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toppling into the water. "One of them's got a blaster aimed!" shouted Krysty warningly. Hennings waved his hand derisively toward the group of natives, clenching his fist in a power salute. Ryan watched the men pick themselves up after Hennings's burst of fire and scatter. All but one. He stood still, a long rifle at his shoulder, rock-steady. There was something menacing about the man's deadly calm. There was the look about him of someone who knew precisely what he was doing, not frightened by the shattering effects of the fire from the buggy. Ryan could almost feel himself inside the man's skull. He considered the windage, the elevation, the drift, the distance. Then he squeezed and squeezed again. Ryan turned toward Hennings, tasting the immediacy of the danger like cold steel on his tongue. "Get down, Henn!" he shouted. The tall black glanced sideways at him, the smile of triumph still on his lips. From the corner of his eye Ryan spotted the puff of gray powder smoke as it billowed from the muzzle of the long gun. file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%2...0Soltice%20-%20Laurence%20James%2 01.0.html (44 of 225) [12/24/2004 11:13:01 PM] d10 A moment later he caught the crack of the explosion. Almost simultaneously he heard the unforgettable flat wet slap of lead striking flesh. Hennings gave an "oh" that held more surprise than fear or pain. "No," said Finnegan, half standing, losing control of the swampwag for a moment, sending it skittering sideways, down the river. "Keep on it," yelled J.B., nearest to Hennings, holding the black man as he folded into his arms, blood gushing from the back of his head. Ryan sprayed the men on the bank with his blaster, getting a vicious satisfaction from seeing three or four of them go down, kicking and jerking. But the man with the musket had reached the safety of the fringe of low scrub. The buggy jolted and tipped as it reached the far side of the river and moved up the sloping bank. The six wheels worked independently, grinding over the tangled roots of the bayous. Mud and water splashed up off the huge tires. Low branches scraped across the top of the swampwag, leaves crowding in on the crouching men and women. The moment they were totally under cover, Finnegan kicked the engine to a stop, letting it idle and die in a grinding of fears; vaulting off his seat he got back to where J.B. still cradled Hennings. "How is& ?" Both Finnegan and Hennings had ridden with the Trader on his expeditions for some years. They'd both seen a lot of deaths. Both of them knew the truth. The leaden ball had struck the black man just above the right eye, leaving a neat dark hole from which a little blood seeped, bright scarlet against the skin. The exit hole was huge: a chunk of skull the size of a man's fist had been punched out in jagged fragments, blood and brains slopping all over the bottom of the buggy. Krysty, Lori and Doc stood helplessly by, looking down at the felled man. Lori was crying silently, her shoulders shaking, tears sliding down her smooth Page 24 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html cheeks, pattering into the spreading pool of blood. file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%2...0Soltice%20-%20Laurence%20James%2 01.0.html (45 of 225) [12/24/2004 11:13:01 PM] d10 Hennings's eyes were open, blinking in shock. Though the brain damage was clearly terminal, a shred of life still remained. His eyes sought Finnegan, fighting to focus on the red face of his oldest friend. "I'm here, Henn," said Finnegan, leaning over the dying man. "Going dark, Finn." "Yeah. Mebbe a storm on the way." "What& ?" "What blaster?" guessed Finnegan. "Some fucking musket from the cave days." "Good, shooting." Hennings's tongue flicked out across his dry lips. "Not fucking bad, friend." Not far to the west, there was a dazzling burst of sheet lightning, followed by a deafening peal of rolling thunder. Henn. struggled to speak. "Do this mean what I think it ' do?"" Fmegan nodded. "It do." Hennings's eyes remained open, but life slipped away, leaving them blank and empty. As the first heavy drops of rain began to fall about them, Fianegan lowered his head and wept. Chapter Five file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%2...0Soltice%20-%20Laurence%20James%2 01.0.html (46 of 225) [12/24/2004 11:13:01 PM] d10 FOR NEARLY TWO HOURS the rains came pounding down so hard that it was impossible to move. There was a stained brown tarpaulin inside the swampwag that they managed to pull up over themselves, keeping the worst of the storm off. But even then the rain was so devastating that it seeped through the canvas in a fine spray, soaking them all. Water collected in the bottom of the buggy, diluting the blood from Hennings's corpse, turning the crimson to pink. It was the worst storm that Ryan Cawdor had ever experienced. It wasn't the banshee gales he'd heard those farther north in the Deathlands. But the lightning and thunder were almost continuous, pounding at the ears until the senses began to totter. The rain swept in, seeming at times as if it were a solid shroud of tumbling water. At one point J.B. stuck his head from under the tarpaulin, taking care to remove his glasses first, trying to see if there was any sign of the storm abating. He pulled back a few seconds later, blinking and gasping. "Can't breathe. Drown out there, in open air. That's the trouble. No damned air. Just water." By the time it eased to a persistent drizzle, the noise of the thunder drifting inland, it was close to dusk. The purple-black clouds remained, hiding the setting sun. During the two hours, Finnegan hardly spoke. Not that conversation was easy above the noise of the thunder and the drumming of the monsoon on the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |