Chapter Forty-Three

 

 

 

Krysty stopped dead, her hand going to her mouth. She half turned on the trail, nearly stumbling, and swallowed hard. Looking back again, her eyes locked on to Christina's face.

 

Both women had gone corpse white.

 

"You felt it?" Christina breathed accusingly. "Didn't you?"

 

"Yes. Oh, Gaia help me! Yes, I did."

 

 

 

A FLAILING NAKED FOOT kicked the blaster out of Ryan's hand, jarring his wrist. He tried to push the stickie away from him, but the creature was on top of him, its falling weight knocking him helplessly to the floor.

 

There wasn't time to call out to Jak.

 

Not even time to draw a breath.

 

Charlie had obviously been sharper than Ryan or Jak had suspected, leaving a man behind to watch the buildings and to creepy-crawl around in the dark to see what he could find out.

 

The mutie must have spotted the open trap in the roof and climbed up, seen Ryan in the darkness and simply dropped in on him.

 

Now it was a desperate battle, with the stickie having the initial advantage. His suckered hands were groping for Ryan's face, ripping at his coat.

 

After the first heart-stopping shock, Ryan's first realization was that his attacker wasn't carrying any sort of weapon. No blaster threatened him, not even a knife.

 

But there were sharp teeth scratching the skin on his throat, jaws snapping in his face, the rank stench of rotting fish flooding his nostrils, a bony knee jabbing between his thighs and trying to crush his genitals.

 

And a slobbering moan of bitter hatred filling his ears.

 

Ryan was used to direct physical confrontation, able to make a fast decision on what kind of person was fighting him.

 

The stickie was close to six feet, but much skinnier than he was. And from hanging on to his assailant's wrists to try to control him, Ryan was very aware of the brutish strength that resisted him.

 

One hand brushed against the side of his head and jerked out a clump of hair, bringing a section of bloodied scalp with it.

 

"Bastard!" Ryan hissed, digging his fingers into the stickie's upper arm, exerting all of his own power to try to separate the muscle from the bone.

 

There was a strangled scream from the mutie, who tried to roll and kick himself away from the agonizing pain.

 

The moon veiled herself behind some tatters of high cloud, throwing the projection room into total blackness. Ryan let go of the stickie, crawling toward the observation window at the front, cursing as he felt and heard tiny splinters of glass crackling under his knees.

 

"Charlie was right. Said you might stayed. Told us to look an' hide."

 

Even in the heightened tension of a battle for his life, Ryan was able to notice the significant use of the word "us."

 

There were others around Bear Claw Ridge.

 

He had to warn Jak as quickly as possible.

 

"You hurt my arm, norm. Real bad."

 

The voice was like Harold's had been, a nagging, whining sound that seemed to grate at the inside of Ryan's skull.

 

He crouched and waited. On the off chance, he brushed cautiously with his fingers in a sweeping circle, in case the blaster had dropped within reach. But there was nothing except dirt, glass and broken pieces of the old projection machinery.

 

"Where are you, norm? Frightening of chilled?"

 

Ryan's hand crept to the hilt of the eighteen-inch panga, tightened and drew it from the soft leather sheath.

 

The voice moved, closer to the stairs from the lobby of the multiplex.

 

"Go see how many norms lived in these place. Charlie thinking some lot."

 

To try to use the panga totally blind was to court disaster. It might crack against the wall or just strike the stickle a glancing, wounding blow. Either way there was a real risk that Ryan would lose his hold on it.

 

He had to get close enough to be sure of a firm blow against the enemy.

 

"Stay there, norm, when going to see what's down here."

 

Ryan tried to shuffle after the mutie, but he was noisier in the heavy boots. Aware of this, he stopped and remained perfectly still.

 

Above him there was a very faint increase in the light as the moon began to shrug off the insistent clouds.

 

It was enough for him to make out the wispy hair of the stickie, disappearing out of view, down the narrow stairs.

 

Ryan considered throwing the panga, but it was a clumsy weapon and the odds favored a miss. Better to stalk after the man and hope to trap him between himself and the teenager.

 

"Down and down I going and arounds, arounds. Maked my head to be spinning, norm."

 

The voice was becoming hollow, with an echo. Ryan finally moved across the room, glancing up at the open trapdoor in case there were any more stickies waiting to jump him. But the rectangle of silver light was unbroken.

 

The mutie was out of sight, but Ryan could hear its sliding, insistent voice, babbling away to itself as it drew nearer the bottom.

 

"Door closed, closed and shut as well it is." A rattle as the stickie grabbed the handle and tried to force it open. Ryan heard the squealing of hinges, but the door held. "Seen another down here. Try that one too."

 

Now there was enough light coming into the cramped little room to enable Ryan to make out where the SIG-Sauer had landed. He stooped and picked it up, holding it in his left hand, keeping, the panga in his right. If, as now seemed likely, there were other stickies prowling the night, it was as well to be triple ready.

 

Ryan paused at the top of the dark stairwell, unable to see anything. He concentrated his hearing, catching the tiny click of the latch opening.

 

Below him, moments later, there was the whisper of a door being closed.

 

The stickie might be waiting for him in the midnight velvet stillness.

 

If it had been Charlie himself down there, Ryan would have hesitated for a long time before risking the descent.

 

But this was an ordinary stickie with the usual intelligence level of a broken fence post.

 

Ryan went down after him, feeling carefully for the rail.

 

The access to the lobby was closed.

 

Here the light was almost gone. Ryan reached out with the hand holding the pistol and pushed very gently at the door. It moved an inch or so then stopped, as if someone were standing with their foot jammed against it.

 

Ryan let his breath slowly out and counted off sixty seconds, pushing the door again. This time he felt the same resistance and heard the smallest scuffling sound, as though a baby rat was caught inside a large bureau.

 

There was a ghostly light in the lobby that showed along the crack every time Ryan pushed at the door. It would mean that he would be completely exposed to anyone who might be waiting there.

 

The other option was to go back into the projection box and climb out through the trap, over the roof and down into the street at the side of the SkyHi Mall. Then come all the way around and approach the Beacon Cinema from the front.

 

Which didn't seem a great idea, either.

 

He set his shoulder against the door and gave it a great heave, powering himself through the gap, rolling over onto one shoulder and coming up with the SIG-Sauer raking the gloom around him.

 

"Bang, you dead!" said a quiet voice, coming from the shadows where Abe was hidden.

 

"Thanks, Jak."

 

"Welcome, Ryan."

 

"Nearly crapped my pants."

 

A soft laugh. Now Ryan could see the white smudge of the teenager's hair, low down. Behind him, by the closed door, there was another pale blur, lying stretched on the floorthe body that had been blocking the exit from the stairs.

 

"Took the stickie," Jak said.

 

"Didn't hear the" Ryan began, shaking his head at his own foolishness. "Course. Not the blaster. Throwing knives."

 

"Yeah. Just one. Wasn't sure how things might be with you. Figured I'd wait."

 

"Think there's more stickies around. He slipped by me in the dark. But he talked of 'us' being left by Charlie."

 

Jak was standing, coming toward him like a Halloween wraith.

 

"Better go look for them?"

 

"Leave Abe on his own?"

 

"They come find us he could die anyways, Ryan."

 

"True."

 

He thought about their options. The idea of hiding was now undermined. Having killed one of the stickies, it would bring any others searching around. Chill them and Charlie might come back in the dawning to see what was happening to his missing patrol. Either way, it was going to mean taking a serious risk.

 

"How is Abe?"

 

"No change."

 

"Then we'll go do some hunting."

 

 

 

THERE WERE TWO MORE of the murderous muties loose around Bear Claw Ridge. Ryan and Jak separated outside the movie house.

 

One of them trailed and chilled his prey successfully.

 

One of them didn't.