"I'm Rollins, out of Freedom Mall. I head up the sec operation there."

"Mall?"

"Mall. Freedom is completely enclosed," he replied. "Didn't you know that?"

"No. We just thought it was a fancy ville."

"'Fancy' isn't the right word. Who are you?"

"Ryan Cawdor. Mebbe you can answer a few questions about the men on the ground there."

Rollins took a look. "Seems to me like you found Mike and Ike."

"Wrong. They found us. Tried to get the drop on us for our blasters and jack. Some kind of s.h.i.tty welcoming committee. You came along just in time. We were debating whether to waste a bullet on them."

"Rather you not do thatwaste a bullet, I mean. We've had them hiding out, looking for stickies," Rollins said.

"That's the tale they shared with me. Thought it was bulls.h.i.t," Ryan retorted.

"Some of us still think it's bulls.h.i.t," J.B. added.

"No, it's true. They were up there looking," Rollins insisted. "Not the spot I would have chosen, but I'm not them. We got worried when they hadn't radioed in with a report."

"Comm units were off when they came falling out of the tree," Ryan observed.

"Standard operating procedure. A live radio unit could give them away."

"Is it standard operating procedure to go jumping down on stickies when you're outnumbered four to one?" Krysty demanded.

"Not hardly. They sure as h.e.l.l weren't supposed to try and take them on alone," the leader replied. "If you give the two men to me, I'll see to their punishment."

"What is this? Grade school?" Mildred said with a sneer. "Take away their blasters and armor and make them stand in a corner in a pointy hat with no chocolate milk at recess?"

Rollins looked at Mildred blankly. "Don't know rightly where you're coming from, ma'am, but these two are my men. My responsibility. I'll take care of them."

"We're keeping their ammo," Ryan said matter-of-factly.

"All right. We'll deduct it from their pay," the sec man said. "Being on this road, and the end of daylight upon us, I suppose you were heading for Freedom?"

Ryan nodded. "The thought had crossed our minds."

"Then let me offer an escort," Rollins replied. "You're close, but the more people on the trail, the safer the trip. These boys have horses somewhere. They can walk in, and you and some of your party can ride, if you know how."

"Riding's not a problem."

"Mebbe not. But something is, the way you're looking me over."

"We're invited into Freedom, just like that." Ryan's tone was as friendly as he could make it, despite his suspicions.

"Just like that," the tall sec man replied.

"Your baron won't mind?" Krysty asked.

The big sec man chuckled. "No baron in Freedom, ma'am. There's Mr. Morgan, but he keeps a low profile. He's a behind-the-scenes type of leader. We're all answerable to him, but you'll never see his face unless things go bad for you once you're inside."

"Don't guess we'll be meeting him, then," Ryan said.

"Freedom is nothing but people, stores, food and s.l.u.ts. A fully functioning ville under one roof. You got jack to spend? Creds? Metals and stones?"

"Yeah," Ryan answered. "We got jack. Stuff to trade, too."

Rollins nodded his bald head. "Then you got an invite. Visitors with jack and useful items are always welcome to Freedom."

Chapter Ten.

After some quick debate, Ryan and Krysty had taken the reins of the disgraced sec men's horses. Dean rode behind Ryan, and Krysty saddled up with Doc. Jak, Mildred, Alton Adrian and J.B. chose to follow on foot. The two beaten Freedom sec men were allowed to plod along in the lead, where a watchful eye could be kept on them.

Rollins had told the truth. The Freedom Mall was close by. The mall came into view long before they actually reached the single, imposing entrance. A ma.s.sive construction of the most redbrick anyone had ever witnessed in a single location, with inset panels of tan fieldstone, the architectural beast seemed to have thrust itself upward into the hilly surroundings from a sea of black asphalt.

All of Ryan's group had seen malls like this before. In Mildred's case, being a former resident of the late twentieth century, she had actually shopped inside quite a few before being placed in the long sleep of cryonic suspension. A wallet of credit cards with her name embossed on the faces was probably still tucked away inside her purse in a hospital storage locker somewhere.

Ryan's most recent memory of a mall near this size was the leveled remains of the SkyHi Mall back at Bear Creek Ridge in Colorado.

Unlike Freedom, which gave off the air of being as solid as a hunk of shining, freshly hewn stone, the SkyHi facility had been hit hard by quakes and severe weather, causing entire walls to cave in upon the once s.p.a.cious and well-appointed interior.

That had been many long months ago. The group had been staying in Jak's former homestead in New Mexicountil an interruption saw Dean kidnapped and Ryan forced to go after the boy alone in a desperate attempt to bring him back alive. Ryan had engaged the mat-trans unit to make a long jump high up the North American continent to Canada, where his old foe Major-Commissar Gregori Zimyanin had taken command of a series of slave mines.

The baron had stolen the boy to use as bait to lure Ryan into a final confrontation that only one of them would survive. The final battle had nearly taken them both down, with Zimyanin ultimately falling to his death.

However, Ryan had never seen the body to make sure. Major-Commissar Zimyanin had a particular habit of coming back from the dead. When pressed, the one-eyed leader would admit he still wasn't sure Zimyanin was truly wormfood. Coldhearts like the major were d.a.m.n hard to chill, and even harder to bury.

"Parking lot looks clear. No junk cars, no wreckage or plant growth," Doc observed with a note of pleasure in his best baritone voice.

"Yeah, this place is positively tidy," Ryan added dryly.

"We keep it cleared," Rollins said. "First order of business each spring is to repair the lots. We towed the wags out years ago. Mall management prefers the areas around the perimeter to be un.o.bstructed."

"What about that mess?" Dean piped up, pointing at a melted, blackened ma.s.s of metal and plastic as they headed for the front entrance.

"That's new, boy. With all of the recent stickie attacks we've been having, our group has been working overtime keeping the areas clean. Drives the stickies crazy. There's nothing close to burn, so they have to drag in their own s.h.i.t to set on fire. Pieces of furniture. Small engine motorcycles. Old dried-out lumber. They even trailer in larger objects from time to time to light up Freedom's nightlife."

"They were probably looking for stuff in the old hospital when they came upon us," Alton said quietly to J.B and Mildred as they listened to the conversation from the rear.

"Stickies do love their fireworks," Ryan agreed. "I've even seen them set each other ablaze when they're really worked up."

Rollins laughed. "Right! Right! Believe it or not, one of the crazy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds actually figured out how to use a catapult. A G.o.dd.a.m.n catapult! Don't know where they got the b.a.s.t.a.r.d thing. Used to be an outdoor theater presented in Old Salem where they'd reenact ancient history and stuff. Mebbe it came from there. Anyway, they were flinging flaming s.h.i.t up on the roof of the mall for a few weeks. Made for some long nights for all of the mall sec men, but at least we could see it coming from a mile away in time enough to dodge."

"What made them stop?" Krysty asked, reining her horse over to keep close to Ryan's deep-copper-colored gelding.

The sec leader shook his head with amus.e.m.e.nt. "As usual, being the scholars they are, none of the stickies seemed to realize that we could see where the flaming loads from the catapult were being launched, and high-power bullets go a lot farther than a fireball."

"Took them out using snipers?" Ryan asked.

"You bet. We dug up some old Army ordnance in a swap with a ville, and in the trade we picked up an old bolt-action sniping rifle with a night scope. That did the trick. Started picking off muties right and left. Poor stickies had to leave their catapult behind, and the next morning a team of sec men went out with fire axes and dismantled the d.a.m.n thing triple quick."

"Doesn't sound like you have a problem," Ryan said.

"Six months ago, we didn't. Things are different now. I don't know what's been going on in the downtown area, but the muties seem to bewell, they seem to be getting smarter somehow."

AT THE GAPING MAW of the reinforced mall entrance, Rollins and his sec men parted company with Ryan's group. Mike and the staggering Ike were led away by two of their fellows, while the others took the horses in the opposite direction. A line of people, men, women and a few kids around Dean's age were awaiting entry via the Freedom checkpoint.

"Hans will check you through. He's the gatekeeper," Rollins said as he followed his men through a second sec-personnel entrance. "No offense, but I hope not to see you again."

"Likewise," Ryan agreed as he and the others took positions at the back of the slowly moving line.

"What's your take on that guy?" J.B. asked quietly.

"Seems on the up-and-up. Could be some kind of trap, but a ville this size, all enclosedI want to get a closer look," Ryan replied.

"Same here," Krysty said. "Feels okay to me. What it appears to be, it is."

"Then we're going in," Ryan stated. "Stay alert."

The entrance was well guarded, again by four of the Freedom Mall sec men dressed in green. All were armed with long blasters cradled in their arms. One carried a .30-caliber Browning automatic, while the others cradled M-16 a.s.sault rifles. They were bulky men, padded with what Ryan guessed to be body armor similar to what Mike and Ike were wearing. They also wore bulletproof antiriot helmets with fold-down protective visors.

They didn't smile or speak, their faces slightly bored and their eyes hidden by the helmet visors. Greetings and pleasantries were left up to Hans, an elderly gentleman with the cherubic face in the old-style three-piece suit and necktie.

"I've seen malls and such before, but never like this one," Krysty commented. "This one is in great shape."

"Built to last, and we believe in taking care of our home," Hans replied, his eyes twinkling. "I take it you're new to Freedom, missy?"

"Yes. Yes, sir," Krysty replied, her natural good manners and breeding shining through when addressed with respect. The gatekeeper was unlike most of his ilk, with no leers at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s or comments on how they could "work an exchange" to let Krysty and her friends enter.

"Okay, here's the spiel, for your education and enlightenment," the older man said. "Plus, since I've memorized all this, might as well pa.s.s it on. First some history. Freedom Mall was opened to the public on August 21, 1975, predark calendar. Thousands of people streamed inside to shop in the ninety-three stores that were tenants. Freedom came with 1.4 million square feet of s.p.a.ce on a span of seventy-six acres. There were 5,200 parking s.p.a.ces. In 1989 they expanded upon the design, adding another 350,000 square feet to the mall's south side and room for an additional eighty stores and a twelve-unit food court. On a good week back then, Freedom saw 250,000 shoppers. During holiday seasons, the number doubled to a half million. Today our numbers are much smaller, but Freedom is more than a mere destinationit's a ville unto itself with all the offerings of a traditional outdoor city, and then some."

"You charging a toll to get in?" Ryan asked.

The old man shook his head. "No."

"That's a switch," Dean said.

Hans held up a finger. "However, there are certain rules you have to follow once you're inside, sir."

"Such as?"

Hans used the finger to point at Ryan's weapons. "You can carry one blaster each for protection. I can already see your group believes in traveling well-heeled. That's fine by me. Only a fool travels outside without ample firepower. However, indoors you lose the extra hardware. Most people go for the pistols, but I'll leave that up to you. Check the other blasters here. You won't need any long blasters or Uzis in Freedom. You can pick them up when you go. Check them now, and you'll get a receipt. There's a fee of one mall credit per weapon storage. Pay when you leave. If you don't want to pay, or don't come back to check on your blasters in thirty days, they become mall property. Stay as long as you want, just don't forget your hardware. No returns."

"Give us a second to talk this over."

Hans nodded, even as Ryan saw him make a gesture with his left hand, an alert signal for the armed guards.

"What do all of you think?" Ryan whispered.

The Armorer didn't hesitate with his disapproval. "Think I don't like letting somebody else sit with my blasters."

"Me, neither," Jak agreed.

"And they charge you for the privilege. I, for one, have never liked being jabbed in the hand with the rip-off stick." Doc said.

"Look, this is standard operating procedure," Alton told them. "Same drill last time I was in here. Even if you leave some of the heavy artillery behind, you people are still better armed than most. Me, I'm going in. I appreciate your company and your help getting here. But it's getting dark, and if I were you, I'd get inside, too, before night falls and the gateway into Freedom shuts down. I sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't want to be out here with another pack of stickies wandering around in the dark looking for the ones you chilled."

Alton nodded a goodbye, and went back over to the small booth where Hans was waiting for him. Since he had only the Colt, he was quickly led through the check-in process into the main entrance, where he vanished from sight.

"What other options do we have?" Krysty said. "Like Alton said, I don't like the idea being out at night with as many stickies that are reported to be around here. We can do our traveling by day."

"J.B.? Go in or stay out?" Ryan asked.

"I'm not the one to ask right now. I can't see worth a d.a.m.n in the dark. Daylight, sure. Even though I don't like leaving blasters behind, I vote we stay."

"Anybody else want to add an opinion?" Ryan asked. No answer came. "Then it's settled."

Ryan strode back over to the check-in counter and unlimbered his Steyr, taking time to unload the cartridges. After doing likewise, J.B. handed over his Uzi, preferring to keep the raw force of the M-4000 shotgun hanging beneath his coat by a shoulder strap.

"That all of the extra blasters?" Hans asked as he looked them over.

"Yeah. We're keeping the pistols, per your adviceexcept for my friend, there. He's hanging on to the shotgun."

"I can take your word there's no extra hardware?"

"Unless you want to search us, and I don't have a problem with that."

"No need. We try and limit the violence inside, but we can't fully stomp it out," Hans said. He reached down for a receipt book and scribbled down the makes of the weapons and Ryan's name. The receipt book had carbons, and he handed over a copy. "Where do we get mall creds?" Ryan asked as he folded the slip of paper and placed it in a pocket.

"Bank of Freedom, Incorporated. You'll see it on the right when you go through the second checkpoint. You can exchange your currency there."

"Right."

"What's the rate of exchange?" Mildred asked.

"Varies. Never heard any complaints. Freedom Mall wants to keep your business, so we play fair with what you want to spend. When you're ready to go, you can give back what you didn't use and we'll return what's left of your funds minus a ten percent handling fee."

"Lots fees in place," Jak observed.