James Axler Deathlands 060 Destiny's Truth

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join us when they know they're shit at firefighting."
"Either brave or really, really stupe beyond belief," Cat remarked.
"Whatever, they're with us and they've given us these weapons. So let's stop
bitching and try to get this sorted, okay?"
Jon snapped.
There was a moment's tense silence as the two Gate women stopped and glared at
their Armorer. There had never been a man taking such a position within the
tribe before, and they were still unused to the concept of a man wielding
authority. J.B.
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waited, interested to see how Jon handled the situation.
"You can stop that shit, too," he directed at them. "Gloria put me in charge,
and we've got work to do. Who do you think's doing the right thing here?"
"You, I suppose," Cat said grudgingly. "Guess we do need to knock these into
some kind of shape and triple fast& and I
suppose arguing about it don't do any good."
"Exactly," Jon replied. "So what about you, Dette?"
"If you say so, I guess," the woman answered, still with a hint of hostility
in her tone. "I suppose we should get this done."
Satisfied that the situation was under control enough for him to speak without
interfering, J.B. moved over to where Jon sat, loading a Walther PPK
handblaster that he had just cleaned.
"So, if you need to get these done triple quick, a helping hand could be
useful."
Jon looked up. "I'd appreciate that, J.B.," he replied simply, indicating the
pile of blasters and ammo still to be checked.
"Just grab one and get checking."
With the practiced eye and hand of the Armorer to assist, the four of them
soon cleared the backlog of Crossroads blasters, ignoring the sound and
movement around them as the warriors prepared for battle. When the Crossroads
armory had been cleared, it was time to move on and check the Gate armory.
Despite it being more than twice the size of the ville's armory, it took a
fraction of the time for the four of them to run through the handblasters,
grens, plas-ex, machine blasters, gren launchers and laser blasters that the
Gate had amassed. The condition of the armory, and the inventory, was so well
kept that all they really had to do was to check the laser blasters used in
the earlier firefight.
"They seem okay, but I sure as shit wish that I could tell how much charge
they had in them," Jon said ruefully when they had finished.
J.B. shrugged. "Trust to luck. They're not our main weapons.
We really rely on our usual blasters. And we picked up a few more after the
firefight."
"Yeah, I know," the young Gate Armorer replied, "but they'll be a useful
weapon when we get beneath ground, especially if we need to get through some
of those sec doors."
"Then we use them sparingly and only bring them out when they're really
needed." J.B. shrugged again. "I know what you're saying, but the fact of the
matter is that we can't keep wishing and hoping. We have to build the shack
with as many bricks as we've got, and no more."
"Guess I still need to learn that."
"That's experience. Just stay frosty and alive long enough,"
J.B. told him. "We're set here. I need to check our own inventory right now."
Jon bade the Armorer farewell as J.B. headed back toward the companions in
order to fulfill his duties on their blasters.
FIGURING THAT SHE wouldn't be needed urgently, Mildred slipped away toward the
med building, determined to see Hector before they set off.
When she entered the building, she was appalled by the overcrowding and the
conditions, even more so when she saw
Hector tending to one of the pox victims who was close to the end.
"Lord save us, man, you'll be gone before anyone else if you don't rest," she
said quietly.
"If I try and rest, every time I close my eyes all I see is the suffering," he
replied in a flat tone without turning to face her.
"And you'll be better off buying the farm that bit sooner?" she queried in
return.
"Mebbe it'd be better to go out quicker trying to make it better for some than
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just hanging around a bit longer to see a few more poor stupe bastards in
agony."
"You don't think we'll make it?"
Hector didn't answer immediately. He finished tending to his patient, then
turned to face her. Mildred was shocked by the change in his appearance. It
wasn't just where the tiredness and the disease had started to take hold of
him; it wasn't just the dark under his eyes. It was the dark within them. Just
a few days, a week or so, earlier, Hector had been a man who had belief in his
task. He had tried his best for the people of
Crossroads, and was willing to try more in the efforts to overcome the
mysterious disease that had hit the ville. But now his eyes were dark pits of
despair, holes in the earth that had seen into the abyss and echoed this with
their own empty caverns of dark.
He had given up hope, but his basic humanity and devotion to his task wouldn't
let him give up until he himself had dropped from the disease and exhaustion.
Finally, after what seemed a painful eternity, he answered
Mildred. "I don't see how any of us can make it."
"You don't think we can make it in and out in one piece, let alone find the
antidote?"
Hector looked at her blankly. "What?" he asked simply.
Mildred shook her head, plaits feeling heavy as the disease took more of a
grip on her weary frame. "You mean to say that you haven't heard of the attack
plan?"
Hector shook his head, but there was a vague glimmer of something that may
just have been approaching hope deep within his eyes. He stepped forward,
hesitating as though unsure what to do or say next.
"I just knew there was a firefight, and that you and the women arrived in time
to drive the wags away. Krysty and Doc were here, but "
"Ryan and Gloria have a plan of action, and Baron Robertson is backing it.
It's not much as hopes go, I guess all if's and buts but it may be all we
have. Take a rest, man just for a few moments and I'll tell you about it,"
Mildred said rapidly.
Hector allowed her to lead him to the rear of the med building, where there [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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