Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

'Watch out for loose rocks. They last thing we need is for one of us to break his ankle.'

Slowly the crest of the hill came closer. When they were only fifty yards away, Reave signaled to the Minstrel Boy. 'Keep low; we don't want to skyline ourselves.'

In a half crouch, they crested the hill. The lake was in front of them, contained in a bowl formed by the sculpted hills. Its mirror surface reflected the dozen or more bonfires that burned along its far edge. By the standards of the force that had attacked Krystaleit, the camp was a small one. Three armored cars stood side by side, and maybe a dozen tents were pitched in a loose circle. They could just make out the shapes of men moving around.

The Minstrel Boy lay in the grass and stared. 'There don't seem to be that many of them, but these're more than enough to make a mess of Palanaque.'

'Let's move in closer.'

'Do we have to?'

'Can't stop now.'

The Minstrel Boy sighed and followed Reave down the slope.

Things are bad

How bad?

Real bad

Bad

Bad

You know what I mean by bad?

Bad

Bad

Real bad

Awful bad

Bad

Bad

So bad

Too bad

Bad as hell

Bad

Bad

And you know something else?

It's getting worse.

Primary Stanza of 'The Bad Mantra' by Clay Blaisdell

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was, beyond any doubt, a human arm. One of the fingers even wore a ring that no one had bothered to remove;. The filthy hunched figure with the highspikes and bone earrings dragged it from the fire, oblivious to the fact that it was hardly cooked, and, juggling the hot meat from hand to hand, began snatching bites from it. The way the creature's teeth flashed in the firelight suggested that they were made of stainless steel. The Minstrel Boy stared in horror as blood and grease dripped down the thing's chin.

'They've sunk to cannibalism.'

Reave took hold of his arm. 'Just walk on slow and don't look surprised at anything.'

'That's easy to say.'

'Our lives depend on it, so walk on.'

A second figure lurched up to the one crouched over the arm and tried to grab it from him. They scuffled together, grunting and cursing. In front of a nearby tent a human head had been set up on the end of a spear. The face was bloated and unrecognizable, but the spear looked uncommonly like the ones used by the Palanaquii hoplites. Beyond the tent two vulture bats, the kind that the DNA Cowboys had first seen in Santa Freska, were picking at something in the grass.

'What the hell is happening to humanity?'

Reave could scarcely repress a shudder. 'I'm damned if I know, buddy. I'm damned if I know. It's like we're on the fast slope all the way down.'

They walked slowly on through the camp, avoiding the large knots of men. As far as Reave could estimate there were about 150 in the force, heavily armed, about the same mixture of shootists, Margin boys, and neoprimitives they had seen atKrystaleit. They were in very bad shape. The only things there seemed to be plenty of were guns, ammunition, and rotgut booze. The soldiers looked ragged and haggard, and the whole camp stank of filth and unwashed men. The stink alone was a major shock after the perfumed courtyards and splashing fountains of Palanaque. The small army looked to be starving, and it was altogether possible that the cannibalism Reave and the Minstrel Boy had witnessed was a matter of necessity as well as calculated depravity.

The entire area was a picture of demoralization. As Reave and the Minstrel Boy had skirted the lake, taking advantage of the darkness, they had encountered no guards, patrols, or pickets. The raiding party clearly realized that it had little or nothing to fear from the army of Palanaque, but at the same time, it did not seem ready to launch an assault on the city. The men appeared to be resting, gathering whatever strength they had left.

'What do you think happened to these guys?'

'It looks like they recently took a bad beating. They're a mess.'

They passed another head on a pole — it was still wearing its plumed helmet and was definitely one of the company from Palanaque. Reave and the Minstrel Boy no longer looked too hard at what the figures beside the fires were doing. A line of tethered lizards made a sorry sight. They looked as though they had been ridden long and hard. Their necks drooped, their skin hung loosely on their bones, and every rib was visible.

Beyond the fires and the circle of dirty tents, two bulky objects were secured with guy ropes and covered in plastic sheeting.

'What do you think those things are?'

'Beats me.'

'Does it occur to you that they might be a couple of aircraft?' the Minstrel Boy suggested.

Reave nodded. 'It does, indeed. Let's drift casually in that direction and take a closer look.'

'After that, can we get out of here? I feel like we're pushing our luck already.'

'Nobody's given us a second look so far.'

'It only takes one. I don't particularly care to be some degenerate cannibal's breakfast. Besides, we're too damn clean and well fed. We stand out.'

'We'll take a look at those things, over there, and then we'll melt away.'

They started walking slowly in the direction of the plastic-sheathed objects. They were just passing through the circle of tents when Reave froze. Three men had emerged from a nearby tent, the largest in the camp.

'I don't believe it.'

Reave quickly turned on his heel and walked off in the opposite direction, head down and hiding his face. The Minstrel Boy quickly followed him.

'You know those men?'

'Vlad fucking Baptiste! He's still alive.'

'What?'

'That's Gord, his driver, and the Old Metal Monster walking with him. They're all alive. This must be all that's left of his army.'

'How in hell did he manage to survive?'

'He must have somehow gotten out of Krystaleit before it blew.'

'And we've got to get out of here right now. There's bound to be others here who can recognize you.'

' You 're not kidding.'

They walked as quickly as they dared toward the edge of the camp. It began to look as though they were going to make it — until a figure lurched drunkenly out of a clump of bushes where it had been relieving itself. To turn back could have been too obvious, so Reave pulled his hat down lower over his face and decided to brazen it out. As the drunk stumbled past them, he eyed Reave and the Minstrel Boy with a total lack of curiosity or even interest. Then, suddenly, he beamed.

'Hey, Reave Mekonta! You're looking good, boy.'

He stumbled back toward the fires. The Minstrel Boy turned and watched his staggering progress. He slid a knife out of his belt.

'He's drunk, but he's going to realize at any moment.'

The drunk stopped. He seemed to be thinking. He slowly turned. The Minstrel Boy held his arm loosely at his side.

'Here we go.'

The drunk's voice was an incredulous croak. 'Reave Mekonta?'

The Minstrel Boy's hand flashed in an underarm throw. Theblade caught the drunk square in the throat. He let out a surprised gurgle and collapsed. The Minstrel Boy ran to the body and retrieved his knife. As an afterthought he took the beat-up SG from the dead man's belt and hung it on his own.

'Now can we get the hell out of here?'

'What say we grab a couple of lizards and make a run for it?'

'Let's go.'

They unhitched a brace of the exhausted reptiles and led them quietly off into the darkness, away from the camp. Once out of sight, they swung onto the animals' backs, not bothering with saddles. It took a number of kicks to get the beasts moving, but finally they set to lumbering up the hill that lay between the camp and the stretch of river where the boat was waiting.