snarled.

 

Mildred moved, trying to find the man who'd blind-sided her. She spotted one man almost twenty feet away, hidden by the tall grass. Knowing he couldn't have been the man who'd given the order or the one who'd hit her, she still set herself for the shot.

 

Then a foot came out of nowhere and smashed into her face. An inky black cloud formed in her vision and took her away.

 

 

 

JAK SPILLED the empty casings from the .357 and slammed home a fresh 6-round load as bullets continued chipping away at the tree and boulder he was using as shelter.

 

Footsteps pounded at him, and he knew enough of a team had reformed to set a trap for him. He glanced around and sized up the terrain. His position wasn't ideal, but neither was it without resources.

 

He fisted one of the leaf-bladed knives and waited.

 

The running man hesitated for a moment. Jak's keen ears could detect the break in the rhythm. He guessed the man was puzzled by his prey not trying to flee or fight. The albino slid the .357 into leather and flipped the restraining thong over the hammer, securing it into place.

 

The hunter came around the boulder cautiously.

 

Jak was flattened back against it, the knife low and ready in his fist. He waited for the man to notice him, depending solely on his speed and skill.

 

Jak took in the bolt-action Remington in the man's hands at a glance. Uncoiling lithely, the youth batted the rifle barrel to one side with his free hand and slid up behind his attacker.

 

"Help me!" the man yelled.

 

The albino pressed the teen edge of his blade over the man's carotid artery. He used the man as a shield, blending in to his back like another layer of skin. He was only a couple inches shorter than his victim, and holding him in that position was uncomfortable.

 

"Move with," Jak warned in a low voice, "not against. You choose against, you die." He pulled the knife in meaningfully.

 

"Yes," the man said. "By Lugh Silverhand, I shall not try anything. Just please don't kill me."

 

"Like you didn't kill my friend?" Jak asked. He'd seen Mildred go down and stay there. Men had swarmed in on her position, then vanished. There'd been nothing he could do to help. They'd been overrun too quickly.

 

Beyond the boulder, eight green-clad men stood up, keeping their eyes and weapons on Jak. Several of them were talking to one another, and a few made what had to be religious gestures.

 

"I didn't kill her," the man said.

 

He held his hands up to the others. He raised his voice to plead. "Don't shoot, he'll kill me."

 

For the moment that seemed to be working as fine as Jak could have hoped. Trouble was, it left his back unprotected. He tugged backward, making the man walk with him. He'd chosen his spot deliberately. Here the terrain butted up against a flat face of the mountain range, and there was no way up for almost twenty feet. Jak was hoping that it would buy him enough time to rejoin Ryan and the others. The gunshots couldn't have gone unnoticed.

 

"What you want with us?" Jak asked. The green-clad men were staying back, their weapons trained on them.

 

"Looking for a boy," the man gasped. "Tarragon."

 

"Don't know him."

 

"He came this way," the man insisted. "Spent all night out looking for him."

 

As the other men started to follow, Jak kept the blade at his hostage's neck and drew the .357 with his free hand. Without hesitation, he put a round through the heart of the man nearest him. The others dropped back into hiding.

 

"Oh, blessed, sweet Lady," the man whimpered, touching his forehead with his fingers, "be gentle as you take me into your embrace."

 

"Ain't dead yet," Jak said, pulling back again. "Just him." A quick glance at the mountain face behind him told him he was less than twenty feet away. "Who are you people?"

 

"Celts."

 

"Not heard of you." Jak slid the .357 away. He glanced back where he'd seen Mildred go down, but he still wasn't able to see her fate.

 

"You're poaching on our lands," the man said. "That deer you took wasn't yours to have."

 

Jak didn't waste his breath arguing. Anyone claiming to own such obviously free land had to be out of his mind. Even the most power-hungry baron never tried to lay claim to a bigger ville than he could control. That was triple stupe. So was the man's thinking.

 

"Pepper!"

 

Jak heard a mixture of fear and relief in the man's tone. He glanced back down the incline.

 

A blond-haired giant of a man strode through the clearing between the skirmish lines. He carried a huge ax over one beefy shoulder. A stainless-steel-finished machine pistol was in the man's hands.

 

"Don't, Pepper," the captured man yelled. "He means it. He'll kill me. I didn't come out here to die."

 

"Just to kill someone?" Jak whispered in the man's ear.

 

He didn't say anything.

 

Feeling his way with his feet, the teenager continued backing toward the wall. He kept his eyes on the big man, but Pepper kept coming, the machine pistol held at waist level.

 

"Let him go," Pepper ordered.

 

"Fuck off," Jak said. He hoped Ryan and the others had heard the exchange of gunfire. "Where's the woman?"

 

"Alive."

 

"Not believe you." One more step, and Jak was against the wall. He pulled his captive close.

 

Pepper kept coming, slow and easy, ready to move. "Let you live, too, if you want."

 

"Listen to him," Jak's prisoner said.

 

Instead, the albino hefted the .357 and tried to line up a shot. His prisoner moved, helping throw off his aim.

 

Pepper moved with grace and speed, hurling himself into the brush and gaining another five yards on Jak's position. The wicked snout of the machine pistol poked out and suddenly started chattering a death song.

 

The bullets struck the man in front of Jak and twisted him violently, pulping the center of his chest but not going through. Jak hung on tight, riding out the dance of death.

 

"He cut his throat!" Pepper yelled. "I saw him cut Douglas's throat! Kill him!"

 

The dead man stumbled back against Jak, almost overpowering him with deadweight. Moving quickly, the albino dropped the .357 into his holster. The leaf-bladed knife went back where it belonged. Before the corpse's brain could cut off muscle control, Jak vaulted to the top of the man's shoulders, driving them into the stone wall behind them to gain even more support.

 

With all the skill and derring-do he could muster, Jak jumped from the man's shoulders as the legs and back broke their locks. His hands were out before him, seeking the nearest branch above him that he thought might hold his weight. His open hand clutched a branch as big around as his thigh, and he slid his other arm over the top. Twisting his body, he flipped himself up onto the branch as bullets cut the air where he'd just stood. Gouges erupted from the stone wall, flying in all directions.

 

The teenager took a couple steps forward, then bounced on the end of the tree limb. There was enough spring to aid him in the next leap up the tree. Bullets ripped through the tree bark and sheared away smaller branches around him.

 

He grabbed the next branch and went up quickly, continuing until he ran out of tree that would support him. Then, without a second thought, he threw himself at the ragged face of the cliff.

 

His fingers and toes found uneven places where he gained barely enough purchase to keep from falling. He held on through sheer strength, his cheek pressed into the rough surface hard enough to hurt.

 

Below him, Pepper shouted orders, urging them all to kill him. Bullets pounded into the cliff face below Jak, chopping their way through the trees and into the rock.

 

The albino reached above him, stretching his legs to achieve another couple inches. His back burned with the effort of supporting his weight so close to the rock with so little to work with. He sensed movement on top of the cliff almost within arm's reach now.

 

Then his left foot shot out from under him as the rock face crumbled. He flailed in a last-ditch effort to seize the top of the cliff as a man's head appeared over the edgeand missed. Jak knew the long fall was only a moment away.