James Axler - Deathlands 61 Skydark Spawn

"Survival of the fittest," Mildred stated

"What do you mean?" Ryan asked.

"There's something called the principle of natural selection that says the strongest survive, and that a species continues to evolve through natural and sexual selection. The baron's contest will ensure that the strongest male survives to breed with the strongest female." Ryan nodded, then got up from the table to sign up for the contest. Brody stood, as well.

"Where are you going?" the one-eyed man asked. Brody put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "There'll be at least a dozen men in that ring, all wanting to chill you. If you're going to make a break out of here, you're going to have to be alive to do it. You'll need someone to watch your back, and that's going to be me."

"Thanks, Brody. You're a good man."

"You're a good man, too, Ryan. Let's just hope for the sake of your woman that you're also the best."

A GOLD EAGLE BOOK FROM WORLDWIDE

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."

It seems most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end
Will come when it will come.

First edition March 2003

ISBN 0-373-62571-5

SKYDARK SPAWN

Copyright 2003 by Worldwide Library.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization 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.

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.

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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 struggle 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 endurein 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.

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

Ryan Cawdor opened his eye, then closed it quickly as a blinding jolt of pain lanced through his skull. He half rose to his feet, then sank back to the floor, dizzy. Bastard jumps always took a toll.

The mat-trans jump was over, and, as usual, he and his companions lay on the floor of the chamber, trying to gather their wits and keep the remnants of their last meal in their stomachs.

After a few minutes, Ryan tried opening his eye again. The pain was still there, but had now settled into a dull throb that he could handle.

"My word," Doc Tanner said, removing his swallow's-eye kerchief from a pocket of his frock coat and wiping away a trickle of blood that had seeped from his nose, "it never ceases to amaze me how utterly incapacitating these jaunts of ours can be."

"Still able talk," Jak Lauren commented, lifting his right hand and moving his fingers in a motion meant to simulate Doc's flapping gums. Jak hadn't fared as well. The front of the young albino's tan T-shirt was stained with vomit that had leaked out the corners of his mouth. He tried to clean himself up with a few wipes of his sleeve, but all that did was spread the mess around.

Ryan's son, Dean, had fared better than the others. He looked a bit dizzy, but was already able to stand. J. B. Dix sat with his back against one of the chamber's walls. He'd lifted his head and had his eyes tightly closed as if he were in pain. He was struggling to catch his breath.

"You all right, J.B.?" asked Ryan.

The Armorer shook his head as he removed his wire rimmed glasses from his shirt pocket and put them on. "Had a nightmare. I was alone in a forest somewhere. As I walked along a path, I was confronted by a huge mutie."

"Chill it?" Jak asked.

"No, that's the thing. It approached me and I leveled my blaster and squeezed the triggerbut the scattergun didn't fire. I tried it again and again, but nothing. The creature kept coming, but the blaster wouldn't fire. Dark night! Didn't know what was wrong with it because I'd just finished stripping and cleaning it in my dream. So there I was, pointing a dead blaster at a mutie just itching to chill me."

"And did it?" Mildred Wyeth asked.

"Tore me to pieces with a set of talons as long and sharp as my Tekna. And I couldn't even wake up. Hurt like hell."

Ryan looked at Mildred, wondering if the dream meant anything.

"Performance anxiety," Mildred stated.

"What? I don't have any problems with that."

"No, I don't mean sexual performance, John," Mildred chided. "Our lives often depend on your knowledge. My guess is that lurking somewhere in your subconscious you have a fear that at some point, when it matters most, you'll let one of us down."

"But I was the one who was chilled."

"Yeah, and that's probably the way you'd want it to happen if it ever did."

"Not worry," Jak said, putting a hand on J.B.'s shoulder. "Not let us down."

"Thanks."

The few moments Mildred had spent analyzing J.B.'s dream had done wonders to revitalize the group. Krysty Wroth was showing signs of coming around, and the rest of the companions were on their feet but still pretty groggy.

"I suspect," Doc said, tapping the silver lion's-head handle of his swordstick against the walls of the chamber, "that this mat-trans is not constructed of armaglass as is customary."