Chapter Four

Ryan slid the Steyr's strap over his shoulder as he rounded the building where he'd left Krysty. A crumpled iron fire escape sprawled over the back of the building, forming a leaning cage of iron bars and steps that allowed him to run up the structure. It would put him near the top of the building.

In the past, the fire escape had hung on the building. Now it was loosely secured, vibrating as he slammed his boots against it.

The dogs raced through buildings as they sought their prey, and they drove more ghoulies out of their hiding places. The ghoulies fought back, swinging their homemade weapons and screaming hysterically in their shrill, gibbering voices. The dogs attacked mercilessly, tearing great hunks of flesh from the ghoulies with their flashing white teeth. The Slaggers trailed behind, getting closer. They cut down any ghoulies who crossed their path, filling the air with the yammering noise of blasterfire.

Jak stayed close behind Ryan, having an easier time scrambling through the lopsided fire escape because of his smaller size and incredible agility.

A pair of curs scampered up slabs of concrete near the fire escape, then vaulted through the bars, landing only a few feet ahead of Ryan, scrambling to regain their balance on the uneven steps.

Shifting with uncanny speed, the lead mutt threw itself at Ryan, its mouth spread open to reveal the glistening fangs.

Ryan threw up an arm, managing to get it under the big animal's muzzle rather than shoving it into the dog's mouth. The fangs snapped together, missing the one-eyed man's face by inches. The dog's fetid breath swirled around Ryan, almost foul enough to make him nauseous.

The sheer weight and strength possessed by the animal pressed Ryan back as it dug its back legs against the steps. Ryan strained, levering his arm under the animal's muzzle, deliberately putting all his pressure against the dog's throat to close down its breathing passage.

The animal remained determined to reach him. The jaws continued to angrily snap at him, scattering hot spittle across his face. The second dog surged forward, as well, sidling in beside the first.

Ryan slipped his panga free of its sheath, fisting it in his free hand so the blade pointed down instead of up. More of the dogs followed along beside the fire escape now. One of them leaped for the iron structure, but it rebounded from the other dogs and tumbled eight feet to the ground.

Jak's .357 blaster roared to life behind Ryan. The big hollow booms echoed between the buildings. The roll of shots was punctuated by yelps of pain, and curses from men Ryan assumed were Slaggers.

Twisting to put his back against the fire escape, the one-eyed man used it as a brace, then pushed against the lead dog harder. Grudgingly the animal bent, exposing its side. Ryan thrust at once, sinking the panga between the cur's ribs to pierce its heart and lungs.

The dog jerked as if hit by an electric current from a wag battery, then fell back. The one-eyed man closed a fist in the loose flesh of the animal's neck and heaved it over the side through the bars of the fire escape.

The dead dog dropped onto a small knot of curs leaping up at the fire escape, knocking several of them away.

A moment later, Ryan booted the second animal from the fire escape as well, then charged up the steps again. Slaggers scattered around the ground below them, firing up into the iron structure.

Ryan sheathed the panga and drew the 9 mm blaster. He tracked his targets automatically, squeezing the trigger quickly.

The bullets took out a trio of Slaggers, punching them to the ground.

"Too many," Jak stated.

"I know." Ryan kept firing, no longer hitting the Slaggers easily because they'd gone to ground as soon as they realized how well he could shoot. Sparks leaped from the rust-red iron bars of the fire escape, raked by the Slagger gunfire.

Jak dumped the empty shells from the .357, scattering brass across the steps. He reloaded quickly, his nimble fingers searching for bullets in the secret pockets in his clothing.

Reaching the top of the fire escape, Ryan saw that it ended nearly ten feet from the side of the building. From the ground, he hadn't been able to discern that. At the top now, the fire escape also swayed sickeningly from his and Jak's combined weight.

Ryan paused only a moment at the top. The end of the structure was nearly four feet taller than the roof of the building. He scanned the rooftop, wondering where Krysty was and why she wasn't providing covering fire.

Then he saw her prostrate body lying facedown on the roof. Her limbs lay twisted in awkward positions.

Ryan's heart turned cold in his chest, and he stopped breathing as he looked at the woman.

"Ryan," Jak said behind him, "got move. Otherwise, chilled here and now."

Getting the sway of the fire escape locked into his reflexes, Ryan leaped toward the building. He almost made it, but fell short of getting most of his body weight on the rooftop. Gravity pulled at him, dragging him down. He fell, then caught himself with his free hand.

By the time he pulled himself back up to the rooftop, Jak landed in an economical roll and came up on his feet. The albino raised the .357 in both hands, swinging the barrel to cover the rooftop.

Ryan raced to Krysty's side, knowing some of the Slaggers and the dogs were making their way up the fire escape, as well. He knelt beside the redhead and placed a hand on her shoulder, looking her over to see where she'd been wounded.

There didn't appear to be a mark on her.

Before Ryan had a chance to guess at what had happened to her, three growling dogs erupted from the top of the fire escape, jockeying for position. One of them gathered enough courage to fling itself across the distance.

Surprisingly the animal landed almost entirely on the rooftop. It held on with its front legs and whined loudly as its back legs pedaled frantically against the side of the wall below.

Ryan lifted the SIG-Sauer and lowered the sights over the animal's head. He squeezed the trigger, and a hollow-point bullet pulped the dog's head in a bloody spray that whipped over the other animals behind it.

The dog died without a sound and toppled from the rooftop.

Ryan continued to fire, raking the fire escape with the pistol until it cycled dry. Through the haze of blue gun smoke the cheap reload cartridges made, he watched another dog drop in its tracks while others retreated.

Jak ran a quick circuit of the rooftop and came back. "All around us."

Ryan put a fresh magazine into the SIG-Sauer and pocketed the empty. One of the things he'd hoped to find in Idaho Falls was a new supply of magazines for the weapon and military-issue 9 mm rounds left over from before the skydark. He was down to three magazines for the blaster, and in a sustained firelight he didn't have time to keep feeding fresh cartridges into magazines.

He glanced at the rooftop-access door in the center of the building. The air-conditioning units and other HVAC equipment had long since been stripped from the rooftop, harvested for the compressors and other salvageable parts, as well as for the metal itself. A lead-filled pipe was easy to make, and could be a hell of a weapon in close quarters.

"Get the door open," he told Jak.

The albino nodded and hurried away.

During the search earlier, Ryan had noticed that it was stuck. The lock had been ripped from the door, but the collapse of the building had caused the door to jam. He'd left it alone then, figuring it served to contain whatever lurked below. But now it offered a possible escape route.

With the loaded blaster in one fist, Ryan grabbed Krysty by the shoulder and rolled her over.

She twisted bonelessly, and the loose way she moved made him certain she was dead.

The breath caught in Ryan's throat as he stared down at his lover's pale face. Then he noticed her breasts rise with a drawn breath, and he began to breathe again himself. Gently he reached toward her face, cupping it in his callused hand.

"Wake up," he said.

Her eyelids jerked, then flew backward to reveal the bloodshot whites of her eyes. The irises rolled back up into her head. She convulsed, like someone near to drowning just coming back to take his or her first breath.

"Krysty," Ryan said hoarsely. He patted her cheek tenderly but with force enough to rock her head slightly. "You've got to get up."

Abruptly she sat up, her eyes snapping into focus like electronic sights on a war wag. "Do not presume to touch me again, whoreson!"

DEAN RAN POINT for the companions as they sped back into the collection of gutted buildings. He kept the Browning Hi-Power in his fist and worked on keeping his mind clear, as well. Gunfire cracked and echoed between the structures. The hounds' baying sent a chill down his back.

"Slow down, Dean!" Mildred yelled at him from behind. "This isn't a race."

Changing his stride, Dean made for an L-shaped corner of a building foundation sticking up from the weed-covered ground. He hunkered down behind it and studied the broken terrain in front of him.

The baron's riders had closed on the coldhearts, splitting the groups off into miniature battlefields. Both sides knew each other from the sound of the shouted oaths and vehemence they exhibited in their efforts to kill one another. But neither side appeared to be suicidal, taking cover where they found it and trying to get a better position. The dogs also became a factor, charging in under the jumbled mess of broken rock and attacking from the rear. Where most of the coldhearts' weapons were single shot and single action, Baron Shaker's men carried a number of semiautomatic rifles and handblasters.

The coldhearts tried to form a skirmish line, but the best they could do was slow the advance of the riders. However, as the Slaggers drew more deeply into the ville toward the junkyard of dead wags, they held back the riders' advance with increasing success.

"Damn," Mildred gasped as she reached the foundation remnant. "You call that a trot? I distinctly remember John telling you to strike a reasonable pace." Her words were broken up by her struggles to catch her breath.

Dean wasn't even breathing hard. "I can't help it if I move so quick."

"You run off and get your ass shot up, you won't be so damn proud of being a speed demon," Mildred told him.

A gray furred shape sprang from the other side of the foundation, scrabbling at the irregular surface of the mortar chunk with its black claws. The jaws were open wide, revealing the pink gums and white fangs.

Dean moved without thinking. He grabbed Mildred by the shoulder and shoved her to the side, out of the dog's leap.

The animal hit the ground on all four legs and wheeled to the attack again immediately.

Lifting the Hi-Power, Dean shoved the blaster into the cur's maw and pulled the trigger. The bullet punched a hole in the back of the creature's head, slamming it down to the ground in convulsive shudders.

"Good to move fast, mebbe." Dean didn't bother wiping the dog's blood and spit from his arm.

"Yeah." Mildred took his arm and examined it. "That dog break the skin?"

"No. It didn't have the chance."

"I'm going to check it later," Mildred told him. "If that animal had rabies, you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

Dean didn't worry about it. They still had to see if they lived much past the next few minutes.

Doc and J.B. joined them in short order. The four of them automatically spread out to provide overlapping fields of fire from their position.

"Have you seen friend Ryan?" Doc asked. A pallor had settled over his features from the past exertions, turning his color ashen.

"No," Mildred said.

Dean shook his head, not trusting his voice. Back before he'd learned Ryan still lived, after his mother, Sharona, had died, running had been a lot simpler because there had been no one else to worry about. Now he had a family, and all the anxiety that went with it.

"Top of the building," J.B. said quietly. "Him and Jak made it."

Dean looked back at the building, noting the activity of the baron's riders and the coldhearts swarming the area. Getting to his father and the others was going to be hard. He dropped the magazine from the Hi-Power and replaced the spent cartridge with one from a pocket.

Lightning seared the sky again, and thunder pealed.

"Lot of people between us and them," the Armorer went on. "None of them are going to be considered friendlies. They get in your face, any of them, put them down quick."

"That is one of the liberties of being surrounded by one's enemies," Doc said. He eared back the hammer on the Le Mat blaster. "You can shoot wherever you may without fear of hitting a kindred soul. However, I must hasten to admit I am reminded of General George Armstrong Custer's last words while at Little Big Horn." He gave a wry smile. "Damn, that is a lot of Indians."

"Doc," Mildred said.

"Yes, dear lady."

"Keep your trap shut. I don't know how much of your enthusiasm I can bear."

"Dean," J.B. said before Mildred or Doc could say anything else.

"Yeah."

"Ready to take point again?"

"Yeah."

"Mebbe a little slower this time." J.B. shoved his chin at a building adjacent to the one Ryan had chosen. "We go there first. Set up a line of retreat. Let Ryan know soon as we can. Things go all the way to shit, we dig ourselves in, tooth and toenail, and wait out the storm and the fight."

Dean nodded, then took off. He stayed low, tracking the other combatants out on the field.

FOR A MOMENT, Krysty thought she was caught in one of the nightmares often induced by the mat-trans units. She stood in a hellish land filled with gaping pores that spewed sulfurous fumes and boiling rust-colored water that made her think of old blood.

Her clothes and hair stayed plastered to her body. She felt for her blaster, but her holster at her side was empty. A vague memory twisted inside her head, and she thought she heard Ryan's voice somewhere off in the distance. A chill ran through her despite the steamy heat flooding the land.

She struggled, trying to remember whatever it was she had forgotten. Moving slowly through the hissing geysers of steam and water, she waited for the rest of the nightmare to manifest itself. The jumps through the mat-trans units were seldom easy.

Then she recalled her conversation with Phlorin, recalled how she had seemed to fall into herself.

A nearby geyser exploded, showering her with a deluge of scalding liquid and burning rock fragments that embedded in her flesh. She screamed in pain and began backing away, brushing at her arms and face with her hands.

Instead of feeling the chunks of rocks in her skin, though, she felt only smooth, unblemished flesh. She stared at her open hands in front of her, fully expecting to see them covered with blood.

They were clean.

Even as the realization hit her, Krysty felt the pain leave her body. Only a few heartbeats later, so did the sensation of the burning heat.

She stopped, suddenly realizing where she had to be because there was no other place she could have gone after Phlorin had ripped through her mind. She stared around her, taking in the geyser activity. Marshaling her courage, she thrust her hand into a geyser of steaming water that shot up within arm's reach.

None of the heat touched her. Likewise, none of the water touched her, either. The geyser bubbled and hissed against her hand, jetting through it in streams. As if she were some kind of illusion.

"Gaia!" Krysty said, realizing then what must have happened. "Earth Mother, don't let this be true!"

The burbling geyser continued blasting water through her hand as if it weren't there. She didn't exist. Phlorin had trapped her inside her own mind.

Krysty closed her eyes and concentrated, listening for Ryan's voice again, letting it be her beacon to bring her back to herself. She knew she had to hurry because she could sense what Phlorin was prepared to do to him.