Chapter Ten

 

J.B. sipped coffee sub and regarded his host. "What plague are you talking about?"

 

Phillips massaged his hump unconsciously with one hand, grimacing a little like the action gave him some pain. "Kirkland got everything organized here in Hazard. Invited folks in. Then he kind of picked and chose who was staying and who was moving on. Took him about a year to get it all straightened away with who was what."

 

J.B. sopped corn bread into the soup at the bottom of his plate and chewed as he listened. He ate in spite of the churning that started at the pit of his stomach. The Trader always said that a man who didn't know for sure when or where his next meal was coming from shouldn't be shy about bellying up to a table that was offered.

 

"Once he had mostly everybody here that he wanted, Kirkland announced that the plague had spread. Had a few poor bastards found out in the forest that died of it."

 

"My husband died of the plague," Anna said.

 

"Sorry to hear that," J.B. stated. "How many folks died in the ville?"

 

"None," Tinker answered.

 

"You find that interesting?" J.B. asked.

 

Phillips grinned coldly. "Bastard right, we did. Found it more than interesting. Found it downright fucking suspicious."

 

"What about the bodies?" J.B. asked. "Were you allowed to claim your son's body?"

 

"Allowed to see it," Phillips replied. "Some of the sheriffs deputies found Eddie out in the forest."

 

"What was he doing there?"

 

Phillips scowled and looked away. "Eddie got it in his fool head that he could mebbe outrun the plague. We've been watching Kirkland and his people all this time. He's got a roving band of thugs under a man named Liberty that keeps most folks clear of the ville."

 

"Not anymore," J.B. said.

 

Phillips looked at him. "Not anymore?"

 

"They've all been consigned to crow meat this morning," the Armorer said. "Should be little bitty crow piles squirted out all over the ground now."

 

"Heard you came in with Albert," Phillips admitted. "That's what set me to suspicioning so much."

 

"Good thing Kirkland isn't as suspicious as you," J.B. said.

 

"And if he was of a mind to be?"

 

"Reckon we'd find out if we could feed a few more crows before we got out of the ville." J.B. held up his cup as the coffeepot made the circle of the table.

 

"We got more to eat," one of the young men at the table offered.

 

J.B. thought briefly of Mildred probably sleeping back in their room at the hotel. He wondered if she'd eaten yet or was waiting for him to come back. Then he decided she'd probably eat before he got back. It didn't look like he was going to be leaving any time too soon. He pushed his plate forward, and it was filled again. "What made Eddie take off out of the ville?"

 

"Took off in the middle of the night," Phillips said. "Figured mebbe he could make it. Every now and then, you hear stories about somebody who made it out of Hazard."

 

"Any truth to it?"

 

"That's what we were going to find out. Eddie slipped off after his inoculation, figured he'd know something damn quick. Two days later they brought his body back."

 

"How long had he been dead?"

 

"Animals and insects had been at him," Phillips said. "Kind of hard to figure."

 

"Mebbe as much as both of those days he was gone?" J.B. asked. He helped himself to another square of corn bread. One of the young men pushed a tub of homemade butter toward him. "Mebbe."

 

"Did you get to check the body over?" J.B. noticed that Anna was growing more uncomfortable with the subject of the conversation, but he had to press on with it. He and his friends were in the middle of the present situation.

 

"No. Kirkland always has the bodies of the reclaimed plague victims wrapped all special. Look like mummies time he's through with them."

 

"So what could you see?"

 

"Eddie's face was all blotched up. Black looking." The old man's voice roughened and broke, but he pulled it back on track soon enough.

 

"Rad burn will do that sometimes." J.B. spooned up more beans and meat.

 

"Wasn't rad burn," one of the men stated. "Damn plague is what it was."

 

"Kirkland come around asking any questions?"

 

"Oh, yeah," Phillips answered. "Wondered what Eddie was doing out in the forest. Told him I didn't know, that him and Anna had a fight. A young man during something like that forgets his good sense."

 

"He believe you?"

 

"Hell, no. That's when we started barricading ourselves in here a little tighter."

 

"Kirkland doesn't want you to leave." J.B. looked at the old man.

 

"Me and mine," Phillips announced, "we were one of the first families in Hazard. Time was we took a certain pride in that. No longer."

 

"Lot of work for a man who knows weapons," the Armorer said.

 

"Yep." Phillips gave him a wry grin. "Can't say that I see you hanging out a shingle anywhere and settling down. So don't be saying it like it's a thing to be done by just anybody."

 

"Too much traveling with the Trader," J.B. replied. "Fiddle-footedness gets in a man's blood after a time. Always wandering."

 

"Well, you and your companions surely wandered in the wrong direction this time."

 

"Low on ammo," J.B. explained. "We didn't have much choice."

 

"How come you didn't know about the plague?" Anna asked.

 

J.B. returned her gaze full measure. "Liberty didn't answer a whole lot of questions before he caught the last train to the coast."

 

"If you wander around in this area, you'll find people talk about the plague," Anna said. "Still get some folks in from time to time for trading, but it's generally those who know Kirkland's got the plague under control who show up. It doesn't set right that you wouldn't know about it."

 

"We've been running low to cover," J.B. said. "Before we got here, we just left a whole peck of trouble." And that was true enough.

 

Phillips rubbed his hump again and fixed the Armorer with a steel-hard stare. "Well, J. B. Dix, I'll promise you one thingthat trouble that you left, it isn't anything like what you got on your hands now. If Kirkland let you and your companions into this ville, it was for a reason. Whether he makes you stay here or ups and chills you people outright when the time comes remains to be seen."

 

"Also remains to be seen whether he can hold us." J.B. glanced back at Phillips. "Or if he can chill us."

 

"I like the way you talk," the old man said. "Let's freshen up that coffee sub and hear some more."

 

 

 

"THOSE ARE plague darts." Jak held three of the darts in his hand. Instead of feathers along the back of the shaft, vinyl triangles in red and yellow were designed to act as stabilizers. "What plague?"

 

Their captive licked his lips nervously. He was strapped to a tree in a sitting position, held in place by leather thongs Jak had found among one of the saddle kits. "Kirkland's plague."

 

Jak squatted on his haunches in front of the man. He flicked one of the leaf-bladed throwing knives across the fingers of his other hand with unconscious grace. He sat deliberately so the moonlight would glint off the razor-sharp edges. "He name it?"

 

"Yeah." The man nodded enthusiastically, but the albino noted the glance the man flicked at the cut on the back of his knuckles.

 

"That all he did?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Jak glanced at Dean. The boy looked impassive standing only a few feet away. Dean held one of the captured single-action long blasters in his hand, keeping watch over them. With an economy of motion, Jak stabbed the throwing knife into the man's thigh. When the prisoner opened his mouth to scream in pain, the albino yanked the knife from the man's leg and slashed his lips, cutting in a quarter inch at both corners of his mouth.

 

Blood gushed out with the man's garbled screams. He coughed and choked as he breathed in and sucked blood into his lungs. Terror shone in the wild whites of his rolling eyes. He struggled against the leather thongs, then broke into choking gasps and tears when he couldn't get loose.

 

"You bastard nuke-shitters!" he screamed, his voice echoing out over the forest.

 

With a flick of quick movement, Jak moved the knife again, burying the point in the end of the man's nose. The captive stopped screaming, but bloody spittle flew from his mouth as he breathed like a bellows pump. The albino ignored the blood.

 

"Scream again," Jak warned, "take both ears off. Understand?"

 

Keeping his head still, going almost cross-eyed while staring at the knife and trying to keep his tormentor in view, the man said, "Yes."

 

"Good." Jak withdrew the knife. "Kirkland's plague. Tell me."

 

The man took a long, shuddering breath, then let it out. "Kirkland made it. Come up with it somehow, from some predark book he found or mebbe just thought of it on his own. Nobody knows."

 

"A plague spreads," Dean said. "Man's got to be rad stupe to go fooling around with something like that."

 

"Not this plague. Only kills the person gets it shot into them."

 

"Then it's not a plague," Dean argued.

 

The prisoner wiped one corner of his slashed mouth on his shoulder. "Only know what I was told. Kirkland and Liberty call it a plague, they tell me to call it a plague, I fucking well call it a plague."

 

Jak thought about what the man was saying. He didn't have all the words or the book learning that Dean did, but he could guess at some things himself. "Why plague?"

 

"To keep the ville in line. There's a lot of people don't like the way Kirkland runs things. They want to leave the ville, start over again somewhere else. They figure Kirkland can have this one. But he doesn't figure Hazard is worth having without having people to control."

 

"The people in the ville don't know?" Dean asked.

 

"No. He always has Liberty schedule a group to keep watch out here. Anyone tries to get away, we take them down. Kirkland's also got people inside the ville who inform on who's thinking about slipping away."

 

"Kirkland controls Liberty?" Jak asked. "Sure," the captive said. "Did, anyway. Until you hardcases came along and killed him."

 

"Does Kirkland know that?" Dean asked.

 

 

"Fucking right, he does. Knew that when you got to the ville. Nobody arrives in Hazard without Liberty sending someone along to say it's okay."

 

Jak glanced at Dean, wondering if the dwarf had deliberately set them up. "Albert know that?"

 

"Yeah. Him coming into the ville like that, he had to know Kirkland would know you people chilled Liberty."

 

"Means Kirkland has more up his sleeve than an arm," Dean commented quietly. "He figures on taking control of the group."

 

"Where Albert fit in?"

 

"Got to ask him," Dean stated flatly.

 

 

Jak turned his attention back to the prisoner. "Why you follow us?"

 

The man hesitated, then shook his head, throwing drops of blood off his chin. "Kirkland wanted you chilled. You turned up with the plague, your bodies would be proof they needed him. But that wasn't my idea. I was just following orders."

 

And that made sense to Jak. Without wasted effort, the albino teenager slashed the man's throat. He wiped the blade clean on the dying man's shirt and turned away while the man kicked out his life. "Let's ride," he said to Dean.