Deathlands 124: Child of Slaughter (11 page)

Not that the armor was its only defense. As Ryan darted to one side, the creature shot a stream of fluid from between its fangs; the stream struck the spot where he’d been standing, dissolving the sandy ground with a loud hiss.

Heart pumping hard, Ryan bolted around behind the creature, out of range of its acid jet, and reloaded the Steyr Scout. He had to take the monster down fast, but how? It was built like a tank.

Whatever he did, he would have to do it soon. His teammates were all under attack by the hellish local fauna, which seemed to have awakened all at once. From what he
could see, all of his companions were all equally endangered, though some were having worse luck than others.

* * *

M
ILDRED CLAWED AT
the ground, but the thorny tendrils kept dragging her by the ankles. Looking back over her shoulder through the rain, she saw what they were dragging her toward, and that inspired her to redouble her efforts.

An amorphous, gelatinous blob like an overgrown amoeba kept its glistening mouth wide-open in her direction. The tendrils didn’t seem to be part of it—they were connected instead to a giant green pod squatting nearby—but they yanked her inexorably toward the blob nevertheless.

As she slid across the muddy surface, she watched her ZKR 551 get farther away. She’d dropped it after pumping two shots into both the blob and the pod, without killing either one. Now the weapon was twenty feet away and getting more out of reach with each passing moment.

With a cry of frustration, Mildred scrabbled for any kind of handhold, to no avail. The tendrils dragged her another three feet, bringing her to within ten feet of the blob.

She could hear it smacking and slurping behind her, and she realized she couldn’t avoid it. Her only chance, it seemed, would be to confront the organism head-on, with her bare hands.

If it didn’t devour her first.

* * *

J
AK HURLED ONE
of his leaf-bladed throwing knives into the eye of the pouncing see-through lion, interrupting its leap. The great cat landed on its feet, roaring in pain, and then it grew another eye beside the ruined one.

Through the animal’s transparent skin, he could see the damage done by the blade. Blood poured from an artery, gushing inside and outside the wound. When the lion
roared again, the wound widened, increasing the damage and blood flow.

But within seconds, the bleeding stopped. Another artery grew beside the first, twining its way through the tangle of blood vessels and ligaments in the creature’s neck.

“Just got interesting.” Jak drew a blade in each hand. He flexed his grip on both handles, took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to do. “Wonder if limit how much can regrow?”

As if in reply, the lion let out a loud roar.

Jak twirled the knives in his hands. “Not worry, cat.” He stopped twirling and tightened his hold on them. “Find out fun way. Cut cat down to size, see if new one grows.”

With that, he let out a roar of his own and charged at the lion, blades flashing in the rainy gray daylight.

* * *

K
RYSTY STOOD STOCK-STILL
as the swarm of piranha wasps surrounded her, their wings emitting an earsplitting whine.

Each wasp had a head like a carnivorous fish—its maw packed with gnashing fangs—and an ebony body with a massive black-and-yellow-striped stinger. The creatures were big, the size of Krysty’s fist, and hovered menacingly all around her.

Sweat beaded her forehead as they cut off all escape routes, even filling in the space above so she couldn’t leap clear. Heart racing, she watched their multifaceted black eyes, which appeared to be blank.

Their intentions, she had no doubt, were nothing but hostile. The only real question remaining at that moment was
when
, not
if
, they were going to attack.

Through gaps in the swarm, she glimpsed Ryan. He wasn’t more than twenty yards away, but he would be no help to her. He was busy facing an enemy of his own, some kind of enormous armored tarantula creature.

Breathing deeply, Krysty shifted her stance to a crouch.
As soon as she moved, the piranha-wasps inched toward her and buzzed louder.

When she froze again, they moved no closer, nor did they give up the ground they’d just gained. Krysty was convinced: once she started moving in earnest, the capsule of creatures would collapse inward all at once, doing their worst to her.

Still, she could think of no better idea. She would have to commit herself to the plan and hope she survived it.

Slowly, she lowered her hand to the butt of the Glock 18C in the holster at her hip. The piranha-wasps twitched inward at the motion, then stopped when she stilled her hand.

At that point, at the most, the creatures were two feet away from her. It would not take much for them to make contact.

Soaked by the rain pouring through the gaps between bugs, Krysty took a deep breath and prepared herself. Her only chance was to once again call on Gaia, the Earth Mother, to come to her aid in her hour of need. She began her prayer, reaching out to the Gaia force in the world around her, triggering the cycle that would light her up like a Roman candle.

There was a good chance she wouldn’t live through the next five minutes, and she knew it. She made her mental goodbyes to Ryan, and then she threw open the gates within her.

It was as if the insect creatures could sense the power when it flooded into her. The whine of their wings grew louder as they closed in on her body.

* * *

J.B.
FIRED BLIND,
cranking off shots from the Mini-Uzi in an arc around him. Did a single round make contact with the creature that had been attacking him?

He couldn’t tell, because he couldn’t see it in the first place.

Then, suddenly, he realized the creature was still very much alive. Something heavy and rubbery slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending the gun flying from his grip.

“Nuking hell!” J.B. went down hard on the wet sand, then scrambled to his knees. He quickly caught sight of the Mini-Uzi and launched himself after it, determined to regain what little advantage he had.

But his invisible enemy, whatever it was, swatted him from behind and took him down again. This time, the fall knocked the wind out of J.B. and left him dazed.

“What
is
this damn thing?” Sitting up, he shook his head hard, trying to clear the cobwebs. As he did, he heard a hissing sound passing alongside him, and he leaped to his feet.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention as he looked for some sign of the unseen creature…and found it. Right where he’d heard the hissing sound, he saw the sand compressed in a track like a shallow, rounded ditch, as if something tubular were moving through it. It looked like the kind of trail a giant snakelike creature might make, except for the star-shaped claw-prints pressed into the sand on each side of it. Each print had five sharp points grouped around a circular central pad; the span from claw tip to claw tip was at least ten inches.

And it was impossible to tell how many feet were making those impressions. From what little J.B. could see, there might be two, or four, or even six. And they provided no real clues about the creature’s anatomy. Was he dealing with a mammal, a reptile, an insect or something else?

All he really knew was that it was toying with him. From the tracks and the hissing, he could tell it was circling him from four feet away. It had to know it could strike at any moment, and he would be at its mercy.

Not that he was going to go down without a fight, even against an invisible whatever it was.

Watching the tracks and listening, J.B. swung around his Smith & Wesson M-4000 scattergun and pumped the magazine, loading a shell in the chamber. When he thought he knew the beast’s location, he aimed at the thin air there and pulled the trigger.

He was rewarded with a monstrous howl from the same direction. He heard thrashing, saw the wet sand churn and moved to follow up the first tag with another.

But before he could pull the trigger, something heavy crashed into him from behind, and he went down. As he hit, he heard a blistering roar, saw fresh tracks from another direction and he suddenly realized something that made a chill rush through his body. The game, which had been difficult enough to begin with, had taken a turn for the worse.

Because there were two invisible creatures trying to kill him instead of just one.

Chapter Twenty

When Doc topped the latest in a long line of hills, he found himself staring down through the pouring rain at a ville unlike any he’d seen before.

It was located in a depression in the sand, a bowl rimmed by tall hills that provided shelter from the rest of the Shift. From above, it looked like a tumble of wreckage, a cluster of corrugated metal and plastic sheets, wooden timbers, broken glass, canvas and cardboard strewed over the wet, dark sand.

But as Doc peered into the ramshackle mess, he soon saw people going about their business down there—muties with the same crimson skin as Ankh and the other shifters. They moved easily among the ruins, darting in and out of half-buried doorways, clambering over smashed rooftops and into shattered windows, leaping from collapsed stairways and diving into pipes and ductwork.

There was activity everywhere, in fact. What looked like jumbled wreckage was actually a thriving community, a veritable anthill of mutie endeavor.

“This is it,” Ankh said. “The ville I told you about.”

“Incredible.” As the rest of the shifters swarmed past him down the hill, Doc stayed at the crest and gaped with open fascination. “It looks as if it has been destroyed and rebuilt numerous times.”

“Too many times to count,” Ankh told him. “What you see before you is a record of our people’s struggle to survive
the elements. Which is why the place is called Struggle, of course.”

“Why don’t they rebuild somewhere else?” Doc asked. “In a still zone or somewhere outside the Shift, perhaps?”

“Because this is home.”

Doc frowned. “What about moving some of Hammersmith’s equipment here and making this a still zone, then?”

“We don’t know how to make it work,” Ankh said. “Only Hammersmith could do that.”

“All this damage,” Doc said. “And all the deaths, past and future. Yet they still will not consider moving?”

“They aren’t like you.” Ankh sniffed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Just then, a high-pitched voice broke in from behind them. “Ankh is right.” Exo had slipped to the back of the ranks when Doc hadn’t been paying attention. He approached them now, a fresh red-and-white-striped candy cane protruding from between his lips. “Only a shifter can truly grasp the importance of this place.”

Instantly, Doc went on guard. The presence of the unpredictable leader of the shifters made his heart race, his muscles tense and the hackles on the back of his neck rise.

As if sensing the tension, Exo clapped a hand on Doc’s shoulder, making him tense even more. “But you, of all the humans I have known, came closest to understanding.” Exo sank his fingers into Doc’s flesh, clamping down with a grip so tight it was almost painful. “Didn’t you once tell me this place inspired you?”

Doc wondered if the question was a trap but knew he didn’t have long to consider it. “My memory’s been faulty lately, but this, I remember.” He smiled as he gazed out at the ville of Struggle. “It is very moving indeed. A testament to the resilience of the shifters in the face of great adversity.”

Suddenly, Exo’s grip tightened, and Doc nearly cried out. Had he said the wrong thing?

But then Exo merely leaned closer and patted his chest. “You do understand.” He smiled around the root of the peppermint stick and nodded. “We thrive on defeat. We are destined to rise up and rule, no matter how many times we are crushed.”

“An indomitable spirit indeed,” Doc said. “Your people are to be commended.”

“Commended?” Exo laughed and let go of Doc’s shoulder, then hauled back Doc’s swordstick and plowed the head of it into Doc’s belly. “Bowed down to, is more like it.” Next, he smacked Doc hard across the face with his open hand. “We will settle for nothing less!”

Doc stumbled away from Exo, wanting more than anything to strike back at him and end the abuse once and for all, but realizing that to do so could lead to his death.

“Enough talk,” Exo said. “We have delayed our arrival too long already.”

With that, he ran down the side of the hill toward Struggle, on the heels of the rest of the shifters. That left only Doc and Ankh at the top, staring after the departing leader.

“Why do I always feel like I am on the verge of being killed every time I talk to him?” Doc asked, taking deep, measured breaths to fight the pain from Exo’s strikes.

“Because he’s always on the verge of killing you every time he talks to you,” Ankh replied. “But if it’s any consolation, he’s like that with everyone.”

Doc frowned. “Surely you would save me to ensure your future plans.”

Ankh shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, go right on thinking that.”

And then the two of them started down the hill toward Struggle.

* * *

A
S
E
XO AND
his troop of shifters strolled into the ville, their mutie brethren came out of the woodwork to greet them. Crimson muties emerged from makeshift shelters, piles of junk and holes in the ground, scurrying through the rain to surround the new arrivals.

They treated Exo and his forces like conquering heroes, showering them with garlands of what looked to Doc like feathers and crumpled newspaper and colored cotton balls. They hugged and kissed the shifters and chanted Exo’s name, dancing as they did so with arms upraised.

But when it came to Doc, the locals kept their distance. As he entered the ville, they fanned out around him, staring and whispering. One of them threw a rotten vegetable, which bounced off his frock coat and left a smear.

In this place, Exo was the hero, and Doc was the unwelcome outlander. He would find no relief from his captivity here; he might actually be in greater danger than ever.