Deathlands 124: Child of Slaughter (9 page)

The last expression on his face as he went under was a smile, even as his body spasmed and stiffened without air.

Then, suddenly, hands grabbed hold of his upper arms and wrenched him back up again. Dazed and almost certainly dying, Doc was barely conscious of the hands as
they dragged him through the water. Was he being pulled onto some kind of surface, some kind of dry land at the edge of the water? He couldn’t be sure.

Whatever was happening to him, he dropped out of consciousness like a shotgunned bird, plummeting into absolute darkness. Even the faces of Emily, Rachel and Jolyon were lost to him; he was racing finally into the limitless night, giving up the earthly suffering that had been his lot for far too long.

Or not. With the same shocking force with which he’d hit the freezing water, Doc rocketed out of the mindless blackness. Someone pounded his back again and again, and Doc gagged up quicksand in great muddy gouts.

As he retched up the garbage stuffed into his respiratory system, Doc became aware that he was on his knees on a rocky slab. He didn’t have long to consider it between blows to his back, though; they came so hard and fast that they scattered his thoughts as well as ejected the gritty clods.

Finally, enough of the matter was expelled that Doc’s airway opened partially. Without thinking, he sucked in a giant breath of cold air that immediately revived him.

And then the hand smacked his back again, and he continued coughing up quicksand.

Eventually, though, the hand stopped striking. Doc gagged out some more gunk, then slumped forward, breathing almost normally again.

At that moment, he heard a familiar voice in his ear. “Welcome back.” It was Ankh. “You need to hold your breath better next time.” He chuckled softly.

Doc turned toward him but couldn’t see a thing. Wherever they were, there didn’t seem to be a trace of light to be found. “What… Where…?” Forcing out words took an effort and triggered a fresh coughing jag.

When it faded, Ankh patted him on the back. “You’ll see in just a moment.”

As he said it, a loud boom echoed through the place, followed by a sound like the crackling of sparks from a downed power line. Off in the distance, Doc glimpsed a lonely twinkle that was quickly doused then followed by several more, flickering to life at scattered points. These guttered, too, and were replaced by others that also died, and then, suddenly, a brilliant light blazed to life.

In spite of his continued discomfort and hacking, Doc gazed in wonder at the scene before him. He was at the edge of an enormous cavern filled with a lake of crystal clear water. The walls and ceiling were lined with a web of brightly glowing filaments, the source of the illumination that had blown away the previously impenetrable darkness.

As Doc watched, the band of muties frolicked in the shallows at the fringe of a lake, laughing and splashing one another. Their weapons were spread over the upper bank of the shoreline, gleaming in the light washing over every inch of the enormous underground vault. “What…what is this place?”

“Shh.” Ankh placed a crimson index finger against his lips. “Keep it down.”

Doc frowned. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Ankh lowered his voice. “You’re supposed to be Dr. Hammersmith, aren’t you?”

Doc narrowed his eyes. “Of course.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Ankh said. “Dr. Hammersmith built this place.”

As the implications came home to roost, Doc nodded slowly. “Ah. I see.”

“It is our refuge.” Ankh gestured at the cavern around them. “One of them anyway. It is underground, and it is located in a still zone.”

Doc shook his head at the way the light rippled on the
surface of the lake and danced over the chiseled gray walls. He was having a hard time accepting that this had somehow been created by one man. “What is a still zone, pray tell?”

“A pocket of the Shift that does not change,” Ankh explained. “It is unaffected by the energies emanating from the core. This particular still zone, in fact, is unaffected because of special shielding installed by Dr. Hammersmith. Once the quicksand pulls you belowground and fills in above you, you may rest assured that your surroundings will not undergo any sort of transformation.”

“The Shift can be controlled?” Doc asked.

“Only blocked,” Ankh replied. “And only in a very few locations using equipment constructed by Hammersmith. But he did believe that control might be possible. He had a theory.”

“He did, did he?” Doc coughed, then swallowed hard to break the jag. “And what was it, exactly?”

“Only two people know,” Ankh said. “Hammersmith is one of them, and he is…you know.” He drew a finger across his throat. “As for the other, he is right over there.” Ankh pointed at a single mutie who was sitting apart from the rest, contemplating with a darkling gaze the recreation going on in the water.

“Exo?” Doc coughed again. “He possesses a scientific mind?”

“I never said that.” Ankh shrugged. “But Hammersmith did tell him the theory, and Exo is determined to bring it to life.”

“To what end, I wonder?” Doc frowned. “Perhaps I can draw it out of him. After all, he ought to speak freely about it if I am the originator of said theory.”

Ankh narrowed his dark brown eyes. “Exo has a blind spot where you’re concerned, and he thinks he needs you.
But trust me, he is more than capable of making you suffer if you rub him the wrong way.”

“Yes.” Doc nodded grimly, recalling the beating Exo had given him. “That has been made quite clear to me.”

“You ought to keep that in mind,” Ankh said. “Never forget who holds the power in this society.”

“An irrational creature prone to fits of extreme violence,” Doc replied. “The perfect individual to seize control of the transformative nature of the Shift.” Doc shook his head. “Why do your people follow him?”

“He helped us overthrow a tyrant and survive a great disaster,” Ankh explained. “Though, to be honest, he was a different person then.”

“In what way?”

“One without brain damage.” Ankh gazed at Exo with an expression that might have been regret, then he turned away. “But that is neither here nor there.”

“Brain damage?”

Ankh cut a hand through the air in a gesture of finality. “Enough.” He got to his feet and dusted off the seat of his ragged camouflage pants. “If I were you, I’d enjoy this brief quiet time. There might not be another for quite a while.”

“Sage advice.” Doc coughed as he, too, got up from the rocky slab. “Though I believe I will ask one more question, at the risk of overtaxing your hospitality.”

Ankh’s expression was one of rising irritation. “What question is that?”

“If he is not the man he once was, why do
you
follow him?”

Ankh watched the muties splashing in the lake for a moment, their crimson bodies glittering in the light from the illuminated web on the walls and ceiling. Then he flashed a smirk in Doc’s direction. “Who said I do?”

With that, he walked away, wading into the water
among his fellow muties, leaving Doc to ponder the possibilities that hung in the air around him.

Was Ankh unhappy with Exo’s leadership? Did he represent a force for change, one that Doc might exploit to win his freedom?

Ankh had spoken of turning an alliance with Doc to his advantage. Perhaps, if Doc played his cards right, he might be able to turn Ankh and Exo against each other and escape in the chaos that followed.

That was, if Ankh’s manipulations or Exo’s rage didn’t kill him first.

Chapter Sixteen

When the sun rose the next morning, Mildred and J.B. greeted it gladly. They had taken the last watch of the night, and now their shift was over.

“Good morning.” Mildred pulled J.B. in close, so they were nearly nose to nose.

“Morning,” J.B. replied, and then he closed the gap and gave her a long, warm kiss. When they broke it, he was smiling. “You’re looking especially good this morning, Millie.”

“You, too.” Mildred chuckled. “I’d feel better after a nice, hot shower and a steaming-hot breakfast with a pot of coffee, though.”

“You mean no shower and an MRE, if we’re lucky?” J.B. laughed again. “Perfect start to another day.”

As he said it, Union strolled around the nearest hill, which she’d kept between her and the rest of the group for most of the night. She appeared perfectly rested and alert, no different from how she’d looked at the start of the night, though every time Mildred had caught sight of her during her watch, she’d been wide-awake.

Stopping to tower over the sleeping teammates, Union met Mildred’s gaze without acknowledging her. She looked briefly at J.B., then stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

“Let’s go!” she shouted. “Time to move out!”

Instantly, the companions who’d been fast asleep until
that moment sprang up from the ground, snatching and cocking weapons along the way. In a heartbeat, they were fully awake and ready for battle, all blasters pointing in the same direction, at the source of the commotion.

Just as quickly, they realized they’d been awakened by a false alarm.

“Fireblast!” Ryan snapped. “It’s just you?”

“Thought muties coming,” Jak said. “Almost killed you.”

“What’s the hell’s going on?” Ricky sounded noticeably less alert than the others, still groggy though ready for combat nonetheless.

But Ryan, by far, was most annoyed. “Is this your idea of a wake-up call?”

Union shrugged. “Call it what you will. I’m just letting you know that we need to get moving if we’re to have any hope of catching up with the muties.”

Ryan nodded slowly, then lowered his longblaster and approached her. “I’ll say this once and once only.” He said the next words through clenched teeth. “You are not the leader of us. You do not call the shots.” He glared at her with more than enough malice to send a very clear message. “Understand?”

Union stared at him for a moment, her expression as frigid as ever. Then, suddenly, her face changed. Her eyes widened, filling with what looked like fear and anger.

“Stop screaming at me!” She clamped her mouth shut, and her lips trembled until she burst out again. “Leave me alone!” Her voice was higher, reedy and cracking with panic. Her braid was white instead of black.

Ryan took a slow step back. He looked in Mildred’s direction, seeking a cue from the resident medical doctor.

Mildred had one, too. The signs were obvious, and she’d been giving it some thought during her watch. But before she could offer any insight, Jak beat her to it.

“Four women, one body,” he said. “That what she told me.”

“Multiple personality disorder,” Mildred added. “We’re talking to someone else now.”

Ryan nodded and focused his attention on Union. “I didn’t mean to scream at you.” He kept his voice even, his hands up with palms toward her. “And I’m not going to hurt you.”

Suddenly, Union’s face changed again. Her eyes narrowed, and her look of fear switched to one of fearless challenge. “You couldn’t if you tried.” Her voice was different, too—lower and raspier than any voice Mildred had heard her use so far. “You’re outnumbered, and you don’t even know it. You don’t know anything.”

“Then, tell us.” With that, Mildred walked over to stand just behind Ryan. “Whom are we speaking to now?”

Union ignored her and kept staring at Ryan. “Has anyone ever told you what a sorry-ass bunch of losers you people are?”

“Yeah,” Jak interjected. “All dead now.”

Union laughed loudly. “
Him
, I like.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder in Jak’s direction. “Nothing like a pasty-faced wiseass to liven things up!”

“So what name?” Jak asked. “Crazy Bitch?”

Union laughed again. “Rhonda! You can call me Rhonda!”

Then she jabbed a finger at Mildred. “But you can call me ma’am.”

“Who was the other one?” Mildred asked. “The one we saw right before you?”

“Carrie.” Rhonda-Union wagged her head in disgust. “But trust me, you don’t want to deal with her. Talk about drama queens.”

“Who’s in charge?” Mildred asked. “You?”

Rhonda-Union snorted. “You couldn’t pay me enough to
take that job.” She tapped her left temple—where the braid had changed color from white to auburn—and grinned. “That bitch Taryn is running this loony bin, more power to her.”

“Taryn?” Mildred repeated. “Who’s T—”

“Enough!” As Mildred watched, Union’s face shifted again. Her confrontational glare faded into a cold, stiff mask. “The more time we waste, the farther away the shifters take your friend.” She spun on her heel and headed back around the hill. “I’m leaving in five minutes, with or without you!”

Mildred blew out her breath. “Well, that was interesting.”

“Think know who Taryn is.” Jak smirked. “Like Rhonda better.”

“I don’t like any of them,” Ryan said.

“That you’ve met so far,” Krysty stated. “Jak said there are four women in one body, and I only count three so far.”

Mildred ticked them off in her head: Rhonda, Carrie, Taryn. Had personality number four already made an appearance and gone unnoticed?

“Unfortunately, they are…
she
is…our best chance of getting Doc back,” Ryan said.

“Unless she’s full of shit.” J.B. adjusted the brim of his fedora. “Or even more nuts than she seems so far.”

“Watch every move,” Jak said. “All can do.”

“The multiple personalities make her completely unpredictable,” Mildred stated. “She could do anything at any time with absolutely no warning.”

“So could we.” Ryan nodded once and headed toward his backpack. “For now, let’s do like the woman said and get moving. Pack your stuff and form up in five.”

Everyone followed his order and hurriedly set about rolling up bedding and stowing equipment. Mildred and
J.B., who shared a bed, did theirs together with practiced teamwork.

But as they gathered their things, J.B. asked her a question under his breath. “She’s a ticking time bomb, right?”

Mildred shrugged as she hefted her backpack. “Too soon to say. She’s dangerous enough, but you already knew that. It just depends on how the balance in her head holds up under pressure.”