“Should we have a look?” said Justin. “It sounds safe.”
“I think so,” said Bowler. “maybe not, though, I mean, what if it comes back?”
“I don’t think it’s going to,” Justin said, head cocked in attention. “I think it’s over.”
“Do we wanna take the chance?” said Cornell. “Maybe we should just wait.”
They were still thus occupied, back and forth, when there was suddenly a loud rapping on the tub’s metal side and a voice rang out.
“Come on out,” called the stranger. “Storm’s over.”
Justin hesitated, then called back: “Are you sure?”
“Yes, godammit,” barked the man. “Get yer asses out here. Now.”
With Cornell’s help, he did so, heaving the massive tub over on its side and, blinking and staggering, stood up and looked around. The barn was gone. There were still pieces of it, girders and sheets of metal and bits of wood and debris, but as far as an actual structure was concerned, the barn had been wiped from the face of the earth.
Happily, the storm was also gone. There were still big clouds off to the east, a light rain was drizzling down, and they could still hear rumbles of thunder, but in terms of violent weather, they were now well away from any further danger. In fact, the sky to the west was already clearing and patches of blue shone through.
What was left was one hell of a big mess. Trees, branches, and sticks seemed to form most of the debris, but there were also innumerable bits and pieces of man-made material as well. Tires, pieces of cars, and road signs, clothing, toys, and all manner of household goods, plus a mighty assortment of just plain garbage were all tossed together and strewn about as if swept by a flood. And maybe a couple of hurricanes. Apart from a single, squat outbuilding, there was not a single object over a foot tall still standing, and the ground was covered in big puddles of muddy water.
To his relief, Justin noted that their car was still right where they’d left it, apparently unharmed, but just as he started to relax a little, the stranger’s voice interrupted and brought him jarringly back to reality.
“Flip over that other tub,” he said imperiously.
Justin and Cornell did as they’d been told, heaving the heavy fixture over on its side, and then helped Cass, Erin Swails, and the Old Man to their feet. They were, naturally, as amazed and shocked as Justin had been. Mr. Lampert was, as usual, the most vocal.
“Holy fuckin’ shit!” he croaked, looking about. “Willya lookit that!”
No one said anything. Justin turned slowly to face their captor and then did a double take at what he saw. Dressed previously in assorted dark-colored rags, the man was now clad only in a skin-tight suit of some sort, crisscrossed with straps and belts from which hung various weapons. There were a few rags left, around the man’s ankles, wrists, and neck, but otherwise the surface of his body was covered in a weird, ever-changing material that was currently a vague, blue-green color. As Justin watched, the material shifted, becoming mostly green, tinged here and there with brown. Before he could ask, Cornell answered his unasked question.
“Nano-suit,” he said appreciatively. “And a state o’ the art one, too.”
“Oh, yes,” said Justin, reeling a bit. “I’ve read about those.”
The stranger cut them short. “Shuddup, both of ya,” he said curtly. “And just do what I say, OK?”
“Yes, of course,” said Justin hastily. “But what do you intend to do? That is, if you would just listen to what I have to say—”
“I said,” the man growled, “to shut the fuck up.” Justin did, and the man paced a few steps, seeming to think. “OK, here’s the deal, Doc. I am taking the Old Man. And, since I just might need help with him, I’m takin’ this here nurse, too.”
Justin started to protest, but the man glared him back to silence.
“And that means,” the man went on stonily, “that the rest of you present somethin’ of a problem. That is to say, what am I gonna do with you?”
“Do with us?” echoed Justin weakly. ‘What do you mean?”
“Well, way I see it,” the man said reasonably, “I can’t really just take off and leave you here, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you’d come after me. Sure, I’m gonna take yer car, too, but still.”
“But… I… we,” Justin stammered, “that is—”
“And,” the man continued, “it wouldn’t be humane to tie you up and leave you to starve or get killed by wolves, now would it? Which brings us back to square one. What am I gonna do with you?”
“Hey, mister,” said Bowler, hands out in supplication. “you don’t hafta do anything with me! I won’t come after you, I promise! I mean, I’m sorry Doctor Kaes, but I kinda gotta speak for myself on this one, you know?”
Justin nodded. “I understand. But I think that you, sir, may be making more of this than need be. That is, if you steal our vehicle, I don’t really see how we could follow you.”
“You’d find a way,” said the man, smiling grimly. “I know you, Doc. You ain’t gonna give up that easy. Not so sure about these others, maybe they’d leave me alone, maybe they wouldn’t. But you? Naw, you’d find some way.”
Justin blinked and frowned. “You seem to know all about me. Is it too much to ask your name?”
“Never mind that,” scowled the other. From some hidden pouch in the small of his back, he produced a set of what looked like big thick twist-ties. With his other hand, he motioned with the rifle. “Well, for right now, anyway, I’m gonna truss ya up. Gotta couple things to take care of, then I’ll decide. OK, you, big fella,” he gestured at Cornell, “take these here binders and lash the Doc to that girder over there.”
Cornell nodded and moved forward, his movements stiff and his face pale. Then he suddenly leapt forward, fast as a shot, and was grappling with the man for control of the rifle. A fierce, grunting struggle ensued, the two men hopping and scrabbling for position and if Cornell had a good foot in height and at least 50 pounds of weight on the man, his opponent showed no sign of being overborne or easily disarmed. Justin snatched up a length of wood and he and the others circled around, ready to hit the stranger from behind, but the two men’s gyrations meant that it would have been just as likely they’d hit Cornell. And then, before they could do anything else, the fight quickly ended as the man kneed Cornell forcefully in the crotch and the bigger man went gasping to his knees. The stranger leapt back, a terrible glow in his icy blue eyes, and aimed the rifle squarely at Cornell’s face. Even from ten feet away, Justin could see the tension in the man’s finger as it poised above the trigger.
“Wait, don’t!” cried Justin, waving his arms.
And then the man shot Cornell, straight through the forehead. There was a sharp zap sort of noise, not all that loud, really, but incredibly nasty, and a tiny bolt of white light erupted from the muzzle of the rifle and zipped completely through Cornell’s head like a stone passing through water. Stunned, much of his cranium and brain simply vaporized, Cornell’s eyes and mouth went very wide, his body stiffened spastically, and then he fell over into a puddle of gore, hitched a few last breaths, and died.
Shocked beyond words or action, Justin gaped from Cornell to the man, his hands up, frozen, and hoped very much that he was not about to die. The man, his face contorted in black rage, jerked the rifle from one of them to the next.
“You motherfuckers think this is some kinda fuckin’ game?!” he snarled. “Some kinda fuckin’ cops and robbers bullshit from Before? Like they’s laws an’ shit to protect ya? Well, there ain’t, OK? I am the motherfucking law! You got that?!”