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to us.
People we bumped into that were with the Heimdall Foundation weren't real
popular where we were. I reckon that's about the way it is anywhere up here."
He gave the man a crooked, mirthless smile. "Baron Shaker's men gave me that
impression, too."
"There are a lot of people who don't hold with where it comes to the
Foundation,"
Elmore said. "But they're doing important work up there. Work that will mebbe
answer some questions that happened during the nukecaust."
"What happened then doesn't mean a thing to me," Ryan told him. He stared hard
at the man. "In case some-thing did happen to you, where could we find
Donovan?" A sour look filled Elmore's face. "This time of year, he'll be up
north and east of the compound. On the east side of the Rockies near a ville
used to be called Anaconda. They call it Condaville these days, and it's a
frontier boom-town of sorts. Got some people there who've used the river to
make a big mill, and there's river trade along the Clark Fork River. People
bringing in wheat they grow to be ground into flour. Not a big place, but one
where you can get some things."
"What's Donovan doing there?"
"The Foundation's landlocked and it's in the moun-tains," Elmore said. "Best
place for an observatory. And you can see folks coming for miles. Place is
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it was there un-less you knew it was there. Water supply gets to be a
prob-lem. Donovan's the guy that solved that problem. And that's where you'll
find him. Along the Clark Fork
River."
"Where? River's big."
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"Don't know. Just somewhere along in there. We run into somebody we know,
mebbe we'll find out more." Elmore's eyes darted nervously. "People you run
into, they'll be more likely to talk to me than a stranger."
"I know."
"Just thought you might want to keep that in mind."
Ryan was more concerned about the distance involved, knowing that the
companions were in for some hard trav-eling. It wasn't something they weren't
accustomed to, but he had to wonder how much Krysty could take.
He left Elmore sitting against the railing and went for-ward into the prow.
Sandy and Bud used long poles to feel for the river bottom as their father cut
their speed to a crawl. Lanterns hung off stout supports from the prow, but
the light did little to beat back the darkness.
"Cove!" Bud yelled, pointing.
Ryan looked ahead, following the direction of the boy's arm. There, nearly
sixty yards ahead, he saw a jog along the riverbank that was almost hidden by
low-
hanging tree branches and brash.
Morse adjusted the sail, and
Junie slowed a little more and pulled to starboard.
"Drop anchor!" he called.
Sandy tossed the tripronged anchor over the side and started paying out the
line.
Bud joined him, and the boys wrapped the line around one of the prow cleats,
paying it out grudgingly to slow the sailcraft still further. Their ef-forts
were fluid
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butted into place in the shallows near the bank beneath low-hanging trees.
"Got a deeper draw here than you'd expect," Morse called, tying the wheel
fast.
Ryan nodded, staring at the twenty feet of water sepa-rating them from the
riverbank. Under the overhanging boughs, though, he could see the scars of
past campsites, the vines and creepers not quite overgrowing the areas where
campfires and pallets had been pitched. They had some work to do before they
settled in for the night, but his chron told him it was only half-past eight.
Dark still came early in the northern climes this early in the year.
"Gonna have to do some wading if you're gonna sleep on the bank," Morse said.
He sniffed delicately. "Course, I don't see that it's gonna hurt them clothes
none."
Ryan agreed. The thing that bothered him most was what the river might hold.
Then and later.
"FUCK!" DEAN BELLOWED as he pushed himself out of the water and up on the
other side. He pulled up a shirtsleeve. "Leeches! Bastard bloodsuckers!"
Ryan pulled himself up to wading distance, cutting through the water as
quickly as he could while helping Krysty. He could already feel the leeches
moving through his clothing, as well, tiny whispers of damp, cold movement
that wouldn't be denied. The woman, Mary, screamed that they were crawling in
her ears, which caused some consternation on her husband's part. The couple
flailed in the water as he tried to ease her panic and check her ears.
"Dumb fucks," Jak commented, looking out at the pair. He'd brought their boy
ashore after Ryan had assured Mary the albino could swim like a fish and would
be safe with him. Neither Mary nor her husband, Jim, could swim well, and it
showed. "They fuck around, drown." He put the boy on the ground and started
stripping him out of the wet clothes.
The boy tried to squirm away.
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Jak grabbed his young charge by the hair of the head and forced him to his
knees.
"Stand still, stupe!" the albino ordered. "Run into brush, might end up in
something's belly. Get leeches off before make sick."
Reluctantly, obviously giving in to the pain, the boy stayed on his knees and
didn't fight Jak.
The albino slipped out one of his leaf-bladed throwing knives and slid the
point under one of a half-dozen leeches attached to the boy's back. He flipped
them away with prac-ticed ease, tossing them into the dirt and stamping them
to death under his boot heel. He made occasional forays across his own body,
flicking away leeches that came out into the open.
Mary and Jim finally had to be towed in from the water by a rope Bud threw to
them. Sandy and Dean pulled them in, then used it again to draw Doc and the
orphaned little girl across as quickly as possible.
J.B. came across with Mildred, dragging an oilskin pouch after him that Ryan
felt certain contained the blasters he'd found. Morse ordered his boys into
action, getting them to help him tie down the sailboat. Her rigging pinged
metal-lically against the masts.
"Noise is going to give us away," Ryan said to Morse. He started skinning out
of his clothes, Krysty stripping down beside him. Modesty was cheap in the
Deathlands, and the companions didn't have a problem with it even in front of
strangers.
The sailor grinned. "Might draw some of the two-legged varmints that ply these
waters sometime, but it'll chase the four-legged kind."
"I must confess," Doc hollered as he pulled off his frock coat, "that those
creatures that stalked us earlier have been somewhat worrisome on my mind."
"Wharf rats ain't nothing," Bud called out as he shinnied out of his clothes.
"Purely come out at night. And they see the first sign of light, they go away. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]