Ice and Fire

Chapter Thirteen

A diamondback rattlesnake lay coiled in the desert sand, its layered rattle vibrating furiously. The reptile's forked tongue flicked in and out of its mouth, tasting the air around it. The long teeth, angled back, emerged from just below the maxillary bone of the upper jaw. Its slitted eyes remained motionless on either side of the flattened skull. It was well over twenty feet long, its body as thick as the thigh of a grown man.

It was, without the least shadow of a doubt, the largest mutie snake that Ryan Cawdor had ever seen.

The setting sun glinted off some sort of metal strip around the creature's throat, like a silvery collar. It caught Ryan's eye, but his instant preoccupation was the girl sprawled helplessly in the dirt in front of the rearing creature.

In her haste to be first, Lori must have almost run over the top of the giant rattler, stumbling across the bony tail.

The snake's gaping jaws were wide enough to engulf Lori's entire skull, and a tiny glistening bead of poison hung from the needle points of the fangs. It had reared up, at least six feet high, above the screaming girl, its shadow across her body.

Ryan's H&K G-12 was up and ready, braced against his hip, aimed at the spade-shaped head of the reptile. But his finger held still on the trigger of the powerful blaster.

"No!" Doc shrieked from just behind him, his voice so unexpectedly loud that Ryan nearly let rip with the automatic.

"Why not?"

"It'll fall on her and the child'll be instant grave fodder."

It was unmistakably true. The rattler was so gigantic that it hung over Lori, menacing her, its head weaving slowly to and fro. The warning rattle of its tail continued unabated.

The girl seemed almost paralyzed, like a rabbit in the lights of a night wag. She was on her back, legs drawn up, one hand lifted as though she could simply push away the monster snake. Her mouth was open and she was crying out, a string of pleading, helpless words.

"Could try and take its head off?" J.B. suggested.

The rattler was about thirty yards away from the group, its eyes registering their presence. But most of its attention was fixed on the blond girl beneath it.

"Hell of a chance it'd chill her before we could chill it," Ryan replied.

Rick Ginsberg had joined them, panting hard, one hand clamped to his side. His eyes were round with disbelief. "Is that?.. You never said a word about sci-fi monsters, Ryan. It's a dream. A nightmare! It'll kill the girl, unless..."

"Shut fuck up!" Jak snapped, hefting one of his throwing knives, gripping it by the weighted hilt. "Could hit eye, Ryan?"

"No," Doc said despairingly. "A clean kill or drive it away."

For several racing heartbeats nobody moved or spoke. The snake's head kept up its hypnotic swaying, and Lori began to weep uncontrollably.

Ryan, keeping his voice low, spoke to the others. "Got to go for the head with blasters. All at once. Should manage to splatter it apart."

"I forbid it, Ryan," Doc whispered, his left hand playing nervously with an errant strand of hair. "The risk is too great."

"You got a better idea? If not, then we'll do it like..."

"Help me, please," Lori called, her voice barely audible above the harsh noise of the snake's rattle.

"Yes," Doc said suddenly. "Distraction. I'll distract the beast and you can then do the shooting part."

Without another word, the old man was off and running, waving the walking cane in his right hand, fumbling as he ran with the silver handle, discarding the ebony case to bare the steel rapier blade within it.

"The double-stupe old!.." Ryan exploded, taken by surprise. "Get ready to try and chill the mutie!"

Everyone drew their own blasters, ready to open fire at Ryan's order, aiming at the blunt, questing head of the rattler.

"Come, thou mighty worm, Ouroboros!" Doc shouted, trying to attract the bright, soulless eyes from Lori toward himself. He leaped into the air and brandished his sword.

Slowly, incuriously, the snake peered down at him, its rattle slowing to a menacing, vibrating hum. It lifted its head even higher, retreating a little, the smooth coils of muscle tensing.

"Going t'strike," J.B. warned.

Lori had fallen silent, looking around at the bizarre capering figure in his stained frock coat and cracked knee boots. The sword flashed crimson as it caught the last rays of the dying sun. Doc darted in and thrust at the nearest part of the giant snake, bringing his rapier back dripping dark blood. But the rattler didn't move its head, and its eyes were unflickering.

Ryan had leveled his G-12, aiming at a point a hand's span below the jaw. He could actually see the tiny ruby glow from the laser sight on J.B.'s new MP-7 SD-8, an inch or so higher than where he was aiming. Jak's Magnum and Krysty's P7A-13 pistol were also focused on the creature's head and neck.

"Ready," Ryan whispered.

"Avaunt, creature from pitchiest night!" Doc yelled, encouraged by the success of his first assault.

The mutie rattler's stunning speed took them all by surprise.

Before anyone could even tighten a finger on a trigger, the snake had weaved back and then struck, its head a blur of movement.

By the sheerest fluke, Doc happened to be waving his sword in the beast's general direction, even though he was looking down at Lori. The snake virtually impaled itself on the tip of the rapier, jerking it from Doc's hand. The force of its attack knocked Doc flying to the dirt in a tangle of arms and legs. But the prick of the steel was just enough to deflect its snapping lunge at the old man.

Frustrated, hissing in fury, its tail swinging with the rattle back in overdrive, the mutie monster straightened up, ready to strike at the man and woman in its shadow.

Ryan wasn't about to take any more chances with the enormous reptile. "Now!" he yelled, squeezing the trigger of the blaster. Set on continuous, the G-12 poured out a devastating stream of lead, accompanied by J.B.'s gun on triple burst. The snap of Krysty's handgun and the boom of Jak's powerful cannon counterpointed the rippling roar of the rifles.

The head and upper throat of the great reptile simply disintegrated under the impact of thirty or forty rounds of ammunition. Blood sprayed, and a heavy, black ichor oozed from the mutilated skull of the creature. Its body began to thrash about with a fearful violence, kicking up blinding clouds of dust. Doc and Lori vanished behind the red-orange veil of sand.

"Let's get them out!" Ryan ordered, dropping his gun and darting forward, aware of the other three at his side. He noticed from the corner of his eye that even Rick Ginsberg had joined in, hobbling on his rough stick.

Lori had begun to scream again. Ryan found her first and heaved the girl to her feet, discovering that she was in shock as she collapsed helplessly to the dirt. With a grunt of effort, he managed to lift her onto his shoulders, carrying her away from the appalling noise of the monster's death throes, the demented clicking of its rattle.

Doc managed to move out on his own, clutching his arm where he'd jarred it in the fall. He had to wait until the writhing began to ease, which allowed him to go look for his swordstick. While Jak looked after Lori, calming her, the others went to examine the twitching corpse of the mutie rattler.

Its head was pulped and both eyes were gone. The main fangs had snapped off into short, splintered stumps, from which threads of poison still oozed into the dirt. The remainder of the body was moving slightly as the nerve endings began to close down on any messages.

"What's that on its neck?" J.B. asked, pointing at the silvery collar that Ryan had glimpsed a few speeded seconds earlier.

Krysty leaned over the immense body, avoiding the rattle that still vibrated with no more noise than a child's toy. "It's locked on," she said. "It'll take some cutting to get it off."

"What's the lettering say?" Ryan asked.

"A name. Can't..." The girl wiped blood away. "Yeah. Azrael. And the number twelve. That's all. Gaia! You figure it's someone's pet?"

"Could be." The Armorer turned to Ryan. "Remember that baron up north... one that had an extra pair of residual hands?"

"Yeah. Oh, sure. He had a mutie maggot as his special pet. Slept in a big wooden bed with silk sheets and got fed like a baby."

"It's a nightmare." Rick shook his head. "I know that now. You're all figments of my imagination. Inside the coolant capsule I've gone stark mad. Yeah, as mad as a hatter. Hatters were mad because they used a lot of mercury in the process of making hats. Fumes rotted their brains. Mad hatters. That's me. Rattlers as big as a semi. Maggots as pets. Redheads with pistols. Albino kids with Clint Magnums. One-eyed men and... I can't stop talking. Why's that, Ryan?"

"Because you're in shock, Rick, and you're kind of not used to the Deathlands and its pleasures yet. That'll come."

"Terrific. I can't wait. I'm just not coping... know what I mean? Momma always said I was a born underachiever."

Lori was still shaking. "I'm wanting to fuck out of this," she said, voice shrill and high.

"You're all right now, my delicate little Meissen shepherdess."

"No thanks to you! Nearly killing me with jumping in and shouting at the mutie bastard. Stupid yellow old triple-crazy."

Doc's face fell. "I confess that my efforts were not quite as successful as I had hoped, my dear child, but I truly did my best."

"Not best enough, and I'm not your fucking child! You made me rad-sick!"

Ryan felt the old glow of scarlet anger begin to blaze. Something that he'd learned, painfully, to control over the years. He was aware of the flush of heat that brightened the scar across his face, and his fingers clenched with the surging rage. In some ways it was a pleasant, reassuring feeling that swamped everything else. To slap Lori Quint across her petulant, pretty little face and knock her on her ass in the trampled dirt would be a good thing.

"Good thing," he muttered.

Fortunately — at least for Lori — Krysty Wroth had been with Ryan long enough to recognize the flaring danger signals.

"No, lover," she said, taking a half step that put her between Ryan and the trembling blond teenager.

"Doc risked..." Ryan began, gritting his teeth so hard that it made his jaw ache.

Krysty held up a hand, facing Lori. "You live around the Deathlands and you get to see a lot of shit behavior. Every now and again you see someone do something really brave. What Doc did to try and save your miserable skin is one of the bravest things I ever saw. A little steel needle against that mutie monster there!"

"Grace under pressure," Rick added, trying to wipe sweat and dirt off the lenses of his glasses.

"I've heard that," J.B. said. "Read it someplace, years ago."

Krysty ignored the interpretations, glowering at Lori. "You hear what I'm saying?"

"Yeah. But it was Ryan and you lot chilled the snake."

"You'd have been dead if Doc hadn't jumped in when he did," Ryan said, finding that the tide of his anger was ebbing slowly away, leaving him feeling irritable and dissatisfied.

"Drop it, my loyal comrades," Doc whispered. "The child's overwrought and doesn't mean what she says. She could do with a rest. We all could."

"Don't want another night out in the open. Not with rattlers as big as war wags sliding around the brush. We gotta push on toward the ville, wherever that is. The smell of gas is stronger, and there was that air wag. We got to be close."

Ryan knew what he'd said was right. J.B. backed him for moving on. But the reality was that Lori and the freezie weren't in good enough shape to keep on trucking through the fading light.

So they compromised. They had seen that the edge of the arid mesquite region was fairly close. It was agreed that they would trek on for that and then find a place to camp, posting guards against the hazards of the night.

Ryan curled up alongside Rick, hoping to find out a little more about what the freezie had done in his highly classified past.

"Wanna talk, Rick?" No answer. "Rick? D'you wanna talk some?"

The faint snoring and the heavy, regular breathing answered the question.

A violent chem storm raged during the night and some chunks of nuke debris came shafting from deep space, the detritus of the abortive Star Wars project of the 1980s that had finally circled back to its home planet, burning up in streaks of brilliant magnesium light.

The wind brought the heavy odor of gasoline from the greener land that lay ahead of them for the next day.

Ryan fell asleep thinking about a ville that owned so much gas. And so much power. It could be one hell of a place.