James Axler - Hellbenders

There was a moment’s silence, then Lonnie rose to his feet. “I’ll go,” he said simply. The Native American woman rose to her feet, casting a hostile and suspicious look at the companions as she did.

“Count me in,” she muttered.

Correll shook his head. “No way, Jenny. You’ve got to oversee the armory, and I’ll need you to work with J.B.”

“Shit, Joe, can’t someone else do that? I don’t want to work with them,” she added, spitting out the last word as she glared at the companions.

Correll’s face hardened—if that was possible in a visage that was so gaunt to begin with. “I know how you feel. Lance was a good man, and it was sad to see him pass. But that’s fate. These people were defending themselves as we were. There was no malice, and we hold none against them.”

Jenny turned and looked directly at Correll, her eyes meeting his with a blaze of defiance and anger. She matched him for a few moments, then looked down. “Okay,” she mumbled, “if that’s the way it’s got to be.”

“It is,” Correll said softly. “Sit down and let’s see someone else.”

She reluctantly sat, and others rose to take her place. The recce party would consist of the lean, crop-haired Lonnie; Mik, a small, lean-faced man with several piercings and sardonic gaze; Tilly, a woman with large brown eyes and mouth set in determination, and the whip-thin boy in spectacles who had caught Dean’s gaze the evening before. His name was Danny, and it seemed that he was the youngest member of the community.

“I think we shouldn’t forget our friends,” Correll said when he had approved the volunteers. “It would only be reasonable to send someone from your group on the recce,” he added directly to Ryan.

The one-eyed man wasn’t keen on the idea. He would have preferred to keep his people together at this time. He didn’t believe that Correll had any notions of chilling the group, but he figured that the man was unpredictable and possibly insane, driven beyond reason by his cause. But what could Ryan do? To dissent would be to cause a problem that was, at this stage, unnecessary and undesirable.

“Mebbe,” he said slowly. “You want me, J.B. and Mildred here, right?” Correll nodded. Ryan continued, “So you take your pick out of the rest.”

Correll eyed Ryan, the sunken orbs boring into the one-eyed man.

“Okay,” he said finally, “I’m reckoning that Jak is the best tracker and hunter you’ve got, and I’m also reckoning that your boy Dean—if he’s anything like you—will be good to have in a firefight. I’ll pick them.”

Ryan nodded agreement, looking to Dean and Jak. Both assented, and seemed happy enough.

“I’d like to go, as well,” Doc said suddenly.

“Why?” Correll asked. “No offence intended, but you don’t seem the most physically able to undertake such a mission.”

Doc gave a sly grin. “That’s precisely why. You see, my dear sir, I would consider that you are, quite reasonably, testing us in some manner. If that is so, then the onus is on me, as the most physically frail seeming of the group, to prove that we will—every last one of us—be able to pull our weight when the time comes for action. Therefore, what better way to do this than to take part in such a mission.”

Correll said nothing for a moment, instead levelly gazing at Doc. Finally, he spoke. “You use a lot of words to say something, but when you get there it makes sense. Okay, Dr. Tanner, you can join the recce party.”

It was a two-day trek from the redoubt to Charity, and as soon as the meeting was concluded, the party began to prepare. To get there, scout and return would take a total of five days, leaving them with only the sixth day to rest, recuperate and report before the attack.

It would take two days to make the trek as they would be going by foot to avoid detection by any sec patrols or passing wags on their way to either of the villes. Even in the wastelands they would traverse, it would be easier to hide on foot than if they were in a wag. The objective was to avoid attracting attention, either by being noticed or by having to chill any passing wag, which may then be missed and spark an alarm.

So it was that the three companions who joined with the four Hellbenders found themselves being kitted out for desert survival by Jenny, the Native American who was in charge of both the armory and stores. She gave them self-heats and water canteens, and each had an individual tent made of a lightweight material with a thin, tubular metal frame that folded up into a light backpack.

“This is a most splendid thing,” Doc commented as he unraveled and examined the tent, pointedly ignoring the hostile stare he received from the Native American woman. “I must admit, I’ve never come across anything like this in any of the other stores.”

Jenny gave him a quizzical look, the hostility momentarily dissipating. “You’ve seen other places like this?” she asked.

Remembering that Ryan had said nothing of the other bases, allowing Correll to draw his own conclusions about where they came from, Doc refused to be drawn. “We’ve seen many places,” he commented elliptically, “and perhaps if you had seen what we have, then you may have a more tolerant attitude to what happens,” he chided.

The Native American stopped for a moment, considering what Doc had said, before nodding to herself. “Okay,” she murmured to the older man, “you and me can talk more about this when you get back. Mebbe you can make me see your point of view.”

Doc joined the others in the party, who had already been kitted out by the redoubt’s quartermaster. Jak and Dean weren’t surprised by what Doc had achieved, but the four Hellbenders were amazed.

“Tell you something,” commented the wiry and small Mik, sniffing as he spoke, “that’s a rarity, that is, getting her to crack her face and stop being so sour.”

Lonnie pulled an amused face. “Yeah, but you only say that ’cause she won’t let you fuck her.”

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