Downrigger Drift (21 page)

Lurching back, Ryan tried to draw his blaster even as he raised the light to shine its beam directly into the mutie’s face. Caught by surprise, the lizardman growled and threw its arm over its eyes as it reached down to grab Ryan by the back of his shirt with its free hand.

He’d only have a second to aim. Ryan tried to line up the metal sights on the creature’s squat body even as he was being lifted into the air. Swaying wildly, he couldn’t steady himself long enough to draw a bead before he was flung through the air.

Ryan hit the pool with a giant splash. Instinctively he held tight to both the flashlight and his blaster, aware he’d be dead if he lost either one. Unfortunately, his full hands made swimming back to the surface more difficult than expected. Ryan ended up jamming the light in his pants pocket before he could claw his way back to the surface.

His head broke the surface just in time to hear a splash in the water near the shore. He turned to see the lizardman rushing toward him, all claws and teeth, ready to tear into his flesh. Ryan brought his blaster around again, but was hit in the side before he could line up a shot, the shoulder blow almost paralyzing his already cold, stiff muscles. And as fast as it had appeared, the mutie was gone, vanishing into the darkness.

Kicking his legs and treading water with his free
arm to stay afloat, Ryan turned a slow circle, trying to see where the dry land was. The flashlight in his pants didn’t give off enough light to show him which direction to go.

The line! Ryan cast around for the line at his back, seeing which way it trailed off, since that would be the direction of the entrance. It was tangled at his back, but seemed to be curled around his waist and snaking off into the distance ahead of him, which meant—

Ryan felt a tremendous jerk on the line that almost pulled him under the water. Turning, he starting splashing in the opposite direction, but was brought up short by the line tightening around his waist, dragging him under the surface. His eyes widening, Ryan realized what was happening.

That scaly bastard’s fishing—and I’m his catch!

Ryan tried to resist the steady pull, but soon realized that the lizardman was braced against something, and he was going under no matter what. He thought about pulling his panga and cutting himself free, but that would leave Jak and Donfil without a way in—and more vital, all of them without a safe way out. There was only one way to go. Sucking in a last lungful of air, Ryan plunged below the surface.

Letting himself be pulled deeper, he yanked the flashlight out and shone it ahead of him, following the taut rope down. As he descended, he felt pressure building in his ears and swallowed to relieve it. A dark, humanoid form was now visible a few yards below, its feet gripping a large, jagged chunk of stone. Ryan held his blaster behind his back and kicked with his legs, trying to give the illusion he was struggling to escape. The lizardman’s face split into a needle-toothed snarl as it saw its prey drawing closer. He was only a few yards
away—one more pull and he would be caught in the monster’s claws for sure.

The mutie yanked on the rope one more time, its free hand outstretched to grab Ryan’s futilely kicking leg. Ryan let his foot slow a bit, just enough for the clawed fingers to grab him. He had to time it just right…

The lizardman pulled him down, its mouth open to take a huge bite out of his torso. As he was dragged toward the gaping jaws, Ryan swung up his SIG-Sauer and, placing it squarely against the mutie’s head, squeezed the trigger.

With what sounded like a muted thunderclap, the blaster fired. Even underwater, at point-blank range the bullet had enough power to penetrate the scaly skull and burrow deep into the brain of Ryan’s captor. Its hand tightened once on his foot, then let go as the body relaxed and floated in place, its feet still gripping the rocky floor.

Ryan’s lungs pulsed with pain now, and he jammed his blaster into his pocket and kicked hard for the surface, the light bobbing crazily in his hand as he ascended. Breaking the surface with a gasp, he sucked in air again, just in time to see a familiar white-haired head appear at the underwater entryway.

“What…the hell…took you…so long?”

Jak paddled over, his soaked hair forming a helmet around his head. “Waited till you pulled rope twice, then came in. Not have light follow—thanks lot—had come in blind.”

Just then the limp body of the lizardman bobbed to the surface, making Jak start and scoot away from it, a throwing knife appearing in one hand as if by magic.

“Yeah, I kind of had my own problems.” Ryan didn’t give the corpse a second glance as he shone his light
around to find dry land. Once he had it in sight, he started moving toward it. “Where’s Donfil?”

“Right.” Ryan felt his rope tighten, then slacken before tightening again. “Donfil be along.”

Reaching the shore, Ryan crawled up on his elbows and knees. The rough ground was empty of any other muties, although their tracks crisscrossed everywhere in the mud.

“Hey, hear that?” Jak said, cupping a hand to his ear.

Straining to hear above his dripping hair and clothes, Ryan made out a faint, steady noise—the dull roar of a heavy automatic cannon. “J.B.’s started his assault. Soon as Donfil gets here, we move out.” Untying the rope from his waist, he found a suitable rock and tied it around that, placing it near the wall so it wouldn’t attract attention.

A splash behind them alerted both to the shaman’s presence in the entry cave. Donfil’s lean face popped up as the shaman sucked in a deep breath, his iron-gray hair plastered to his head as he paddled awkwardly toward shore. Jak helped him clamber onto dry land, where he immediately drew his blaster and cleared the barrel.

SIG-Sauer drawn again, Ryan stood at a dark, doorless opening leading deeper into the structure, shining his light down the angled corridor. The floor had once consisted of smooth linoleum, but was now a cracked, uneven mess, with muddy lizardman tracks everywhere. The ceiling was an exposed mess of twisted metal rods, dangling wires, pipes, and tubes, reminding Ryan of the ceiling in the Fort McCoy hallway. This place contained its own hazards, however, just as deadly as those thrice-damned pig-rats.

“You two ready?” he whispered when Jak and Donfil
joined him at the entryway. The short boy and tall man nodded. “All right, stay near the walls, and check every corner before rounding it. Also watch above—wouldn’t put it past these bastards to hide in the ceiling.”

“Where going?” Jak asked.

“Head to the middle of the building. Most likely that’s where their nest is—and where we’ll find Krysty,” Ryan said. “If we get separated before we find her, you two get back to the entrance and get out. If we find her and get separated on the way out, same rule applies.”

With that, Ryan crept into the passageway, stepping carefully to keep his footing on the slick surface. The corridor extended for about ten yards, ending in a T-intersection, its floor covered in a puddle of black water. Before he took another step, Ryan checked his rad counter, which was at the top of the safe green range, edging into red. He had no doubt it would probably go higher the farther in they went. “All right, stay sharp—let’s get in, get Krysty and get out.”

His back against the wall, Ryan began making his way down the hall. About halfway down, his foot slipped and he fell on his butt, sliding down the sloping floor to land in a splash at the bottom. The accident saved his life. As Ryan shook water out of his eyes, he saw two long objects blur over his head—crude spears, thrown by the lizardmen who had been waiting to ambush whoever came in from the entrance.

Raising his SIG-Sauer, Ryan tracked the path of one spear back to its owner and triggered the blaster, sending two rounds into its chest. The lizardman splashed on its face in the ankle-deep water, but was replaced by another one rushing forward, spear braced to skewer Ryan. Adjusting his aim, he sent two bullets at its head, one of them punching the mutie’s left eye out and instantly
terminating all higher brain functions. It slid to a stop only a step away from him, the spear splashing into the water.

Ryan immediately whirled to locate the other attackers, but his vision was blocked by a skinny form in dark blue broadcloth. Donfil had slid down the corridor as well, and now let fly with his harpoon, the barbed metal head finding its target with a dull thunk as it pierced skin and flesh. His target let out a low wail as it collapsed against the wall, unable to move.

The second one was, however, also charging the Apache at full speed. Donfil raised his .357, aiming at the lizardman’s broad chest.

A snow-white blur appeared at the shaman’s shoulder, pushing his blaster aside. Jak took two steps toward the mutie, until it seemed the spear held in its hands had nowhere else to go except into his chest. However, the albino youth dodged the stone point by leaping into the air above the shaft. At the apex of his jump, his steel-toed combat boot pistoned out, its tip connecting with the lizardman’s temple. The sharp crack of breaking bone echoed over the splashing footsteps, and the creature was down, its face smashed into the wall where it had fallen in midstep, still clutching its spear. Landing with hardly a splash, Jak toed the lizardman’s limp body, making sure it was dead.

Donfil had just managed to get his gun back under control. “Thank you, Eyes of Wolf.”

The teen nodded at the shaman’s blaster. “Too much noise. Bring mutie bastards running. Let’s go.”

“Right.” Approaching the mortally wounded lizardman, Donfil raised the butt of his blaster and slammed it on the mutie’s head, knocking the creature unconscious before pulling his harpoon out. “Yes, but which way?”
The Apache shone his light down the leftmost corridor. Ryan had already risen and checked the right.

“This way looks blocked off. I see some open doors, but the hall ends in a big wall of rock. Let’s go your way.”

Donfil frowned. “You don’t think Krysty is nearby?”

Ryan’s smile was tight. “If she’d been held this close to the entrance, she would have escaped already. Probably would have found her before we came in. Come on.” Slogging through the water, he pushed forward, sweeping from side to side with his light, blaster ready to fire at the slightest glimpse of scaled skin or huge, black eyes.

This hall was lined with more metal doors, most of them rusted and hanging from one hinge, the glass in their windows long gone. Ryan, Jak and Donfil cleared each one they came to it, making sure no mutie surprises lurked in the dark recesses. They kept their lights pointed at the floor immediately in front of them to avoid alerting anyone ahead to their position. The building creaked and groaned as they went, and every time it did, Ryan half expected the ceiling to come down on their heads. The staccato machine-gun fire couldn’t be heard anymore, but he assumed that was because they were deeper underground now.

The passage ended in a right turn, and Ryan caught the flicker of orange light coming from somewhere around the corner. Dousing his light, he motioned for the other two to do the same. He edged to the corner, sliding his feet through the water so he wouldn’t warn anyone nearby with an errant splash. Right at the edge of the wall, Ryan carefully stuck his head out for a look.

Two lizardmen stood in front of a pair of closed double doors with large, frosted windows set into
them. The wavering orange light came from the room beyond them. These two were dressed much differently than the other muties they had encountered so far—for one thing, they were actually wearing clothes. Simple squares of cloth covered their waists, and their necks and wrists were decorated with twists of copper wire from which strange ornaments dangled—green boards that Ryan knew to be from the insides of computers, the keys from keyboards woven into a necklace and hanging from one’s protruding snout. Their weapons were better, too—straight shafts of polished metal, with gleaming steel spearheads attached, not crude stone. They were obviously guarding whatever lay in the next room.

One of them was looking over its shoulder through the window, but the other one happened to be staring right at the corner of the hallway, and immediately spotted Ryan the moment he appeared. With a startled snort, he nudged his companion and stepped forward, lowering his spear.

Stepping from cover, Ryan braced his blaster and fired twice. His first bullet entered the approaching guard’s open mouth, chipping off its front teeth before puncturing the soft palate at the back of the throat and spiraling into its brain. The guard took one more step before the lack of neural commands caught up with its legs, and it began to fall.

Before that was done, the second bullet caught the second guard as it was turning to see what the commotion was about. The slug penetrated its vestigial ear canal, shattering the tympani and tunneling through the beast’s brain before exiting out the other side, taking a fist-size chunk of bone and brains with it. Emitting a startled grunt—the last noise it would ever make—the second guard slumped against the corner of the hall,
stuck between the wall and the door, which sagged open slightly under the added weight.

Springing forward, Ryan caught the first guard’s body before it could splash heavily into the water, sticking out his leg so the spear shaft bounced off it and slid into the water. “Psst!” he hissed to Jak and Donfil, who rounded the corner and grabbed the second body. They hauled the corpses to the nearest open room and dumped them just inside the door, hoping a casual look around might miss them.

The moment they hit the floor, Ryan headed back to the double doors. Once the other two had caught up with him, Ryan signaled the plan. He’d go up the middle, Jak to the right, Donfil going left. Ryan tapped the barrels of their revolvers and nodded, making sure they got the message to blow away anything in their way. From inside, they heard muffled sounds—wet, meaty slaps and an incoherent cry that might have been of pain or pleasure. Ryan’s face tightened as he thought of the ways they might be violating Krysty. He pushed the sudden, noxious catalog of atrocious thoughts out of his mind and raised his SIG-Sauer again.

Poised at the door, he counted down with his fingers. Three…two…one…go!