Desolation Crossing (27 page)

LaGuerre had obviously memorized the payment in
ventory as he was able to recite the contents of each crate and mentally tick them off as Eula and J.B. checked them. There was the original fee, plus the rapid delivery bonus minus the lost day. When LaGuerre got to this, Moe seemed to be expecting an argument, and was a little surprised when the trader let it pass without comment. J.B. contained a grim smile. Hopefully, he wouldn’t suspect the reason for the seemingly lax attitude shown by the trader.

When the check had been successful, Moe directed Larry and Selma to take out the payment. J.B. wondered how the pair of them could carry so much, a curiosity sated by the appearance of a small forklift wag, powered by an electric battery. The crates were already on a palette, and the powerful wag lifted them with ease.

That was significant. The wag was weather-beaten, and looked as though it had racked up a good few klicks in its time, over some rough terrain. They obviously used this to carry goods back and forth to the stockpile or redoubt that supplied their barter. That also had to be where they recharged the battery motor.

By the look of it, the stockpile wasn’t near the ville. That was worth pondering. J.B. wondered if LaGuerre actually knew the location, or if he had a plan for obtaining it from one of the ville people.

All of this passed through his mind while he led LaGuerre and Moe back to the convoy, Eula watching their backs. There was no real need for such sec, but it did no harm to maintain the aura of vigilance.

LaGuerre began by taking Moe to the two low-level wags, indicating that the rear doors of each be opened, and
the crates containing the clothing and other supplies be likewise, so that the vile leader could check his inventory.

Moe obviously still held some vestige of suspicion, as he checked carefully. And when it came time to climb into the refrigerated wags to check the food supplies, J.B. noted from the corner of his eye that some of the ville people moved surreptitiously forward. Not in a manner that would raise the hackles of the convoy, but enough to cover their leader as he made his check.

Moe took Reese’s wag first, and finished his task quickly as the taciturn driver opened the rear of the wag and accompanied him inside. Ray’s wag took a little longer, as the old man couldn’t help but give the ville leader a running commentary on the merchandise and how hard it had been to get it to this point. When Moe emerged, he gave J.B. a quick look that spoke volumes, and almost made the Armorer lose his composure.

The fat man jumped down from the refrigerated wag, stumbling a little as he landed. He held up his hands and announced in a loud voice, “It’s as it should be, guys. Larry, give these people their due. Rest of you, let’s get this unloaded before it spoils.” He turned to LaGuerre. “Is that okay with you?”

His tone suggested that he would brook no argument. But then again, he wouldn’t get one from a satisfied LaGuerre.

“Sure, man…do it,” the trader replied laconically.

THE TRADE WAS EASIER than J.B. could have hoped. The people of Jenningsville were well-versed in dealing with convoys, and they unloaded crates and boxes of chilled and
preserved foodstuffs from the refrigerated wags using battered electric wags like the forklift. J.B. noted that, and figured that the battering of the vehicles had to be from constant use rather than actual distance, unless the people had moved the battery chargers from the redoubt to the ville. He wondered if he’d have a chance to find out.

While this was done, others from the ville loaded the payment into one of the refrigerated wags, ensuring first that Reese—whose wag they had picked—had turned off the refrigeration. Moe stood with LaGuerre to make sure the trader approved the change-over, and also the sealing of the wag doors.

“Cool,” Moe said without a hint of irony. “That’s done. Now let’s tie some shit on. Every time we get a convoy through it could be the last for all we know, so it’s worth getting crazy over.”

HE WASN’T FAR WRONG. The exchange had taken most of the day, and the air was cooling with the dusk as the ville began to go crazy. Music issued from both sides of the blacktop as musicians started to play. Brew and jolt also started to be passed around, and that affected the musicians, whose already rough melodies became more and more random, their timing affected by the drugs or drink they had imbibed. Some slowed down and others speeded up, the music becoming a blur of sound in which it was impossible to discern a rhythm. But that was okay, as those few who danced did so to a rhythm in their own heads.

J.B. lost track of the others in the midst of the bacchanalia. He had managed to exchange a few brief words with Mildred, but nothing of any importance, either personal or
to do with LaGuerre’s mission. His task ensuring that the exchange went well had taken him away from them, and he had no idea if they had been able to even speak to one another. The only thing he knew was that wherever he turned, Eula was there.

The brew and jolt took effect on everyone in the ville. The dwellers also smoked a weed they grew especially, from seeds and stems they had discovered in the redoubt. A cloud of it now hung over the ville, drifting across the blacktop and into the night. It didn’t exactly help anyone keep their focus.

Ryan and Doc had managed to reach Mildred and Krysty, and told them of their suspicions. But Jak had so far eluded them.

The one-eyed man, even with his razor instincts, was startled when LaGuerre seemed to appear at his side as if from nowhere.

“Hey, Ryan man, listen. This might not be the best time to ask, but I tell you, man, I got nothing but respect for your people. I know I bitched, man, but c’mon—you guys got us here, and the trade wouldn’t have gone so well if not for your man J.B. I got something to put to you—”

“You want us to find their stockpile and raid it?” Ryan hissed in his ear. “Are you fucking crazy? They outnumber us, and even if you know where it is, then—”

He stopped suddenly, realizing from the startled look on the trader’s face that he had misjudged LaGuerre. He didn’t have the balls and imagination.

“Man, you’re the crazy one,” LaGuerre whispered, almost too low for Ryan to hear. “I was just gonna ask you to join us permanently.”

No, he didn’t have the guts. But Ryan realized who did—the one responsible for their being in Jenningsville in the first place…

“J.B., IT’S TIME,” Eula whispered in his ear.

The Armorer shrugged off the emaciated gaudy who had entwined herself around him despite his best efforts, and dropped the mug of brew. He felt a little light-headed, and realized that it had been stronger than he had suspected. No matter. He could still function okay.

“I haven’t been able to talk to the others yet—” he began.

Eula cut him short. “Doesn’t matter. Armand will see to that. Right now, we need to get out there and scout it. They may have sec out there. But probably not. Not tonight.”

J.B. nodded. “How we getting there?”

“I’ve got a wag. This way,” she said, pulling at his arm.

J.B. followed her, allowing her to lead. He didn’t see Jak.

Something had been worrying the albino youth all day. He had noticed how, since the Armorer had checked the payment, the girl had kept him apart from the others. When J.B. had the chance to speak to Mildred, it was Eula who had contrived to separate them. Jak’s instincts were working overtime, and they told him nothing but bad.

Looking around, there was no way that he could find any of the others in this crowd. Jak opted to trail them himself.

Eula took J.B. to an old Jeep at the far edge of the ville. Everyone was clustered in the ville center, so it was easy for them to slip away unnoticed. Equally easy for Jak to
take a motorbike from the same place—some kind of mechanic’s shed—and follow.

Jak kept them in sight, but stayed back so that the sound of his bike didn’t cut across their own engine noise.

About two miles out, the Jeep slowed. So did Jak. He cut the engine, let the machine drop softly to the dirt and began to move forward on foot.

J.B. and Eula got out of the Jeep. Jak could see that the Armorer was unsteady.

What the hell were they doing out here? There was nothing at all to bring them here. Not that he could see.

“THIS—THIS ISN’T RIGHT,” J.B. said, trying to clear the muzzy feeling in his head. “No stockpile I’ve ever seen has been in territory like this. No place to—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eula snapped. “You really believed that crap? You believed that shit about LaGuerre? Like he has the intelligence or guts to do that.”

Before a puzzled and senses-dulled J.B. had a chance to react, she had drawn on him. Why? And why had her tone changed so much?

“I thought for a while you were smart. A worthy opponent. That would have somehow justified the shit.” Her tone was harsh, grating, as though emotion strangled the words in her chest. She sighed heavily as she caught J.B.’s bemused expression. There was no way he was going to try to draw on a markswoman with a .44 in her fist, even though the heavy blaster looked too heavy. And still he didn’t get it.

“John Barrymore Dix,” she said heavily. “You remember Laurel. You remember Luke. You remember Hollow
star. But you don’t remember me, do you? No,” she continued, not giving him the chance to answer, “and you haven’t put it together yet, have you? I haven’t brought you out here to recce a stockpile. There are no plans. And I don’t give a fuck about the jack or the weapons. It’s you I wanted.”

“Why?” It was feeble, but it was all he could manage.

“Because it’s time for the truth. You want to know about that? You want to know the truth about my mother?”

Even through his fogged state of mind, J.B. realized that all the strands were beginning to make sense, to be finally pulled together: Hollowstar, Guthrie, the girl…All of it formed a pattern with which his mind finally snapped into wakefulness. Too late to be of any good, as she had the blaster on him.

“Your mother…Laurel was your mother,” he said slowly. “Then your father was—”

She laughed bitterly, cutting him off. “Yeah, Luke. And you chilled him as surely as you chilled her.”

“Chilled…then what—”

“Happened? You’ll find out. I’ve waited too long for this not to savor it.”

J.B. watched her closely. Her trigger finger was taut. For now, there was nothing he could do except listen to her story.

Chapter Eighteen

“You didn’t know I was around, did you? Didn’t know that the woman you were bedding had a daughter that she left at home while she went out to meet you. Yeah, well, mebbe I shouldn’t blame her so much for that. Luke was hardly the attentive father, either. Stupe, really, as if he’d taken the chance and tried to get to know me when I was little he would have known that I was like him. Always have been. I used to love going into the workshop and watch him work. Learned a lot, too, though he didn’t know that as he never bothered to ask.

“See, Hollowstar was a real old predark community in some ways. Always had been. Built on the idea that women do the child-rearing and the men do the work. Even the gaudies weren’t spoken of, like they were committing the ultimate wrong in earning their own living. Not that it stopped the men sneaking off to where their houses were and fucking themselves stupe. See, people are like that, aren’t they, John Barrymore—liars and hypocrites.

“I don’t blame my father for being like he was. Luke had no reason to figure that I’d be any good at what he did, let alone even interested. It was my mother who was supposed to be bringing me up. But she wasn’t, was she? She was off dropping her drawers to anyone she liked the look
of who was passing through. I suppose I was about five when you came through. And you weren’t the first I knew of.

“That’s got you, hasn’t it? The look on your face. Though I don’t know whether or not that’s because you’ve just realized that the idiot LaGuerre has no plan, and if there is a redoubt I don’t care about it. ’S’right, John Barrymore, I just wanted you to myself so I could finish off something that’s been bugging the shit out of me for years.

“See, I’d like to think that you’ve got that look on your face because you’ve realized that all the shit she fed you about being in love with you was just that—shit. She didn’t mean it. As far as I know, she said it to every asshole she blew. Trouble was, most of them were there and gone before anyone except me had a chance to realize what was going on. And, if I’m going to be honest with you—and why not, as you’re never going to tell anyone—I didn’t realize it at the time. It was only later, when it all went to crap, that I realized. Not that I could have done anything.

“See, I blame you totally, Dix. But not really, ’cause it was your dick and her pussy that chilled her and my father. But the irony is that there were things at work that were totally beyond your control. I only know about them because of what happened after. You blundered into something that was way more than a stupe like you could handle. You’re like Luke. If it’s not metal, carbon fiber or explosive, you can’t handle it. You should keep your paws off anything else. But you can’t, can you? People like you never can.

“Where was I? Shit, you’re pissing me off so much I can’t even think straight. And don’t look at me like that.
I’m not so angry that I won’t just chill you without thinking about it, if you so much as move. I want you to know why, but not so much that I’ll let you get the upper hand again.

“See, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve had the upper hand in my life since I was five, and you didn’t even know I existed. Laurel was never really interested in me. All my memories are of her looking the other way when I did something. Walked, talked, drew pictures, asked her shit. Always looking the other way, never noticing me. At least Luke acknowledged I was there. Not much, but that was because he was obsessed by his work, and he was a man. It was Laurel’s job, and she was crap at it.

“Now you know that there was one thing she wasn’t crap at, and that’s the thing. Luke was her type, but once she had him, he didn’t pay her the attention she wanted. So she went out and attracted the convoy boys. They were passing through and then they were gone. No chance of him finding out. No chance of them hanging around to cause problems for her.

“Until you. That was when it all got a bit difficult. You were too like Luke, and that’s what fucked it up for everyone. For a start, that dickwad Emmerton had some crazy idea of buying you off Trader and matching you with Luke. That would have given him the best ordnance team across the whole land. People would have traveled to Hollowstar. There’s serious jack in something like that. And Emmerton did love his jack. Among other things.

“But Trader wouldn’t have it. So Emmerton got convinced Trader wanted to steal Luke away, which was incredibly stupe if you knew my father. He was Hollowstar
all the way. He couldn’t have lived anywhere else. Besides, it would have meant leaving my mother behind.

“She may have been a sick, scheming little slut, but he really did love her. Y’know, love is something that should have been left behind with the nukecaust. I don’t know much about what went on back then, but I’ll tell you what—it must have been love that caused the big war to happen. What people do for it, even when there are so many more important things to think about.

“Not that I saw much of it. Laurel didn’t give a shit. If anything, I got in the way. She had to find ways of getting me looked after when she was out fucking, so that Luke wouldn’t find out. I don’t know how she managed that, but she did. And Luke was none the wiser. Poor bastard. I feel sorry for my father. Not for her, the slut. But him…He was an innocent in this, just as I was. So most of what happened before you arrived passed over his head without him noticing. Probably because that head was buried in some blaster.

“But you were different. Luke was your friend—at least, that’s how he thought of it. I dunno what you thought, and it doesn’t much matter. Except it maybe makes you more of a scumsucker if you thought you were friends and you still did that to him.

“You must have known somewhere along the line, though. And you didn’t stop. Coldheart bastard. Anyways, none of that is what’s really important. Point is that it went on for too long. Emmerton and Trader playing games with each other, Trader not being allowed to leave. You know all that. Mebbe you really didn’t know why, but I’d bet you did. Luke noticed the way you were acting with him
changed. He noticed my mother disappearing, too. And he followed, and he watched.

“Then you were gone. Laurel was like she usually was…kind of. I think that you being like my father was why she wanted you, and I really think that something inside that black, selfish heart of hers was touched. She wasn’t the same after that, and Luke knew it.

“It’s only looking back that it really makes sense now. I couldn’t have told you this at the time, although I sensed it. But I tell you what, John Barrymore Dix, you ripped the heart out of my father. His work suffered. This was a man who only lived for his work, and that no longer mattered to him. At first, it was only a few mistakes. Next convoy through, a few months later, and there were some blasters that misfired. Some guy lost a hand. Cost Emmerton a lot of jack. The fat bastard hated that. Had those scumbags Laker and Palmer beat Luke around a little—‘not the hands,’ the fat fuck said as he directed it—and try to make him see sense.

“But when has sense had anything to do with it? Luke wasn’t the man he used to be. He realized that Laurel didn’t really give a fuck about him anymore. Mebbe he was wrong. Mebbe she would have got you out her system in time. But everything was against them.

“Luke started to drink brew. Too much. Actually, any would have been too much, as he never was a drinker. That’s partly how Laurel got away with it, y’know. She went to bars, but he never did. And anyone seeing her there wasn’t likely to say anything to Luke and piss him off when they relied on him to keep their ordnance in working order. So he was drinking, and the mistakes were getting more frequent, and
worse. Locals, and those who came from the east and across the west to see the man they called the Ordnance Baron.

“Ha—not much of one, now…See, Emmerton didn’t want word of Luke’s slackness to spread. That really would have chilled trade, and you’ve got to remember how much Hollowstar relied on Luke by this time. He was key to Emmerton expanding the ville. Mebbe more importantly, the jack he brought in enabled the fat bastard to indulge his sick little fantasies.

“So Emmerton got sick of paying out for Luke’s mistakes. He didn’t know why my father’s work had gone to shit, but he was sure as hell going to find out. Laker and Palmer had ways of being real persuasive, and it didn’t take much digging for them to come up with what Laurel was like, and the fact that most people who knew were sure that Luke had no idea. Only about you, John Barrymore Dickhead.

“So Emmerton, being the fat, sick fuck that he is, came up with an idea to get the truth out of Laurel and prove to Luke that she wasn’t worth it. He figured that if Luke could see her for what she was, then he’d realize she wasn’t worth the pain, and that he could get back to being the Ordnance Baron. Which, I guess, tells you everything about how much of a triple stupe Emmerton was about people, and how much he understood about real emotion. Shit, if you’d ever met him, you’d know what I meant, Dix.

“Sick bastard had her tortured while Luke was made to watch. Started with just a beating from Laker and Palmer. Then they pulled her fingernails. Used hot irons. Hooked her up to a generator…

“I can see you’re wondering why I know all this.
Simple—Emmerton thought it would help if I was there to see it, too. Actually, knowing him, it wasn’t because he thought it would help, but more because he got off on me watching it.

“Anyway, none of that really matters as such. The only thing I need to tell you about that is that she didn’t crack. Not once. Turns out the slut had a heart after all. Who would have thought it. She admitted to bedding you, but none of the others. And she wouldn’t say that she loved you. Only that she’d made a mistake.

“Now, Emmerton thought that would help Luke, but it didn’t. People are funny, Dix, and you can’t tell what’s going on inside them. Mebbe you know that by now. Shit, there was no way that Emmerton could know that Luke would be more hurt by this than by anything.

“By now, Emmerton was pissed beyond anything you could think of. He wanted you chilled, but you were beyond reach by then. And Trader was smart enough to never pass our way again. Just as well for you, although it always gets you in the end. Anyway, Emmerton wanted to make a point, if only to himself. Big on revenge, the fat boy…

“As an example, though fuck knows of what, he had my mother burned at the stake in the center of the ville. To the last, he was taunting her to tell the truth. Well, she did…Not that it did anyone any good.

“She said that she loved you, and that she had wanted to leave Luke, leave Hollowstar, leave me…That was really good to hear, as I’m sure you can imagine. But then you already knew that she wanted that, didn’t you, Dix? She must have talked about it to you before Trader
took you away. Hell, for all I know it may even have been your idea.

“Anyways, Luke didn’t exactly take it too well. Shit, that’s an understatement and a half. I really don’t know what Emmerton thought it would achieve to do this, but if it gave him his jollies it shot him in the balls in other ways. If Luke’s drinking had made his work shit before, then it really went to crap after that.

“If you didn’t really know my father, you wouldn’t have thought that anything except ordnance ever meant that much to him. Even I didn’t realize it. I guess that’s because I didn’t mean that much to him. Not compared to my mother. I think she was all that he ever really cared about, y’know. Apart from blasters, of course.

“But the drink didn’t blot it out anymore. He needed something else to take the edge off that pain. And there ain’t nothing in the whole of these lands that can take away the pain like a hit of jolt, right? Except that it hurt so bad that a hit just wasn’t enough. Not one, anyways…It wasn’t long before the man was nothing more than the worst kind of jolt-head. His work—when he could be bothered to do it—was nothing more than shit. If Emmerton had thought that he was making mistakes before…

“In the end, the wise and noble bastard baron got sick of paying out for Luke’s mistakes, and he’d become a pain in the ass in more ways than one. So Emmerton decided to make an example of him to other residents of Hollowstar, just in case they started slacking, as well. I kinda think that a lot of it was because he was pissed again that he couldn’t get at you. You were even longer gone, and some poor bastard had to pay.

“So that was my dad, then…a public execution in the town square, chained up and flayed until he bought the farm by Laker and Palmer.

“But the thing is, it didn’t end there, Dix. Not at all. That might have been okay. But I was still too young to fend for myself, and Emmerton wanted more revenge. And he likes young girls.

“I became his slave. One of them. And there were a lot. All of them girls. All of them under fifteen. Most of us weren’t just doing the washing and cleaning, Dix…although we did that, too. Mostly it was what you’d call personal services. And when I got old enough, I rendered personal services, too. To that greasy bastard, and to his ratfuck sec men, too.

“I learned well about blasters at that young age from watching my father. And just mebbe I got something from his parentage, too. ’Cause I made myself some simple weapons and bided my time. One day, I knew I’d be able to catch either Laker or Palmer off guard. And when I did…

“Shit, it wasn’t difficult when you knew their ways. Simple, stupe bastards. Like all men. Chilling them was good, but not satisfactory. Chilling Emmerton was better. Feeling the blade across his greasy, fat throat…Yeah, that felt good.

“But it wasn’t enough. I wanted the man who was responsible for my situation, and for the events that had led me to that place. I wanted you. For Luke, who only loved his work and my mother.