Hellbenders. James Axler

that the only threat he faced was that of ricochets and flying concrete chips as the fire became less heavy, and concentrated solely on taking out the panel on the other side of the sec door.

      Fireblast, the one-eyed warrior thought, the man’s smarter than I thought. For Ryan knew that the closed door put the opposition at a disadvantage, and the best way to stop the door closing, at that distance, was to try to disable the mechanism rather than chill him. If the panel on the other side was shot up, then the door’s closing mechanism would jam.

      By this time, Ryan had reached the panel and was tapping in the sec code, hoping that his luck would hold and that some sharpshooter on the opposing side wouldn’t get lucky. J.B. and Jak were doing their best to tilt the odds by laying down a covering fire that was preventing the opposing marksmen from being able to take full aim.

      Sweat dripped down the one-eyed man’s forehead as he punched the last digit of the code, stinging his good eye and running into the empty socket behind the eye patch.

      “Work, dammit, work,” he gritted as the last digit was entered, and the door began to creak into action, moving from its housing in the wall. Ryan flattened himself against the wall, sheltered from any real danger by the pillar housing the control panel. He had the SIG-Sauer leveled, barrel pointing slightly downward, ready to blast anyone who may be so foolish as to try to spring into action before the door closed. He just hoped it would close fully; otherwise it would leave a gap someone could fire through, and would make it difficult for him to retreat back to cover.

      Jak and J.B. had ceased firing once the door reached halfway closed, unwilling to waste any more ammo than was necessary. The opposition obviously felt the same, as the blasterfire from their side decreased to the odd shot.

      The door creaked the last few inches and came to rest on the wall, effectively sealing them off from their enemy.

      Tentatively, the companions emerged from the two rooms to join Ryan, who was now standing before the door, able at last to relax the muscles that ached with the tension of battle.

      “So what now?” Mildred asked.

      “Ah, now that is the question, is it not?” Doc said, leaning on his sword stick. “I believe we are in what is commonly referred to as stalemate.”

      “What?” Dean asked with a puzzled expression.

      Doc favored the youth with an indulgent look. “Ah, my dear boy, it is something that comes from a time before this. Once, when men could afford to take time out from the affairs of the world, there was a game of skill and tactics called chess. The object, as in all games, was for one of the competitors to win. But—and here’s the rub—if both players were equally matched, then often the game would end with neither in a position to win.”

      “Sorry, Doc, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with a stale mate….” Dean pronounced it as two separate words, and looked to the others for assistance.

      “The old game survived some,” Krysty said quietly. “Mother Sonja and Uncle Tyas McCann would play for days back in Harmony. You see, Dean, to get in a winning position would be mate. To win totally would be checkmate. But to be stuck in a position where it was impossible for either to win would be stalemate.”

      “And that’s just where we are,” Ryan added. “Stuck.”

      The one-eyed man took a step back and surveyed the sec door. There was nothing else they could do now except wait. If their enemies on the other side wanted to attack them, they would have to operate the door and so give the companions the opportunity to take their covering positions and pick them off as the door opened. But they couldn’t go forward without risking the same. Their defensive position was secured, but at the expense of moving farther up the redoubt. Their only option would be retreat to the mat-trans.

      An uneasy few minutes ensued on both sides of the sec door, as the leader of the opposing force was having similar thoughts to those of Ryan. Except for one extra fact that was bothering him intensely. How the hell had these people gotten into the old place that was his camp? For his people occupied the upper levels and didn’t risk coming too far down because of the giant worms and the damage they caused. It made the lower levels too unstable to live in safely. So mebbe there was some other way into the tunnels from the outside that they didn’t know about.

      “Hey! You on the other side! Only one of you I’ve seen is One-eye, but I guess from the blasterfire that there’s more of you back there—you wanna talk?”

      Ryan exchanged glances with the other companions. J.B. shrugged. Krysty gave a noncommittal shrug, but her hair hadn’t tensed any more. Dean and Jak wore skeptical expressions. Mildred shook her head gently, muttering, “See what the guy has to say. We don’t have to open the door to hear it, right?”

      Doc smiled broadly. “I would say it was an excellent sign, my dear Ryan,” he whispered urgently. “After all, the fact that the gentleman is willing to exchange in dialogue suggests a certain intelligence, does it not?”

      “Guess so,” the one-eyed warrior said quietly. Then, more loudly, “Okay, what you got to say? You started, so you go first.”

      “Strikes me that we’ve got ourselves in a stupid situation,” the drawling, low voice said. “See, we live here, and when we hear a firefight going on, we’ve got to look after our territory, see that we’re safe. And you? Well, way I see it is that you don’t know who the hell we are and you’ve gotta see you’re safe. So we had a firefight and you chilled Janny and Ken. Cy, he’s probably gonna be okay eventually…time’ll tell. But that don’t mean we need to chill you to get our pride back, y’see that?”

      “Fine words, but how can we trust you? How can you trust us?” Ryan queried.

      “Fair point, my friend,” the voice said.

      “I’m not your friend yet,” Ryan countered. “I don’t like shouting through this bastard thick door, so let’s get to it.”

      “Okay,” came the response. Yet, despite the thickness of the metal sec door, the man on the other side didn’t seem to have to shout for his voice to be heard clearly. “Let me ask you something, stranger. I don’t think you came in through some tunnel that we don’t know about.”

      “That’s not a question,” Ryan countered.

      “No. So how about if I ask you if you got into the tunnels through that place where all the colored lights flicker and change all the time?”

      Ryan was momentarily stunned to silence. Had this man guessed the secret of the mat-trans that they were among the few to know?

      “Why do you say that?” Ryan asked slowly.

      “Because it’s old tech and it still works…must, otherwise the lights wouldn’t be working. We’ve got some idea of how bits work, but the rest of it is still a mystery.”

      Ryan paused before answering. A lot would hinge on his next few words. He obviously paused a little too long, as his opposing number was spurred to speech, perhaps making Ryan’s decision easier.

      “Hell, don’t clam up on me now,” the low drawl said with a vaguely sardonic undercurrent. “Listen, I’m kind of like the baron around here, though we’re too small to be a ville. The name’s Joe Correll, and I’ll tell you as much as this. We know all this stuff comes from before skydark, and we can tell that a lot of it here still works…but how to work it, and what it does? Well, we sure as shit don’t know that. But we know where we can get what we need to know, and I’m figuring that mebbe you know something, if you came here by using some of it. But mebbe you need to know more. See, I can’t see any reason you’d come to this shithole unless it was an accident. So mebbe we can help each other. Sure gotta be better than this or a chilling, and it’ll come to that if we go on this way.”

      Ryan bit the skin on the end of his thumb in concentration. “Okay, listen up,” he finally said. “We know a little—enough to travel using some old tech, and mebbe to use some of the old comps. But there’s a lot we half know, and mebbe