Arcadian's Asylum. James Axler
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the hinged doors that would cut off passage back, leaving the unsuspecting wayfarer trapped between the door and a dead end, either to starve to death or to be retrieved by any sec.
Jak knew that they weren’t being shadowed as before. He could tell from the sounds and smells around him that they were alone up on top of the maze. Yet all the same he could feel something indefinable, yet there. Someone had an eye on them.
Someone who wasn’t yet hostile, but was biding his time.
But for what?
“DELTA REPORTING. Their progress so far is good. The small albino is leading them. He seems to be the most adept at this kind of maneuver. The one-eyed man, despite being leader, is bringing up the rear of the party. He’s not afraid to delegate. They appear to be scouting the maze as they go, perhaps for future note if they happen across it once more. The natural hazards seem to prevent no obstacle to them.”
The team leader of the Delta post paused and turned to where his three-man team was working. One of them was trying to make purely visual contact. It was still early afternoon, and the light was good—little cloud cover and a bright sun. However, the thick canopy of foliage that overlay the maze obstructed much direct viewing, and even with the high-powered rifle scope he was using to keep track, the sec man had to confess that he was losing sight of them more often than actually seeing them.
The other two members of the team had fared better, however. One was using an infrared scope that penetrated the gloom of the canopy. With that, he was able to see the order in which they had ascended, and also track their progress. His colleague, equipped with heat-seeking tracking equipment, was able to see in greater detail the way in which they were moving, and to detect when one of them paused to look down into the maze.
His only problem was that the image on his monitor would freeze or cut out for a few seconds, before returning as before. Like much of the equipment in Arcady that had been salvaged, maintenance was good, but age was beginning to tell. Word had it that Arcadian’s research team was back-engineering this equipment to learn fully how it worked, and to see if they could synthesize components that were unavailable in a post-nukecaust world.
The only reason that this crossed his mind was that the bastard screen did it again, just at the moment when the albino reached the lip of the maze wall on the ville side. He cursed as the screen flickered and went black, muttering to himself impatiently as he waited for it to come back.
“They’re clear,” he announced as the screen fizzed before clicking back into color, showing the group descending the wall.
“THAT WAS MOST unpleasant,” Doc said, dusting himself down with an expression of distaste at the guano he dislodged, “but if it is all we have to endure, then I think we should count ourselves lucky.”
“Somehow, I think there may be something in store for us,” Ryan mused.
They continued without pause. Now they were back on the ground, Ryan and J.B. took the lead, hacking a path through the undergrowth with the panga and the Tekna knife. Jak brought up the rear, and it was not long before he started to hang back.
“Jak?” Doc queried, noticing this. “Is there something we should know?”
“Not sure…something come. Too clumsy for watchers from before. Not animal.”
“WHOO-HOO!” exclaimed the Delta team member with a high-powered scope as he made a sweep of the surrounding country. “They’ve got trouble. The usual fuckers.”
“It’ll be interesting to see how they handle it,” the team leader said before reporting the sighting.
Chapter Four
At first they couldn’t hear it. Jak knew which from which direction it originated, but all they could go on was his judgment. Sound enough, but still bewildering when you listened for something you knew had to be there, but couldn’t find.
They stood, poised, feeling that they should do something—but what? Until they could scent the danger for themselves there was little they could do to effectively prepare.
And then they heard it—a deep, distant rustling. Small noises made by the small animals and birds that inhabited the dense woodlands had been identified to such an extent that the friends were no longer even conscious of them. Now there was a louder rustling that seemed to stretch over a wider expanse of ground.
“Spread out,” Ryan ordered. “Stay in sight, but keep down.”
There was little else to say. Blasters drawn and ready, the six companions spread out in a skirmish line, facing to the east of the maze wall.
Ryan and Jak took each end of the line. J.B. moved to the middle to act as anchor man as the friends spread out. Mildred and Krysty were nearest to him, while Doc remained between Mildred and Jak. With J.B. acting as anchor, it was an uneven line, but as always there was the unspoken assessment that Doc was the least effective fighter in such situations. Protecting him in this way didn’t go unnoticed by those who watched.
“THEY’RE CLOSING IN on each other. Our targets have taken a formation that protects the old man. The one-eye and the guy in glasses know their strengths, and have used that to get a little balance.”
Arcadian’s voice crackled over the air. “How many are they facing?”
The team leader looked to his men. Heat-seeking and infrared showed blobs of heat and light that fused and melded. Some of the attacking party were moving too close together to be counted accurately. He looked to the observer with the high-powered scope.
“Hard to say for sure. I count twelve at some times, fourteen at others. Think that there may be up to three others I can’t pin down. I’d say they’re outnumbered three to one.”
The team leader whistled softly. “Don’t like those odds. Should we step in and take the rebels out?” he asked the baron.
There was a pause while Arcadian considered. Finally his reply came through. “Leave them. It would be simple to deploy men and disperse them, but this way we get to test their true mettle. It may save wasting time later on. Do not—I repeat, do not—intervene.”
The team leader raised an eyebrow. “Very well, sir.” He shrugged at the questioning glances of his team. “It’s not down to me. It’s going to be a bloodbath down there.”
RYAN LOOKED across the line. Jak and Doc were out of sight, though he could see Mildred’s head bobbing in the undergrowth. J.B. was still upright, scoping the line. Krysty was close enough for him to see clearly. He knew that his thoughts would be echoed in the minds of all of them. As the enemy—assume that now, ask questions later—approached, the sounds of their progress began to separate so that it was possible to pick out numbers and more accurate locations.
They seemed to be moving in four groups, three or four in each. The sound of their footsteps on the undergrowth, no matter how silently they tried to move, was audible. Bramble and fallen branches littered the forest floor so thickly that it was impossible for them not to snap and break some of the dry, dead foliage. Volleys of small, sharp sounds announced the multiple numbers of each group.
Because they moved in clusters, rather than as individuals, it was impossible for them not to cause disturbance in the foliage that they used as cover. Ripples of green spread across a line, a wave of motion that would have made tracking hard if they had moved as individuals. But in a group, the epicenter of each breaking wave was easily spotted.
A bloodbath, all right—Ryan knew it would have to be if they were going to take out the superior numbers before they had a real chance to attack. To do this the companions would have to keep their positions unknown for as long as possible. The only way to gain an edge would be to stay still and hold your nerve until it was time to fire.
Ryan looked at his friends. They would know this, but a hand signal relayed his intent to J.B. and Krysty. In turn, the Armorer passed it on down the line.
If they had