Strontium Swamp. James Axler

      The woodlands and scrub grew dense rapidly, and before half an hour passed, they had to start hacking a path through the thickets, watching for the tangles of roots that crossed the floor of the woods, laying treacherous traps for the unwary.

      Ryan wanted them to be as unobtrusive as possible, but this was hard when the very density of the woodlands made progress impossible without some kind of noise. The thick grasses and tall plant life also made it possible for someone with a good vantage point to be able to track their progress. It was far from ideal, and Ryan was aware of the additional problem. The very noise of their progress made it hard for them to hear anyone who may be advancing on them.

      The deeper they went, the darker it became as the sky overhead was shielded by a canopy of green. The sounds of birds flying between the trees and the rustling of animals and reptiles moving in the upper branches also took their attention. Most of the wildlife seemed far more wary of them than they were of it. Despite the sounds, a glimpse of anything living was a rarity. From those few examples that did occasionally come into view, it seemed that the resident wildlife of the woodlands was small and nonthreatening.

      The humidity grew even as the glare of the sun vanished, and the companions became aware of the sweat that ran off their foreheads and down their backs, gathering in uncomfortable pools at the base of the spine. Some were more afflicted than others, but gradually all of them shed at least one layer of clothing, opting to wrap it around them rather than swathe themselves. The humidity and sweat was an irritation, and made them all edgy. Even though it was better than the killing sun of the desert, it had its own dangers, making them prone to be trigger happy, something none of them wanted to be. A needless shot could alert far more danger than the sounds of movement in the undergrowth. There were no signs of human life at the moment, but as they neared the coast, chances were that they would hit a ville or habitation of some kind. No one liked a group of strangers descending on them unannounced, so the companions needed to be on triple-red alert.

      â€œFireblast,” Ryan hissed as his panga half sliced and half bludgeoned more plant life from his path. “This seems more trouble than all that sand.”

      â€œI think on the whole I’d rather have this,” Mildred answered, even though the one-eyed man hadn’t really been asking anyone’s opinion. “At least we can get some food and water in here, and at least we’re going the right way.”

      â€œMebbe, but I’m getting sick of this undergrowth. It’s thicker than flies on a twelve-times-a-night gaudy slut,” Ryan returned.

      â€œNever fear, friend Ryan. It is said that when we come from the desert we shall find both revelation and salvation,” Doc replied beatifically.

      â€œWhat’s with the revelation and salvation?” Krysty asked. “You sound like some kind of old-time preacher, like the ones that Mother Sonja used to tell us stories of back in Harmony.”

      Doc looked blank for a second, as though he was scanning his mind for some kind of clue. Eventually he gave up and shrugged. “Truly, my dear lady, I have no notion of from whence these notions have sprung—nor, indeed, if they wish to disperse in some manner or to continue. I only know that they are flashing into the forefront of my consciousness with such a strength that I feel compelled to give tongue to them. I wonder,” he continued in slightly awestruck tone, as though to himself, “if they will continue, or indeed if they are some part of my mind that is trying to tell me something?”

      â€œTrying to tell you that you’re a crazy old bastard,” Mildred muttered. “I really wish you’d give it a rest with the biblical shit, Doc. Reminds me too much of my own childhood.”

      There was something about her tone that would brook no argument, but Doc was so lost in his own thoughts that this completely passed him by, and he asked in a naive manner, “Really, my dear Doctor? Why, pray tell, would that be?”

      Mildred rolled her eyes and considered telling Doc where he could shove his questions, but was stopped by Jak.

      â€œShut up—no stupe shit,” Jak whispered, staying them with a raised hand.

      Ryan stopped and turned to the albino, questioning him with a raised eyebrow. The others also stopped behind Jak, waiting to see what he had to say. Each of them listened, but couldn’t, at first, pick out what had alerted the albino hunter’s finely tuned instincts.

      Jak pulled on his camou jacket with a smooth, silent motion, wrapping the material around him so that he had easy access to the leaf-bladed throwing knives hidden within the body of the jacket. As he did so, the others strained to catch what had taken Jak’s attention.

      Each sound within the woodlands became more than just a part of the overall tapestry. As they listened, each sound became distinct to the point where they could isolate and identify it as bird or animal…except for something that sounded like themselves, crashing through the undergrowth. Quieter, perhaps, as mere people who were more used to the layout of the woods, and could pick their way through the thickets with greater ease. But not enough to conceal their presence.

      If they were tracking the companions, then they would know that they had been spotted, as they would have heard the cessation of activity. But if they were making their own way regardless of anyone else in the woodlands, then they wouldn’t know that they had been heard.

      Either way, they were headed straight toward where the companions were gathered.

      Ryan turned in the direction of the oncoming group and planned his defense. He had to move swiftly, as they were getting nearer with every second. He looked at the companions, blasters in hand, and grinned wryly. Plan their defense? In this situation, his people would probably be able to second guess whatever he was about to say.

      With just an exchange of glances, the companions sprang into action. Jak took a standing jump at an overhanging tree and pulled himself into the lower limbs, finding his balance and scaling it with ease until he was in the upper reaches. He scanned the area visible from the top, taking care to keep himself concealed. About a mile away he could see a small inlet from the sea beyond, and the signs of a village—too small to really be called a ville—that had settled there. Coming toward the companions from an oblique angle to the village were four men and a woman. They were dressed raggedly, and although they moved with a degree of care, they looked haggard, and their movements were made audible by a weariness that made them careless. They carried swords and machetes, with revolvers stuffed into their waistbands. From the careless manner in which they were carried, Jak guessed that the five were unused to blasters.

      Quickly climbing down the tree, Jak rapped out what he had seen. The party of five was only a couple of minutes away from them now, and Ryan directed his friends into defensive positions in the undergrowth.

      â€œWe want to let them pass if possible. If there’s a settlement, last thing we want is to piss off the people there by chilling some of their own.”

      â€œNot look like after us,” Jak added.

      Without further discussion the companions moved into position. Ryan and J.B. had blades in the shape of their panga and Tekna knife, respectively. For Jak, the leaf-bladed knives were almost a part of his person. And Doc withdrew the sword from within the silver lion’s-head cane. The blade was made of the finest Toledo steel, honed to razor sharpness, and despite their continuing travels the old man took care to keep it polished and sharp.

      Mildred and Krysty, who never habitually carried blades, took a leaf-bladed knife each from Jak. They both weighed the blades in their palms, getting the balance of the delicate but deadly knife.

      Now armed for silent combat, they took up position. Jak and the Armorer ascended into nearby trees, giving them a good position of both the view on the ground beneath, and also of the path of their enemy.

      For the other four, it wasn’t quite as simple. With no clear-cut path for the approaching enemy to pursue, the grounded companions had to guess the least likely areas to be traversed. Ryan took a thick