Child Of Slaughter. James Axler

on the spot and leave you here.”

      Doc frowned. “And why is that, if I may ask?”

      “Because I know.” Ankh jabbed again. “Out of this whole gang of morons, I seem to be the only one who knows.”

      “Knows what?” Doc asked.

      Ankh leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That you’re no more Dr. William Hammersmith than I am.”

      Doc swallowed hard. He had the distinct impression that the only reason he was still alive was that the muties thought he was Hammersmith. If Ankh had an inkling of his true identity, how much longer could Doc expect to live?

      “That’s right,” Ankh said. “I can see right through you.”

      Doc toyed with various options and decided to play dumb, at least for now. “I do not understand. Perhaps you are the one who’s mistaken.”

      “Do you want to escape Exo and never come back, whoever you are?” Ankh asked.

      “Call me Doc. And yes.”

      Ankh nodded. “Then, we both want the same thing.” He looked both ways, then leaned closer. “And if you don’t force me to kill you, mebbe we’ll manage to get what we want.”

      Doc locked eyes with Ankh, taking his measure. Ankh’s eyes were dark brown, almost black, and very steady. Whatever his true intentions might be, he seemed reasonable on the surface. Doc decided he might just be his best chance for survival and escape.

      “Never let it be said that I prefer, as a rule, dying over living another day.” Doc bowed his head slightly. “You have my attention, friend Ankh.”

      “Friend? I have no friends. Not anymore.”

      Doc nodded.

      “I can turn an alliance with you to my advantage,” Ankh said. “But make no mistake, I can turn your death to my advantage, as well.”

       Chapter Twelve

      It was late afternoon by the time Ryan and his companions ended their sweeps of the area, satisfied that the muties had moved on. Whatever the muties’ objective, other than slaughtering the outlanders, they seemed to have given up on it.

      The companions—and Union—gathered at a predetermined rendezvous point a mile up the lava channel. The forest of spikes was thinner there, giving them a clearer view of the surrounding hills and flats.

      From what Ryan could see, at the moment, there wasn’t a mutie in sight. He and the others knew better than to think they could truly relax, but at least they could take a breath, reload their weapons and assess the situation.

      “Too bad muties gone,” Jak said. “Was just getting started.”

      “Speaking of, where in the nuking hell did they go?” J.B. took off his fedora and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “Place was swarming with them, and now they’re all gone.”

      “Just like before,” Mildred added. “When they took Doc.”

      Ryan, who’d been checking on Krysty, looked in Union’s direction. Though she’d brightened up briefly once before, when she’d gone off with Jak to shoot muties, she was back to her taciturn self. Though she stood at the edge of the group, close enough to hear every word, she didn’t react or participate. She just kept staring into the distance as a light breeze fluttered loose strands of her blond hair.

      “Union.” Ryan said her name loudly to get her attention. “You seem to know something about this place.”

      Union’s eyes slid toward him for a moment. She made a movement that might have been a shrug, but it was hard to say for sure. Then she went back to staring into space.

      Ryan shook his head at Krysty, then turned away from her. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” He walked over to stand in front of the woman, blocking her view of the landscape. “How about helping us out here?”

      When she looked at him, her eyes were glacial. “I already did, didn’t I? Or don’t those muties I killed count?”

      Ryan let the remark pass without comment. “You seem to know a few things about this place. The Shift, you called it.”

      This time, her shrug was plain to see. “What about it?”

      “For starters, where did the muties run off to?” Ryan asked. “It was like they just disappeared.”

      “How should I know?” Union smirked as if his question had been a stupid one. “They could be just about anywhere.”

      “How so?” Ryan asked. “Some kind of underground tunnel system, maybe?”

      “I can’t say. The Shift never stays the same for long, and the shifters anticipate its every change.”

      “Shifters?” J.B. walked over to stand beside Ryan. “The muties, you mean?”

      Union looked bored beyond belief. “Yes, of course. After living here for so long, they are in tune with this place. They have learned how to read it. How to ride it.”

      “Ride it?” Ricky chimed in. “You mean like riding freak spikes punching up from underground?”

      “That is one example,” Union said. “The shifters know what is going to change and when. Then it is a simple matter of being in the right place at the right time.”

      “Must be nice,” Ricky said. “Stand where a rock wall’s about to rise up so you don’t get shot.”

      “Also explains how they got away with Doc,” J.B. stated. “Must’ve ducked down some rabbit hole or other that opened up in the nick of time.”

      Ryan nodded. The past two days were finally starting to make sense. But one question haunted him like the ringing in his ears after a big explosion.

      If the Shift could change at any time, and the shifters knew how to use its changes against outlanders, how could Ryan and his team ever rescue Doc?

      “So what do we do next?” Ryan asked. “What do you recommend?”

      “That depends on what you’re trying to accomplish.”

      Ryan hesitated. He hadn’t shown her his cards yet, hadn’t liked or trusted her from the start. But if she might be able to help, maybe the time had come for full disclosure.

      “The shifters took our friend,” he said. “We want him back.”

      Union’s only answer was her usual chilly stare.

      “That’s the only reason we’re still here,” Ryan continued. “We can’t leave him behind.”

      Union narrowed her eyes. “How do you know he isn’t already dead?”

      “We don’t. But if he is, we might be looking for one more thing around here.”

      “Which is?” said Union.

      “Payback.” Ryan nodded curtly. “So are you going to help us or not?”

      Union looked around at the group, turning from one face to the other. When she spoke, her voice was different—brighter and bouncier than before. Her expression changed, too, from a cold stare to a warm smile. “Of course I will help you find your friend.”

      Ryan was caught off guard. Union suddenly seemed like a different person.

      “Perhaps, in turn, you might be able to help me.”

      “In what way?” Ryan frowned as he realized Union’s voice and expression weren’t the only things about her that had changed. Somehow, the single braid that hung from her left temple had changed color from black to chestnut brown.

      “You’ll