James Axler - Deathlands 025 - Genesis Echo

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Deathlands Genesis Echo

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Genesis Echo (Deathlands 25) by James

Axler

"Let it go, Krysty. He's out. Let it go and get out yourself."

The tall woman, her fiery hair in a tight knot at her nape, stepped back, allowing the branch to slip from

her shoulders. It rolled a little, then fell, completely free of the main trunk of the fallen spruce. It landed

with a terrifying crash on the very spot where Dean's head had been, narrowly missing Krysty's own legs.

Ryan had been kneeling by his son, but he stood and started to move to support Krysty. He was too slow

as she crumpled like a dead leaf, toppling to the ground on her back, her eyes wide open and staring

blankly at the sky.

"She's chilled herself," Trader whispered with an almost superstitious awe.

Ryan crouched at her side, holding her hand, chafing her wrist. "Happens when she calls on the Gaia

power. Always happens. She'll be fine in a minute or two." Mildred put a hand on Ryan's shoulder and

eased him to one side. "Need to examine her properly."

"She's fine, Mildred."

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Deathlands Genesis Echo

Krysty hadn't moved, her face like ivory, her eyes blank and lifeless. A thread of brilliantly crimson blood

inched from her nose and mouth.

Mildred checked for a pulse, then looked up at Ryan, her face bleak. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Prologue

The Volvo stood in the lee of a high bluff that protected it from the worst of the midday beat, the metal

ticking and clicking as it cooled a little. "By evening?" Ryan Cawdor asked.

"Should be," J. B. Dix replied, lying flat on his back, fedora shading his eyes, his glasses folded neatly

and stuck in the top pocket of his jacket.

Trader had been complaining of some stomach pains earlier in the morning, but that might have had

something to do with the fact that he'd eaten a very large bowl of fiery chili beans at ten o'clock, at the

kindly invitation of a pair of Navaho sheepherders.

Abe was under the land wag, working away with a length of baling wire to fix a loose part of the exhaust

system that had been rattling for the past thirty miles.

"How's your guts coming along, Trader?" the little gunner called.

"Gettin' better, thanks, Lee. Damn it! I mean, Abe. Yeah, gettin' better after I emptied myself out in that

ditch an hour back. But a clean bed, some sleep and home cooking wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Be there by evening," the Armorer repeated.

"Looking forward to it," Ryan agreed. "Lost touch with how long we've been away."

"Long enough." J.B. flapped a persistent hornet from his face.

Trader was picking at his lip, where the sun had started a small sore. "You men sure changed since you

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Deathlands Genesis Echo

rode with me. All this talk of goin' back. Getting to a fixed place. Wantin' to stop the moving."

Ryan nodded slowly. "It's true. All those years with the war wags, we were always moving, weren't we?

One day the Lantic, then a few days later in the bayous. Week later chilling stickies in the Shens, then a

firefight with the baron of some pesthole ville in the Darks."

"Damn right!" Trader whistled between his teeth. "That was the life all right. Never a dull moment.

Living on the edge. Fighting over the edge. Running, always running hard, crossing the borderline. We

should get back to that. Get us all back to the real basics of life."

"Nobody's stopping you, Trader." J.B. looked at the older man. "We heard you were living and we wanted

to check that out. Now we know. You want to go back to that life, then we'll wish you all the best. But it's

not for us anymore."

"Mean you got soft, Armorer?" He turned to Abe. "What do you say, gunner?"

"I say that I'll sort of go with what other folks decide," Abe said quietly.

"Well, I guess I'll meet up with all these good folks at the spread yonder." Trader sniffed. "Then I'll decide

what we'll be doing after."

"No." Ryan stood. "You decide what you ' ll be doing, Trader. We'll do the same for ourselves. I reckon

we ought to get this land wag on the highway if we're going to get back by dusk. Let's move it."

"IT LOOKS REAL PRETTY, DOC."

They stood together, looking at the way the setting sun was throwing their shadows ten yards beyond their

feet. There had been a brief rainfall, the bank of dark cloud moving low over the desert, turning the rutted

dust to mud in a heavy downpour, lasting no more than ten minutes. Now the land smelled clean and

good, purged of the heat of the day.

Somewhere, far behind them in the foothills, they both heard a coyote howling.

"Another quarter hour and we'll be relishing some soup and fresh-baked bread, Sukie. With some of the

best souls in the whole world."

"I'm getting real antsy and nervous, Doc."

"Nervous, my sweet bird of youth?"

"Suppose they don't like me? I don't think I'll fit in with all of them. Them knowing you and about the

time trawling and all that stuff."

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Deathlands Genesis Echo

"What difference does that make?" Doc Tanner had found himself stumbling over the explanation of his

bizarre past, and he had grave doubts that the woman had really understood much of it, though she'd made

a valiant effort.

"Old friends, Doc. And me bein' new and not their kind of caliber."

"Horsefeathers, madam! That is absolute tosh and complete balderdash!"

She pulled a face. "Sorry, Doc. But you and me have been getting on real well, haven't we?"

"Not even a house on fire could hardly have got on better than we," he offered gallantly, wrinkling his

forehead at the sudden thought that there had been something not quite right with the sentence.

"Sure." She grabbed him by the arm. "I just wish it was you and me, Doc, together."

"Well, we shall have to wait and see what the future has to offer, Sukie. For now, we should step it out

and get on to the house before dark." He looked around, hesitating and staring into the distance behind

them. "Are my rheumy old eyes faltering, or can I make something moving out across the sands of the

desert that are red with the blood of the square that broke and I am so sorry, my dear. There goes my

tripping tongue and my disconnected brain yet again."

She turned to shade her eyes and look westward, toward the vivid coppery glow of the setting sun. "Yeah,

there could be something. About ten miles off, though. Can't tell which way it's moving, Doc. Best we get

to the house, I guess."

"Indeed, I cannot but agree with that. One small thing puzzles me, you know."

"What?"

"We have been in the clearest sight of the ranch for an hour or more, yet nobody has noticed us and come

out to greet us." Judas tossed his head and tugged at the reins. "Yes, quite right," Doc said with a smile.

"We should indeed stop the talking and commence the walking. There will be a perfectly reasonable

explanation, I am quite sure."

RYAN WAS AT THE WHEEL, applying the brakes and going through the gearbox. He brought the land

wag to a halt and peered out through the windshield.

"There she is," he said. "Little gray home in the west, like Mildred called it."

The sun was low on the horizon behind them. Visible in a slight dip in the land, about three miles along

the narrow sandy trail, was the white house.

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Deathlands Genesis Echo

J.B. was in the cab with him. "I'd have thought someone would have been on lookout and spotted us

coming a ways back. Though I guess that rainstorm must have laid a lot of the dust. But, even so"

"There'll be a good reason," Ryan said.

THEY HAD STOPPED about a dozen feet from the front door, which stood slightly ajar.

"Hello!" Doc called, his right hand creeping down to cover the butt of the Le Mat.

"Trouble, you figure?" Sukie asked.

"I fear that it is beginning to appear a distinct possibility. Perhaps you should wait here, my dear, and I

shall reconnoiter."

"I'll come with you."

"Best you wait here."

"There's no sign of life, Doc. How about I go around the back?"

He considered the suggestion. "Perhaps you could go and keep a watch out, there. But I beg you not to go

into the house until I have ascertained that it is safe."

"Sure thing."

He waited until the woman had walked around the side, then stepped up onto the creaking porch. Doc had

often heard Ryan and Krysty speak about how they got a sort of a "feeling" that something was wrong.

"Well, I confess that I have that feeling," he said quietly to himself.

The light evening breeze was moving the half-open door very gently to and fro, the hinges creaking with

the faintest whisper of sound. The sun was now close to set, and the hall inside was as dark as pitch.

"Hello," he said again, "is there anybody there? said the traveler. No, I believe that there isn't."

The house was silent. Doc stood in the entrance and hesitated for a few moments, hearing the crunching

sound of Sukie's boot heels as she walked around the building toward the back door.

THE LAND WAG WAS less than a quarter of a mile away, and Ryan had again brought the vehicle to a

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DeathlandsGenesisEcho/*/*]]*/Axler,James-Deathlands25-GenesisEcho(v1.0)(html)\.htmlScannedbyHighroller.ProofedbythebestELFproofer.MadeprettierbyuseofEBookDesignGroupStylesheet.GenesisEcho(Deathlands25)byJamesAxler"Letitgo,Krysty.He'sout.Letitgoandgetoutyourself."Thetallwoman,herfieryhairinatightknot...

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James Axler - Deathlands 025 - Genesis Echo

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