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the anger in his voice.
"How?"
"Pull him free."
Ryan sat up, wiping grit from his face, feeling his own anger swelling, the
scar on his cheek throbbing. "He told me the pin was pulled. I'm sitting right
on top of the oven. The gren went off about seven seconds after that. I nearly
got my fucking head blown off as it was, you triple stupe! What the fuck could
I have done?"
"Simmer down, lover." Krysty patted him on the arm. "It's over."
"Our brother died," Thomas Firemaker insisted. "And you closed the door where
he might have escaped."
"Sure I did. If I hadn't, then the noise would have been heard by everyone
from the Lakes to the Grandee and all the fucking way back again!"
"But our brother died," Thomas repeated, as though Ryan hadn't bothered with
an explanation.
"Sure. So did all the men and women we set out after. Not a bad deal. One life
for their lives."
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Axler, James - Deathlands 22 - Rider, Reaper
"Bastard!"
Ryan was on his feet, shrugging off Krysty's restraining hand. "Nobody, but
nobody "
The leader of the Native Americans, Sleeps In Day, stepped between Ryan and
Thomas. "This is not the time and not the place."
"I'll fight him now." The skirmish hadn't gone well. The violence from the
woman, then the unexpected death of the teenage Navaho and the destruction of
the wag had all taken a toll on Ryan's nerves. He was more than ready to take
on
Thomas right there and then.
"Let it lie, Ryan," J.B. cautioned. "We got a job to do."
"Fuck the job."
He was aware that the Navaho had all gone into a huddle and Sleeps In Day was
holding Thomas by the arm, whispering urgently to him.
"Dad."
"What?" Ryan moderated his own seething rage at the sight of the slight figure
of his son, right at his side. "What do you want, Dean?"
"Not worth fighting, Dad, is it? We gotta get on to revenge Christina and
Jenny and Michael."
He closed his eye and turned away. "I guess that's so, son. All right."
He raised his voice to the Native Americans. "I'm truly sorry the boy died. He
died real bravely, and his warning saved a lot of lives."
There was a long silence. Then the entire group turned toward him, the rising
sun throwing their faces into deeper shadow.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 22 - Rider, Reaper
Page 104
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Thomas whispered something and several of them nodded. But it was Sleeps In
Day who answered for them all, clearing his throat.
"I think you speak the truth to us, Ryan Cawdor. Perhaps our brother was
doomed anyway. It was his day to die, as we say. But you locked the door on
him and made his death certain."
"His death was certain the moment the bastard inside that wag pulled the pin
on the implode," J.B. said, his voice tight and angry.
"A man does not turn his back on a friend."
"Bullshit!"
It was Ryan's turn to try to act as the peacemaker, touching J.B. on the
shoulder.
"This isn't helping," he said, looking at the Native Americans. "No way of
deciding this. Just the one question. Do we go on after the General or do we
stop now? Or split up and each try to chill them on our own? Which way do you
want to play it, Sleeps In Day?"
"We go on together. After all is finished, we may talk of this again."
Ryan nodded. "Sure. Fine with me. Now, time's wasting and the sun's rising
fast."
IT SEEMED LIKELY that the General would send out a relief party to dig the
trapped war wag clear, probably soon after first light. They'd find the
destruction and the bodies, and would know that there was a serious threat
close by their camp. And would send word back to the General.
The attempt to infiltrate the underground headquarters would be far more
difficult.
It was a simple problem, and Ryan knew that there was a simple solution.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 22 - Rider, Reaper
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The J. C. Wright Caverns.
From the appearance of the sign, it somehow looked like it had been battered
and faded, even when it was new, which was around a hundred years ago.
Better than Carlsbad. That was the main boast on the huge billboard. One of
the main supports had rusted through and tumbled, leaving the sign leaning at
a drunken angle toward the left, part of it buried in the gray sand.
" 'Not so big and not so many bats, but beautiful and cozy.' That is, I
believe, about the only totally honest advertisement I have ever encountered,"
Doc commented, slapping Judas across the top of the head as the mule tried to
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