you doubt yourself are the symptomatic results of a definite medical cause. It would be wrong of me as a doctor to let you follow your instinct at the risk of your own safety. I would recommend that we take you with us, even if we have to, at this stage, do it by force.’
Doc’s face hardened as he looked around. He was met with features as determined as his own.
‘I have no doubt that you would do that. I am outnumbered, and I have little choice but to acquiesce. Be warned, if I have the chance, I will try to get back to the redoubt and jump.’
‘Mebbe so,’ Krysty said softly. ‘But consider this—mebbe part of your journey is to find another way back, and that is why we were allowed to catch up with you and stop you.’
Doc’s face cracked into a wry grin. ‘That’s very good, my dear. In truth I have no answer to that. I am not allayed, but you have, nonetheless, set me a logical quandary that I must ponder.’
‘That mean we get fuck out here?’ Jak asked, disgruntled and a little lost.
J.B. rose, stretched and yawned. ‘Soon as we find which way’s the best way, then, yeah, I guess so. Right, Ryan?’
Ryan shrugged. He felt uneasy that he hadn’t quite grasped where Doc now stood, somehow angry with himself for not understanding; but action would force any issues that remained.
‘Yeah. Sooner the better,’ he growled.
USING HIS MINISEXTANT, J.B. got their bearings. A northwesterly path would take them toward the coast from their current position, and so they set out in formation. Ryan was at front, J.B. covering the rear of the line, with Jak in the middle, keeping close to Doc, and flanked by Mildred and Krysty. Doc seemed content enough to fall in with their plans, yet there was something that jarred. It wasn’t like him to give in that easily. Nonetheless, there seemed little option for him at this time.
It was a strange territory in which they moved. The wide, stunted trees with their bizarre growths and sparse canopy were intermingled with sudden needles of tall, thin firlike trees that shot into the sky as though about to scratch the very surface of the heavens. There was no rhyme or reason to the placing of these particular trees. It was as though the mutated woodlands had produced mutations within the mutants. Clustered around the dwarf trees were spiky grasses of a brilliant color that were as tough as rope. The carpet of rough grass was interspersed with flora of an equally brilliant hue and of a wide variety of colors. Reds, blues and yellows splashed among the green of the woodland floor, their flowers showing as distended and distorted shapes among the grasses, leaves of differing sizes on the same bloom causing them to droop at bizarre angles, hideously enlarge stamen ready to spread pollen across the surface of the ground and into the air with puffball explosions.
It was inevitable that the blooms would have to spread their own pollen, for the one immediately noticeable thing about the terrain was that it had no wildlife: no animals, no birds, nor any insects. The only sounds that broke the silence, other than those made by the companions themselves, were the muted rustlings of the grasses and the leaves as the light breezes of the day caught them.
It was incredibly peaceful and after a short while the companions found themselves relaxing, their every instinct telling them that they were safe from any kind of attack. Yet, for all the ease that they could now feel, one question nagged. Why was there such a lack of fauna when both rats and insects had invaded the redoubt?
It was a question soon answered. After a couple of hours they broke stride briefly to rest. A small stream bubbled twenty yards from where they stood, and Jak made his way down to test the water. Hunkering, he let the cool stream run over his hand. As he did, something sent an involuntary spasm down his spine. Cupping his palm, he lifted a little of the water to his nose. There was a faint tang to it that set alarm bells ringing in his intuition. He flicked at his palm with his tongue, rapidly spitting out the few drops that caught on the flesh.
The water had a metallic taste and every sense told him that it would chill him to drink from the stream. He straightened and turned to see J.B. taking a bright orange fruit from one of the trees, holding it under his nose to sniff it. The Armorer turned, sensing that he was being watched. His eyes met Jak’s and he nodded shortly. Prying the fruit open with both thumbs, he sniffed at it. A sweetness did little to overlay the sour stench that followed on the heels of the initial scent.
The others had observed this exchange, and each proceeded to test fruits, berries and leaves in a similar way. The results were completely inclusive: everything that grew or ran over the earth was toxic to the taste. The very ground itself had to have been heavily contaminated, either by the nukes or by something that had been let into the soil during the nukecaust. Given that this area had once lain close to heavily industrial and military suburbs, it should not have come as a shock. The mutie flora had adjusted to the soil from which it sprang, and any fauna had either perished or moved on.
It was, however, with a jolt that they realized that this gave them a problem. Not eating or drinking in the contaminated area would be simple enough; they had drinking water and self-heats, as well as some of the fresher food they had taken from the redoubt. But this wouldn’t last forever, and from the complete silence surrounding them, the contaminated land obviously spread over a great distance. Would they be able to clear the area before they ran out of supplies?
‘If we assume the place we started from is now about six miles back, and that the coastline hasn’t changed too much from when that old map was made, I figure it’s three days’ march at most before we hit the ocean,’ J.B. said as he double-checked their current position. ‘This can’t last all the way to the coast, ’cause we saw no sign of it before. And even if it does, then we just make a raft and risk it on the waves down the line of the coast itself,’ he added with a shrug.
‘Yeah, that sounds about the best of it,’ Ryan agreed. ‘Go triple cautious with the water, and we’ll ration the food, try to keep those self-heats to a minimum. We should be okay,’ he finished.
And it was true. They had enough for the distance J.B. estimated. But what if they had to change course? What if they were diverted before they hit the coast? Suddenly a simple route march had taken on a darker edge. They were used to facing practical matters head-on, and a nagging doubt at the corners of the mind was potentially more damaging to the group.
For two days they struck out toward the coast, eking out water and food. They made good progress as the only obstacles in their path were those created by the twisted and stunted boles of the trees, some a good yard across, and the patches of iron-hard grass that had to be avoided as they were too damaging even to the heavy boots worn by the walkers.
With no wildlife of any kind to impede them, it seemed certain that they would reach the coast easily before their supplies ran out. The cloud of possibility that they felt hanging over them began to dispel and they traveled at a greater pace, with more optimism around them.
The optimism increased, the pace decreasing, as they hit land that was less contaminated. The grasses and the trees became less warped and stunted, the going softer underfoot, and there were signs of life. Borne on the distant breezes were the sounds of birds in flight. The buzz of insect life became apparent, the flying creatures attempting to take bites from them. And in the undergrowth they could hear the rustle of movement. The smell of the woodlands changed from the sterility and sickly sweetness of the contaminated areas, the air now infused with the musk of living creatures, the woodlands in which they lived now stinking of life. It was at times an unpleasant odor, but one that bespoke life rather than the stasis of the contaminated area.
But the influx of life meant that they had to slow their pace. They had no real idea what shape that life may take. The sounds they had heard so far suggested that there was nothing particularly large or dangerous lurking in the shadows to leap out and chill them. Yet the smaller beasts could be just as dangerous; a bite could lead to an infection, or one well-placed claw could sever an artery. If there were packs, they could attack in numbers and prove difficult to repel.
So the only option was to slow the pace of their march. Jak scouted ahead. A natural-born hunter, his senses and instincts developed by years of practice, he was the perfect member