James Axler Deathlands 022 R

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arrival of the clattering wag brought out the whole population, which seemed
to consist of an immensely tall and powerful black man and his white wife,
along with what looked like two or three dozen children of varying ages.
"See why the place is called Patriarch," Krysty shouted in Ryan's ear. "Looks
like they're trying to repopulate the entire southern plains on their own."
"Haven't had so many strangers in many a long week," called the man, whose
name was Fred Zero. "Got a packman from up north staying the night is all."
"Enough beds for us?" Ryan asked, looking down at his absurdly elongated
shadow. Another half hour and it was going to be night.
"Sure. Sure."
THEIR BED WAS MADE from hollow tubes of old brass, and it tinkled and chimed
every time either Ryan or Krysty made the slightest move.
"Sorry, lover," Ryan said. "Just can't concentrate with all this fireblasted
noise going on. Wait until to-morrow when we get back to Jak's. Then we can
bounce each other's bones without the musical ac-companiment."
She kissed him gently on the cheek. "Be nice to have some quiet time together.
And I don't just mean for making some good, slow loving. Rest up at the
spread.
No need to make any fast decisions that we might regret later. I'm really
looking forward to it, lover. Really."
Her hand had been lying across his chest, but it started to feather its way a
little lower.
Lower.
In the end, the noisy bed didn't matter that much.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 22 - Rider, Reaper
RYAN ROSE EARLY and walked down to find Fred Zero's pretty wife, Penny,
preparing breakfast in a huge iron skillet.
"Hash browns, eggs over easy and some home-cured ham? How's that sound?"
He grinned at her. "Sounds like I've died and gone straight to heaven.
Thanks."
"Go on through. Packman's just finishing and getting ready to hit the
highway."
The trader was sitting at a small table, smoking a noxious cigar. As Ryan came
in he looked up. "Sorry about the smoke, friend. I'll put her right out so you
can enjoy the fine food that the lady of the house pro-vides."
"Thanks," Ryan replied.
"Name's Kenny Friedman, and I cover the whole of Deathlands and I offer a
range of& Hey, just wait a goshdarned moment there, my friend."
He was a typical packman, effusive and eager to prove he was the nicest guy
who ever drew breath. But now his jaw had dropped, and he was fumbling in the
breast pocket of his tweed suit.
"Something wrong?" Ryan asked.
"I don't& Your name wouldn't be Ryan Cawdor, would it, friend?"
"Could be."
"Traveling with a redhead and a kid and an old man and Hallelujah, but I bit
the paydirt."
"How come you know me?"
"I got a note for you."
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Axler, James - Deathlands 22 - Rider, Reaper
"From?"
"Couple of really mean& But, I guess I might be wrong, Mr. Cawdor, seeing as
how they're likely friends. One was small and skinny with a long mus-tache.
Other was older and sort of scary."
Ryan nodded, his mind flooded with the news. Abe had done it. He'd damned well
done it.
The piece of paper was crumpled and stained, but still totally legible.
"Success. Will stay around Seattle for three months. Come quick. Abe."
"How long ago were you given this?" Ryan asked.
Friedman wrinkled his face, counting back on his fingers. "Great Lakes was&
Missoula& Billings& Butte& then I stayed a coupla days with& Right, I got it.
Give or take a day or so. Must have been up in the Northwest, by the sea.
About six weeks ago from now."
"Six weeks," Ryan said. "Leaves us another six weeks. Thanks, friend. Thanks."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Two of the graves were large, the middle one much smaller. All three lay in
shade, beneath a wall of red rock that rose vertically and vanished into the
deep blue of the morning sky.
It was a place of great quiet.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 22 - Rider, Reaper
Ryan opened his eye and looked up into the still air, watching the ghostly
shadow of the large white egret floating past, high above him.
Krysty stood with her back to him, looking down at the three markers.
He sat up and she turned, and he could see tears glistening on her cheek.
"I'm sorry, lover," he said.
"I know. We've done all the talking there is. I'm talked out, Ryan."
"I have to go."
"Sure."
"Can't make it with a jump. No control. Have to travel on foot. Start with the
wag and see if we can get gas. If we can, then it shouldn't take more than a
few days." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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