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in his pocket Beretta. One door in the place and he was in front of it. Didn't
even have a nail file on me. No blade at all. Fat son of a bitch, he was.
Stood up, grinning. I
can still see him. Patches of sweat rotting under his arms. Fat hand like a
side of mutton, and this stupid toy popgun. He was going to chill me."
"Did he?" Jak asked.
"Course he& " J.B. began until he saw the joke. He grinned coldly at the
teenager.
"Nice one, kid. I chilled him."
"How?" the boy asked.
"With the Colt Navy."
"You said out ammo. Can't reload quick cap and ball."
"Right, Jak. But I killed him with it. Stood up slow. He was coming across the
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Axler,_James_-_DeathLands_9_Red_Equinox room, oozing delight that he got the
ace on the line for me. No place to run. I was holding the pistol, down, by
the barrel."
Ryan remembered the occasion. He'd gotten to the drinker too late, but he
could still feel the stickiness of all the blood on the soles of his boots.
"Threw it at him underarm, real hard. Lovely gun. Best balance of any. One and
a half turns in the air. Butt clubbed him across the top of the nose. Noise
like a ripe apple un-der the heel. Down he went, pistol flying any which way.
I walked over, picked up my blaster and hit him twice, just behind the right
ear. Skull went soft after the first blow. Softer after the second."
He stopped speaking as abruptly as he'd begun. The room was silent until Rick
Ginsberg spoke. "And that's it?"
J.B. nodded.
Ryan was conscious of everyone waiting for him to speak. He knew that the cup
would eventually pass its way around the circle and reach him, and he'd been
thinking of what to say.
"Lover?" Krysty prompted.
"Been thinking about the best time. I can think of a lot of good times. Think
of plenty of bad times, as well. Plenty."
"I do not believe that you can wriggle away, my dear fellow," Doc said. "Not
good enough."
Ryan looked around the circle of waiting faces old friends, new and newer
friends.
"Good fire. We're secure with the storm out there. My gut's filled with meat,
and
I'm with people I know and trust." Ryan squeezed Krysty's hand. "And I have
love. This moment's about as good as any I ever knew."
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Axler,_James_-_DeathLands_9_Red_Equinox
Chapter Eleven
THEY ALL SLEPT in the same room. Anyone who woke up at any time would toss
another piece of dry timber onto the slumbering ashes of the fire. Outside the
storm continued to shriek its wrath, plucking at the weathered walls, shak-ing
the roof, trying to find more loose shingles to rip free and hurl into the
whirling air.
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Ryan and Krysty lay together, using the newly won fur coats as an extra
covering.
The hardness of the floor was no deterrent to a good night's sleep. Over the
months that they'd been together, Ryan and Krysty could almost count their
nights in a proper bed on the fingers of both hands.
As the fire sank lower and the wind began to ease, Ryan was awakened by a hand
crabbing across his stomach. It inched its way lower, unbuckled his belt and
eased his pants down over his hips. For some time Ryan tried to pretend that
he was still sleeping, but Krysty's fingers on his body made him betray
himself.
"Waking up, lover?" she whispered, stroking him, rousing him with the
insistent rhythm.
"Looks that way," he replied, rolling over onto his back so that she could
fondle him more easily so that he could reach her more easily.
"Gently," she murmured, lips brushing his ear. Both of them were aware of the
sleeping sounds of the other four: Jak moaning and scratching his nails across
the floor; Doc muttering a name that might have been his long-dead wife's;
Rick, restless, his breathing fast and shallow; and J.B., on his back, hands
down at his sides, like an em-balmed corpse, his weapons within easy reach.
Tired by the effort of dragging the sled through the bliz-zard, Ryan found it
difficult to begin the lovemaking. But Krysty's insistence and skill quickly
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Axler,_James_-_DeathLands_9_Red_Equinox overcame his reluc-tance and he
managed to match her questing rhythm.
They climaxed close together, scant seconds apart. Ryan felt his whole body
stiffen, eye closing, teeth clenched with the overwhelming power of the
orgasm.
He clutched her so tightly that he was vaguely aware of her muscles creaking.
In her turn Krysty gripped him, fingers leaving weals across his shoulders.
She pressed herself so hard against him that it almost seemed as if she were
trying to make them into a single, fused entity. She gave a little cry,
bury-ing her face against his shoulder to muffle the sound.
Afterward they slept again, close like a pair of spoons, his flaccid manhood
nestling into the cleft of her firm but-tocks. She wriggled back with a murmur
of pleasure, the slight movement sufficient to set him off again along the
same road.
"Thought you were tired, lover," she whispered over her shoulder as he slid
into her from behind.
"Never done it in Russia before. Thought I'd check and make sure I enjoyed it
as much as I did the first time."
"And?"
"Even better."
THE DAWN CAME UP with a sullen, gray reluctance that barely lightened the
large room, showing them a scene outside of utter bleakness. Snow now lay two
feet thick over the land.
Jak was up first, poking at the ashes of the fire, crouch-ing over and blowing
through cupped fingers to try to revive the heat. He carefully put on a few
dry splinters to coax the specks of glowing crimson embers into flaming life.
"Could use pyrotab," he muttered, flicking his hair away from his face. "Get
fucker burning."
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"Freshly squeezed orange juice followed by eggs Bene-dict on an English
muffin.
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