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Chapter Twenty-Nine
There were only three screams, the last cut off short, as though someone had
gagged the young woman, or knocked her unconscious.
Or chilled her.
The only illumination in the small room came through a tiny slit window high
up, allowing the weakest of filtered light from outside.
Ryan drew the SIG-Sauer and looked quickly around him, seeing what options
there were.
"Not many," he said grimly.
The door was iron, hanging on rusting hinges, with a simple bar lock. Someone
on the other side must have slipped it, intending to keep him in there while
they did what they wanted to Kate.
"Don't worry," a voice called through the door. "Stay quiet, brother, and
it'll be quickly over and then she'll have paid the elder the due price of
respect."
Ryan didn't waste breath on replying.
The red killing mist had swept down over his eye, filling his brain, and he
fought against it, looking carefully at the door as he recovered something of
his combat composure.
The room was so small that he could lean against the wall opposite the closed
door. He'd taken the usual precaution of sleeping fully clothed, including the
steel-
tipped boots.
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Ryan braced himself against the wall, powering both feet into a devastating
kick at the door. The hinges crumbled into shards of orange rust, and the door
crashed open.
It gave way so easily that Ryan slipped and fell, nearly dropping the blaster
into the gaping shithole. By the time he recovered, the elder's flock had a
few moments to try to recover their composure.
But as he stepped into the sleeping quarters, Ryan realized that they could
have had most of eternity and still not managed to recover. They stood in a
frozen tableau, with Kate at their center.
She was spread-eagled on one of the top bunks, tied by wrists and ankles.
Elder
Bluffield stood by her left hand, holding a small open razor, its blade
winking in the glow of the overhead lamp.
He was gripping the young woman's left hand, forcing her to open her fingers.
Ryan waved the gaping muzzle of the 9 mm automatic at them, seeing nobody else
seemed to be armed at all.
"This has a silencer, so nobody beyond these four walls'll hear a sound. But
you'll all be dying. Starting with you, Elder. Cut her free with that blade,
and be real careful. If I see any blood, I start blowing holes in stomachs."
"If the guards come they'll chill us all," squeaked a tiny man with a
weathered face.
"Make the wrong move and I'll fucking chill you all," Ryan said, calm and
quiet.
"Let this happen, brother, and we can all live and work as one." Bluffield
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nodded like a child's puppet.
Ryan shook his head in disbelief. "You are about the sickest triple stupe I
ever did
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file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathlands%20015
%20-%20Chill%20Factor.html see. Just use that knife slow and cut the girl
free."
Bluffield looked around at his followers. "Will nobody rid me of this
troublesome man?" he asked. "None of you?"
"Living beats dying, Elder. Do it now."
Only the reality of having to conceal corpses or do a runner from the mines
checked Ryan's finger on the trigger of the powerful blaster. To put a couple
of rounds through the bearded old man's belly would have been a rich and
genuine pleasure.
The razor moved toward Kate's neck, past the balled gag of cotton waste that
forced her jaws apart, on to the cords around her wrists. The sharp steel
breathed through the thin ropes and cut her free.
"And her ankles."
The young woman sat up, fingers frantically unknotting the gag. Her eyes were
wide with shock, and there was a dark bruise on her right cheek.
"You know what these& " she began, but Ryan hushed her with a movement of the
SIG-Sauer.
"I know."
Bluffield finished cutting her free and stood there, still holding the
gleaming blade, not sure what to do with it.
"Off the bed and over here," Ryan ordered. "You're all right?"
It was a statement with only the barest hint of a question. Kate simply nodded
and moved across the narrow room to join him.
"Now what?" the elder asked, struggling to retain a tattered vestige of
authority
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