scaled the nearest tree, moving smoothly up the gnarled trunk, which gave him a multiplicity of easy foot and handholds. Once up into the lower limbs, he edged out, carefully testing the weight. He was able to move with ease along them, and he was soon scudding across the canopy of leaf cover, using the sounds of the disturbed bird and animal life to mask his progress.
In a matter of a few minutes, he was just to the rear of the hunting party. Circling them widely enough to escape detection, but close enough to get the members in sight quickly, he settled onto a limb as they stumbled across the scene of combat.
Still, as though he were now a part of the tree rather than an alien presence on the limb, Jak sat and watched while the hunting party were stopped in its tracks at the sight of the carnage. There were six of them, as he had guessed, two women and four men. Two of the men were weatherbeaten and looked old, although they still moved easily and without the stiffness he would expect from age. The other two were younger, one of them nursing a large gut, but otherwise looking strong. The women were both young, with long, muscular limbs. One of them had large breasts that bounced as she moved, made more obvious by the belt of ammo that was slung in a diagonal across her chest. She carried a remade AK-47, which failed to account for the belt, as it was fed by a magazine. The other woman, however, was carrying what looked to Jak like a Sharps, which would necessitate the belt. But why wasnât she carrying it?
No matter, except that perhaps it told of this party being unused to combat. Certainly, Jak would have put the village down as a fishing community, with little need for much blaster use when they were this isolated. They were also unused to seeing the results of battle. This much was obvious from the way the young man with the pendulous belly turned away and hurled the contents of his stomach onto the grass. The woman with the Sharps went over to comfort him while the others just looked, dumbfounded.
âShit, must be an army,â the other woman whispered.
âOr just good,â one of the old men commented. âToo fucking good, I figure.â
âGood or not, we owe them for this,â the other young man snarled. âThey thought they were only chasing game. They werenât expecting this.â
The two older men exchanged glances. The one who had spoken previously said quietly, âThey should have been expecting anything. So should we.â
The other man moved in the direction that the companions had forged their path. He studied the undergrowth. âMoved this way,â he said thoughtfully. âFigure that theyâre moving out to the west and trying to get around the side of the village, which means that theyâll move right into the regular scouts.â
The younger man grinned. There was something in it that spoke of the smell of vengeance in his nostrils. âServe them right. Take them alive and make them suffer⦠Hey, Leroy, you hear that?â he asked suddenly. âUp there somewhereâ¦â
âOnly the birds, Tyne, only the birds,â the old man replied, following the younger manâs gaze. âWhat we want is over that away.â
Indeed he was correct. Jak had already vacated his vantage point and was speeding through the upper reaches of the trees, on his way to meet up with the companions. He had only heard the one group moving through the woods, but if the regular sec patrol they spoke of would cross paths over to the west, then there was no way that he would have been able to detect them. And there was little chance that the others would to know they were there until it was too late.
At the back of his mind, it struck him that the hunting party, and those they had chilled, had been dressed like people from a ville that was poor. The clothes were threadbare and well worn. Theyâd need something hardier as a predominantly fishing ville. And why the hell were they hunting game when they were supposed to get most of their food from the seas? It was starting to look as though the companions had walked straight into someone elseâs crisis. But right now, that was unimportant. It could wait until they were in the clear, past all possible attack.
Behind him, he could hear the hunting party start to follow the trail left by the companions. He would be able to outrun them easily and reach Ryan and his people before the hunters, but would he be able to reach them before they crossed paths with the sec patrol?
A FEW MILES AWAY to the west, Ryan and the rest of the companions were moving through the woodlands at a rapid pace. The idea was to put as much ground between them and the scene of combat in as quick a time as possible. The farther they were from the scene, the harder it would be for the pursuing party to catch them, for there was no doubt in Ryanâs mind that the trail would be easy enough to follow. It was virtually impossible for five people to cut their way through the undergrowth without leaving a trace of their passing. So speed was their best weapon.
They couldnât know that the faster they went, the longer it took Jak to reach them, the more they were hacking their way into a trap.
They continued, regardless. They couldnât hear the distant approach of another party, the noise of their own progress obscuring the distance.
JAK HAD NEVER MOVED SO FAST, and with so little caution. There was no point. He had left the hunting party far behind, and knew that the only other sec party in the woodlands was to the west.
His red eyes were unblinking, every nerve ending screaming, the blood pumping at a bursting rate as he pushed his muscles, springing from branch to branch, sometimes landing on the toes of his combat boots and trusting his arms to carry the bulk of his weight on an overhead limb. Once or twice his feet had slipped on guano or moss that had gathered on a limb, and his arms felt as though they would be wrenched from his shoulders as his feet flailed into empty air, slipping off their perch, the momentum increasing his weight at these moments.
But his luck held, and he carried on his way, making time and ground as fast as was humanly possible.
The trouble was, he needed to be more than human.
âI WOULD HATE TO BREAK SILENCE at such a moment, my dear Ryan, but I feel I must,â Doc blurted suddenly, his previously purposeful stride faltering as he stumbled, turning his head to the rear. He was second from last in the line, with J.B. bringing up guard position.
âDoc, this is no timeââ Ryan began, but J.B. cut him short.
âDocâs not bullshitting,â he snapped. âWaitâlistenâ¦â
Ryan, Mildred and Krysty stopped.
âFireblast! Who the hell is that?â Ryan hissed.
âDoesnât matter. Whoever they are, theyâre nearly on us,â J.B. snapped, bringing his Uzi up to level.
Ryan couldnât believe theyâd been so slack as to miss the oncoming sound of another hunting party. It couldnât be the one they were avoiding, as these had to be some distance behind. It had to be another who had guessed their path and cut them off, for these sounds were coming from in front of them.
There was a rustling in the trees behind them. The one-eyed warrior looked up, but could see nothing: the noise continued past them. He looked at his people. They seemed as bemused by this as he was himself.
Before any of them had the chance to say a word, the rustling continued and Jak appeared before them, springing down from the trees.
âDifferent party. Five. Handblasters and blowpipes,â he said without preamble. âOnly minute, mebbe two, and coming right for us.â
Ryan swore and gestured to his people to adopt defensive positions in whatever cover they could find.
Using shrubs and clumps of trees to locate themselves in areas less likely to be hacked through, they settled in quickly. Jak was the only one to use the treetops, as he was the only companion swift enough to make it in the time they had.
Or at least, that was how it should have been. But as they waited, tension extending each second into hours, it became apparent