There was an awkward silence between them.
The others sat quietly, away from the corpses. Lori was picking dirt off the heels of her boots, wiping the little silver bells clean; Doc was at her side, whistling tunelessly to himself; Jak simply sat still; Rick was lying stretched out, clutching his walking cane. His face was ghostly pale, his breathing fast and shallow. Watching him, Ryan was beginning to wonder whether the freezie was going to make it — even if they did get past the rest of the ville and reached the gateway in safety.
Krysty leaned against a large, frost-scarred boulder, eyes closed. Sensing that Ryan was looking at her, she opened her green eyes.
"How d'you read it, lover?" she asked.
"Not good if they got the blacktop covered. We can't get any transport to move any distance. Desert'll chill us, like the biker said. What we have to do is find some way of bringing Mote and his buddies into a serious firefight. Distract them and hold them long enough for us to get through Snakefish and out past the snakes. No way we can avoid them. Just step careful and light. But..." His voice trailed doubtfully away.
Krysty smiled at him. "I don't see any better way. They won't come at us until first light. We gotta be ready. Either in the old park ruins or in the gas-processing plant. Gaia! The smell from that place fills my nostrils."
Ryan kissed her unexpectedly on the cheek. "Lover, you've just given me the seed of an idea. It might just..."
"What?"
"No. Let me think on it. Try and get some sleep. Nobody's going anywhere until we get close to the dawning."
Ryan, Krysty, J.B and Jak kept watch in turn through the night. As soon as there was the faintest pink lightening to the east, Ryan woke everyone in the group.
Rick rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Always feel better first thing," he said. "Soon as the day starts it's all downhill. Is that the sun I see?"
"False dawn," J.B. told him.
"How can you tell?"
The Armorer gave him a thin, humorless smile. "Secrets of our trade, freezie. But since you're one of us, I'll show you. Watch."
He stooped and picked up a white, smooth pebble, tossing it from hand to hand. He looked at the walls of rock that rose twenty or thirty feet above them.
Ryan grinned at Krysty. He'd seen J.B. pull this trick before, in a different place and at a very different time.
"Watch the stone," J.B. ordered.
He lobbed it as high as he could in the air. Everyone watched it rise then disappear into the darkness, before suddenly reappearing. J.B. put out a hand and caught it cleanly. "Now, you all lost sight of it, didn't you?" Everyone nodded dutifully. "I'll do it again, in five minutes or so. Then you'll all see the point of it."
The storm had drifted away to south toward the old looping Rio Grande and the barbaric wilderness that had once been the country of Mexico.
Ryan went around a bend in the draw and pissed against a rock, the urine steaming in the cool of the morning. Jak appeared at his side, on a similar mission.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"Me an' J.B. could circle and start diversion. Keep 'em off rest."
"No, Jak. Nice offer. We got Rick and we got Carla, and we got Lori and Doc. None of them are that strong in a firelight. We go down or we go through. But we do it together."
"Sure. Just thought..."
"Thanks, Jak. I mean it." He patted the slim boy on the shoulder.
When they rejoined the others, J.B. was holding the pebble again. "Come on, guys. Might learn something. I know you've seen it, Ryan. But the kid hasn't."
"Don't call..."
"Sorry," he said hastily. "Watch the stone now."
It spiraled way up, vanishing like before. Then, at its highest point, it reappeared, startlingly white, catching the first rays of the dawn from beyond the visible horizon. Krysty clapped her hands.
"Great, J.B., great."
"Nice," Jak nodded.
Doc beamed. "A fine example of the multifarious uses of physics, my dear Mr. Dix. If I was only back in my lecture room at... But I am not. And I never will be. So, let that pass."
The stone dropped into the dirt. Ryan rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "Tells us what we need to know. They'll likely be out here at full light. Best find some place to be ready for them."
A two-wheel wag was parked in the entrance to the Sierra Sunrise Park, its chrome glittering, the flake finish bright. It was Zombie's beloved Harley-Davidson Electra Glide, propped on its stand, the sissy bars raked back. Carla walked over to it and tapped her thumb on the gas tank.
"Full." She hesitated, looking at the others. "Nobody objects if I take it, do they?"
J.B. answered for them all. "Nobody got a better right to it, Carla."
She swung her leg over it, straddling the soft leather of the narrow seat, hands on the grips. "The ville's done and I don't want to stay. I'm not running from the fight. It's just that it's not my fight anymore. I'll move on, away. Full tank'll take me a long ways off."
"Where will you go?" Krysty asked, seeing that J.B. wanted to ask, knowing that his pride would stop him.
"North. Have a sister in a ville called Chapmanston. I'll head there."
"Good luck," Lori said.
"Mebbe see you some day, Carla." J.B. took a half step toward the powerful motorcycle, then stopped.
Carla held out her hand to him. "If you're ever around Chapmanston, on the Missouri, come up and see me, John. I'd like that."
The Armorer took her hand and kissed her chastely on the cheek. Then he broke away and took off his spectacles, wiping them with an unusual vigor. "Go careful, Carla."
"And you, John. Bye, friends."
She fired the ignition and revved the engine a couple of times. Then she was gone, the rear wheel spinning in the loose dirt, fishtailing across the highway before gathering speed. They all watched the red glow of her rear light until it finally faded away into the distance.
"Time to get ready to meet Norman Mote and the others," Ryan said to his companions.
"Let's do it," J.B. agreed, his glasses finally polished to his satisfaction.
They found that the main gas plant was completely unguarded. Krysty guessed that the Motes had called in every single available man for the attack on the rooming house, even bringing in his sec patrols. It seemed a likely theory.
By the industrial standards of the late twentieth century, the complex wasn't very large. But by the standards of Deathlands it was enormous. There were three large storage tanks, each holding what must have been thousands of gallons of processed gasoline. The actual processing was done inside a long warehouse-like building. To the north were at least a dozen rocking-donkey pumps, nodding away in the growing light.
"Good place to meet them," J.B. said approvingly, looking around thoughtfully.
"Sure is," Ryan agreed. "They aren't going to want to pour too much lead into a place like this. One spark and five miles around could go up."
"And us with it?" Doc asked.
"Worse ways of nailing down the lid," Ryan replied. "It'd be quick."
"Coming!" Jak shouted. "Lotta wags."
Ryan looked at his small group of friends. "Get ready. And good luck."
Chapter Thirty-Four
The gas plant proved to be an inspired defensive position against the overwhelming numbers of the opposing force. It had several low walls but only one possible entrance. So the Motes and their army had to come through the front door.