James Axler Deathlands 044 Crucible of Time

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but
Doc had turned down the offer. "Such a weapon would be as much use to me as a
chocolate chamber pot, dear boy."
The forest was showing the first signs of the false dawn. The sky above had
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Axler, James - Deathlands 44 - Crucible of Time become fractionally brighter,
throwing Doc's shadow on the winding trail. Twice he'd been stopped in his
tracks, aware of something moving, ponderously, in the dark depths of the
pines. But nothing had come near him, and he hadn't actually seen anything.
He carried a gold half-hunter watch on a fob and he tugged it out, angling the
face to try to catch enough light to read it. But it wasn't yet possible.
By his own rough calculation he'd been traveling for five or six hours and was
well over halfway toward his destination. The one thing that Doc couldn't know
was at what point his escape had been noticed. If luck was with him, he'd
still have something of a clear run. If not, then the pursuers could already
be closing in on his track.
"I said that the hounds of spring were in winter's traces," he muttered. "But
let it pass, yes, let it pass."
There was a whisper of movement, and he turned toward the sound, seeing
something white floating toward him, showing a hideous, ghostly face. Great
golden eyes seemed to bore into him, and he noted a wing spread of six feet or
more and a cruelly hooked yellow beak.
"A wise old owl, swirling," he said, ducking as the apparition swooped low
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over his head, the beat of the bird's passing disturbing his silvery hair.
Doc was beginning to feel close to exhaustion. The attack of influenza, or
whatever it had been, had taken even more out of him than he'd guessed. It was
an effort to lift each foot and place it in front of the other. But he knew
that if he stopped, he might likely fall asleep and not carry on at all.
He tried to swing into a regular march, whispering the beat to himself. "Left,
right, left, right. Left& Left, I had a good job and I left."
On into the early morning.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 44 - Crucible of Time
JOSIAH STEELE TOOK charge of the serving of breakfast brought by two women,
each carrying a groaning tray of food, with mugs of buttermilk to wash it
down.
Ryan noticed immediately that they had been given only old plastic spoons to
help themselves. No forks or knives. Brother Joshua wasn't taking any chances
on an armed rebellion from his remaining prisoners.
"Buckwheat toast with jellies and honey," Steele said. "And oatmeal gruel.
There'll be some steaming acorn coffee for those who want it, in a while. At
least it'll be hot." He hesitated in the doorway. "How's the woman?"
"Sleeping," Ryan replied.
"Hope she& Well." He paused as though considering saying something else.
"You did the right thing getting the old man away. He'd have been cold giblets
by noon. Shame you couldn't get away yourselves."
"We could still mebbe manage it if we had our weapons back again," J.B. said
quietly.
Steele sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and looked outside the hut.
"Sure, you could, outlander. But the cold fact is, I don't aim to slit my own
throat. Nor put a ball through my own temple. Not just yet."
"Where are our blasters and knives?" Ryan asked, seeing the doubt in the man's
eyes. "Suppose I just said that I thought that they were likely in Wolfe's own
house. You can just choose to say nothing. You don't have to tell us they
aren't there. Just say nothing."
Steele half smiled. "Guess I'd best say nothing, Brother Cawdor. Not a word."
Ryan grinned across at him. "Thanks," he said. "Yeah, thanks a lot."
"FRIED BACON, please, Emily." Doc jerked awake. "Upon my soul! What am I
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Axler, James - Deathlands 44 - Crucible of Time saying? What am I doing? Where
am I and where am I going? Have I been& I
suspect that I might have taken a small rest and closed my eyes for a moment.
Most unwise, my dear Theo. Oh, dear, so careless."
He hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, using the trunk of one of the
smaller pines to help. He took several deep breaths of the cool morning air,
looking around in the half light of the early dawn.
"What is the time, I ask myself?" He checked the half-hunter watch. "And I
answer myself that it is closing in on six o'clock. No pursuit yet."
His voice disturbed a pair of pigeons that fluttered noisily away from the
lower branches of a nearby larch. They circled once before heading north,
still protesting at the intruder in their domain.
He lowered his tone. "What would dear Ryan and the other companions think of
me? To be so rash and foolish, falling asleep within a couple of paces of the
track through the woods. Though the road through the woods has been undone by
the wind and the rain. And there is no road& " He slapped himself hard across
the forehead. "Enough, Dr. Tanner. Enough. Set your face toward the path to
the redoubt."
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He picked up his cane and took a last quick look around the clearing.
"By the& !"
The pair of Mescalero warriors seemed to have literally appeared from nowhere,
sprung from the heart of the forest. They stood silently a few yards away from
him, leaning against the massive trunk of one of the largest of the sequoias.
They were both in their midtwenties, both holding strung bows with a quiver of
arrows across a shoulder.
One of them said something in the Apache tongue. Doc dredged at his memory for
his scant vocabulary. The nearest translation that he could come up with was,
"Greetings, walking man who is already with the spirits."
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Axler, James - Deathlands 44 - Crucible of Time
"Bother," Doc said.
Chapter Thirty-One
Bear Cub Running and Fast Silver Hand were two of the boldest young warriors
of the Mescalero band. Their hostility against the numerically stronger
Children of the Rock was deep-rooted, going back a number of years. They knew
nothing of the rad hot spot, but it was common knowledge that the white Bible
carriers had few if any children among their numbers, and those that were born
were sickly and rarely lived long.
Which was why the renegade Anglos had so often tried to steal the little ones
from the Apaches.
Which was why any white person walking along through the tall pines was fair
game.
The old man with snowy hair and pale eyes didn't seem to be carrying any kind
of blaster. The two braves had been watching him carefully for over half an
hour, at first suspecting a trap. But they had just decided that the old man
was truly alone.
Fast Silver Hand had whispered that it would be like shooting fish in a
barrel.
"Truly. Should we take him back to camp for the women to show us their skills
with knife and fire?"
Then Doc woke up.
Seeing his imminent danger, he fumbled in his faltering memory for the few [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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