wall hit him hard. Fireblast, he thought, they were positioned in almost exactly the same formation as those back in Front Royal. How could that be?
“Ah, lover…?” Krysty said softly, putting a wealth of questions into the single word.
“Yeah, I noticed,” Ryan replied. “Might just be a coincidence. Most people made crossbows after skydark for the same reasons—they were easy to build, and you can use the arrows over and over again.”
“Great minds think alike, and all that,” J.B. added in agreement.
“Make that great mind, singular,” Doc rumbled in a somber tone.
For once, Mildred agreed with the old man. In her travels with the others, she had witnessed far too many examples of Carl Jung’s theory of the “group subconscious mind of humanity” for there to be any other explanation, in her opinion. All living things were bound together. It was only people who refused to accept the idea that life shared its dreams. Either that, or there was an unknown force in the world guiding everything and everybody along secret paths. Which was clearly ridiculous.
Easing their mounts to a stop just outside of arrow range, the companions let the animals catch their breaths for a few minutes. This also gave the sec men a chance to see them first, and spread the word. There was no reason to startle the guards and start a fight. Spilling blood wasn’t a good way to start negotiations with the local baron.
Walking their mounts closer, the companions studied the gate. It was very impressive. The broad gap between two of the trailers had been bridged by a concrete lintel to form an arch. Set below that was a formidable gate made of the doors taken off wags and welded together into a single homogenous slab. It was as lumpy as oatmeal, and looked as impregnable as a redoubt blast door.
“A door of doors,” Mildred muttered. “I wonder if their baron is a poet?”
Just then, a bright blue light of an alcohol lantern appeared, moving across the top of the wall and starting to come their way. To the east, dawn was rising. But the shadows were still thick across the world, and the bobbing lantern moved along like a lost star.
“We’ll soon find out,” Ryan replied, walking his horse a little bit closer.
Footsteps were heard, and a man carrying the lantern appeared at the edge of the metal wall. Wearing loose clothing and a leather vest, the sec man had a tremendous beard, pleated into two strands. As well as the lantern, he was also carrying a bolt-action longblaster, with a hand on the trigger.
Tromping over to the last trailer, the sec man stopped near a crude set of tremendous hinges that supported the colossal gate.
“Advance and give the password!” the sec man shouted down into the darkness.
“Sorry, don’t know it,” Ryan answered as his horse shifted its hooves on the ground. “We’re strangers, rists, looking for a place to stay tonight.”
“Yeah? What kind of jack ya got?”
“Brass, four rounds!”
“Packed with dirt, probably.” The guard sneered in disdain. “Useless as tits on a turd.”
In a smooth move, Ryan pulled the SIG-Sauer. “Be glad to show you,” he offered in a voice of stone.
Shaking the reins, Krysty walked her horse closer between the two men. “What is the name of this place?” she added loudly.
Slowly, both of the men eased their aggressive stances. But their hands didn’t stray far from their blasters.
“This be Broke Neck,” the sec man replied with a touch of pride. “And where you folks from?”
“All over,” Ryan answered truthfully. “Here and there, north and south.”
“Yeah? A real son of Trader, are ya?” the man said, chuckling.
“We traveled with him some,” J.B. replied over the nasal snorting of his horse.
There was a pause as a second guard appeared on top of the wall. The clean-shaven man was holding a loaded crossbow. The two sec men held a short conference.
“Now that might be flat-rock, or it could be a stretch,” the first sec man said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
“Either way, that’s a lot of iron for a bunch of pilgrims,” the clean-shaven sec man said.
“That’s because we’re not pilgrims,” Ryan answered, slightly annoyed. “You folks interested in doing biz, or should we keep moving?”
The muffled footsteps on top of the trailer got louder as one of the sec men walked to the very edge and angled his lantern to make it shine on the companions. “Yeah, yeah, just keep your jets cool, rist,” the sec man said gruffly. “I was just…Black dust, ya only got one eye! Clem, look! One eye, by thunder!”
The second guard rushed over. “It’s Ryan!” he whispered in shock. “Gotta be! Look there, one of them is dark, another pale, she’s got red hair, and that guy is wearing glass on his face. Never did understand that part before.”
Already alert, the companions instantly drew their assortment of blasters, snapping off safeties and working bolts without the slightest regard of being seen. Instantly, both guards leveled their weps.
Then the man with the beard slowly lowered his rifle and placed it on the wall. “Easy there, folks, easy now. We don’t want any blood split between us.”
“And what if my name is Ryan?” the Deathlands warrior asked, the SIG-Sauer tight in his grip.
“Then the baron will wanna talk to you right away,” the other sec man replied, resting the crossbow on a shoulder. “We’ve been expecting ya for a long time, but thought you’d be coming from the south in the direction of the ocean gulf.”
Mildred lifted both eyebrows at that, but said nothing. The rest of the companions followed suit. What was going on here? There was only one possible answer that made any sense.
“Seems like your doomie made a mistake,” the physician stated.
The two sec men frowned at that. “Baron Harmond don’t make many bad calls,” he stated gruffly. “More likely you’re lying.”
“But even if ya are, don’t matter,” the other man added brusquely. “The baron wants to meet anybody with just one eye. If you’re Ryan, good. If not, we can offer ya haven from the coldhearts hunting folks like you.”
Haven. There was a word the companions hadn’t heard, or been offered, for a very long time. Aside from Two-Son ville to the south, their reception in the Zone had been poor at best.
“We accept your offer of haven,” Krysty said, her hair flexing gently around her shoulders. If there was any danger here, she couldn’t sense it. But then, when dealing with a doomie, anything was possible.
“No offense, but I have never heard of a doomie baron before,” Mildred shouted up to the guard.
“No offense taken. Baron Harmond is prob the only one around.” The bearded sec man advanced a step, then lowered the lantern for a better look. “Your
