Nearby, the great arches of steel were all that remained of the predark bridge crossing the river. A wide road led to paved ramp extensions that ended in melted gobbets of cooled metal only feet from the embankments. An identical section stood on the other side of the river. But the center span of the bridge was completely gone. Worse, two more smashed bridges were visible upriver, hundreds of severed steel cables dangling limply into the brackish flow of the polluted river.

"Well, if we dive in, the fall wouldn't hurt us," Mildred said, sounding half serious. "But n.o.body could live for long in that water. Plus, there's no way to climb up the other side. Those support pillions are thicker than the Hummer."

"Mebbe after they took the cars, the people smashed the bridges," Dean suggested.

"And permanently cut themselves off from all the material on this side? Doubtful," Ryan said, rubbing his jaw. "I think if we follow the sh.o.r.eline for long enough, we'll find how they get across."

"Mebbe fly like muties," Jak said.

Resting the longblaster on her shoulder, Krysty merely arched a fiery eyebrow at the unsettling suggestion when a piercing scream of terror sounded from their left, followed closely by the telltale rattle of autofire.

"That was a child," Mildred said, aghast.

Ryan agreed, and friend or foe, combat was always something that should be investigated. The next minute it might very well be coming their way.

"Silent probe, single-yard spread," Ryan ordered, drawing his pistol and starting forward at an easy run.

Chapter Six

Clutching a headless doll, a small girl was running madly down the sandy street, her long hair flying in the wind. She slowed to glance over her shoulder to see if the monsters were still after them.

"Keep running!" her father screamed, dropping to one knee and discharging a handblaster at the pack of wolves chasing them. The weapon banged in smoke and sparks, and a store window down the street exploded into pieces.

Cursing the inaccuracy of his blaster, the man turned and ran, trying to reload, but paper and lead b.a.l.l.s dropped from his fumbling hands. His wife ran without pausing, a small crying bundle held tight in her arms.

Straight ahead, the road angled into the ground and ended at a tiled wall with two huge openings. The left side was crudely bricked solid, ivy growing up the stones to show the age of the work. But the left side was open. Two large wooden doors swung aside, exposing a brick-lined tunnel extending into the darkness. Two gigantic machines of some sort bracketed the tiled wall and formed an impressive barricade. In front was a sandbag wall topped with twisted coils of barbed wire. Behind the sandbags were three men in predark uniforms, two in military fatigues, the third dressed as a policeman. The soldiers were frantically working nim-rods to charge their muzzle-loading rifles. The policeman was notching a barbed arrow into a crossbow made from the spring leaves of a car.

"Here!" the policeman screamed, taking aim at the family with his weapon. "This way! Keep coming!"

"Don't look back!" added the short private, locking back the hammer on his museum-piece rifle.

The other private leveled his rifle and fired. The long-blaster thundered like a bazooka, volumes of smoke exploding from the barrel almost hiding him. But no yelp of pain came from the snarling animals so very close behind the runners.

Turning, the father fired again, and the lead wolf yipped in pain. Shoving his blaster into a pocket, the elderly man then ran for all he was worth, losing items from pockets at every step of the way.

Almost losing the doll in her arms, the girl reached the wall of sandbags and stopped looking for a way past the obstruction. The tall policeman reached out to grab her arm and brutally hauled the child over.

She gasped in pain and landed sprawling on the side, losing her toy. The short private scooped it up and thrust it back into her tiny arms as he shoved her toward the opening in the tiled wall.

"Run to the end of the tunnel!" he barked. "Go! Don't stop!"

Pausing for a moment, the child glanced at her folks, then took to her heels into the darkness beyond.

The mother made it next, the sleeve of her thin shirt ripping off as it brushed the barbed wire coils. She wasn't wearing a bra, but the men pretended not to notice. Two of them boldly leaped out to gently a.s.sist her and the crying baby over the sandbags while the policeman fired the crossbow. The arrow appeared to go straight for the father, but it missed him and kept on going. A wolf howled as the man sprinted forward in renewed speed and dived over the barricade.

The clean-shaved soldier escorted her inside, while the private with a beard stood between her and the oncoming wolves. Coolly raising his weapon, he c.o.c.ked the hammer and fired, thunder and smoke vomiting from the crude rifle. Diving over the sandbags, the father landed hard, but rolled over and came up with a machete in his hand. The policeman knocked that aside.

"We have blasters!" he snapped. "Inside, they won't get past us! Save your family, man!" Sheathing the blade, the father nodded in thanks and dashed into the darkness.

Instantly, the guards relaxed their tense posture and, smirking in satisfaction, lowered their weapons.

Then they shared a grin, ran inside, firing their blasters into the air.

"The wolves are here!" one private cried, firing his rifle straight into the air.

The other started to walk casually toward the wooden doors. "Stand firm, men! Don't let them pa.s.s!"

"Hurry! Hurry!" the policeman added, lighting a cig and blowing a smoke ring. "Get the axes!"

Reaching the barricade, the wolves stopped and milled about looked expectantly at the men. The lead wolf started to wag his tail in antic.i.p.ation. Smiling widely, the policeman tossed the pack something from his pockets, which the animals happily devoured and then dashed off into the ruins barking and yipping.

RETREATING A FEW BLOCKS, the companions convened behind a garbage bin before allowing themselves to speak.

"Fireblast!" Ryan breathed. "Did you see that?"

Leaning wearily against a brick wall, Krysty nodded. "A sham. This is all a sham!"

"Longblasters firing not one wolf hurt?" Jak snorted, sitting on his haunches.

"And no dust kicking up from misses, either," Ryan said. "It's a new sham on me, and I thought I had seen them all."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Mildred spit furiously. "Utter contemptible b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

"What do you think they do with the people?" Dean asked, staring at the junkyard wall across the river.

No sounds could be heard from this distance. Even blasterfire would become lost in the wind, so anything could be happening out of sight behind the imposing barrier.

"I don't know, son," Ryan said. "Slaves, mebbe."

Returning to the Hummer, they informed J.B. about the situation.

"Blanks," the Armorer stated, sitting on the b.u.mper of the Hummer. "s.h.i.t-eating sec men were firing blanks! You sure about that?"

"Makes sense," Ryan agreed. "Searchlights draw in folks to investigate. Then somewhere along the way, a pack of pet wolves attack, herding the people into the ville. The sec men pretend to fight off the muties, and the victims rush inside for protection, while actually thanking their captors."

"Deuced clever way to increase your population," Doc admitted in grudging admiration. "Highly contemptible, but I must admit that I am impressed by its sheer audacity." "b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Mildred repeated.

"Agreed, good Doctor. But still brilliant."

"So what about that winged thing we found in the cave," Dean asked, holding his new rifle, his eyes never pausing as they searched the shadowy ruins for possible enemies. "Think that's another sheepdog?"

Krysty dismissed the idea. "Head was too small. No way it was smart as a wolf."

"I'd guess that was for real," Ryan agreed. "Or possibly, the stick to the carrot. If anybody tries to escape, it'll be at night and the bird, whatever, attacks for real."

"Why doesn't it attack the ville, then?"

"Weak eyes," Mildred reminded. "Those searchlights would keep the mutie far away."

"More tricks and games," Krysty said grimly.

"However, you all seemed to have missed the most important point," J.B. said, adjusting his gla.s.ses until he had their full attention, then he smiled broadly.

"We now know where dinner is coming from," he continued, chocking the bolt on the Uzi.

Faces brightened in understanding.

"Wolf hard to kill?" Dean asked, feeling a rush of adrenaline. He wanted to do something for the poor trapped folks, and if he couldn't free them somehow, then chilling the wolves was the next best thing.

"Most pack animals are," Ryan said, nodding at J.B. The wiry Armorer saluted in return. "Just have to catch one off by itself away from the others."

"And once we ace the wolves," Ryan continued, "tomorrow it'll be much easier to cut a deal with the baron of the ville without getting caught between two enemies. He'll keep expecting the wolves to show.

That'll keep him off balance and give us an extra bargaining edge."

"And if we can't find them?" Dean asked in concern.

Standing, J.B. went over to pat the long ventilated barrel of the M-60. "Then we'll just have to reason with them the old-fashioned way," he said grimly.

"WENT NORTH," Jak said, brushing back his snowy hair. "Wind going muddle tracks. Go now."

"Agreed." Ryan climbed into the Hummer and started the engine. "We'll circle around and approach from the west, so the guards at the tunnel won't hear us."

Taking their seats amid the cargo, Ryan kept the Hummer in low gear to be as quiet as possible as they drove along the zigzagging maze of streets until finally reaching the park just west of the great skysc.r.a.per.

"Thank Gaia for that building," Krysty said. "Without street signs or maps, it'd be easy to get lost inhere. But just check the angle of the sun and you have a location."

"Like a sundial," Dean said, chewing over the notion. "Pretty smart."

She smiled. "Your father taught me that."

"Stop," Jak said, leaning way out of the wag, studying the ground.

Shifting into neutral, Ryan eased to a fast halt, and the Cajun hopped out, walking back a few yards to bend low to the ground and brush his fingertips across the smooth sand. To Dean, there didn't appear to be any marks on the sand, but Jak stood and pointed decisively.

"Eight," he stated, then pointed down an alleyway. "Six."

"d.a.m.n alley is too small for the Hummer," J.B. noted, estimating the opening. "Want to circle around again?"

"Too close," Jak said, frowning. "Hear and run."

"And we don't want to go chasing them all over the ruins," Krysty said. "There are far too many places they can reach that we can't."

"On foot, then," Ryan said, leaving the wag. "Krysty, stay with the Hummer. We'll follow the six."

"If you come back running, I'll be ready," she promised, handing over the Steyr. "The M-60 might reduce dinner to hamburger instead of steaks, but at least it'll be us on the outside digesting them, instead of the other way around."

Snorting a laugh, Ryan bent close to exchange a fast kiss, then checked the longblaster and ammo belt.

Satisfied, he started across the street. "Full weapons, everybody, and stay close. Packs fear other packs."

With Jak in the lead, the companions eased into the alleyway, following the trail of faint depressions in the loose sand. The next street down came into sight, but the two companions conferred and took a side alley. Coming out a block to the east, Jak raised a hand, then closed it into a fist. The group froze and got ready for combat.

Just a block away was a smashed store window, the only gap in the endless seam of white store windows that lined the street.

Spreading out, the companions eased toward the gaping hole, Dean and Mildred watching the windows above for any signs of snipers. It could be another trap, and better safe than dead.

Above the smashed window, words were chiseled into the marble lintel of the building, but time and the winds had worn the engraving down to vague unreadable squiggles. But recently somebody had neatly painted the huge single word across the stone lintel.

" 'Supirmarkit,' " Doc quietly read in disgust. "Not only thieves and liars, but illiterates, as well."

Mildred scowled in agreement while Ryan studied the crude sign. Another b.a.s.t.a.r.d trick for travelers in the city. Solos or explorers looking to loot would find this open food store and naturally go inside tocheck for canned goods. That's when the wolves charged and the victims would get herded straight to the ville like sheep.

"Hopefully not to the slaughter," J.B. whispered, obviously having the same train of thought.

Jagged daggers of gla.s.s jutted like teeth ringing the opening. From their vantage point on the sidewalk, they could see bare floors inside, a bank of linked carts to the left, registers to the right and rows upon rows of shelves stretching out of sight. A fine sprinkling of sand lay over top of everything for yards, and the rear of the store was masked in darkness.

Signaling for silence, Ryan tapped his eye and gestured at the store. Rifle in one hand, he drew his SIG-Sauer and knelt on the sidewalk, listening for any sounds of movement inside. The ghostly moan of the desert wind whispering down the street was discernible, but nothing else. No dripping pipes, no ticking clocks, not a snarl or a cough.

Extracting a small plastic mirror, J.B. eased it past the jamb of the window and tilted it inward to scan the area.

"Behind the registers," he silently mouthed, pocketing the mirror.

Eagerly, Dean started forward, but Ryan stopped him with a single raised finger. The boy retreated, and the elder Cawdor first pointed at Jak, then Doc. Keeping his blind, left side to the wall, Ryan poked the muzzle of his Steyr around the jamb just as J.B. did the same on the other side with the Uzi.

The lead wolf was large and heavily muscled, with brindle markings showing it was from the forestlands.

The rest were smaller and leaner, similar to whippets, but none seemed to be starving and that was a bad sign. Hungry animals would just attack, and any organized group of defenders could easily withstand them. However, a well-fed pack would wait and watch until a mistake was made, then charge when its victims weren't paying attention.

"Wait for it," Ryan said quietly. Then with a roar, the Hummer bounded into view, a barking pack of wolves surrounding the vehicle. Driving with one hand, Krysty was firing at the leaping animals with a blaster gripped in a b.l.o.o.d.y fist.

"Behind us!" Doc cried, firing the LeMat into the store.

Ryan spun, and there were the other six wolves crawling around the registers moving as silently as ghosts. In a heartbeat, the hunters had been the hunted.

"Hummer!" Dean shouted, announcing his target as he cut loose with the G-12. The blaster hissed a stuttering zip of caseless rounds, and six of the eight animals were torn into pieces under the incredible fusillade of subsonic steel. But then the HK stopped, and the youth realized he was out of ammo.

Dropping the spent weapon, he drew his handblaster. Ryan discharged the Steyr, and a wolf in the store flipped over, crashing into an ancient display rack.

Free from the attentions of the beasts for a moment, Krysty scrambled into the back of the Hummer and cut loose with the M-60, the weapon chattering a deadly h.e.l.lstorm at the beasts. Two danced in the air as their bodies were torn to pieces before the rest spread out, running wildly in every direction, one even darting under the vehicle.

But there was method to the madness, and Ryan cursed as he realized the wolves were combining into apack again; the running around was merely intended to disorient the humans before a unified charge.