Atlantis Reprise

‘Doc, don’t start on that again.’ Krysty sighed. ‘It wouldn’t have been any better if you’d got back to the north, and it could have been a whole lot worse. Who knows where you would have ended up.’

‘Somewhere without a poisonous forest, perhaps,’ Doc replied sharply.

‘Dark night, will you stop going on about it, Doc,’ J.B. muttered wearily. ‘For the last two days, all you’ve done is moan. It’s like you want to wear us down and make us admit we were wrong. But what the hell good would that do?’

‘None,’ Doc snapped bitterly. ‘It would do none as it’s too late to turn back. But don’t think that I won’t take another option if I can find it. With or without you.’

They hadn’t heard him be this openly antagonistic before. It was as though the quietness of their progress over the past few days had done little for the old man except give him the time to brood on the wrong he thought they had wrought him. He had made no point to leave them and turn back, as though at least some part of him knew the futility of this; but at the same time there was little doubt that the thought of getting back to the people he considered his destiny was something that was looming larger still in his thoughts.

Which was something that could become a major problem if left unchecked. But for the moment, Ryan was thankful that it was all they had to be concerned about.

They continued for the best part of a day, their progress impeded by the need for caution. Most of the mammalian life in the woodlands was small: squirrels, rabbits, other rodents, some of which showed signs of the long-lasting toxic effects of the nearby ground by their mutations. None of the creatures were that big, and were misshapen, though not enough to stop them from surviving adequately in the woods. They were helped in this by the fact that nothing large seemed able to survive and prosper in the immediate environment. The birds, likewise, were all small. The flitted from tree to tree, always staying just enough out of sight to prevent themselves from becoming a target either to the companions or to the lower level life-forms.

The trees and plants were hung with a variety of fruits that differed from those in the contaminated area in as much as they were smaller, less hideously malformed and had duller colorings. They also showed signs of being eaten by the fauna of the woods.

Nonetheless, taking heed of what Mildred had said earlier, they refrained from partaking of the fruits, or hunting any of the small animals and birds, setting a fire to keep the rodents at bay as night fell, and relying on their dwindling supplies of food and water.

‘By my reckoning, even though we’ve slowed down, we should be able to hit the coast by tomorrow night, the morning after at most,’ J.B. told them after they had eaten. ‘We just need to keep on this heading. Just as well we’re past those shit strange mutie trees.’

It was an optimistic, contented group who settled for the night, Ryan taking first watch. Not that there was much to take note of. The birds had settled for the night and the only sounds were of some nocturnal rodents hunting in the undergrowth. Although nominally alert, Ryan allowed himself to relax slightly. There was nothing out there to disturb their rest or to impede their progress.

The following day, he felt, they would make good time.

WITHIN A FEW HOURS of breaking camp and setting off for the coast, he knew that his assumption of the night before had been incorrect. It wasn’t something that could be put into words, but there were signs that a major change was ahead of them. Although the landscape around them remained the same—certainly showing no signs of deterioration into the contaminated state they had first encountered—the sounds and signs of life began to fade away. There were fewer birds and insects, less scuttling in the long grasses or flashes of fur as the smaller mammals turned away from the intruders in their land.

‘Something’s changed,’ Ryan said softly. ‘But what?’

Jak was doing a recon and he returned. Ryan repeated his question. The albino shrugged. ‘Nothing. Trees same, ground same. But no animals, no birds. Something scaring them away, but not anything seen.’

‘Fireblast, this is what I hate more than anything. Give me an enemy that you can see any fuckin’ day. Triple red from now on,’ he said, shrugging the Steyr from his shoulder and chambering a round.

‘You want me to recce ahead?’ Jak asked.

Ryan shook his head, his single ice-blue eye glittering as he surveyed the land around. ‘No. This might not be something we can see that easily. If it can scare the wildlife away, then it might not be as simple as a single enemy we can see.’

‘By the Three Kennedys, you’re not suggesting that we may be up against some kind of supernatural agency?’ Doc asked, his voice suspended uncertainly between fear and a desire to mock.

‘Nothing as simple. Whatever’s cleared this area has a wide sweep and has mebbe been doing it for a while. Notice the smell, anything else?’ he asked.

‘No spoor,’ Jak said. ‘No half-eaten fruit or plant. Been deserted a long time.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I figure. So we keep together, we keep going, hope we don’t meet it—whatever it is—and we stay triple alert on this, okay?’

Blasters poised, they tightened formation and fell into line. It was hard, not knowing exactly what it was that they needed to protect themselves against: all they knew was that the danger was nearer than before, if less palpable. Their pace decreased, as well, so that it seemed they were making no progress at all.

So far, they had been blessed with excellent weather during their trek. The skies above the canopy had remained clear, the temperature almost humid. This now grated, as the sweat of concentration and fear began to gather upon them, running in slow rivulets down their skin, collecting in pools in the small of the back, under the arms, behind the knees. They were itchy and uncomfortable, the irritation adding to their mounting tetchiness.

It was therefore, perhaps, fortunate that they didn’t have to wait long before the silence was broken. After only an hour’s slow crawl, they became aware of something approaching them, head-on.

Jak caught first hearing and Krysty’s mutie sense echoed his own acute senses, her hair coiling protectively and the dread rising in her. The enemy—whoever or whatever it may be—was approaching so quickly that it became audible to the others before either Jak or Krysty had a chance to verbalize their forebodings.

‘What the hell is that?’ Mildred whispered.

‘I’d say there’s at least a half dozen of whoever it is, and they haven’t had much need to use stealth up to now,’ J.B. commented wryly as the noise reached them.

‘Take cover,’ Ryan commanded. ‘See how many of these sons of gaudys there are.’

The woodland provided ample cover. There were no paths as such that could be taken, rather a maze of gaps between the trees that could be utilized. None was suitable for more than two abreast, so it was a reasonable assumption that the oncoming force would have to split themselves in some manner to pass by where the companions were located. Jak shinnied rapidly up a tree to try to get a better look at the oncoming party while the others took advantage of the excellent cover the greenery presented.

From his vantage point, Jak could see that there were nine people in the party approaching. All were men aged from their early teens to their late twenties. There were no veterans among them—in fact, the age tended more toward the younger end of the scale—and this, allied to their seeming inability to use stealth, was a good sign. All the same, they still outnumbered the companions. The strangest thing about them was that they made no attempt to camouflage themselves. In fact, their garb was some of the strangest that Jak had seen from men who were his opponents. They were all dressed in white robes that were cut short, toga-style, rimmed in thick red trim. Their legs were encased in leather thongs that were crisscrossed and tied up to the knees. They carried daggers in sheaths and a variety of handblasters. Jak thought he could pick out a Walther PPK, a Vortak precision pistol and a Browning Hi-Power like the one Dean had used before he’d gone missing. All good blasters, but ones that needed a degree of skill. Looks could be deceptive, but Jak doubted that these strangely attired men had the skill to be effective—not if their shooting echoed their stalking skills.

Jak scrambled down the tree and outlined the position to the companions beneath. Although secreted, they were close enough to hear him as he rapidly gave them the requisite information before taking cover himself.

All they had to do was to wait for the hunting party to come upon them. Why they were in the woods was a mystery. If they knew that the companions were there—and how was another matter—then they were making a poor task of concealing themselves. They were easy to track as they closed on the area where the companions were taking cover.

The nine men had spread themselves out among the twisting gaps through the trees, making it hard to take them all in one attack; and yet they were too close to risk blasterfire once the companions engaged with them. Too far apart to take out, too close to take out. It was more luck than judgment, that much was clear, but it was enough to make the companions’ task harder.

Ryan signaled with a sharp whistle and the six friends shot from their hiding places as the strangely garbed hunting party passed them. It was a measure of how inexperienced the strangers were that they seemed to be completely unaware that they had the companions in their midst until they had already been attacked.

It was a swift and brutal battle. Unwilling to risk blasterfire that may hit their own people with stray shells, Ryan, Jak and J.B. had opted to use their blades. Mildred and Krysty used their bare hands. However, even in this they had the drop on their opponents, who had kept their daggers sheathed. The two men that the women chose to attack both fumbled for their blades rather than defend themselves, and both found themselves on the end of crushing blows. Krysty delivered a kick to the groin that was made more painful by the sharp silver point on her blue cowboy boots, whereas Mildred took out her man with a roundhouse punch that connected perfectly on the top of the jaw, just beneath the ear. The man’s eyes rolled into his head as his skull snapped back.

Doc was the only one who held back. So many thoughts raced through his head, some of which he was obscurely ashamed of. Should he join the fray or see who won? What would benefit him in his long-term aim? But surely he should help his friends—ah, but had they been of any help to him, not allowing him to return to his destiny? All of this spun around his head, freezing him until the moment when he was actually attacked. A burly man with a blond beard to match his mop of curls snarled and thrust at Doc with his dagger. The old man smoothly withdrew the razored blade of Toledo steel from its cane sheath and parried the blow, countering with a thrust that swept across the man’s chest, ripping his toga and drawing a line of blood from beneath.

At six on eight, the odds were already beginning to even up a little. They took another turn for the good when one man howled in agony, his arm sliced vertically by a blow from Ryan’s panga. The flesh hung from his upper arm, blood splattering on the foliage around him. He was fortunate that it missed his artery, but nonetheless he recoiled and took no further part in the fray.

‘It’s not them…it’s not them,’ the cry was echoed around the hunting party, much to the confusion of the companions. They didn’t stop fighting, but now found that instead of standing toe-to-toe they were driving their attackers back, as though the hunting party was deliberately retreating.

The strangely attired men pulled back enough to turn and flee. Jak was about to give chase when Ryan stayed him. Still the cry of ‘not them…not them…’ echoed from the retreating men.

As the sounds faded into the distance, the companions exchanged bemused glances. Who had the hunters thought they might be, and did that mean they weren’t alone in the woodlands?

There was one way to find out. The man on whom Mildred had landed the perfect punch was still unconscious, sprawled on the ground.

Ryan strode over and pulled the man to his feet. The movement made him stir and his return to consciousness was aided by the open-palmed slaps Ryan delivered across his face. His eyes opened, bleary and unfocused.

‘Wake up,’ Ryan grated. ‘You’ve got a lot to tell us, and you’d better do it quick.’

Chapter Five

His eyes opened, although they were not as yet focused, and they showed the naked fear that he felt in the midst of the group.

‘Are you going to talk?’ Ryan snarled. He had little time for those who attacked him without reason, and even less for those who showed the cowardice of this man. He looked as though he was about to defend himself.

‘Don’t even think about that,’ the one-eyed man growled.

‘I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,’ the young man returned. Now that he was beginning to take in his surroundings, and that reason was returning to his muddled senses, he was growing in courage. He took in the half dozen people surrounding him. They weren’t the ones his people had sought, although they had fought hard and were understandably angry. If he told them what they wanted to know, then perhaps he would be able to negotiate with them. After all, as he looked around he could see that there were no chilled bodies scattered around. They hadn’t wantonly slaughtered the rest of the party.

His surreptitious glance didn’t escape Ryan. ‘I’ll cut you a deal,’ the one-eyed warrior stated. ‘You tell me what I want to know, and you can go free.’

‘You must think me a fool to agree to such a blatant untruth.’ The young man spit.

Ryan allowed a grin to crease his weathered features. ‘Fair point, but it works like this. We want to get through to the coast without being attacked. You come with us, to make sure that doesn’t happen, and you’re free to go. Your people obviously weren’t attacking us—it was a mistake. Fireblasted stupe one, as it could have got us chilled, but this shit happens.’

The young man studied Ryan’s face intently. In turn, the leader studied him. It was an open, soft face. The man was obviously just out of his teens, his long, dark hair and short beard showing the softness of youthful growth. His skin was clear and his eyes a blue almost as piercing as Ryan’s single orb. There were traces of puppy fat still on him, suggesting he came from a ville that had plentiful supplies—which was worth knowing—and his bearing was strong. Despite the position in which he was held, and the fear that had temporarily assailed him on first coming around, he now held himself defiantly. It was probably a pose, but one he used to try to bluff his way past his fear.

Ryan couldn’t help but like him. He had balls. Enough to not answer immediately, as though he truly had options to consider.

‘Very well, I will answer your questions on the understanding that I will aid you with safe passage to the coast and insure that you aren’t attacked by my people—however, I should add that it is still likely that you will be a target, particularly on the route that you wish to take, for my people aren’t the only ones who are in this vicinity—’

‘I kind of guessed that from the way you thought we were someone else,’ Ryan cut in. ‘So why don’t you start by telling us who you are?’

The young man looked around before speaking, then said, ‘I have no objection to this, as such, but I feel I must point out that without a sentry of some kind, we may be putting ourselves at risk from those we were seeking.’

‘If they were like your people, we’ll hear them coming, all right,’ J.B. commented wryly.

‘Ah, but that’s the problem,’ the young man said, turning his earnest gaze on the Armorer. ‘We’re novices in the art of combat, and make no compunction in admitting such. It is one of the problems we seek to address in our quest for survival. But those we oppose—and who oppose us—are experts and masters in the dark arts of war.’

‘Jeez, if you’re gonna be this long-winded then you’re gonna give Doc a run for his money,’ Mildred said, sighing, ‘in which case we really do need to set up a guard.’

Ryan laughed shortly. Mildred had a point. They withdrew to as secure a position as they could find, and Jak took watch while the young man hunkered down in the midst of the group.

‘So what is it that you wish to know?’ he asked simply.

‘Who you are and where you’re from would be a start, along with who you thought we were and why you tried to attack us,’ Ryan answered.

The young man smiled and shook his head. ‘A veritable avalanche of questions. Allow me to take them in the order in which they were posed. First, my name is Affinity, and I come from the ville of Memphis, which is eight miles from here, to the north and the west. We’re a small ville, and all we want to do is to live in peace, which perhaps may surprise you in light of the way you encountered our sec patrol. But we have to be vigilant, for we’re endangered simply because of our peaceful aims.’

‘Why would that be?’ Krysty prompted.

Affinity twinkled as he looked at the woman. ‘I was about to explain, if but given the chance. We’re a breakaway ville, formed by those who have escaped from the larger ville of Atlantis. There, all are enslaved in the service of the greater cause. But there were those of us who didn’t want to live beneath the whip and the chain. Though we have been brought up to believe in the cause of those who would come to claim us, we can’t see the point of building and waiting to be taken to a better life that promises nothing but more oppression. So gradually we fled the sec maze that surrounds the ville and made our own homes…those of us who could make it through with our lives.

‘And yet, you know, that somehow makes it all the sweeter that we have freedom, even if it be at the price of eternal vigilance.’

‘This Atlantis—how far is it from your ville, Memphis?’J.B. questioned, trying to keep the young man focused before he lost the thread of his discourse. It was obvious that he was inclined to ramble, and time was of the essence.

‘Atlantis is twenty miles to the south of Memphis, about fifteen from here, as the birds fly,’ he answered with admirable brevity.

‘And it’s sec from that ville that you were looking for?’ Krysty asked.

The young man nodded. ‘They can often be found here, and they’re our enemies.’

Doc leaned forward and tapped the young man on the knee. ‘You must forgive a befuddled old man, and indulge him,’ he began, ‘but your discourse does not, in some regards, make much sense to me. You claim that these sec men are much better fighters than you, yet you were actively looking for them when you encountered us. Surely you can see that to an outsider this seems a strange attitude. To what purpose would you actively seek out conflict with those who could so easily best you in battle?’

It was obvious from the expression on Affinity’s face that he was glad that Doc had spoken. Their similar modes of speech made him a much more receptive target for the young man’s discourse.

‘I would agree with you that, on the face of things, it seems folly for us to actively seek out and tackle with those who could so easily best us, but were life that simple. Although we’ve escaped the bondage of Atlantis, its ties are long and binding. There are those who would have it that none can escape the long arm of Atlantean law, and so they send out parties of Nightcrawlers, who seek to take back those who have transgressed by seeking refuge in our ville. We’re new, and we have made our homes in the wreckage of an old, predark ville. We don’t, as yet, have the security that Atlantis can boast, and so it is easy to breach our defenses.’

‘What happens to those who are taken?’ Doc asked simply.

‘Public execution, as an example to those who may seek to follow,’ Affinity said, a tightness creeping into his voice. ‘I have seen it with my own eyes, before I risked escape.’

‘And these Nightcrawlers, as you called them?’ Ryan prompted.

Affinity looked at Ryan as though, for a second, he didn’t comprehend what the one-eyed man had said to him, as though he were lost in some private hell, recalling what he had seen. Then he seemed to snap back to reality, answering concisely.

‘They’re what their name may suggest. They come mostly in the night, though not exclusively. They’re painted in the colors of the forest, and they move with stealth and silence. This is also the way in which they strike. They are upon us before we have a chance to defend ourselves. They use knives and swords, mostly, but also they have blasters that some have the noise contained, so that they are almost silent.’

‘Must be mostly handblasters or assault rifles. Few SMGs have silencer capability,’ J.B. murmured. He noticed that Affinity was looking at him strangely. ‘Just trying to figure out what we’re up against,’ he added.

The young man nodded briefly, then continued. ‘We have little hope of catching them when we attack, and we have little in the way of fighting skills. Thus we seek to comb the forest before nightfall, perhaps hoping to keep them at bay by making it hard for them to approach Memphis unseen.’

‘Seems a risky way to try to insure your safety,’ Ryan pointed out.

Affinity shrugged. ‘True enough, but there is little else we can do, and the attacks have less frequency since we first took these measures. It would seem that we have some success, if not, perhaps, enough. On which note I shall cease, for I think that I may have answered all your questions. Except for why we attacked you, but I think that is obvious—we mistakenly assumed you were Nightcrawlers, and attempted to withdraw when we discovered our mistake…at least, those of us who were able,’ he added ruefully, fingering his jaw and looking askance at Mildred.

‘Hey, what can I say? It had to be done,’ she said, holding up her hands.

Affinity nodded. ‘True enough, but you can’t blame me for wishing that it had been one of my fellows and not myself who suffered at your hands.’

J.B. turned to Ryan. ‘I don’t get some of this. Unless my calculations are out, I don’t remember any big ville being in that direction last time we were in this area.’

‘True enough,’ Ryan agreed, turning to Affinity. ‘You’re familiar with the whaling fleets along the coast, and the ville of Claggartville from where they come, right?’

The young man looked at him blankly and shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard of this place, and we know nothing of what occurs along the coast. I should, perhaps, explain that Atlantis has kept itself secreted since the nukecaust, and deals as little as possible with outsiders. Most of the food and cloth is generated from within the ville, and other supplies are taken from the ancient ville of Trenton. This looms large in our legends from before the nukecaust, when those who knew what was coming prepared for the long winter of the soul. It’s all we know, and is why we traveled along those old roads when we sought to build a home away from Atlantis.’

‘So you’re living in the ruins of Trenton, New Jersey, and Atlantis was built apart from that?’ Mildred asked. When Affinity nodded, Ryan could see that Mildred was confused and he shot her a questioning glance. ‘Hell, I don’t know,’ she said by way of reply. ‘I don’t remember Trenton being that close to the coast.’

‘Could be the shape of the coastline has changed,’ J.B. answered, ‘or mebbe they think it’s Trenton and it’s not. Hell, we used to see signs that we thought gave us the name of an old ville then turned out to be a signpost all the time when we were traveling with Trader, right?’ he directed to Ryan.

The one-eyed man nodded. ‘Could be a whole lot of reasons,’ he said to Mildred. ‘Kind of irrelevant now. The fact that they’re close together and warring with us in the middle is all we need to really know.’