James Axler - Deathlands 14 Dark Carnival

/* /*]] */ /* /*]] */ d14 Dark Carnival The mutie gator clamped its teeth around Ryan's ankles and jerked him into the river The creature had incredible power, flailing him around like a toy in the hands of an excited child. The one-eyed man struggled to hold his breath, but it was impossible.

Twice he managed to get fingers on the butt of his SIG-Sauer blaster, but each time the gator twisted him around, dashing him facedown into the shingle, making him lose his grip. Ryan's third attempt was for his panga, and this time he was lucky.But the cleaver, with its broad, heavy blade, was suited for slashing and hacking, rather than thrusting. Though Ryan tried to use it, the edge simply slid off the great knobbed scales of the giant reptile..Battling against a shrinking supply of air, Ryan could feel his strength beginning to slip away.And he was, slowly and surely, being dragged toward the deeper waters offshore 14 in the Deathlands series A GOLD EAGLE BOOK FROM WORLDWIDETORONTO NEW YORK LONDON PARISAMSTERDAM -STOCKHOLM -HAMBURGATHENS MILAN TOKYO SYDNEYAfter twenty-five years of magic and mystery, wonder and love, this one is for ElizabethFirst edition January 1992 ISBN 0-373-62514-6 DARK CARNIVALCopyright 1992 by Worldwide Library. Philippine copyright 1992. Australian copyright 1992.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 permission of the publisher, Worldwide Library, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.All the 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 the incidents are pure invention.are Trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.Printed in U.S.A.It is a profound mistake to underestimate the lure and attraction of a great evil. The highway of history is lined with the whitened bones of those who have fallen into that error.The Abyss Within The Skull Thomas Wun "It's time to go, son," Ryan Cawdor said, holding out a hand.For several heartbeats the boy didn't move, only stood and stared at the one-eyed man."You're Dean?" Ryan asked."And your name's Ryan Cawdor?"The child's voice was calm, his breath billowing in the cold, damp air. The noise of death and fighting was all around them.Ryan knew that his friends, J. B. Dix, Doc Tanner, Krysty Wroth and Mildred Wyeth, would have reached the shingle beach of the Hudson River by now, near the ravaged ville of Newyork. They'd be waiting for him to join up with them so that they could escape in the recce wag."Time's one thing we don't have, son," he said. "Time for talk later. Now we gotta go.""You my father?""Yeah, that's what they tell me.""Truly?""Yeah."Ryan had never been a man of limitless patience. Right now the boy was pushing things way beyond the limits."Don't suppose you got my knife? Green handle?""I got it." A short quarrel from a crossbow splintered against the stone wall just above Ryan's head, and he heard a guttural voice bellowing out commands. One of the scalies' leaders was trying to restore some order."Dean," he growled. "Now."Finally the boy held out a hand, sticky with fresh-spilled blood, and grasped Ryan's fingers. Together father and son sprinted into the arched tunnel that wound its way toward the river.THE BROKEN FRAGMENTS of fading moonlight had disappeared by the time J.B. emerged past the corpses of the scalie guards. A frail snow was falling, driven on a strong northeasterly wind. The shingle was dusted white, and the waves off the river tumbled and hissed on the gently sloping stretch of beach."Wag still there?" Mildred asked, panting."Can't see. You make it, Krysty?"She held a hand above her eyes, trying to look a little to the side of where she thought their vehicle might be. It was a trick that Ryan had taught her, and it generally worked. But the sleeting flakes of snow pattered in her face, making it impossible to see anything."No. We wait here for Ryan?""Perhaps if we were to remove ourselves to the beginning of that broken pier, we might be better able to provide him with any covering fire he might require.""Good thinking, Doc," J.B. said. "All of us trying to scramble up there in dark and ice, and something'd go wrong.""I'll wait here," Krysty stated calmly. "Just reloaded my blaster. The rest of you go out there and keep watch for us."They'd been together long enough to know better than to waste time arguing with the flame-haired woman when she used that tone of voice. With J.B. in the lead, they vanished into the Stygian blackness.Krysty held the silvered P-7A13 Heckler amp; Koch in her frozen right hand, feeling all the better for the thirteen fresh rounds of 9 mm ammo in the mag.She knew that the others would be reloading their own weapons, preparing for the charging pursuit that would inevitably come from the enraged scalies. Krysty had enough confidence in Ryan to believe that he'd come out of the tunnel ahead of any chasing muties.She flattened herself against the wall of rock, pistol in hand, waiting. Something was nagging at her "seeing" sense, but too much of her mind was devoted to the immediate present. Still, a small part of her brain was whispering "Danger."Amplified by the acoustically perfect shape of the tunnel, the dreadful sounds of dying were clearly audible. Screams, made high and thin, squeezed past the half-closed sec doors. Twice there was the noise of a gunshot, followed by what sounded like one of the scalies roaring orders.Krysty put her head to one side, straining to hear what was going on, imagining that she could hear the clattering of Ryan's steel-tipped combat boots striking sparks off the stones of the wide corridor."Gaia, help him," she whispered, her breath frosting the air in front of her face.RYAN REALIZED how vulnerable they'd all be if a concerted attack from the scalies should hit them out in the open, on the crumbling, slippery jetty. Against his better judgment he stopped halfway to the steel doors, reaching for the spare caseless rounds for his assault rifle. He gestured for the boy to stand still and wait for him while he reloaded.Dean hesitated, looking back toward the swelling babble of noise and raw menace, then ahead into the unknowable darkness."There's friends outside," Ryan told him as he bent over the blaster. "Best you go ahead and join them.""No. Want to stay here." There was a long pause before he added, "With you. Here.""When we're out of this, we'll talk about doing like you're told. Can't argue now."Even as he readied the G-12 for action, a part of Ryan's mind strayed to the ten-year-old boy at his sidethe son that he'd never been aware existed, had only known about for a couple of days, had only met ninety seconds ago."You chilled all those scalies. Rona said you were the meanest son of a bitch killer she ever saw in her life."Ryan could hear feet advancing toward them from the main area of the scalies' base, shuffling along as though the muties were trying to move quietly."Dean, keep your mouth tight shut," he hissed, "and do exactly what I say.""Sure." In the gloom Ryan caught a flicker of light from the deep-set eyes and a nod of the curly head."Pass that door. Go on. I'm with you." Both of them backed away, around the gentle curve of the passage, reaching the sec-steel exit and edging through it. Ryan considered the possibility of trying to lock it or wedge it against their pursuers.A brace of feathered arrows thunked against the other side of the door as he hesitated, making his mind up.He took the boy's skinny arm and heaved him across the open space, passing the bodies of the butchered sentries, out into the freezing air.KKYSTY HAD HER FINGER on the trigger. The noise of the water breaking on the beach was louder, making it hard to hear whether anyone was coming out. And the darkness had become almost total.She sensed movement behind her, between the tumbled rocks of the old wharf and the Hudson. She whirled, her right wrist braced in her left hand in the approved shootist's stance.Whatever had caught her eye was gone. Or had never been there in the first place. Or had been a length of sodden driftwood, floating sullen and partly submerged in the shallows.As she turned back, a figure emerged from the mouth of the tunnel.Two figures."Ryan?""Yeah. Got the Dean.""The boy?""Sure.""Scalies coming?""Reached the sec door. Where's the others? Everyone make it?""Yeah. Out toward the wag. Cover if we need it."The snow was beginning to come down with a real vengeance, masking everything, dropping visibility to a couple of yards.Ryan looked around and drew a deep, shuddering breath, realizing how much the past forty minutes or so had taken out of himthe tension of entering the strange, dreamlike headquarters of the scalies, picking his way between the sleeping muties and the chained prisoners, and the startling appearance of his lost son and the brief, bloody brawl.There were a million questions that brimmed in Ryan's brain, questions about Sharona Carson, Dean's mother, about the whole ten years of the boy's life. And smaller questions, like how come the boy hadn't been chained? If he had been, then Ryan would already be cooling meat inside the cloistered caverns."Let's go," he said."Where?" The boy was staring out into the blackness, blurred by the whirling blizzard. "You got a boat out there?""Yeah. Come on."Krysty led the way toward the jetty, picking cautious steps across the slippery, icy pebbles. Dean followed her, with Ryan bringing up the rear.The woman skirted a drifting log, stumbled and nearly fell. Dean also stepped around the length of dark wood.Ryan was passing the sodden hunk of driftwood when it opened its gaping jaws and made a hissing lunge. Next page