Downrigger Drift (20 page)

Donfil had also released their captive, and the plaintive look he gave Ryan told the one-eyed man that he had also seen the atrocities the colony had done to their
dead comrades in his mind’s eye. Breathing hard, he put his hands on his knees and swallowed, then looked up at Ryan again.

“I know…I know where they are.”

“So, just exactly what is this place?” Mildred asked.

They had left the elders’ room and had retreated to Donfil’s quarters, a Spartan set of rooms consisting of a bedroom, small kitchen and outhouse in back. The storm still raged outside, heavy sheets of rain pattering on the roof and lashing at the narrow, shutter-covered windows.

The group had gathered in the candlelit bedroom. Donfil had a hangdog expression on his face as he replied. “Truly the more we learn about these creatures, the more hazardous this task seems. The building they are making their home in is what was once known as the Point Beach Nuclear Power Plant.”

“Black dust! You guys expect us to play exterminator for you around an old nuke plant?” J.B. shook his head. “Not my idea of a good time.”

“It’s not just for them. Don’t forget who’s in there, as well,” Ryan said, his gaze never leaving Donfil.

“Yeah, right. Sorry, Ryan.”

“No cause to apologize. I’m not keen on going there myself, except there doesn’t seem to be any choice.” Ryan fixed his attention back on Donfil. “What can you tell me about the place?”

“It’s about sixty or so miles up the coast, like the elder saw, half in, and half out of the water. Obviously
the damage along the lakes was severe. It’s a miracle the entire structure hasn’t fallen into the lake yet.”

“Can we reach it by land?”

“The terrain is rough, but passable, particularly with the vehicle you rescued us with.” Donfil paused, as if thinking. “No doubt any radioactive material is long gone by now, carried out by the tides from the reactors.”

“Yeah, but that shit leaves long, long trails behind.”

Doc rubbed his stubbled chin. “I do wonder about the reason for the lizard people’s sudden aggressiveness toward your village. It would seem to be a long way to swim for sustenance, when I would expect the lake waters around their home would hold ample food.”

Ryan’s gaze met Donfil’s and the memory of what both of them had seen in the lizardman’s memory chilled him. “Whatever the reason, they’ve developed a taste for something more than fish.”

“When we leaving?” asked J.B.

Ryan glanced at the ceiling. “As soon as this blasted storm dies down enough for me to see out the front viewport of our war wag. Krysty’s stuck with those mutie bastards, and every minute she’s there is one too long.” Again his eye met Donfil’s gaze, and Ryan chewed his bottom lip as the unbidden thought of those scaly animals tearing her apart like a meal on the hoof rose in his mind. Shaking his head, he banished the thought.

Krysty wouldn’t go down that way, he knew. Not without taking some of them with her.

Assuming she’s still alive in the first place, his mind chided.

Again Ryan squelched the traitorous thought. If she were dead, he’d know it. He didn’t know how, but he
would just know. Just like he knew she was still alive right now.

J.B. leaned against the wall, hands behind his head. “Anything else you can tell us about the place?”

Donfil shook his head. “Like most of those types of places, it is regarded as evil by the locals, a symbol of the predark times. I only know of it because we were blown near the location by a storm when I first came down this way. The captain claimed that anyone who went inside of it never came back out. I guess I will see if that’s true soon enough.”

“Donfil, you don’t have to go with us—” Mildred began.

The Apache held up his hand. “Actually, Healing-Hands Woman, I do. Ever since these attacks began, I have felt a draw to the north, a pull to go there and confront whatever I would find. That was the direction I was trying to persuade our group to go when you found us. It seems that the Great Spirit has one more task for me to finish before I can find my peace in this world.”

“Fair enough.” Ryan crossed the room to the shuttered window and peeked between the slats. “Sounds like the storm’s lettin’ up a bit. We should be ready to move. If it keeps up, it’ll keep anything else inside tonight, and could be the perfect cover to approach the plant by.”

Everyone fell silent at that, checking their weapons and equipment. Ryan was particularly attuned to the sounds outside, gauging the wind and rain, waiting for the best time. The others passed the time in their own ways. Doc and Donfil retired to the kitchen to continue their philosophy discussion. Mildred paced the floor until Ryan made her sit down with a single, intense stare.
J.B. and Jak did what most men in the Deathlands did when safe and faced with waiting—they slept.

At last, when night had fallen, and the storm had abated to a steady downpour, he assembled everyone in the bedroom again. “Let’s go.”

With Ryan leading, the group moved through the empty, rain-slick streets. Flickering candlelight gleamed in the windows of other houses, shut tight against the storm. The air smelled of ozone and metal, and the fat drops had an unpleasant, slick feel to them, as if the downpour consisted more of chemicals than water. Checking his rad counter out of habit, Ryan saw that whatever their composition, the drops weren’t radioactive.

Reaching the LAV, they piled in, with Doc and Donfil performing contortions to fit into the rear compartment. When everyone was situated, Ryan fired up the war wag, and they headed out into the night.

Although the wind had died down, the going still wasn’t easy. The storm had lessened, but the rain was still heavy, limiting visibility to only a few yards. Ryan also discovered that one of the headlights had shorted out, on the driver’s side, naturally. Although he would have rather had J.B. scanning around for potential trouble, he had to rely on the other man’s view through the turret-mounted night-vision camera to back up his forward sight.

At best they were able to make about fifteen to twenty miles an hour, Ryan guessed, often having to sidetrack around obstacles even the formidable war wag couldn’t traverse. The surrounding land testified to the upheaval caused by those long-ago bombs—jagged, massive ravines carved into the earth, clusters of hills thrown up
in the aftermath. The forest was also thicker here, the tall, gnarled trees nourished by the lake.

After three hours of slow, grueling travel, Ryan brought the wag to a halt underneath a huge tree to check the engine and take a quick break. As much as he wanted to press on, he knew that going in with either himself or the wag not operating at top capacity would only hurt their chances. It was almost more important that the wag be running smoothly, as it would play a crucial part in his plan to infiltrate the base.

“You doing all right?” J.B. asked as the others got out to stretch during the brief respite from the pouring rain. A flash of jagged, yellow lightning lit the dark purple sky in the distance, followed a few seconds later by the rolling rumble of thunder.

“Fine. How close you think we are?”

“If the map is even close to our estimated mileage, we’re probably within fifteen miles of it—another hour, ninety minutes at the most, depending on what lies between here and there.”

“That’ll work. By the time we’re ready to go, it’ll be the deepest part of night—when they’re most likely asleep.”

The Armorer shoved his fedora back on his head as he regarded Ryan. “Yeah. All we have to do is sneak into a place we know nothing about, which is crawling with psycho lizardmen who’d just as soon tear your head off as look at you, rescue Krysty and get out alive. No problem.”

Ryan grinned at his friend’s matter-of-fact tone. “That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you, J.B.”

“What’s that?”

“Your eternal optimism.”

“Oh, I sure as hell bet you’re going to do it. I’m just not sure how yet.”

“Leave that to me. I’ve got a few tricks to play on those muties that’ll even our odds.”

“Care to share?”

“Not just yet,” Ryan said. “I’m still working out some of the aspects.” That, and he knew that J.B. wasn’t going to like a certain part of his scheme, so he wanted to give him as little time to bellyache as possible. “Let’s get everyone rounded up and get going.”

A low whistle in the night brought everyone back together, and they began the laborious process of packing back into the cramped quarters. Once everyone was wedged back inside, Ryan fired the wag up and kept moving.

The forest thinned out as they kept heading north, giving way to rolling hills and fields covered by tall grass as high as the obport. After nearly sideswiping a four-foot-high anthill, Ryan had to throttle back. It wouldn’t help to get the wag hung up on an embankment or stuck in a ravine.

It was closer to two hours later when J.B. signaled Ryan to stop. “I think I’ve got it in sight. Come take a look.”

Squirming out of his seat, Ryan made his way back to the gunner’s chair and stared at the monitor. The blocky form of a huge, rectangular building was lit a ghostly green by the night-vision camera. It was completely dark, with no torches, no lights dotting it at all.

Ryan shrugged. “What else could it be? Donfil, can you come up here?”

With muffled grunts and more than a few curses, the shaman poked his head into the already-crowded area.
“Whatever you’ve called me up here for had better be good.”

Ryan pointed at the screen. “Is that it?”

Donfil peered at the screen for several moments. “John Barrymore, is the lake next to this structure?”

J.B. panned the camera over to show the vast expanse of the nearby Great Lake. “If that isn’t it, I don’t know what is.”

Donfil nodded. “We’re here.”

“Okay, let’s get down to the lakeshore, and I’ll lay out the plan.”

Ryan scooted back to the driver’s seat and cautiously found a path between two huge hills that led down to the water. The rain was lighter now, a faint drizzle pattering on the roof. With the front of the wag facing out to the lake, Ryan got everyone out and outlined his plan.

“Black dust, no!” As expected, J.B. objected to the whole idea. “That’s your plan? Are you kidding? You’re going to go in there and get yourself killed.”

“Look, we have the ultimate distraction here in the war wag. If you, Donfil, Doc and Mildred hit them from the lake side, you’ll draw them to you. You’re attacking their home, and any animal’ll come out to fight for where it lives. I doubt these will be any different. Just make sure to keep the hatches locked, and we’ll clear the rest of them off when we join back up.”

J.B. opened his mouth to protest again, but Ryan held up a hand to stop him. “While you’re causing all kinds of ruckus out here, Jak and I will be hitting them from the land side. In the confusion, we should be able to find Krysty and get out, ideally without them even knowing we were there.”

“And what if there’s more of them than you think? Or they don’t come out to see whose tryin’ to shoot through
their home? Remember what Trader always said: ‘splitting your force means splitting your power.’”

“Yeah, but you’ll have the wag, which more than makes up for us not being with you, and we’re not trying to fight them, but get in, get Krysty and get out. We’re stealth this time—the less combat for us, the better. Your job is to make as much noise as possible and let us do ours.”

J.B. had folded his arms during Ryan’s speech, and for a moment the tall man thought his oldest friend was going to go against him, but at last the Armorer shook his head. “Fuckin’ risky, but I’ll go along. We’ll bring the thunder, make no mistake. Have those scaly bastards swarming out to see what’s knocking on their door.”

“All right, give us twenty minutes to get into position, then you light up their back door with everything you got. Sync in three, two, one.” Ryan and J.B. matched times on their chrons, and the two groups prepared to head out.

Ryan was turning to head into the darkness when he noticed two dark forms beside him instead of the one he expected. “Uh, Donfil, you’re with the wag, remember?”

Hefting his Combat Model 686 .357 blaster, Donfil More shook his head. “No, Ryan, tonight my place is with you. I must go inside the lizardmen’s lair.”

“J.B., can you three handle the wag?”

“Lake’s pretty calm, shouldn’t be too much trouble. Best get moving—chron’s running.”

“All right then.” Ryan stopped as he saw the six-foot harpoon in the Apache’s other hand, but decided not to question his choice of secondary weapon. “You’re with us. Quick and quiet, let’s go.”

Within twenty paces, the lakeshore, wag and Ryan’s companions were lost to the night. The light rain was as much hindrance as help now. While it cut down on visibility both for Ryan’s group and any enemies they might encounter, it also made it difficult to hear if anyone was nearby.

Ryan set a ground-eating pace for the first five minutes, until they were close enough to make out the dark shape of the building against the night sky. They had hand-cranked lights, taken from the wag, but weren’t going to use them until they were inside the building.

As they got closer, the way grew more treacherous. The shattered remains of crumbling buildings lay everywhere, making footing uncertain at best. About to cut over a hillock to scout a path to the rear, Ryan was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Turning his head enough to look behind him, he saw Jak pointing around the left side of the mound, then tapping his ear, indicating he’d heard something on the other side.

How many? Ryan signed back.

One to three, Jak signaled.

Stay here, I’ll look. Although Jak had taken the precaution of tucking most of his stark-white hair underneath the army cap, enough still spilled out from underneath that it might attract attention. Ryan, on the other hand, with his tanned skin and inky-black mane,
blended with the hazy night like a six-foot-tall ghost—there one moment, gone the next.

Squatting, he crawled up the hill a foot at a time, always making sure his hand and footholds were secure before moving again. He was aware of the time ticking down, but wasn’t going to risk alerting those inside with a careless falling pebble.

It was probably only a minute or two, but it felt like ten times that long before he crested the hill enough to poke his head over and see what was going on below. A splash made him duck back, but the figures before him were intent on the ground, not anything above them.

A few yards away, three lizardmen were playing some sort of game with a live rat, chasing it back and forth between them, much like larger animals would do with a prey before killing it. The rat, easily eighteen inches long, and more than a match for anything its size or smaller, ran through the puddles of water, squealing in terror as the looming predators toyed with it and made it run back and forth until it was exhausted. Everywhere it turned, there was no escape—a clawed foot or hand would come down to block its path, sending it back to the other two muties.

Ryan could almost have felt sorry for the tortured rodent, but this night he was glad for the distraction. Ducking behind the hill, he waved Jak and Donfil to join him at the top. Once they were both there, he signaled who would take which target. When they had all gotten the message, Ryan drew his hand blaster, thumbed off the safety, and stuck his head back up to see when they would make their move.

A frightened shriek caught his attention just as he realized he couldn’t see two of them. Rustling in the grass on the other side of the hill made him realize what
had happened—the rat had to have found a hole in the circle of lizardmen and made a beeline straight for the hill they were lying on.

He brought up his blaster just as the wet grass in front of him parted, and the nightmarish head of one of the muties appeared. Scanning the nearby ground for its prize, it had just enough time to register a much more dangerous presence before Ryan put a bullet into the top of its skull. Its brain turned to mush from the 9 mm bullet’s passage, the lizardman fell on its face and slid back down the hill in a soggy, lifeless heap.

At the same time Ryan fired, Donfil rose from cover and launched his harpoon at the second lizardman, who was just starting to climb the wet slope. The metal shaft impaled the mutie through its collarbone, slicing deep into the vital organs to kill it where it stood. The creature reached up with a tentative hand to feel the long wooden shaft protruding from its shoulder, exhaled its last breath in a gout of blood and saliva before falling to its knees, then over on its back.

The third one was quick enough to see his companions killed, and turned to run back to the safety of the tall grass around the clearing, only a few yards away. He had just taken his first full step when Jak let fly with one of his throwing knives.

Ryan was passably good with the blades himself, but he had to admit that the albino youth’s mastery of them bordered on the supernatural. While most men used them as a distraction, Jak performed incredible feats with his blades, such as the show he had put on in Toma. This throw—at a dark target fifteen yards away, in rainy darkness—was another.

The lizardman dropped as if poleaxed, skidding on his face in the muck and water for another couple yards
before stopping. A gleam of wet metal poking up from the back of the lizardman’s neck showed where Jak had hit, severing the spinal cord and causing instant death.

“Clear the area!” Ryan whispered, already on his feet and sliding down the far side of the hill, his blaster tracking the slightest twitch of movement from the three bodies. Jak skidded down the side as well, with Donfil following more carefully. Prowling through the clearing revealed no obvious sign of anyone else nearby, although Ryan never trusted first impressions. The only way to be sure was to either sweep and clear the entire area, or be standing over the bodies of anything that had been there.

Sure enough, he had just taken another step into the clearing when a dark form broke from cover and dashed through the puddles toward the building. Ryan snap aimed and fired, but the bullet went wide as the fourth lizardman kept going, ducking out of sight into the grass. Ryan ran to the far side of the clearing to chase it, flanked by Donfil, harpoon in hand again, who climbed on top of a small hill, maybe three feet high, on the other side.

There wasn’t enough room on it for both of them, leaving Ryan standing on his tiptoes, trying to see any movement through the tall grass. “See him?”

“Shh!” warned the Apache. Donfil turned his head to listen for a moment, then cocked his arm and let fly, the harpoon arcing into the night and vanishing out of sight. A few seconds later, there was a frantic rustling and a loud grunt.

“Come on!” Donfil jumped from the hillock and disappeared into the grass, with Ryan close behind. He sensed rather than saw Jak bringing up the rear, and knew they were safe from ambush.

At least thirty yards from the clearing, Ryan and Donfil came upon a large swath of crushed grass. In the middle of it was the last lizardman, lying on its back, both hands wrapped around the steel and wood shaft of the harpoon sticking through its stomach. Black blood pulsed from the mortal wound with each agonized breath it took, and its inhuman eyes cast around at the three men standing above it in a mute appeal for mercy.

Without a word, Ryan drew his panga and swung it with all his strength, severing the mutie’s head from its shoulders. Donfil wrenched the harpoon from the corpse and cleaned the head and shaft on the wet grass.

“Hell of a shot, that was.”

The Apache shrugged and smiled. “Much like spotting muskie on lake, only you have to lead the two-legs a bit more.”

Ryan checked his chron, seeing they had nine minutes left before J.B. and the others began their attack. “Come on, we still have to find a way into this place.”

“They came out, so must be way in nearby,” Jak opined.

Donfil shook his head. “Assuming they didn’t come from the lake itself onto shore.”

“Button it.” Ryan stepped cautiously through the grass, trying to gauge where it stopped and the building began. A few more paces brought him to the edge, with the gargantuan structure looming above him, its shape lit by a sudden flash of lightning.

“Okay, where the hell is it?” In the flash of light, Ryan saw an unbroken wall of crumbling concrete, with no door, window, or other access point. Only a large pool of occasionally bubbling water at the base of
the wall lay before him. With a sinking feeling, Ryan realized how they were going to have to get inside.

“Anyone afraid of the dark or going underwater, speak up now.”

Jak turned his head and spit. “Got no problem.”

Donfil looked less sure, but nodded. “My place is at your side, One-Eye Chills.”

Ryan nodded once. “Okay. Me, then Jak, then Donfil to the wall. I’ll go in first, make sure nothing’s waiting to fuck us up on the other side, then come get you.”

“I have a better idea.” Donfil unwrapped several lengths of braided cord from around his waist. “We use this as a lifeline on the boats. Tie it to yourself and go in. Two tugs means follow, three tugs means trouble, and for us to bring you back.”

Ryan eyed the line dubiously, then glanced back at the black pool he was about to head into. “Couldn’t hurt. At the least you’ll know about how far you have to go. Make sure you stand still when I go in. When I give the signal, swim toward the light.”

He tied the strong cord around his waist, making sure it was secure but not binding him, then took a deep breath and waded into the pool. The cold, dark water enveloped his ankles, then his knees, and rose halfway to his hips before he reached the wall. Moving carefully to where the bubbles were coming up, he felt around carefully near the base of the wall with his boot. As he’d suspected, there was open space underneath it, a narrow corridor the muties used to exit the building.

Ryan made sure his weapons were secure, then his equipment, including the small, waterproof flashlight from the wag. Although he ached to use it, he knew that the light would just make him a brightly illuminated
target. If they wanted to keep the element of surprise, he had to go in blind.

Just before he went under, he checked his chron once more. The timer had just hit the two-minute mark. Inhaling deeply once, twice, three times to fill his lungs with air, Ryan closed his eyes and descended into the blackness.

The chilly water needled his face, and he involuntarily let out a small gasp as the cold penetrated his skin. Keeping one hand on the surface of the broken wall above him, Ryan edged forward. His plan was simple—keeping the line taut behind him, he would move forward, using the ceiling as his guide, until it ended, and he could stick his head above water. That was the idea, at least, depending on how long this crude underwater passage extended.

Almost with his very first step, Ryan ran into trouble. The ground underfoot was rough and broken, making each step difficult. He took one step forward, then another, then his foot almost slid off what felt like a large, slanted slab of concrete into empty space.

The bottom was deeper than he thought. Improvising quickly, Ryan attempted to relax enough to let his legs float up, until he was lying parallel with the ceiling above him. He’d made sure to stay oriented in the direction he wanted to go, the only difference now was that he faced the ceiling. Reaching out, he slowly began crawling forward, using the thick concrete as his guide.

The lack of sensory input quickly grew maddening. With only the icy water around him, it wasn’t just as if he was moving through darkness, but moving through a complete absence of light. Since he only had the rough stone as a marker, Ryan had no idea if he was heading deeper underwater, or if he was even still going in the
right direction. The familiar burn of oxygen deprivation had begun in his lungs, as well. He hadn’t expected the wall to be this thick, but every time he reached out with numbed fingers, the tips met more unyielding concrete ahead.

The ache in his chest was growing more painful with each second, but Ryan kept pulling himself forward, knowing that if he didn’t find air in the next thirty seconds, he would be dead, since he was now too far in to return in time. Reach forward, more concrete. Pull himself along and reach out again—

His hand met with nothing this time, scraping his forearm on the edge of the wall. Resisting his first instinct to push forward and shove his face up into the life-giving air that had to be nearby, Ryan pulled himself up slowly, not wanting a single bursting bubble or drop of falling water to give himself away. Clinging to the side, he raised himself until his face broke the surface.

As cold as the water was, the air was colder still, stinging his cheeks and nose and making his lips shake. Ryan clenched his jaw to prevent his teeth from chattering, sucking in a breath of dank, fetid air that tasted wonderful.

He had no idea where dry land was, or if anyone was in here with him. For a moment, he stayed right where he was, letting rivulets of water flow off his hair, straining to hear the slightest noise in the room. He remained frozen for at least an entire minute, listening, waiting. Only when he was sure the place was deserted did he start moving along the wall to try to find someplace to get out of the water.

He’d gone a few yards when he reached a corner, with the new wall extending into the room. Following this one brought Ryan to broken chunks of rubble under
his feet after what seemed like a hundred years, but was probably no more than twenty seconds. Crawling gratefully out of the pool, he took a moment to catch his breath. His muscles trembled with a combination of the cold and the energy spent in getting here, and only pure will on his part stilled his body. Reaching for his flashlight, Ryan unfolding the tiny crank on the side and turned it between stiff fingers. After a few dozen turns, he shielded his eyes before turning it on so he wouldn’t blind himself.

The light shone out like a beacon of white, its brilliance making his eyes water after the impenetrable darkness. Ryan was reaching for his SIG-Sauer when he noticed what the flash was illuminating.

The scaly, clawed foot of a lizardman, standing right next to him.