James Axler - Deathlands 057 - Breakthrough

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2024-12-03 0 0 565.65KB 344 页 5.9玖币

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Ryan looked at his old friend. "You know what to do, J.B."

His hands up, the Armorer stepped into the line of fire. "Now, take it easy," he

said to the tall, backlit figures just inside the cave entrance. "You know we can't

hurt you. You don't have to prove anything more to us. We're giving up. See?"

Black figures approached with their laser rifles pointed at his head. One of them

came within ten feet of him before it stopped. "Where are the others?" it asked.

"Yahhh!" J.B. bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Ryan echoed the yell as he swung out from behind the rock. The others yelled,

too, as hard as they could, to keep from being deafened as the Smith & Wesson

pump gun roared in the enclosed space. Orange flame from the muzzle blast

licked the ceiling. Ryan racked and fired, racked and fired as fast as he could. On

the third blast, there was a mighty groan from above, then in a cloud of dust, the

ceiling of the entry chamber came crashing down.

Breakthrough

#57 in the Deathlands series

James Axler

A GOLD EAGLE BOOK FROM WORLDWIDE

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TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON • AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY •

HAMBURG • STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN MADRID •

WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is

stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and

neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped

book."

We first crush people to the earth, and then claim the right of trampling on them

forever, because they are prostrate.

—Lydia Maria Child 1802-1880

First edition March 2002

ISBN 0-373-62567-7

BREAKTHROUGH

of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or

other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography,

photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is

forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Worldwide Library,

225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the

author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or

names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or

unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are

registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade

Marks Office and in other countries.

Printed in U.S.A.

THE DEATHLANDS SAGA

This world is their legacy, a world born in the violent nuclear spasm of 2001 that

was the bitter outcome of a straggle for global dominance.

There is no real escape from this shockscape where life always hangs in the

balance, vulnerable to newly demonic nature, barbarism, lawlessness.

But they are the warrior survivalists, and they endure—in the way of the lion, the

hawk and the tiger, true to nature's heart despite its ruination.

Ryan Cawdor: The privileged son of an East Coast baron. Acquainted with

betrayal from a tender age, he is a master of the hard realities.

Krysty Wroth: Harmony ville's own Titian-haired beauty, a woman with the

strength of tempered steel. Her premonitions and Gaia powers have been

fostered by her Mother Sonja.

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J. B. Dix, the Armorer: Weapons master and Ryan's close ally, he, too, honed

his skills traversing the Deathlands with the legendary Trader.

Doctor Theophilus Tanner: Torn from his family and a gentler life in 1896,

Doc has been thrown into a future he couldn't have imagined.

Dr. Mildred Wyeth: Her father was killed by the Ku Klux Klan, but her fate is

not much lighter. Restored from predark cryogenic suspension, she brings

twentieth-century healing skills to a nightmare.

Jak Lauren: A true child of the wastelands, reared on adversity, loss and

danger, the albino teenager is a fierce fighter and loyal friend.

Dean Cawdor: Ryan's young son by Sharona accepts the only world he knows,

and yet he is the seedling bearing the promise of tomorrow.

In a world where all was lost, they are humanity's last hope…

Prologue

A chunk of burning plastic the size of a softball sailed past Dr. Huth's lowered

head. Smaller objects, bits of concrete, shards of metal and rock, pelted his arms

and legs as he struggled down the middle of the street under the terrible weight

that lay upon his shoulders, a weight that bent his back to the breaking point and

made his thighs tremble.

Seven levels below the surface of the planet, in the swirling smoke of open trash

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fires, a mob packed the crumbling sidewalks and spilled onto the potholed

roadway. Their angry chant of "Die, whitecoat, die! Die, whitecoat, die!" echoed

off the two-story-high, gridwork concrete ceiling and the wall-to-wall buildings

that lined the gritty street. Like an earthquake, it rattled the No Response Zone's

few surviving windowpanes.

This was Gloomtown, so named because neither the light of day nor the dark of

night penetrated here. Mercury-vapor lamps caged in the soot-stained ceiling

cast a perpetual sulfurous pall over its squalor and suffering. In Gloomtown there

were no police. No emergency services. And there was no way out, alive or dead.

As Dr. Huth advanced along the mob's gauntlet, grinding out one shaky step

after another, tears flowed down his cheeks. Everything he had ever done in his

remarkable scientific career, he had done for them. Not for "them" individually,

of course, or even for "them" as a social class, but "them" as in, for the survival

of humanity.

The survival of Huth's species had become an issue shortly after the turn of the

second millennium A.D., when the long-sputtering population bomb had finally

gone thermonuclear. Now, less than a century later, the planet was supporting

one hundred billion people, and the rationing of food to the multitudes had

become the all consuming task of science and the one-world, government known

as FIVE. Because of the shortage of available calories, economic, social and

political control teetered on the verge of global collapse. Dr. Huth and the other

top scientists of FIVE were like whitecoated little Dutch boys sticking their

fingers in a massively leaking dike. Their desperate measures had produced

unforeseen and disastrous consequences.

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D5Ryanlookedathisoldfriend."Youknowwhattodo,J.B."Hishandsup,theArmorersteppedintothelineoffire."Now,takeite\asy,"hesaidtothetall,backlitfiguresjustinsidethecaveentrance."Youkn\owwecan'thurtyou.Youdon'thavetoproveanythingmoretous.We'regivingup.\See?"Blackfiguresapproachedwiththeirlaserriflespointedat...

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