Child Of Slaughter

But Krysty and her team were in the shit as always, and their options were limited. Trust her or back away—those were the only two choices she could think of at the moment.

“All right, then.” She slumped and rested her hands on her knees. “Let’s table the buddy-buddy stuff until after we put down the mutie army. Agreed?”

Union shrugged as if she couldn’t care less and raised the H&K. “Go time?”

“Suit yourself.” Ryan shrugged, too, then shot a wink at Krysty. “Whatever floats your boat.”

Even weakened as she was, Krysty managed a chuckle at that one.

Just then, footsteps scuffed through the nearby sand. Ryan and Union whirled with weapons at the ready, but it was Jak, not a mutie, who marched out from between spikes.

“Back off the trigger,” Ryan snapped, dropping the Scout’s barrel. “He’s with us.”

Scowling, Union hesitated, then slowly lowered her weapon.

“Who this?” Jak asked.

“I was just going to ask the same question,” Union said coldly.

“Jak, meet Union,” Ryan said. “Union, this is Jak.”

“Union Jak.” Jak’s smile had its own touch of frost. “Have ring to it.”

“Whatever.” Union sighed loudly. “If this is how you people kill muties, it’s no wonder your backs are up against the wall.”

Jak laughed. “You funny! All talk, no action!”

Union glared, then suddenly stomped toward him. “I don’t have time for this.” She paused beside him, her cold stare locking with his bright red eyes. Then she flashed a sexy smile. “So what do you say we go mow down some mutie scum, big boy?” She sashayed past him, her longblaster swaying in perfect counterpoint with her shapely buttocks in the tight black leather jumpsuit.

Ryan watched her go, suitably stunned by the change in demeanor. He glanced at Krysty, who frowned back at him, then turned his gaze to Jak.

The albino shrugged nonchalantly. “What can say?” He raised his eyebrows. “Guess Jak irresistible.” Then he spun and followed Union, disappearing into the forest of spikes.

Ryan stared at his retreating back, hoping like hell that he hadn’t made a mistake in bringing Union back to the group.

Chapter Eleven (#ulink_8b18f9f3-91f4-58da-8ad2-39c8e423b463)

Somebody slapped Doc so hard across the face that he woke instantly from the depths of a dream and instantly wished he hadn’t.

In the dream, he’d been spending a quiet Sunday at home with his wife, Emily, and their children, Rachel and Jolyon. He’d felt perfectly content in a way he never did anymore, utterly relaxed and at peace with his life and times.

Now, after that wicked slap, he was fully back in the Deathlands again, face-to-face with the current author of his misery—Exo the candy-loving mutie.

“Wake up, Dr. Hammersmith.” Exo’s high-pitched voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Doc. “Time to go, my friend.”

Doc scowled and sat up, becoming aware of throbbing pain all over his body. It took him a moment to remember that he’d been asleep only because Exo had beaten him into unconsciousness. “Go where?”

“Same place we were going before your little nap.” Exo pulled a purple lollipop on a thin white stick out of his mouth and waved it over his shoulder. “The core of the Shift, of course. The place where you’ll finish your mission.”

Gingerly touching a bruise on top of his head, Doc thought about Ryan and the rest of his comrades. “What about my…kidnappers? You said something about teaching them a lesson.”

Exo laughed. “We put a hurting on them, all right.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Had them running scared, that’s for sure.”

“Then what?” Doc asked. “How many of them did you kill?”

Exo’s eyes flicked to one side, and he hesitated. It was then Doc knew that no matter what the mutie told him, Ryan and company had acquitted themselves well, as always.

“We put them in their place,” Exo snapped. “They’ll think twice before coming after us again.”

Secretly, Doc exulted. He knew Ryan and the others well enough to know that if they were still breathing, they’d never stop coming after the muties who’d kidnapped their friend.

“Now get up.” Exo stuck the lollipop back in his mouth and waved Doc’s swordstick overhead. “Stop sitting there like some kind of whipped dog.”

Doc struggled to his feet. When he got there, he felt wobbly and paused to steady himself. “It is hard not to, when one is whipped to the point of unconsciousness.”

Exo glared at him, and Doc thought he might get beaten again, but then the glare turned into a broad grin. “Ha!” Exo clapped Doc hard on the back. “You really know how to make me laugh, Doc! Even with a faulty memory, you still crack me up.”

Doc winced. Exo had struck his back on a particularly sore spot. “Glad to hear it.” Though Exo had beaten him with a vengeance just a short time ago, Doc made an effort to behave in a congenial way. Trapped as he was, weaponless and without allies, he knew it would be better to play along with the moods of his captors instead of resisting.

Just then, another mutie—part of the rank and file—ran up and chattered in Exo’s ear. Exo nodded without smiling and waved him aside. “Let’s get moving.” He met the mutie messenger’s gaze and gestured in Doc’s direction. “You’re his babysitter, starting now.” A sneer curled his lips. “Anything happens to him, you die.”

As Exo walked away, the new mutie stepped up to Doc, looking tense. “So.” He had a longblaster slung over his back on a leather strap; when he swung it around, Doc saw that it was a Winchester. Unlike most of the weapons carried by the hodgepodge mutie army, the Winchester was in pristine shape. The walnut stock gleamed as if it had just been polished. “I’m not happy about this.”

“What is your name?” Doc lifted an eyebrow.

“Ankh.” The mutie jabbed the point of the Winchester at Doc. “And if I had my way, I’d just as soon shoot you on the spot and leave you here.”

Doc frowned. “And why is that, if I may ask?”

“Because I know.” Ankh jabbed again. “Out of this whole gang of morons, I seem to be the only one who knows.”

“Knows what?” Doc asked.

Ankh leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That you’re no more Dr. William Hammersmith than I am.”

Doc swallowed hard. He had the distinct impression that the only reason he was still alive was that the muties thought he was Hammersmith. If Ankh had an inkling of his true identity, how much longer could Doc expect to live?

“That’s right,” Ankh said. “I can see right through you.”

Doc toyed with various options and decided to play dumb, at least for now. “I do not understand. Perhaps you are the one who’s mistaken.”

“Do you want to escape Exo and never come back, whoever you are?” Ankh asked.

“Call me Doc. And yes.”

Ankh nodded. “Then, we both want the same thing.” He looked both ways, then leaned closer. “And if you don’t force me to kill you, mebbe we’ll manage to get what we want.”

Doc locked eyes with Ankh, taking his measure. Ankh’s eyes were dark brown, almost black, and very steady. Whatever his true intentions might be, he seemed reasonable on the surface. Doc decided he might just be his best chance for survival and escape.