James Axler - Ice and Fire

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."

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.

Riddler, bulging over both sides of his saddle, roared ahead of the others, doing a spectacular wheelie, bellowing to the hidden Ryan Cawdor.

"Where's Zombie? You seen him?"

J.B. answered. "Seen him and chilled him."

The fat biker throttled back his bike and stopped very close to the main gates, lowering his voice. "You got no chance, Ryan. Lemme talk to the Motes and try to work something out."

"Thanks, Riddler. But no thanks. Gotta be this way."

The rear wheel spit out a spray of dirt as the Hero rejoined the others.

Ryan and his companions waited.

It was full light.

The wind had eased, but it had also veered and was now blowing briskly, parallel to the mountains where the redoubt was concealed.

Mote, taking charge of the operation himself, remained safely hidden behind his own sec wag. Ryan had glimpsed Marianne Mote, teetering on her high heels, holding the arm of her brutish son.

John Dern appeared to be in control of the main body of the attackers. Twice Ryan had a chance at a long shot at him with the G-12, but he elected to hold his fire, not wanting to reveal the effective range of his weapon.

Only five Last Heroes remained alive. As Ryan peered around the edge of the main gate, it seemed as though they were now without any sort of leadership.

Ryan knelt behind the wall, looking behind him at the thudding machinery and storage tanks of the gas plant and back down the hill to where the vehicles were grouped tightly together. Nobody wanted to make the first move. If Mote chose to play the softly-softly game he could probably drive them out of hiding with starvation. Or thirst. In another hour or so the desert would begin to heat up.

"Down the hill," Ryan muttered to himself.

"What?" Krysty said, just to his left.

"Down the hill! Fireblast! Why didn't I see that as the way?"

"You skull-flipped, lover?"

"No."

"Then?.." Krysty prompted, turning suddenly to look at the looming gas tanks behind them. "You're not?.."

"Yeah, lover. I am."

And he did, calling Jak over to quickly give him orders. The albino boy, hair gleaming in the new day's light, scampered off like an eager hound, keeping low to avoid being spotted by the attackers down the highway.

While Krysty kept watch at the front, Ryan moved to warn the others about what he was going to do.

Lori simply nodded and J.B. grinned.

Rick looked blankly up into Ryan's face, struggling to understand what he was saving. "It could..." The words trailed off.