Perception Fault (16 page)

Ryan had been right about the rest of the morning except one thing—Carrington had men, vehicles and equipment ready almost from the moment Ryan had agreed to go out and investigate the airport. It was all Ryan could do to convince him that they weren’t heading out until later that morning.

“You bet much, Josiah? If you read men that well, we could make a fortune out east at the gambling halls.”

The elder Carrington was overseeing the final preparations before they departed, and he flashed Ryan a wide smile. “I don’t bet. I just try to cover as many angles as possible. If you’d said no, these men would have escorted you up to thirty miles outside of the city in any direction and sent you on your way. However, since they’re here…” His manner was jovial this morning, a stark contrast to the alternating sly, bombastic and ingratiating facades he’d presented the night before.

They were taking three mil wags out to the site, one for Ryan’s group and two to escort them. In order to fit all of Ryan’s people into his vehicle, theirs didn’t have a machine gun mount on it, but the other two did, an M-60 machine gun poking out of the top of each one. The Hummers appeared to be from the very top-of-the-line of the city’s fleet, with well-treaded tires, almost no dents and hardly worn, comfortable seats.

Major Kelor was there, as well as Sergeant Caddeus,
who would apparently be leading the Denver units. This was over the major’s objections, judging by his strained conversation with Josiah that Ryan had observed, but not heard, earlier. He kept his eye on the two sec men as they worked, but all he saw was efficient orders given and received between an officer and a subordinate.

That reminded Ryan of the fact that someone high up in the security chain of Denver was working with the enemy. He watched the two sec men as they instructed the men assigned to each outlying mil wag. Either one could be colluding with Tellen’s men for the same plum he’d dangled in front of Ryan—a share of Denver itself. He’d seen it happen before in more villes than he cared to name. Either man was a likely candidate—Kelor if he was itching for a change of leadership, and found Tellen’s more suited to his needs; and Caddeus if he wanted to get rid of both Carrington and Kelor in one bloody coup. Maybe the sergeant was going on this mission to feed information to Tellen’s forces, as well. Ryan wouldn’t put it past the man to have more than one plant in place, to verify that the intel he was receiving was correct. In his place, Ryan would have done the same thing.

At last everything and everyone was loaded up, and they were ready to head out. Ryan had just settled into the driver’s seat and fired up the diesel engine when Josiah walked over to his door. “I won’t waste your time with fancy speeches today, Ryan. It wouldn’t make no difference anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re gonna go out there and do what you think is best, regardless of anything I’d have to say about it.”

“That’s about the size of it. Now if you don’t mind…”
Ryan pointed at the lead vehicle, which was already getting underway.

“Course not. Just wanted to wish you good luck before you left, that’s all.”

“Thanks, we’ll be in touch.” Ryan scanned the launch area for Rachel, but didn’t see her. It was just as well. If she’d clamored to go with them, it would have made things a mite uncomfortable. Better that she was out of the way from the start. Nudging the accelerator, Ryan caught up to the lead wag, and the trio drove out of the city.

“See anything strange so far, J.B.?”

“Not outside. Just this brand-new radio in our ride, which doesn’t match either of the ones in the other two vehicles.” The Armorer held up the small, dark green box. “What do you want to bet it’s preset to a freq that’ll connect us right to your buddy on the other side of the wall?”

“I’ll pass, thanks. When we get a little farther out, I’ll try it and see who I raise. Meantime, everyone stay triple red, fingers on triggers. Since we have no idea of what we’re driving into, it’s best to be ready for anything.”

They followed a northeasterly route first. Ryan thought to try to confuse any of Tellen’s men that might be watching. The taller buildings rapidly fell away into rings of broken-down houses, many just a strong breeze away from collapsing into total ruins. After another ten minutes, they’d left the ville behind, and were on a battered highway that seemed to lead into endless, parched plains. The heat was already climbing inside the cab of the vehicle, and the dust thrown up from the passage of the first wag created a dry cloud that settled over everything and everyone in a fine layer of tan.

“Sure we not want peel off head to redoubt?” Jak asked after a violent bit of sneezing from the specks that had turned his white hair a mottled, creamy brown and covered his canvas jacket, as well. “Seems like fool’s run.”

“Mebbe so, but we’re already out this far. Might as well see what’s here. If anything. Although at the moment, I’m starting to think you may be right. What the hell—”

Ryan interrupted himself as they came over a rise to see one of the oddest sights he’d come across—a statue of a large, bright blue horse, rearing up on its hind legs, front hooves pawing at the sky. He started to slow down just as the rear of the lead wag seemed to tilt up and disappear in a large cloud of dust.

“Lead vehicle is gone! Repeat, lead vehicle is gone!” Ryan said over the radio as he slammed on the brakes. “Rear guard, keep your eyes open for ambushers! Everyone keep a watch all around. J.B., on me!”

Leaving the engine running, he opened the door and got out, trying to see past the thick dust cloud ahead. He heard cursing and shouting a few yards away, however, verifying that someone was alive in the mil wag. “Hey, down there, what happened?”

“Bastard pit dug in the road!” a voice shouted back. “Whole wag went in. We aren’t gonna get it out without a couple Hummers pullin’ on it! Hey, who’s— What the hell!”

Blasterfire suddenly erupted from the bottom, the sharp barks of blasters interspersed with some kind of loud whoops. Ryan tried to see what was happening, but the plume of dust kicked up by the SUV still hadn’t dissipated, and he wasn’t about to slide into whatever
was going on down there without seeing where he was going first.

The heavy chatter of the M-60 on the rear Hummer suddenly overwhelmed the fight that had broken out in the pit. Ryan turned to see the turret gunner firing short bursts at groups of raiders mounted on…blue horses?

Ryan resisted the urge to rub his eye to see if his was hallucinating, but a blink or two cleared the last of the errant dust away, letting him see the figures astride their painted horses clearly.

As if they had headed back down to the hell-roasted southwestern desert, Ryan and his convoy were being set upon by a large group of Native Americans on horses streaked with blue paint, obviously in homage to their crazy dark blue effigy on the desert plain. These raiders were armed with automatic longblasters, and, Ryan had to admit, insane courage, guiding their mounts with their knees while using both hands to aim and shoot their weapons. Bursts of fire were coming from both wags on the road now, aimed in all directions, as the raiders seemed to flow in and out of the dust cloud their galloping horses raised like desert ghosts.

The dust had settled enough in the pit for Ryan to finally be able to see enough to try to descend into it to help the men down there. He had just taken his first step when a woman’s shout was heard, followed by three shots, then the sounds of a scuffle.

“J.B., take the right side!” Ryan hissed as he tested the rear bumper of the wag, which was resting on the lip of the square hole. Satisfied that it would hold, he stepped up onto the back of the vehicle and started making his way across the roof, intending to reach the hood of the vehicle and use that as a way to reach the floor. His attempt was interrupted, however, when a
dark brown hand striped with blue reached out from inside the Hummer and grabbed his ankle.

Surprised, Ryan tried to wrench his foot free while keeping his balance on the metal rooftop, and failed to do both. Pitching headlong over the side, he vanished into the black space between the wag and the dirt wall.

“W
HAT FUCK
!” J
AK HAD DRAWN
his .357 Magnum Colt Python and was watching the horde of perhaps thirty to forty riding bandits approach. “Bein’ attacked by Indians!”

“The correct term would be ‘Native Americans,’ since they had roamed this land long before either your or my ancestors had come along.” Doc peered out of his side of the wag at the approaching raiders, readying his LeMat for action.

“At least we aren’t in a covered wagon on this prairie.” Mildred had also drawn her target pistol at the first sign of trouble, and was watching the riders gallop toward them along with everyone else. “I take it we’re staying here?”

“Can’t leave Ryan and J.B. out there unprotected,” Krysty said from the front seat. “Besides, these wags are armored enough to protect us from whatever they’re carrying. We just have to make sure they don’t get too close to us.”

Just then the gunner from the rear Hummer shouted in surprise. Mildred and Doc in the backseat both looked back to see something shiny and flaming arc through the air from one side and land in the turret with the tinkle of glass. A moment later, a burst of flame made the sec man leap out, screaming as he beat at the fire consuming his clothes. A shot cracked, and he fell to the ground, the fire hungrily consuming his body.
The return fire increased from the third mil wag, but more burning bottles seemed to come from nowhere, and soon the entire top of the vehicle was covered in flames.

“Shit, Ryan and J.B.’ll take care selves. If not get out here, we dead!” Jak scrambled into the driver’s seat and pulled the start button.

“Jak, we can’t leave without them—” she began when the tinkling of glass was heard nearby as a bottle smashed to pieces on the hood of their wag. It was followed by the familiar whoosh of flames as flammable liquid covered the hood.

“Fuck! Not leavin’ them. Evenin’ odds to come get ’em later!” Jak pushed the button again, letting the engine roar into life while he twisted the wheel and stomped on the accelerator. The wag surged forward—directly into the running line of men and horses. As they moved, Krysty saw bursts of flame erupt in the dry prairie grass as more Molotovs exploded nearby. “Head west! The fire’s going to spread east.” She glanced over at the rear end of the mil wag that had fallen into the pit, but couldn’t see anyone moving there. Ryan, she knew, would be all right. He’d been in worse situations than this.

“Goddamn! The sec men getting out of the other one are being cut down right and left!” Mildred shouted as she watched. “Looks like Jak had the right idea.”

“Mebbe. Hang on!” Jak pushed the Hummer up as fast as he dared, playing a deadly game of chicken with a group of six riders coming right at him. Most of them shied away, but one, his face and upper body painted bright blue, was determined to face down the four-wheeled menace, and kept his horse charging right at them while he aimed his M-16 at the windshield,
snapping off shots as fast as he could pull the trigger, his bullets starring the windshield as he drew closer and closer.

It was no contest. The armored three-ton vehicle, traveling at almost forty-five miles per hour, pulverized the horse and rider, snapping off the animal’s front legs and disintegrating its rib cage into fragmented shards of bone. The horse didn’t even have time to scream before its internal organs were pulped into mush by the battering ram of the mil wag’s front bumper and grille. Its body tumbled across the hood, smothering most of the fire before sliding off as Jak whipped the steering wheel hard right to dislodge the great bloody mess. The firing warrior was thrown from his mount and sailed twenty more yards through the air before crashing to the ground, dead upon impact.

Jak powered over the dead horse’s body, the wheels snapping more bones as they passed over the corpse, and turned back again toward the ambush site.

“Gotta provide distraction for Ryan, J.B.,” he grunted, sticking his blaster out the side window and firing at the remaining warriors.

“By the three Kennedys, I think that ought to turn their heads!” Doc took aim with his LeMat, dropping another rider in a cloud of smoke and pellets.

Their ambush only partially successful, the raiders had swiftly reformed into four smaller parties, and were now charging at the wag from four different directions. The companions’ smaller blasters were outmatched by both the caliber and number of weapons carried by their attackers, as well as the incoming volume of fire. They were reduced to sniping when they could as Jak labored to keep the groups scattered while not setting themselves up for too much concentrated return fire.

The best way to do this, he accidentally discovered, was to charge straight at one of the groups, forcing it to scatter as Krysty, Mildred and Doc took out riders or their mounts. Doc’s LeMat scattergun barrel was particularly effective, the balls crashing into the legs of horses and their riders, often sending the raiders crashing to the ground in a screaming, tangled heap of horse and human. Often Krysty or Mildred were able to take out at least a couple of the blue-painted warriors as they passed, as well. Although the horses were able to change directions more nimbly, the faster, more powerful wag had the edge in outpacing its attackers, and after several passes, the remains of the large group of raiders were broken and demoralized, with lone riders peeling off to retreat and fight another day.

Doc blew smoke out of the barrel of his ancient revolver. “Verily, I declare that we have driven off the raiders without injury to ourselves, and thus I declare us victorious.”

Krysty’s sweat and dust-covered face was grim. “Yeah, but we haven’t won the day just yet. Let’s get back to Ryan and J.B., and make sure they’re all right.”

Jak executed a neat 180-degree turn and headed back to the ambush site, clearly marked by the column of greasy, black smoke rising into the sky. A few minutes driving brought them back to the road, where the bodies of sec men and painted warriors littered the ground.