Lastly, she went to the ammo pile and, after rooting around and finding an old cloth sack, stuffed as many boxes of various calibers into it as she could, thinking all the while that she was glad that good old Clanky had shown her how to pick the right bullets for the right gun. She also spotted her satchel lying in a pile of junk, grabbed it, and found that all of her things were still there. Very good. Then, staggering a little under the weight, she turned to CJ and the others and, seeing them all (except the small, dark lady, who skulked in the tunnel outside with the Kid) similarly gunned-up and ready, announced that she was ready to go.
CJ looked longingly at all of the weapons and gear and shook his head. “We should take all this shit,” he said. “I mean, this is some valuable commodities, you know? Hell, the ammo alone is worth a damn fortune!”
Seymour nodded. “We need a way to move it,” he said. “Cart or something.”
“Ain’t seen nothin’ like that around,” said CJ. “An’ it’d take a week to move it by hand.”
Teresa, the thrill of the unexpected bounty of weapons wearing off and the creeps returning, chafed at the delay and fidgeted. “We should jus’ go,” she said. “Alway come back, hey? Get the stuff later.”
“Yeah, guess yer right,” said CJ sadly. “Jus’ hope it’s all still here when we do.”
They were about to leave when she noticed that the Kid was gone. He’d been hanging around out in the tunnel with the unnamed small lady last she saw, but now there was no sign of him. She turned to the strange woman.
“Where that kid go?” she asked. “Huh?”
The woman glared back, a crazy, angry sort of look in her eyes, but said nothing. Teresa went right up to her and asked again.
“Where the kid?” she demanded. “Din’t ya see ‘im? Where he go, huh?”
The woman still said nothing, but finally shook her head. Exasperated, Teresa turned away from the woman (who was obviously not quite all there or deaf or something), and peered down the nearby tunnels.
“Now where that little greep get to?” she wondered aloud. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted. “Hey, Kid!” she called, setting off all kinds of weird echoes. “Where you at, Kid?! Hey!”
But there were just the echoes and no sign of the Kid.
“Looks like he run off,” said CJ. “Is he, you know, is he your son?”
“What, me?” said Teresa. “Oh, Dog no! No way, no how. Naw, see, he just some doopy little rugger we come across. Been draggin’ along with us, hey?”
“Uh huh,” said CJ. “Well, looks like he took off, huh? I mean, you don’ wanna go lookin’ for him, do ya? Chances are, he jus’ went back the way we came, you know?”
Teresa frowned and peered down the stinking, dismal tunnels. She certainly hated to leave the little greep, and it pained her to think of him injured or captured by the muties, especially after how he’d saved everyone’s asses and all, but then, CJ made a good point; the Kid seemed to take care of himself just fine. Finally she nodded grimly and moved away and they started their long way back to the Birthday Chamber.
She was still wondering about the Kid, warily padding along in the rear of the group, when they were ambushed. One second they were walking along, no problems, and the next they were suddenly surrounded by at least a dozen freakish monsters. Later they would see that the things had been hiding in a couple of camouflaged niches in the tunnel walls. At the time, though, there was no time to wonder as the sodden air was abruptly filled with muzzle flashes, cordite smoke, and the weird screaming howls of the monsters.
Teresa, at the first sign of danger, had dropped all of her new toys but the assault rifle and now raised the weapon, snapped off the safety, and opened up on a great big tentacle-man bearing down on her. The gun had a nice kick, good and solid, and she let off a stream of six shots that tore into the big mutant like he was made of cheese, producing small, perfectly circular entry wounds and then punching out great gobs of meat and gore on exit. Within two seconds, the big thing was flat on its face and dying, joining two others who’d been similarly dispatched by CJ and Seymour. The remaining monsters, all flailing limbs and goggling eyes, sort of melted into the shadows, down the tunnels and cracks, and disappeared.
In the aftermath of this brief, violent event, Teresa caught her breath, checked her weapon and put it back on safety, then noticed that the little woman with no name was lying curled in a tight ball on the floor, her hands over her ears, shaking like a Sick victim. Obviously the poor thing just wasn’t very strong, mentally or otherwise. Teresa had seen this kind of thing all her life. Some people could deal with the violence and killing, the whole banger mentality, while others couldn’t and freaked out and went zane crazy over it, or spent all their time totally drunkled. Just the way things were. Feeling a little bad for the woman anyway, she went over to her and knelt nearby.
“Hey,” she said softly. “They gone now. We chased ‘em off, hey? All gone.”
The woman unclenched some and peeked at Teresa through her matted hair. The she looked around apprehensively and unclenched some more. Before long, she was getting up.
“Huh,” said CJ, eyeing one of the dead monsters. “Now we know where your little amigo went, don’t we?”
Teresa nodded, joining him. She’d had the same thought. “Yeah,” she said. “Must be able to smell these freakos. Like real good, hey?”
“Yeah,” CJ said. “An’ he’s smart enough to make himself scarce when he does. Shifty little ratón, ain’t he?”
Teresa smiled. “Good thing, too!” she said. “Else, we all be chopped up by that zaned rasta greep in them funny clothes!”
“Don’t remind me!” said CJ, turning from the corpses and starting away. “An’ don’ forget, I was next! No, hermana, believe me, I love that little fucker!”
They resumed their walk back to the Birthday Room and, aside from getting lost a few times, had no trouble along the way. Even so, Teresa couldn’t shake the urge to bolt and run and never look back. This was the worst place she’d ever been and only the prospect of reuniting with Case and the Old Man and the others and getting out of here kept her going. That, and maybe trying out her new toys.
Chapter Fifty-Three
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When the adrenaline and shock finally started to wear off, Justin had some time to think and put things in perspective, but they seemed no better in retrospect. In fact, the more he thought about it, the worse he felt and the deeper he sank into a kind of numb, morose torpor, oblivious to both his surroundings and his companions.
For one thing, he deeply regretted that he would probably never have a chance to study these strange, misshapen beings. That they were human, at least originally, he had no doubt, and this meant a whole new vista, a field of scientific study so unprecedented as to be fantastic. It might very well be the kind of discovery that set any number of sciences on their ear. Anthropology, archaeology, natural science, medicine, genetics, even basic biology, all would be potentially changed forever. And he, Dr. Justin Kaes, should be the one at the forefront of the research. In the world Before, he would have been famous and distinguished in ways beyond belief. It was a professional jackpot.