Black Harvest
The older of the two women picked up her clothes and covered herself in modesty.
“Ah, excuse me, my good woman, I did not mean to offend,” Doc said, turning away slightly. “By all means take a moment to cover yourself if you wish.”
The older woman nodded, then hurriedly slipped into her clothes, a pair of loose-fitting pants and long-sleeved sweater with repair patches on the elbows and a picture of a mouse stitched into the fabric over the breast.
The younger woman got dressed more slowly, watching Ryan and the others warily as they slowly moved into the clearing. “Who are you people?” she asked.
“Just passersby,” Ryan said, joining Doc and the two women. “Who are you?”
The older woman put a hand on her chest, then gestured to the younger one. “My name is Eleander, and this is my daughter Moira.”
“Strange you’d be out here with just the clothes on your back and a couple of remade blasters.”
“We were on our way—” Moira began, but she stopped abruptly when her mother put a firm hand on her shoulder.
“We were out for a swim,” Eleander said, smiling. “It was such a beautiful day that we thought it would be nice to come out to the river and enjoy the good weather.”
“Alone?” Ryan questioned.
“With marauders around?” Krysty asked.
“Foolish of us, I know, but life is hard in the ville and sometimes it’s worth the risk just to get away and enjoy life…even if it’s just for a little while.”
Ryan suddenly became aware of some movement in the trees behind them.
The friends turned in time to see three sec men standing at the edge of the clearing. They had large-caliber longblasters and a few handblasters. All of their weapons were trained on the friends.
“Put down your blasters,” the man in the middle of the three said, obviously the leader of the small group of sec men. He stood under six feet tall and was bald on top with a ring of long black hair circling the back of his head. He had a thick black mustache that framed his mouth and hung down a few inches from the bottom of his chin. He wore a khaki-colored T-shirt that exposed his thin but muscular arms.
“Sorry, friend,” Ryan said, not even considering putting away his weapon. “There are seven of us, and we’re all good with blasters.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” the short man said matter-of-factly.
“No matter how fast your men can get rounds off,” Ryan continued, feeling he was still in a strong bargaining position, “we’ll chill two of you before you get one of us. That’s a promise.”
There was silence for several moments as the wind swept through the trees. Behind them, a large mutie fish jumped somewhere in the river.
“Impressive, outlander, but if me and my men aren’t back to the ville in thirty minutes, a team of twenty-four sec men will be out looking for us. They’ll be shooting first and asking no questions.”
“Won’t stop us from chillin’ you now,” Ryan said.
The man with the long black hair paused, as if reassessing the situation, and realizing Ryan and the friends weren’t about to be intimidated. “Who are you?”
“They saved us,” Eleander offered. “Moira and I came out for a swim when we were attacked by a gang. These people chilled them all.”
Again the man was silent, as if considering what Eleander had said. Finally he looked at her and scowled. “You know you’re not allowed out of the ville unescorted.”
“We know, but it’s such a nice day, and the water is so clean and blue that we didn’t want to wait to get permission.”
The short man looked at Moira suspiciously.
“It’s true,” she said. “I made my mother take me for a swim. We were planning on coming back before anyone even knew we were gone. Sorry to trouble you.”
After another long pause, the short man said, “Then we’ll escort you back to the ville.”
He turned to look at Ryan. “And you’re welcome to join us. The baron will be pleased that you not only chilled four troublesome muties, but saved two of our ville’s fairer citizens from a fate worse than death.” He smiled in a way that wasn’t exactly friendly. “I assure you the baron rewards such favors handsomely.”
Ryan didn’t move.
J.B. came up behind him. “Think it’s a trick?”
“Can’t say,” Ryan said out of the corner of his mouth. “If there’s a ville near here, it’d be better to be a friend of the baron than an enemy, seeing as we’re so low on supplies.”
“I believe Master Cawdor is right,” Doc commented. “Refusing such a gracious invitation would likely anger the baron, or at the very least arouse his suspicions about us.”
Ryan raised his head to address the short man. “We keep our blasters.”
“Of course. The baron will want to reward you for your actions, not punish you.”
Mildred stepped forward. “How about some help for Jak?”
Ryan nodded. “We’ve got one wounded.”
“We have medicine that will help him,” the sec leader said.
“What kind of medicine?” Mildred asked suspiciously.
“What kind?” Ryan asked.
“Something called penicillin.”
Ryan arched a brow in disbelief.
“That’s a good one,” Mildred said. “But I have to wonder—”
“We accept,” Ryan said.
“Excellent,” the short man stated.
The weapons of the two sec men behind him were slowly lowered and put away.
Ryan and the friends put away their blasters as well and began walking toward the woods where the sec men had been standing. At first J.B. and Mildred tried to give Jak a hand, but the proud teen was determined to make it on his own.
“How far away is the ville?” Ryan asked Eleander.
“A few klicks.”
“You walked all this way just for a swim?” Krysty asked.
“It’s the nicest spot on the river,” Moira offered.
“For an ambush by muties,” J.B. interjected.
Krysty and J.B. were right, Ryan thought. It was an awful long way to go for a swim, especially with muties roaming around. Conditions in the ville had to be horrible.
As they walked, Ryan watched Doc move up beside Eleander.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, patting away some of the dust and straightening the lapels of his worn frock coat.
“My name’s Eleander,” she said.
“Yes, of course, Eleander,” Doc stammered. “My name is Theo… Theophilus Algernon Tanner. But everyone calls me Doc, or Doc Tanner.”
“Doc,” she said inquisitively.
“I was just wondering, and excuse me if I am being far too bold to suggest this, but if we are to be guests of the baron tonight, then perhaps I might have the pleasure of talking with you at some length…”
“Talking? About what?” Eleander asked.
“Oh, about all manner of things, from the dawn of man to the setting of the sun.”
“I’d like to, but I’m not sure I’ll be allowed.”
“But I assure you, I mean you no harm, and I have no ulterior motive than to spend a bit of time with a woman who—and I say this with only the best of intentions—is closer to my own age than my usual company.”
“If the baron allows it, then yes.”
“By the Three Kennedys!” Doc said, barely able to contain himself. He bowed slightly. “Thank you for giving me something to look forward to.”
Eleander just shrugged.
The younger woman smiled at the older one, and shook her head.
Krysty came up beside Ryan. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, lover?”
“That Doc is attracted to Eleander.”
“Well, besides that.”
Ryan thought for a moment. “That something’s not right here?”
“You got it.”
“Any ideas?” Ryan asked. Krysty could be prescient at times and often got a bad feeling just before things were about to go wrong.
“So far nothing solid, but I’ll let you know.”
They neared the group of waiting sec men and as they did, Ryan was better able to gauge the size of the sec leader. He was about a foot shorter than Ryan, but was probably close to Ryan in actual body weight. He was armed with a 9 mm Heckler & Koch MP-5 machine blaster. It was a small, elegant weapon that was an excellent blaster for close-in fighting, but was far less effective out in the open. He probably used it a lot inside the ville rather than in the surrounding country. However, it wasn’t the man’s choice of blaster that impressed Ryan, but its condition. It was pristine, as if it had just been taken out of the box. It was possible that the blaster had once been part of the cache stored in the redoubt they’d just exited, but even so, it would have shown some signs of wear by now.
“You noticed it, too?” J.B. asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Nice condition,” Ryan nodded.
“Ammo looks good, too. Not new but good quality reload stuff.”
“Mebbe the baron’s a big-time trader,” J.B. suggested.
“Trading what?” Ryan wondered.
J.B. shrugged now that the sec leader was within earshot.
“Welcome,” the short man said. “My name is Robards. I’m sec chief for Baron DeMann.”
“Name’s Ryan.” He pointed his way around the group of friends. “This is Jak, J.B., Doc, Mildred and Krysty.”
“Pleased to meet you all, and I know I speak for the baron when I say he will be delighted to meet you as well.”
Eleander and Moira walked past Sec chief Robards, their heads down as if in shame. The other two sec men fell in line behind the two women, as though they were going to keep an eye on them all the way back to the ville.
“My dear Mr. Robards, as you might have noticed, I am getting on in years and I am not ashamed to say that I am not quite up to a long walk under this stifling sun.” Doc wiped a bony hand across his forehead to emphasize the point. “And of course, young Jak’s not doing so well, either. I am curious to know how far it is to this ville of yours because if it is any great distance, I would rather take a rest now and make the journey all in one go.”
“Not to worry old-timer,” Robards said with a smile. “You’ll all be riding to the ville.”
Robards led them through the trees, and as the forest first thinned and then came to an end, they came upon a large dirty yellow wag. There was no glass in any of the window frames and the sides had been reinforced with steel plate, but there were plenty of seats inside for all of them.
“It’s an old school bus,” Mildred said in disbelief.
“That looks as if it might do the job quite nicely,” Doc said, nodding in appreciation.
“Wags, too,” Ryan muttered when he was out of earshot of the sec chief.
“Whatever he’s trading,” J.B. commented, “he must trade a lot of it, or be a really good trader.”
“Good, ruthless or dishonest,” Ryan said.
Chapter Three
The ride in the wag was bumpy, but the vehicle made good time on the washed-out dirt roads and open fields that led back to the ville.
Ryan had hoped to have the chance to talk with Moira or Eleander along the way, but the two women had been placed in the seats directly behind the driver and across the aisle from Sec chief Robards. No one was more disappointed with the seating arrangement than Doc, who had tried to take the seat next to Eleander, only to be politely told to move toward the back of the wag by one of the sec men.
“Don’t tell me you’ve taken a shine to the woman,” Mildred said, as Doc made his way back to where the friends were sitting.
For a moment Doc looked stuck for words. Finally, he said, “I find the lady attractive, yes. Any woman who ventured this far from her ville just to enjoy the pleasure of a naked swim in a cool river is…intriguing to say the least.”
“Sure is curious,” Mildred acknowledged. “Maybe even a bit strange.”
“Lots strange about ville,” Jak said through slightly clenched teeth.
J.B. was just about to comment when the wag crested a rise and the ville suddenly appeared before them.
It was a fair-sized ville in two distinct parts. On the edges were all manner of run-down and ramshackle dwellings, and several areas made up of tents. Ryan recognized a few of the structures as gaudy houses and canteens, and guessed that the rest were flophouses and shelters for the ville’s bottom-feeders. Past the outlying ghetto was a section of the ville that was fenced in by a wall of burned-out wags, piles of broken cinder blocks and bricks, and rusty and twisted steel girders. If there had once been a city on this spot, its remains had been pushed, pulled and dragged into a mile-long circle of eight-foot-high rubble. The front gate of the ville was a ten- or twelve-foot gap in the wall, which was closed off by a pair of thick wooden doors that swung freely on two massive hinged wooden posts. Most likely they served as telephone poles in pre-Dark days.
A lookout in a crow’s nest set atop the pole on the right acknowledged the driver of the wag as it approached, and the doors swung open slowly to let the vehicle inside the ville.
As the gap between the doors inched wider, Ryan studied the buildings inside the wall. Like the structures on the outside, most of the buildings inside looked slapped together, with a few looking as if they’d been made from the cargo containers. Windows had been cut into the sides of the big square boxes to make living quarters, while others had been fitted with pipes and exhausts that suggested to Ryan that the ville’s baron was more of a manufacturer than a trader. In the distance, toward the back of the ville, Ryan could make out large glass houses similar to the kind once used on pre-Dark farms. So, in addition to making items for trade, the ville grew its own food. That would explain the well-maintained wag and a well-armed and organized sec force.
There were obviously things worth protecting inside the walls.
The wag pulled up in front of a stack of square steel boxes, each set on top of another like bricks. The door to the wag opened and one of the sec men got out, followed by Eleander and Moira. Doc and the others got up to exit the wag along with the women, but Robards put up a hand to stop them. “They get off here,” he said. “You’re going somewhere else.”
The friends sat down.
Robards stepped off the wag and spoke with one of his sec men. When he was done, the sec man double-timed it down the road. Then the sec boss got back on the wag and it lurched forward as it slowly got back underway.
Jak let out a slight groan of pain as the wag was jostled by a bump in the road, then quickly said, “Not hurt.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Mildred responded.
The wag pulled up in front of another series of stacked steel boxes and Robards turned and pointed to Jak. “This is where he gets off. There are people inside who can help him. They know he’s coming.”
Jak got up from his seat.
Mildred stood up as well.
“Are you injured, too?” Robards asked Mildred.
“No, but I’m going with him,” Mildred said.
Robards seemed to consider it a moment.
“She has some experience as a healer,” Ryan said at last. “Especially with blaster wounds.”
Robards nodded, a bit reluctantly, and stepped off the wag. He led Jak and Mildred inside one of the stacked steel boxes and the rest of the friends waited several minutes for him to return.
“Think Jak will be all right?” J.B. asked.
“Be back good as new with Mildred looking after him,” Ryan answered.
“Knowing Master Lauren as I do, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he had several women fussing over him by nightfall, each one offering him their virtue more passionately than the one before.”
Ryan smiled at that.
The door to the steel box opened and Robards returned to the wag. “He’s in good hands now.”
Again the wag lurched as it began to move.
On the left side of the roadway, Ryan noticed a strange sort of paddock area. It was basically an empty space with old oil cans, concrete barricades and several fences serving no apparent purpose scattered across the grounds. It looked like an obstacle course, and Ryan thought it might be used to train the baron’s sec force.
On one side of the paddock was a high and wide concrete wall that had been pockmarked by blasterfire. Ryan had seen such walls before and knew that they were used mostly for executions. That would explain the darkest stains on the wall, but there were other stains—bright yellows and oranges, and even a few of them green—on the wall and all over the enclosure that defied explanation.
“What do you make of that?” Ryan asked J.B.
“Firing squad?”
“Mebbe, but who bleeds green?”
The wag began to slow as it approached a brick-and-stucco building that towered three stories over the rest of the surrounding structures. There were plenty of blown-out windows, and large cracks in the walls that ran from the top all the way down to its foundation. The building had obviously survived the shock wave from a big blast miles away that had wiped out the rest of the ville. But while the building was still standing, it looked as if one more good bang would bring the whole thing crashing down. At least that’s the way it looked from the outside. But despite the damage, the building was by far in the best condition of any inside the ville, and it was obviously the place where the baron lived. However, judging by the size of it, there had to be plenty of others who lived inside as well.
“Last stop,” Robards announced.
“The baron lives here,” Ryan said.
“Yes, and so will you for the next few days.”
The muscles along Ryan’s back tensed at the words. “You make it sound like we’re prisoners.”
“Not at all,” Robards said. “That’s merely the usual duration of the baron’s hospitality. He grows tired of guests who don’t capture his interest, but I have a feeling your group will be allowed to stay for as long as you like.”
“When will we meet the baron?” Doc asked.
“He’s tied up with a business matter at the moment, but he’s assured me that he will be attending a small reception being held in your honor prior to this evening’s dinner.”
“A reception?” Doc quipped. “And I left my formal dinner jacket at home.”
Krysty let out a slight laugh.
“Don’t worry, Doc,” J.B. said. “The food will taste the same.”
“This way,” Robards said, leading them into the building.
THE INTERIOR of the steel box was hot and smelled of rust and urine, feces and blood. The sunlight shining in through the open door forced the man chained to one of the walls to squint to protect his eyes.
Baron DeMann, dressed in an immaculately clean lab coat, entered the steel box and pinched the end of his nose to fight off the stench. “I thought you said this stinkhole was hosed down.”
“Done last night,” the sec man on the baron’s left said.
“I want it clean just before I enter, understand?”
None of the sec men answered him.
Then one of the men said, “Mebbe he emptied his bowels this morning when we told him you’d be visiting.”
The rest of the sec men laughed, but the baron wasn’t impressed.
The laughter quickly died.
Baron DeMann stopped several feet from where the prisoner was chained up by his arms. They’d hoisted him up onto the wall just high enough so that his feet were off the floor, and his arms had to carry all his body weight. After a few days in that position, his arms had stretched enough for him to get his toes onto the floor, relieving some of the load on his arms, but not the pain.
The baron looked at the man’s feet touching the floor of the box. “Crank him up another six inches,” he ordered.
Two sec men turned a winch handle that reeled in several links of chain, lifting the prisoner higher up on the wall.
The man screamed in pain, but even in the echo-filled steel box, the cry sounded weak and feeble.
Beaten.
“Now, you little rad-blasted bag of scum,” the baron began, “have you had the chance to think about what you did?”
“Been thinking a lot…” the prisoner gasped.
“Yeah, about what?”
The prisoner’s head shifted to the right, and he opened his eyes against the invading sunlight. His dry, cracked lips parted, and his tongue appeared over his bottom lip like that of a lizard. He tried to spit at the baron, but his mouth and throat were too dry to produce any moisture.
The baron just shook his head. “You’ve got a bad attitude, Des.”
“Fuck you!”
The baron sighed. “And that disappoints me,” he continued, as if the prisoner wasn’t even there, “because I like you. Anyone who thinks they can get away with skimming jack off the top of my operation has either got the biggest pair of prunes in the entire ville, or he’s the stupidest rad-blasted fuck alive.”
The prisoner, Des, turned his head to the side, as if he’d heard the baron’s spiel before.
“I know you’re not stupid, because if you were, that would make me stupid for putting you into a position to rip me off. That means you’ve got to have Grade A plums in that scrotal sack of yours, and I like that.”
Des said nothing.
“I like that, but it’s not exactly a good thing for you to have. See, if by now you had told me you were sorry, I would have had to think about forgiving you. And if I’d forgiven you, then mebbe you’d already be dead, instead of hanging around inside this steel box waiting for me to let you die. But since you still haven’t come around to being sorry for what you’ve done, I’ve gotta make an example of you so no other sec men get any bright ideas about trying to cut themselves a piece of my pie.”
Des tried to spit again, but all that came out of his mouth was dry air that hissed as it passed through his lips.
“I guess that means you haven’t changed your mind.”
“Fuck you, you ass…” The man’s words trailed off without being completed.
“You really want to live, huh? Hang in there as long as you can?” Baron DeMann laughed at that.
The sec men surrounding him laughed as well.
“Well, I’m gonna make sure you hang in a long, long time, asswipe.” He turned to the sec man on his right. “Bring it here.”
The sec man moved forward, carrying a clear plastic bag filled with a clear liquid. There was a pale white rubber hose coming out of one end of the bag and a needle connected to the end of the hose. “This will keep you hydrated, Des. It’ll be like you’re drinking, but you’ll never have the pleasure of feeling the water sliding down your throat.”
The baron moved forward, climbed up onto a step provided for him by a sec man, then jabbed the needle into a vein in the prisoner’s arm.
“No.” The word escaped the man like a sigh. There was fear in his voice. Real terror.
“Oh, yeah. I’m going to keep you alive as long as I can, just to hear you scream.” The baron moved in close to Des so there were just inches between their faces. “And when I get tired of that music, I’m going to add some junk to the bag, stuff I’m experimenting with that will eat away at your brain until there’s nothing left but goo.” He paused, savoring the moment. “Finally, when it’s more work than it’s worth to keep you around, I’m going to put a few crazed muties in this box with you and watch.”
“No!” Des screamed loudly.
“Ah, that got your attention, eh?” the baron said, climbing off the step. “Good. Think about those muties crawling all over your body, looking for junk.”
“No, no. I’m sorry…sorr-ee,” Des screamed, his voice echoing eerily off the walls of the box.
But the baron wasn’t listening anymore. He had turned his back on the prisoner and was on his way out of the box, followed by a half-dozen sec men.
When they were all outside, the sec men closed the steel doors in silence, all of them listening to the screams of a man who had just started down a very long and painful road toward his own death.
It gave them all something to think about, especially since Des used to be a sec man, just like them.
AT THE OTHER END of the ville, a door opened on a large steel box. From somewhere inside the box came a gnawing, high-pitched mechanical whine that rose in pitch, and then suddenly settled down into a staccato hum.