Once sure he was clear, Ryan managed to turn himself so he didn’t get torn to shreds on the spikes in the wall. At the top, he was grabbed by several obliging hands—and slammed facedown onto an iron-grated section of parapet, his blaster torn from his grasp.
Flipped over before he could say anything, Ryan froze as he stared up into the muzzles of a half dozen smoking longblasters.
“Move and you’re dead, prisoner!” a man snapped as he regarded Ryan down the sights of his M-16 rifle.
A form appeared out of the smoke, a large man, dressed in a mix of camouflage; desert tans and browns on his legs, a patterned green, black and brown jacket covering his upper body. He moved with easy command, the various men holding Ryan at bay stiffening slightly at his approach. Under a flattop haircut was a face like a brick; square, broad and hard. Cold brown eyes stared at him from above a flattened nose, and a hand-rolled cheroot dangled from one corner of his mouth.
“Identify yourself.”
Ryan stared up at him, lifting a hand to slap the nearest blaster barrel out of his face—since the overeager man holding it seemed to be trying to pick his prisoner’s nose—and pushed himself up on his elbows. The ring of men around him all tensed, their weapons not budging an inch, but, as Ryan had guessed, not moving a muscle until their leader gave the order.
He glared at the camo-clad sec man and jerked a thumb back over the wall. “I’m the man who just saved the baron’s daughter from that mob out there.”
“Ryan! Ryan!” He heard Krysty’s voice as the tall redhead stormed up onto the parapet, her green eyes flashing. “That’s Ryan! He’s with us, you asses!”
Rachel followed suit, nodding at the tall man. “At ease, Major. This is the man who rescued me from Tellen’s forces.”
“Yeah, and almost got chilled by them myself for the trouble. What happened with that special panel you mentioned?”
Rachel flushed. “The wall shifted and jammed it closed. I’m sorry you were caught out there like that. We tried to get you to safety as fast as possible.”
Ryan waved off her apology. “Better the door’s stuck closed than open, I suppose.”
For a moment, everyone stared at him. Then Rachel chuckled, getting the joke. Her laughter was infectious, with many of the men nodding in agreement, and a few even chuckling.
The brick-faced man didn’t even change expression. “Second squad, stand down. Squads one and three, return to overwatch.” The squad of riflemen pulled back, letting their leader lean over and extend a callused, nail-bitten hand. “My apologies for the rough entry. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d tried to infiltrate using outlanders.”
Ryan looked at the hand for a moment, then accepted it, planting his feet as the major pulled him up. The man was as solid as he looked—not an ounce of fat on him—and his hand felt like bands of steel with skin and a bit of flesh stretched over them. “Forget it. Not as bad as some places I’ve seen.”
“That’s the spirit. The name’s Major Quind Kelor.”
“Ryan Cawdor.” He pumped the major’s hand once, giving as good as he got, and nodding when the major didn’t try to turn the handshake into a pissing contest. “That’s Krysty Wroth, and the others—” He glanced
around, suddenly aware that J.B., Jak and the others were missing.
Rachel stepped forward. “Your friends are safe, Ryan. After what you did out there, you and the rest of your group are our honored guests.”
“Do they know that?”
“I told the men with them that they were under my own personal protection—” Rachel’s words were cut off as a commotion at the end of the walkway caught everyone’s attention.
“Where is Rachel?” The man striding toward them—flanked by two lean, wary men who were obviously bodyguards—was also tall and thin almost to the point of gauntness. He was clad in combat boots, gray-and-black camouflage, a bulletproof vest bulking his chest and a blaster holstered at his left side. His hair was short and iron-gray, and his expression would have been stern if not for the left side of his face. The muscles there hung slack on his skull, even his downturned mouth and drooping eyelid, lending that half of his expression a sleepy look, which was completely belied both by the strong gaze of his deep blue eyes and the tone of his voice—hard steel underlaid with a tremor of true concern.
“Father.” Rachel turned to face him, her back straightening and her boots coming together, almost standing at attention as he approached.
He crossed to her and clasped his arms around her shoulders. “Damn it, child, I’ve told you that you are not to go out into the field like that…” He stopped before his voice broke and crushed her to him in a bear hug. “I’m very glad you’ve come back to us safely.”
“Thanks to these people, Father,” Rachel replied once he had released her and she’d regained her breath.
“This is Ryan Cawdor, the man who helped me get back. Ryan, this is my father, Josiah Carrington, the leader of the Free City of Denver.”
Josiah regarded Ryan, his gaze calm and intent. “So you’re the one I have to thank for returning my daughter safe and sound.”
Ryan nodded. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”
The baron rubbed his chin as he considered Ryan’s words. “Far too little of that sentiment to be found today. Come, you and your group must be hungry. You’ll dine at my table this evening, after you’ve had a chance to wash up. If there’s anything you need—weapons, ammunition, supplies, a wag—just let me know, and it will be yours.”
“Very kind of you, Baron.”
Josiah had turned to head back down, but stopped when he heard Ryan’s words. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Sir, we should get you down, there are still snipers—” The major began, but was stopped by Josiah’s upraised hand as he whirled.
“I’ll ask you once more, Ryan Cawdor—what did you say?”
Outwardly Ryan remained calm, but his mind raced, already planning tactics and escape routes should this meeting head any further south. Carrington was close enough to reach out and grab, and that would be the only way out—eliminate the bodyguard on the left and take the leader hostage before the other one could react. Krysty could probably get Rachel in the same instant, and then they could negotiate for the others, but that would be fraught with complications. But before he knew whether to strike or split, there was the matter of
answering the man who seemed poised to throw down on him.
Squaring his shoulders, Ryan answered, “I said ‘very kind of you, Baron.’”
Josiah walked up to Ryan, staring him straight in the eye. The black-haired man was aware of the men around him holding their weapons ready enough to cover him again in a moment’s notice if necessary, and despite the potential danger, he had to admire their training. He didn’t even have to look at the bodyguards to know they would try to chill him if he even made the slightest move toward their baron.
“As my daughter mentioned, you are fortunate enough to find yourself in the Free City of Denver. We have a few simple rules here—respect your fellow men and women as you respect yourself, and do not take that which doesn’t belong to you. The other rule we have, my own personal edict, if you will—” Josiah’s previously calm air vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated fury that was astonishing in its savagery “—is
never
compare me to those power-hungry, bloodthirsty, psychopathic, inbred whoresons out there who claw their way to dominance on the backs of innocent men and women, breaking them for their own amusement and throwing them away to die in squalor and misery. Do you understand?”
Have to respect his convictions, if they’re real, Ryan thought. He nodded again. “Perfectly, Josiah. I apologize for any insult. It wasn’t intentional.”
The other man held his gaze for a long moment, then drew back and clapped Ryan’s shoulder. “Excellent! Major, escort Ryan and his companions to the Magnolia, and make sure their every need is seen to. Shall we say dinner at 0600 hours?”
“We look forward to it,” Ryan said, walking over to Krysty and slipping an arm around her waist. “Until then.”
“Indeed. Rachel?” Josiah took his daughter firmly by the arm and brought her with him, the pair of bodyguards falling in behind them.
“As you were, men.” The major surveyed his troops one last time before turning back to Ryan and Krysty. “Well, let’s get you back to the rest of your group, and then we’ll take you into the city proper.”
He motioned for them to walk ahead of him toward the end of the steel-framed parapet, where a walkway going the opposite way sloped down the wall. Ryan and Krysty descended casually, keeping their eyes and ears open and their mouths shut for the time being.
The wall was a beehive of activity around them. Men and women were everywhere. Some attended to the wounded, treating them where they lay or helping move them away from the fortifications. Others were busy fighting the stubborn fire on the exterior, flooding sections with water or beating at the flames that were coming through with blankets. Everywhere Ryan looked, people were working together, all joined in a common cause—the defense of their city. Although there were plenty of sec men around, the majority of them atop the wall, no one had to be forced to do their job. Indeed, everyone was executing their duties with swift efficiency, a far cry from what he’d seen in most dirty, squalid villes.
And that was another thing: the Free City of Denver was clean. It had taken him a few seconds to put that together as they had come off the last ramp onto the ground. From the people, all dressed in a variety of utilitarian clothes—tough coveralls and handmade
jumpsuits, work shirts, heavy boots in decent condition and even helmets on several men busy with more dangerous work—to the streets, which, apart from bloodstains from the dead and wounded and the occasional piece of shrapnel or twisted piece of metal that was obviously from the wall, the entire place was otherwise neat and orderly.
J.B., Mildred and Doc were all waiting off to one side, with Jak nowhere to be found. Ryan made a casual inquiring signal to J.B. about how everyone was, and received the answering all-clear sign. For once, the Armorer wasn’t yawning, a good sign that he felt they weren’t in any immediate danger.
Major Kelor noticed Ryan’s raised eyebrow. “Your other associate—the snow-haired one—is being treated by our healer. I’ll be sure to leave word to have him transported to the Magnolia once he’s ready to go.” He flagged down a young man and instructed him to bring around a wag for transporting their guests, and also to find Jak at the hospital and make sure he was escorted to the Magnolia. “Do you want to send your man any sort of message?”
Ryan thought for a moment. “Just tell him to behave himself.”
The major nodded, and the sec man ran off with a quizzical frown on his face.
“Right kind of you, Major,” Ryan said before introducing the rest of his party. When he was done, he asked the sec man, “Expecting any more trouble from those green shirts?”
Kelor turned and looked at Ryan in surprise, then chuckled. “That’s as good a name as any for Tellen’s bastards. That was the largest offensive we’ve seen from
them in a long while. They must’ve been planning it for quite some time.”
“True enough. We ran into some of them south of here, on the very outskirts of the city. They seemed to be clearing the area, looking for prisoners.”
Turning his head, Kelor spit into the dust. “Yeah, that sounds like Tellen all right. He sweeps the surrounding area with patrols, looking for anyone he can capture and conscript into his little army. ’Course, if they don’t know about us, most go willingly, if only for the food and protection.”
“Do you know where he gets his wags from? Or his fuel?”
“Don’t know for sure. It’s rumored he’s running out of Boulder. It’s close enough for him to keep an eye on us, and we him, but far enough away that we can’t risk sending a large enough force to eradicate him without— Ah, here’s the wag.”
One of the open-topped trucks came to a halt in front of them, and the major opened the rear door. “After you.”
The companions climbed in, and the major got in afterward, muttered a few words to the driver, then sat down on the bench nearest to the driver’s seat.
“There’s no need to stick with us the whole way, Major. I’m sure you have plenty to do elsewhere,” Ryan said.
Kelor smiled, but his expression didn’t soothe Ryan. It seemed real, but thin, as if it had been pasted on his face. “Orders of the commander say I’m to escort you personally to the Magnolia, and that is exactly what I intend to do.”
“Fair enough.” Ryan leaned back against the slats of wood and caught J.B.’s eye. The Armorer, his face clean now and a neat bandage covering his head wound, regarded him from across the flatbed. Ryan nodded slightly toward the major, his question clear: What do you think?
J.B. rubbed his right jacket sleeve with his index finger, where a patch would be sewn on a uniform: Sec man, what do you expect?
Ryan touched the corner of his right eye: Stay alert.
J.B.’s brows narrowed, and he gave a brief A-OK sign as he passed his hand across his chest.
With that, Ryan watched the blocks pass by. Everyone was looking outside the truck now, staring in wonder at the relatively untouched buildings around them.
“Hey, look at that!” Krysty pointed, but there was really no need to, as the thing she was indicating was clearly visible to the rest.
They were passing a large, glass-walled building that stretched for several blocks. It had suffered some damage over the decades, with sheets of plywood filling large, empty holes on the lower levels. But that wasn’t the strange part.
A huge blue bear, at least forty feet tall, stood in front of the building, its paws raised as if it was shielding its eyes to peer into the windows of the building. Ryan simply stared at the fanciful creation, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. As they passed, he saw that the right paw had been broken off, and what had looked to be flawless blue paint was actually chipped and scarred, with bits of incomprehensible graffiti covering the huge animal’s legs.
“What the nuking hell is that? You guys have a bit of free time on your hands?”
The major barely glanced at the large statue. “Nope, it was here when we arrived. The citizens claim it’s the city’s mascot. They call it the Free City’s Blue Bear.”
Doc coughed, his head swiveling on his scrawny neck as he tried to look everywhere at once. “I must say, for your city’s location, I am surprised at the small amount of collateral damage. What with NORAD and Cheyenne Mountain so close by, surely Denver would have been targeted as a primary eradication site, and yet— Ow!”
Seeing the major lean forward to better hear Doc’s rambling, Ryan shifted his position, as well, using the movement to jab a swift kick at Doc’s shin. “Watch
it, Doc. Don’t be talking the major’s ear off with your boring bullshit.”
Kelor’s muddy-brown eyes flicked from Doc’s seamed, lined face to Ryan’s impassive one, but he didn’t say anything. The old man rubbed his injured leg and remained silent for the rest of the ride. When he turned to watch the street passing, Ryan caught the major’s gaze and tapped his temple, then shook his head in the traditional “not all there” gesture. The major nodded slowly, but Ryan was pretty sure he hadn’t fooled the canny sec man.
“You said you came from the south of here. Whereabouts, exactly?”
“We were trading down near the border, but pickings were slim, so we thought we’d try our luck north. Our steam wag gave up the ghost about fifty miles south of here, and we been walking ever since. It was a good thing we came on Denver when we did. We were about to roast under that sun.”
“Traders, huh? What you dealing in?”
Too late, Ryan realized the subtle trap the major had laid. The sec man was far smarter than Ryan had given him credit for. Like recognized like, and he knew Ryan was anything but a trader. Any sort of regular trade goods would be a clear lie, given their appearance, and anything exotic like weapons or explosives would mark them as a threat.
“As I’d said, pickings were slim. We barely made it out of the last ville we entered with our lives, and had to leave a lot of stuff behind. Since then, we were more in the line of doing odd jobs. My friend there—” he pointed at J.B. “—is an excellent weaponsmith, able to fix just about anything. We’re all decent shots—” that was no lie, whenever possible, everyone who could get
their hands on a weapon learned shooting early in the Deathlands “—so we were hiring on as sec for small villes, ranches, anyone who needed a few extra sec men.”
“But you ended up here instead.”
“Yeah. Not much to the south, either. Place called Colorado Springs is pretty much empty.”
“Hmm.” The major leaned back, leaving Ryan to wonder if his concocted story would hold up. He reminded himself to go over it with everyone else once they were alone.
They rumbled up to a multistory building that also had people bustling in and out of it through the revolving door and side doors, both civilians and those dressed in military fatigues. Major Kelor hopped out and held the door for the others. Once they had all exited, the major had another brief conference with the driver, then the wag took off down the street.
“You’re now in the heart of the Free City. Relax and enjoy yourselves. You couldn’t be any safer.”
“Thank you, Major, and please thank Mr. Carrington for us, as well. We look forward to dining with him this evening,” Krysty replied.
“Yes, a wag will be here for you at a quarter to the hour. For now, relax and enjoy yourselves. I’m sure you’ll find the Magnolia has plenty to keep you entertained.” The major smiled again, this one knowing. Raising two fingers to his brow, he gave them all a sly salute, turned and walked down the street.
“Cheeky one, isn’t he?” J.B. muttered out of the side of his mouth.
“Too clever by half. I don’t know how much he heard of Doc’s rambling, but I think it was more than enough.”
“Trouble?”
“Won’t know just yet. Might be at dinner tonight.”
Krysty watched the retreating figure as he rounded a corner and disappeared. “I wonder what the good major would do if we didn’t go inside.”
Mildred snorted. “Oh, I imagine we’re being watched this very minute, and if we were to go anywhere else, a mil wag and a very polite sec man or two would ‘escort’ us back right where we belonged.”
Another wag came to a stop in front of the hotel, and the passenger door opened to disgorge Jak. The albino teen’s face looked clean, and his left arm was in a sling, which he immediately removed and tossed back into the wag before walking over, his thin-lipped mouth set against the pain his arm was causing him.
“Sure hope he didn’t chill the healer,” J.B. observed as they all watched the skinny, ghost-faced youth approach.
“What waitin’ for? Let’s go.” Jak shouldered his way through and headed toward the doors.
Shrugging, Ryan followed. “Might as well.”
The interior of the place was smaller than he’d expected, with a lobby opening up to a bank of elevators ahead and to the right. Directly to their left was a long desk with three people behind it, and to the right was what appeared to be a curving staircase that led to the floor below. Like everything else in the city, the room was spotless.
Jak stood in the middle, his mouth slightly agape, staring at the shining yellow lights in the chandelier. “Got ’lectric here.”
Mildred frowned. “Yeah, so? It isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”
“Mebbe so, but—” Jak looked around to make sure
no one overheard him, “Usually only redoubts, ya know?”
Ryan stopped as the implication struck him. Jak was right. Only the strongest and wealthiest barons had access to generators, but even then they usually only lit their own houses, letting the rest of the populace make do with smoky fireplaces, crude tallow candles or, if they were lucky, kerosene lamps. To have access to enough power to light a building like this meant they didn’t just have a generator, but some kind of power plant.
“Power indeed,” Ryan breathed. “Boy, we are all kinds of triple-stupe. That’s why Tellen’s so all-fired hot to move in here. With a plant like that under his thumb, he could dictate terms to anyone he wanted.”
“Can I help you folks?” one of the desk men, dressed in a white-collared shirt and threadbare but well-maintained vest, asked.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Ryan strode over to the desk. “Major Kelor said we’re expected. Name’s Ryan Cawdor.” He gave the names of the others, as well.
“Yes, Mr. Cawdor, you and your friends are expected. My name’s Carter, and it’s my pleasure to welcome all of you to the Magnolia. Three suites have been prepared for your group. Will that be acceptable?”
“Sure.” Ryan shrugged, since he and the rest of the group could sleep anywhere from a pest-hole bed to a hole in the ground and anyplace in between.
Carter was inserting three small cards into a machine on the desk that buzzed as it accepted each one, then he came around the desk. “I’ll be happy to take you up and show you around.”
Ryan placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’ve seen bedrooms before, friend.”
The young man didn’t take offense, but simply smiled. “Not like these you haven’t.”
His matter-of-fact tone made Ryan frown slightly, but he removed his hand. “Okay, let’s go.”
Carter walked to the elevators and pressed the button. The light above one, in the shape of an upward-pointing arrow, lit up. Ryan and the others moved over and waited for the car to arrive.
Doc reached out hesitantly and tapped on the door with the ferrule of his swordstick. “Pardon my lack of delicacy, my good man, but there, ah, has there been any failures of yon conveyance recently?”
The clerk’s confident mask slipped a bit at Doc’s odd phrasing of the question, but his intended meaning was clear enough. “We get that question a lot, and the answer is no, the elevator’s never failed. It has three separate stopping mechanisms in case anything goes wrong with the machinery.”
“Most reassuring.” With an electronic ding, the doors opened as the elevator arrived. Ryan swallowed hard as he entered the small room. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but Jak’s words in the lobby had been right on target—electricity and elevators were the province of the mysterious redoubts that housed the mat-trans units that they used to travel around the Deathlands. Elevators sometimes meant trouble.
Mebbe this time it’ll be different, he thought, but his hand still sought out the holstered Sig Sauer at his hip, reassuring himself that it was still there.
The elevator traveled smoothly upward until it stopped with another ding, opening into a small hallway lined with a half dozen heavy wooden doors, with another at the far end. Carter led the way along a worn carpet, talking as soon as he stepped out into
the corridor. “This is a treat. Mr. Carrington has these held only for very special guests of our Free City.” He showed everyone how to open the doors by inserting the key card into the slot above the door handle, watching as the light changed from red to green, then opening the door.
The interior of the rooms, however, were absolutely magnificent. Ryan doubted he had ever seen anything finer outside a baron’s bedroom, which was usually overdecorated with the gaudiest crap they could find, piled up everywhere until it overwhelmed the place. But this place—from the plush, clean carpet covering the floor to the huge bed against the center of the main wall, featuring a feather comforter and real sheets, to the marble-inlaid bathroom with what looked like a whirlpool bath large enough for two, if they were willing to get very cozy—was exactly like the clerk had said. It was truly like nothing any of them had ever seen.
Carter had more surprises in store, walking to the large floor-to-ceiling curtains and pulling them apart to let in the afternoon light. “You have an incredible view of the city from here, including the outskirts. It’s advisable to keep them closed at night, however. Some folks have been picked off by Tellen’s snipers, I’m afraid.”
“Can we see the power plant from here?” J.B. asked, his tone completely expressionless.
The clerk hesitated for the barest second before replying. “That isn’t visible at this location, but one of the best things it powers is.” He walked to a large cabinet that stood against the wall opposite of the bed and opened the double doors, revealing a large monitor. Pressing a button on a small machine underneath it, he waited for the red light to turn green, opened a small
tray and placed a small golden disk in it, closed the tray and waited for a few seconds again until the screen lit up with pictures and sounds.
“We have a large selection of videos dating from the twentieth century for your viewing pleasure.” Carter turned to face them, his expression growing serious. “We do keep track of them whenever guests reside in these suites, however.”
“Like we can play ’em anywhere else,” Jak muttered.
“Of course,” Krysty said. “Everything will be left just as we found it.”
“Naturally. Are there any questions, or is there anything we can do for you? Clothes cleaning or mending, perhaps a new outfit altogether?”
Ryan and the rest of his group exchanged glance before Doc spoke up. “Now that would be heavenly. What is the procedure?”
“Once you’ve selected a room, simply use the phone besides the bed—” Carter demonstrated with the unit in the room “—and press the front desk button. Let us know you’re ready for laundry service, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“You’ll have them ready for this evening?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, otherwise we would be happy to outfit you in alternate attire, if you so desire.”
“Jeez, talk like Doc now.” Jak had torn his attention away from the wondrous video player to whisper to J.B.
Ryan spoke over the albino teen’s words. “Might take you up on that offer, thanks. For now I think we’ll just relax a bit until dinner.”
“Very well then. If you should require anything, the
front desk button again will connect you. I hope your stay at the Magnolia is a pleasant one.”
Me, too, Ryan thought, watching the clerk walk to the door and leave, closing it behind him.