Chapter Six

 

 

Ryan had drawn an instant bead on the voice, homing in on it toward the right of the mushrooming cloud of smoke. He held his fire for a moment.

 

"Who de fuck're you?"

 

The owner of the voice had silently moved several paces to his right. Ryan adjusted his aim, his friends doing the same thing.

 

Then, bewilderingly, the same voice came from two different places at once.

 

"Who de fuck're you?"

 

J.B. gestured with the Uzi, indicating that he could put it on full-auto and spray the whole area behind the dense white smoke.

 

Ryan shook his head, pointing for everyone to spread out a little more on both sides.

 

The smoke billowed around, rising in wraiths toward the high ceiling of the redoubt. From the design of that section of the complex, Ryan guessed that they were standing in the main entrance area, with the huge sec doors hidden somewhere beyond the cooking fire.

 

"Hear you. Gonna come get yer."

 

This time the voice was to the left.

 

"Guards of the Redoubt warn you to fuck off out of here, right now."

 

Ryan glanced at J.B. and held up two fingers of his left hand. Though the voices were identical to an uncanny degree, it was obvious now that there were at least two men behind the screen of smoke.

 

Since they hadn't yet opened fire, it was a fair bet that they weren't going to. A man who came to talk did some talking. A man who came to shoot did some shooting.

 

Well, that was what the Trader used to say.

 

"We don't mean harm," Ryan called.

 

He glimpsed someone moving and heard shuffling feet. This time both voices spoke from close together, in perfect unison, like a simultaneous echo.

 

"How do we know that, outlanders?"

 

"Because I don't tell lies. That meat smells real good, and we haven't eaten for a spell. Mind if we join you?"

 

There was a long pause, as though Ryan's words had to be translated before they made sense.

 

"Join us?"

 

"Sure. Why don't you show yourselves, and you can see us and we all know that there's not going to be any blasting."

 

"We could fuckin' blast you clean off Deathlands."

 

"Sure you could. But we don't want to play the game of who's got the biggest and strongest."

 

A giggle came from the smoke barrier. "Bet we got fuckin' biggest and strongest blasters."

 

"Sure you have. All we got is a 7.62 mm Steyr rifle, an Uzi machine pistol, a SIG-Sauer 9 automatic, a Smith amp; Wesson M-4000 scattergun and about five other big handblasters. Not much."

 

Once again there came the eerie delay in a reply, but just one voice this time.

 

"We won't play unless we got the biggest and bestest. Won't fuckin' play."

 

"Not a game," Ryan said, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as he could.

 

"Not?"

 

Doc interrupted. "My dear friends, I hate to betray any sense of urgency, but I worry that the meat could be cooking a little too well."

 

There was a taint of scorching overlaying the delicious odor of cooking.

 

"Buffalo's burning," Jak said tersely.

 

"How many of you?"

 

"Seven."

 

"Any women?" The dual voices overlapped so closely that they nearly sounded like one man speaking. "Haven't seen women in here for" There was a long pause, then the voices split for the first time, riding over each other but not synchronized like the previous times.

 

"Fuckin' years."

 

"Can't remember how long."

 

"We have two women. And they've both got good blasters." Ryan was beginning to lose patience, and considered making a fast flanking move to come in through the smoke behind the speakers and wipe them out.

 

"Truly?" both men said.

 

"Just walk out and look. Or we'll come in through the smoke and show you."

 

"No. Guards of Redoubt in charge. Yes, we are. We'll fuckin' come out and see you now. Yes, we will."

 

Two figures, dimly seen, walked together, stepping slowly left and right and left, very close together.

 

The smoke pulled back like a theater curtain, revealing the Guards of the Redoubt to Ryan and the others.

 

They were identical twins, looking to be anywhere between the mid-teens up to the late thirties, with boyish features. They both wore green-and-brown camouflage shirts, with sleeves rolled well up, and pants, with highly polished combat boots.

 

They both had handblasters holstered at the waist, Smith amp; Wesson Model 29S, with the rare five-inch barrels, chambered for .44 Magnum rounds. But neither of the young men had made any effort to draw his blaster.

 

They were pale and soft faced, with straw-colored hair trimmed short. Their eyebrows were so faint they almost disappeared over bright blue eyes. Both of them wore identical Zapata mustaches, and both stood six feet tall.

 

Mildred was next to Ryan and she whispered to him. "Symptoms of bad rad sickness."

 

The moment she mentioned it, Ryan saw the signs for himself. They were common enough in Deathlands, particularly in some of the more notorious rad hot spots purplish patches across the arms, particularly on the inside of the forearms; tight lines to the face and a general tautness as though they'd been dieting too hard; sores around the corners of the mouth; and threads of blood rimming the fingernailsthose that remained.

 

"Outlanders, I'm Titus of the Redoubt Guard. This is my brother Mervyn of the Redoubt Guard."

 

"Yes, we are," said the brother on the left.

 

There was something about them that caught Ryan's attention, something above and beyond their obvious physical condition, something mental.

 

Their eyes were bright, but they didn't seem to reveal any intelligence behind them. And there was a deliberate slowness about the way they moved in sluggish unison.

 

"I'm Ryan Cawdor. These are my good friends, Krysty Wroth, J. B. Dix, Mildred Wyeth, Doc Tanner, Jak Lauren and my son, Dean. We're outlanders and seem to have gotten ourselves lost. Where are we?"

 

"How you fuckin' get in here?"

 

Ryan sensed that this was a potentially tricky one. He threw it back at the young man. "Well, Titus By the way, what's your other name?"

 

"Other?" It was as though he'd been asked to solve the riddle of the sphinx.

 

"Do you have another name, after Titus?"

 

The blank face cleared a little. "Titus of Redoubt Guard. That what you mean, outlander?"

 

"No. Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's what I meant. How do you think we got in here?"

 

"That's a good one, Mervyn."

 

"Yeah, Titus, that's a good one."

 

"Seems we don't know the answer to that one, outlander. Tell us. Yeah, tell us."

 

"Through the door at the front."

 

Both foreheads wrinkled, and both men raised hands to stroke their chins. The idea of someone making their way into the redoubt through the front door was a thought too far.

 

"Someone told me the code."

 

"You know about three and five and two?" both men said together.

 

"Sure. Man called Trader told me, years ago. And two and five and three to close the sec door."

 

The brothers stared at each other. "How does he know that, Mervyn?"

 

"Don't know, Titus. He said that someone told him, didn't he?"

 

Titus's mouth opened wide, revealing a few rotting teeth and raw, bleeding gums. "Fucked if I remember, Mervyn."

 

"Biggest secret we was ever told by Pa and his pa. Back to days of first fathers and first mothers and children. These outlanders know it."

 

"Must be all right, Mervyn. Only us Guard knows it. Must be kin to us."

 

The worry lines vanished, showing the blank face again. "Sure they must."

 

Ryan picked up on it. "Distant cousins, is my guess, Mervyn and Titus. Now, how about some of that meat for your visiting cousins, huh?"

 

"Buffalo," they said together.

 

"Told you," Jak whispered.

 

"Nobody likes a smart ass," Krysty replied.

 

 

 

THE MEAT WAS FINE, the buffalo ribs just a little blackened around the edges.

 

The fire had been built more or less in the center of the concrete floor, surrounded by scorched beams of concrete. The smoke found its way to the ceiling, where the air-conditioning got rid of it.

 

The brothers sat cross-legged, each with a plate of the meat on his lap. Titusat least Ryan thought it was Titushad disappeared and returned with seven more plates, all dirty, and seven spoons, all filthy.

 

Ryan noticed that they were stamped with the U.S. Army markings.

 

"How long you boys lived here?" he asked, as he munched on a chunk of meat, wishing that there had been some vegetables or some bread to go with it.

 

"All our days," Mervyn replied. "Yeah, all our fuckin' days." It looked like Titus tried to speak at the same moment, but he nearly choked on a great chunk of the coarse-grained meat and ended up coughing and spluttering.

 

"How old are you?" Dean asked.

 

Both heads swiveled toward him like linked gun turrets, both pairs of eyes examining him curiously. "Don't know," they chorused. "Old as our teeth."

 

"You had family?" J.B. had been wrestling for some time with a particularly gristly piece of meat, and he finally abandoned the struggle and spit it onto his plate.

 

Titus and Mervyn looked at each other for at least a minute, as though they were communicating telepathically.

 

"You tell him how it was, Mervyn," Titus said.

 

Mervyn began to recite, hands folded in his lap, eyes closed, as if he were rattling off a tale that had been drummed into him years before.

 

"Skydark came and all ran from the redoubt. Many slept forever. After this came long winters when land slept. First father and mother with guard children came to redoubt from the small-house place. Found three-five-two after many days of counting and open came the great doors. Found two-five-three and closed. This was the power."

 

Titus echoed him. "Amen and this was the power."

 

"So it was. Guards forever. First father and mother slept. Children slept. Then came second fathers and mothers and children. After long winters they slept. But always guards. Yeah, always fuckin' guards."

 

"Don't say 'fuckin' here," Titus said. "Say it the right speaking way."

 

"All well and this was home for many children and many fathers and mothers. Then came day of fire and white smoke in heart of Redoubt. Ever after, many fathers and mothers sleep younger. And less and less children borning."

 

There was a long stillness. Ryan wasn't sure if the saga was over as he looked at the others. "Skydark came and the place was evacuated. Local people from a nearby ville came here. Experimented for some time and stumbled on the number code."

 

"A short and simple one that wouldn't have taken an infinity of choices," Doc said.

 

"Right. Everyone lived here. Good protection once they mastered the outer doors. Looks like they never got deeper into the section toward the gateway. Then there was A fire?"

 

"Could have been a nuke meltdown in part of the redoubt," Krysty suggested. "Account for the lack of babies and the rad sickness. These two look like they're the last of the line of self-appointed guards to the redoubt."

 

The words "guards" brought instant attention from the brothers.

 

"Guards of the Redoubt," they said. "We have the task of keeping the redoubt safe from enemies."

 

Titus suddenly looked sharply at Ryan. "You are enemies of the redoubt?"

 

"Course not."

 

"Enemies die," they chorused. "When shall that be? On the day of enemies? Who shall do it? The guards."

 

They gave themselves a round of applause, which Ryan and then the others joined in.

 

"You got sleeping places?" J.B. asked. "Be real honored if we could stay a night."

 

Ryan glanced at the tiny rad counter that he wore in his lapel, seeing that it was shading from yellow toward orange, lending credibility to Krysty's theory of a nuke leak. It was severe enough not to want to spend several days in the redoubt, but one night should be safe at that rad level.

 

"Showing highish," he said to the Armorer, who checked his own counter.

 

"Yellow sliding toward orange," he said. "Probably risk staying one night."

 

Ryan nodded. "Why not? Have shelter and then move on after dawn."

 

Titus and Mervyn exchanged stares, both nodding at precisely the same second.

 

"We got plenty of beds," they said together. "You friends of the redoubt, then you're all friends of the Guards."

 

"Hot pipe," Dean said, clapping his hands together. "Any more of that buffalo meat left?" He shook his head at the response from Titus and Mervyn. "Well, mebbe tomorrow?"

 

 

 

THEY ALL WALKED up a corridor for about a hundred yards, straight into the domestic heart of the old redoubt, into the dormitories and living quarters of the complex.

 

Titus and Mervyn strutted together, perfectly in step, pointing out proudly where the washing facilities were, as well as a room that was filled with racks of camouflage clothes like the ones they wore.

 

"No weapons?" J.B. asked.

 

"Got our blasters." Both tapped the butts of the holstered Smith amp; Wesson Model 29s. "Father of fathers said there was more, but they all got lost or broke."

 

Mervyn spoke on his own. "Only got some small bits of ammo left now."

 

Titus slapped him on the arm. "Guards don't tell fuckin' outlanders shit like that."

 

"Sorry, brother."

 

He turned to Ryan. "We Guards of the Redoubt got plenty of ammo."

 

"Sure you do. Those are the sleeping quarters just ahead of us. You guards sleep in there?"

 

"Yeah, we do. But plenty of beds for all. Go look."

 

 

 

THERE WERE five long rooms, each with about twenty iron beds, each bed with its own small footlocker. The mattresses, sealed in plastic, were in a separate room farther along the white-painted passage.

 

Ryan had seen similar sections in redoubts that had only been partially evacuated during the days immediately before or after skydark.

 

Once Titus and Mervyn had shown them where they could sleep, the brothers seemed keen to head off on their own again.

 

But J.B. called after them. "Hey!"

 

"What?"

 

"You know where we are?"

 

A look of contempt crossed both placid faces. "Course."

 

"Where?"

 

Both freely waved a hand. "Here."