Logan Trilogy (21 page)

"Absolutely correct," said Sharps.

"You twist things."

"I twist nothing," said Francis.

Logan turned to face the cubs. Whirling, dodging, ripping at him.

"I'll cut you good, Sandman!" boasted Charming Billy. "You and your runnergirl."

Jessica took Logan's arm. "He's just a boy."

"He's a cub!" protested Logan, trying to make her understand. "A savage!"

But Jess spun away into darkness.

"Wild me," said Graygirl.

"Obey me," said Autogoverness.

"Pose for me," said Box.

"Listen to me," said Ballard.

"Change for me," said Holly.

"Talk to me," said Albert.

"Trust me," said Lilith.

"Fear me," said Warden.

"Run from me," said Francis.

"Spare me," said Doyle.

"Cure me," said Jaq.

"Save me," said Jessica.

Logan put his hands against his skull and screamed. Soundlessly.

He opened his eyes.

"You had a prime lift," said Dakk.

"We like to watch," Ritter told him. "Never know what'll happen. Always interesting."

"Burn him," another Scavenger said.

Dakk nodded. "Game's over, Logan. Time to die."

"Let me," said Ritter, drawing a Fuser from his belt.

Logan braced himself against the wall of the furnace, waiting for the heatcharge.

Ritter brought up the weapon.

"Kill him," said Dakk.

"Don't!" screamed Jessica.

"Do it," Lucrezia commanded. "Kill him!"

And Prince fired at the boy.

Jaq took the heatcharge full in the chest, and was flung backward into the hallway.

Jessica ran to him, stared down in horror, hands to her mouth.

Lucrezia walked up to stand beside her. "He should have stayed in his room, not tried to stop us.

Still…a sick boy is no good, of no value. We're taking you, but we couldn't take him. So let's assume he's better off the way he is."

"You…monster!" Jessica trembled violently, fists clenched. "You filthy, vile—"

And she clawed at Lucrezia's throat in a killing frenzy. Ariosto and two of the others pulled her away.

"Let's take her and go," said Prince. He kicked over a scrolled rosewood table in disgust. It crashed to the floor, sending a hollow echo through the mansion. "There's nothing else here."

Lucrezia rubbed at the skin of her neck, where Jessica's fingers had closed around her windpipe.

"You'll regret causing me discomfort," Lucrezia said to her.

And she doubled her right fist, smashing it into Jessica's face.

Prince caught her as she fell.

"She's yours," smiled Lucrezia. "Treat her well."

"Wait!" shouted Dakk. "Don't fire!"

Ritter lowered the Fuser, looking sour. "Now what's wrong?"

Dakk walked up very close to Logan, staring at him with probing intentness. "I thought I'd seen him before…"

"I don't know you," said Logan.

"But I know you. When I was a cub in the Angeles Complex you came in after a runner named Doyle.

But we killed him first. We cut him to pieces." Dakk turned to the others, his smile flashing. "He's Logan 3."

A murmur ran the pack. They'd all heard of him—the only Sandman to make Sanctuary. He was already a legend.

Ritter was excited. "Let's show him to the other packs. We can kill him in front of them, make a ceremony of his death."

"No, he goes free," said Dakk flatly.

"But he's famous!" objected Ritter. "And killing him will make us famous."

"I said no."

"Give us a reason," said Baxter 2, who usually backed up Ritter. "A good reason."

Dakk turned on them, fierce-eyed. "Logan killed Charming Billy in Cathedral. If he hadn't, Billy would have killed me. I was a threat to him. The other cubs supported me, and Billy knew it. So…Logan saved my life. Now I'm saving his."

"Your reason isn't our reason," said Ritter tightly.

Dakk measured him coldly. "Challenge?"

A moment of silent tension between them. Then Ritter sighed, turned away.

Dakk said to Logan, "Go. The debt's paid."

Logan nodded.

"But don't ever come back," Dakk warned. "If you do, you won't leave here again. Is that understood?"

"Understood," said Logan.

And he left the city.

GUN

The paravane had not been disturbed. Logan had some difficulty locating its exact position in the darkness, but he soon had the brush stripped away and the blades cleared.

Now he'd be able to help Jaq. The drug his son needed was safe inside his tunic, and it was a short flight back to their home on the Potomac.

Rising above the lightless mass of the city, Logan engaged full thrust—and the paravane responded smoothly. He'd been gone for most of the day, and Jess was probably worried about him, but she'd be overjoyed to learn he'd found the Sterozine. He'd been very fortunate with Dakk; by all rights he should be a dead man now. Logan had no memory of the dark-eyed leader as a cub. All the young ones blended in his mind: soot-faced, ragged, dangerous. But he remembered Charming Billy well enough. Thirteen and deadly, on Muscle, with his pride in having cut a Sandman.

Logan had never regretted killing him.

The house was silent as Logan approached it. Only the sound of wind in tall grass; of a nightbird, sounding its high, sweet lament.

"Jess! I'm back!"

Odd. She should have been watching for him, heard the paravane land, be out here to meet him.

Something's wrong.

Logan reached the veranda, stopped. The door was open.

He mounted the steps quickly, entered the hall.

And stumbled over Jaq.

Agony twisted Logan's features as he examined the body. Chest charred and ripped. Skin like cool wax. No pulse. No heartbeat.

An odor of cooked flesh in the air.

Logan let the fact sink into his mind like a heavy stone: Someone had murdered his son!

And where was Jessica?

He raged through the dark house, calling her name, smashing furniture in his frenzy, hurling himself from room to room, a man demented.

She was gone.

Logan threw the canister of Sterozine furiously against the steps, stumbled into the yard, fell to his knees in the wet grass, sobbing brokenly. He should never have left them alone. Damn him! He should have been there to defend them against—

Against who?

Logan raised his head. His eyes burned with a cold, killing fire. He'd find out who. Use his Sandman's training. Analyze the area. Maybe Jess was still alive.

He stood, moved to the veranda and carefully examined the gravel fronting the steps. In the marble wash of moonlight he could make out tracks, footprints…

"We saw them," a soft voice behind him said.

Logan pivoted to face a girl no older than seven. She wore a sunfrock trimmed in real flowers and carried a battered talkdoll. She giggled. "This is Judee 3," she said, holding up the doll. "And I'm Bet."

"Who did you see?" asked Logan, fighting to keep his voice level.

"The beautiful people," said Bet.

And the doll said, in a matter-of-fact voice, "They were lovely."

"Tell me everything about them," said Logan, crouching beside Bet, his eyes intense on hers.

"They wore pretty things. Lace and velvet. And hats with long feathers." Her voice was slow and dreamy.

And her doll said, "She's lifted. On C. That's why she's this way."

"Want one?" asked Bet, giggling sleepily. She withdrew a small capsule from her sunpocket. "Give you a prime lift. I use them all the—"

Logan knocked the drugcap from the little girl's hand, gripped her thin shoulders. "Tell me, now, everything you saw!"

"Judee can tell you," said the girl "Ask her."

And she giggled.

Logan slapped her. "I'm asking you!"

The little girl whimpered as tears brimmed her eyes. "Didn't see much…were leaving when we came here…"

"How many?"

"Don't know."

"A dozen," said the talkdoll firmly. "I counted. They rode jetcycs."

"Outlanders!" breathed Logan.

"With swords," said the doll. "And daggers."

"I feel sick," said Bet. "I'm going home now."

Logan grabbed her, spun her around to face him. "You're not going anywhere until I know all you know…Did they have Jess?"

The little girl looked blank.

"My pairmate! Did you see them take her?"

"Yes," whimpered Bet. "They hit her and she fell and they put her on one of their cycles and rode off with her."

"Describe them!"

"I did already."

"I told you she's lifted," said the doll. "Ask me if you want accurate information."

Logan stared at the small creature. "Then…you tell me."

"There were nine males. Three were females, including their leader. I didn't hear her name, or anything they said. They were dressed in ancient costumes, all lace and velvety. Lovely, as I said." The doll gave him a tiny smile. "Now you know what we know."

And Bet ran off down the road with Judee.

Inside the shadowed house Logan walked into the master bedroom, to a tall oak dresser. He slid open the top drawer, removed a leather case, took a holster from the case.

Logan unsnapped the holster, slowly drew out the Gun. Silver barrel. Pearl handle. Six chambers. He held it tightly in his hand.

He removed the ammopac from his tunic, snapping it into place. Immediately the Gun glowed, spilling a wash of pale gold across Logan's face and chest.

I swore I'd never use this again, he reminded himself, but now I'll use it. On them. On the ones who killed my son and took Jess. And I'll enjoy using it.

I'll find them.

And I'll use the Gun.

BORGIAS

"We call them the Borgia Riders," said Jonath. He towered over Logan, a full foot taller, but without Logan's strength of body. The Wilderness leader was gaunt; his flesh hung loose on a bony frame, but his eyes were very alive, dark and penetrating.

They were walking together in warm morning sunlight outside the main camp, fronting the Lincoln Memorial. Jonath, in a gray workrobe, sashed at the waist; Logan, for the first time since Argos, wearing his Sandman's black tunic, boots and belt, the Gun holstered at his right side. He was a hunter once again, and he would wear the garb of a hunter.

"You know them?" Logan asked.

"I've never encountered them personally," said Jonath. "But some of the People have been attacked by them. They killed one of our men, and raped several of our women."

"Their leader's name…do you have it?"

"She calls herself Lucrezia."

"Know anything about her?"

"Only that she seems to possess a cruelty beyond that of most outlanders. Human life apparently means very little to her."

Logan said nothing to this, but his eyes took on a hard shine.

"Still…Jessica may be alive."

"There's no reason to hope for that," said Logan flatly.

"But there is."

Logan suddenly stopped walking, stared at the Wilderness leader. "What are you saying? They'll use

her sexually and they'll kill her."

"Perhaps," nodded Jonath. "But my point is—outlanders often trade the females they abduct. A beautiful woman can be quite valuable to them."

"And you think Jessica might—"

"—be traded off to a rich man, or to a Market group. Since the breakdown of the cities an extensive trade-sale Market has sprung up. Among the most salable items, next to certain drugs, are beautiful women."

"And outlanders have access to these markets?"

"They're prime suppliers."

Logan picked up a dry branch, snapped it in frustration. "But I don't know where to look. They could be halfway across country by now. I don't even know which direction they headed."

Jonath sat down on the squared base of a broken column which had once formed part of an ancient government building, ran his thumb slowly along the veined marble. "Logan, do you believe in the magic of the mind?"

Logan sat down next to Jonath, looked at him. "In what sense?"

"I believe that the human brain has infinite possibilities—that we've barely touched on our potential as fully developed creatures. Before the Little War, experiments were being conducted in telekinesis, telepathy, and a dozen other inter-related aspects of sensory phenomena. Brain expansion…And one of these aspects was clairvoyance."

"I don't think I—"

"The ability to summon up visions involving a particular person, place or thing."

"I don't see what any of this has to do with me."

"There's an old man I've heard of…His name is Andar. He escaped the Sandmen. He lives at the tip of a bridge on the western coastline."

"So?"

"They call him 'The Gifted One' He's physically blind, yet he sees. He's a visionary. He can 'read'

objects."

"Read them?"

"Do you have something of Jessica's…a ring she wore…a throat jewel…anything of that nature?"

Logan nodded.

"Bring it to Andar. Ask him to read its vibrations. If what I've heard is true, he might be able to tell you where she is, physically, from his reading of the object."

"That's impossible!"

"I told you, he's a visionary. His mind is tapped into what he calls the 'cosmic energy source.' All objects in space are part of this cosmic chain. One object gives him a direct link to another."

Logan stood up. "This sounds insane."

"But you'll do it…You'll go to him?"

"Yes," said Logan. "I'll go."

VISION

On the morning of April 16, 1988, twelve years before the Little War, the animals of San Francisco went mad. They howled, circled, twitched in fear…

Something was happening in the earth.

It began as a subterranean rumble, a stirring deep below the streets of San Francisco. God was clearing his throat. The rumble increased; earthplanes shifted; tall buildings swayed. Bay waters danced and rippled.