Arcadian's Asylum. James Axler

no part of this. Nor did the other members of the wag crew, who were also murmuring their disquiet.

      Was it like this in every wag? J.B. wondered. If so, then what did the fat man have up his hairy-armed and snot-stained sleeve?

      The shortwave, up until then nothing more than a constant background undulation with a few crackling bursts of static, burst into life as messages were relayed from wag to wag, synchronizing the slowdown to a halt. At the same time, K.T. and Lou, as sec lieutenants, became focused on sec measures when the convoy had come to a stop. Each wag carried in its crew people who doubled as gear-humpers and sec. At a time such as this, all such personnel were focused on their sec duties. It was agreed that when the convoy had stopped, each wag’s sec contingent would exit first, backs to the wags, one on each side of the vehicle, covering both sides of the densely packed verge.

      “Where do we fit?” J.B. asked.

      “Good point,” Lou replied. He spoke into the handset. “K.T., if we deploy the usual people in defensive positions, what should we do with the additional sec group?”

      “They’re evenly spaced along the convoy, right? I’d say they could act as outrunners, mebbe scout the roadside. What do you think?”

      Lou turned to J.B. and Mildred, his expression begging the question. He beckoned J.B. to the handset.

      “Sounds reasonable,” the Armorer began as he approached. “Ryan, we take it in pairs or go solo?”

      Ryan’s voice crackled. “Way we’re spread, take it solo. One for each side. That way we don’t leave any gaps.”

      “Sounds good to me,” J.B. agreed. “Jak? Doc?”

      Doc’s voice came over the airwaves. “A perfectly reasonable assumption, John Barrymore, and one which I think the good Mr. Lauren and myself would find ourselves in agreement. It only remains to be given the nod, as it were, by our immediate superiors.”

      Lou gave J.B. a look that was half confusion, half amusement. “Does that old crazy mean me and K.T.?”

      J.B. couldn’t resist a grin. “Yeah.”

      Lou shook his head with a throaty chuckle. “Weird old fucker.”

      He was about to speak into the handset when Toms’s voice cut across.

      “CANCEL THAT, boys,” Toms said quickly, moving in front of Doc and taking the handset from him. “Go ahead with the usual plan for our people, but make none for Ryan and his people. You guys, I need to see you urgently up by my wag. As soon as the area is secured, then get yourselves up here.”

      He signed off and turned away from the handset, at the same time turning his back on Doc and Jak.

      “What is this about?” Doc asked calmly, trying to keep the tension from his voice. He could feel Jak at his back, like a coiled spring, yet he knew that to the casual observer, the albino would seem at ease. The other crew members in the wag were exchanging puzzled looks. It was obvious that whatever agenda Toms may have, he hadn’t chosen to share it with the rest of his crew. And their reactions showed that his actions were uncharacteristic.

      Doc was sure that whatever was going down wasn’t something that Toms was fully comfortable with.

      The trader didn’t answer the old man for some while—or so it seemed—before saying in a voice that was cracked with tension, “You’ll soon find out. Best you know with the others.”

      “You tell now,” Jak said. His voice was quiet, but as hard as flint. Doc could see unquiet in the eyes of the other crew members. They were scared of the wiry and impassive albino. They’d seen him in action. If he exploded as they seemed to be expecting, it could trigger a situation that couldn’t easily be controlled.

      “No, Jak, it is perhaps for the best that we discover what is behind this when we are with Ryan and the others,” Doc said slowly. There was weight in his words, and an inference that the albino picked up on.

      “Okay,” he said simply.

      Over the shortwave, they heard K.T. and Lou give the synchronized order, once the convoy had stopped rolling, to disembark. Giving the old man and the albino a sideways glance, the sec detail in the lead wag slipped out to cover either side.

      “Well, then,” he said softly after a pause, “should we be going?”

      Toms turned to Jak and Doc. He looked everywhere but directly at them, nodding without being able to bring himself to utter the slightest word. He picked up a portable handset and made for the side door of the wag, Doc and Jak at his rear.

      Both were poised, even if they still had—as yet—no idea what for….

      RYAN AND KRYSTY climbed out of the wag, followed by K.T. Looking up and down the length of the convoy, they could see J.B. and Mildred walking toward them, the giant Lou in their wake. Between the middle and end wags, sec men were strung out in a line, backs to the wags, facing the blank wall of oily green vegetation with expressions that veered between the nervous and the confused. They had no doubt that their sec compatriots on the other side of the road looked exactly the same.

      Looking toward the lead wag, they could see Trader Toms, shuffling on the pavement, holding a shortwave handset and pointedly looking away from Doc and Jak. Even at this distance, it was obvious that both men were having trouble in not betraying the tension they felt.

      Ryan and Krysty stood still, intent on waiting for J.B. and Mildred to join them. It was pretty obvious that K.T. was in no hurry, either, an impression reinforced when he spoke softly as Lou came within earshot.

      “Lou, what the fuck is shortass doing?”

      The giant smiled amiably. “You think I can ever work out how his mind works? He knows, and we will soon enough. C’mon, let’s move.”

      The six people began to move toward the front of the convoy, feeling the questioning glances of the sec men bore into them as they passed. The handsets that K.T. and Lou carried crackled briefly before Toms’s voice sounded.

      “C’mon, what are you waiting for? Hurry up.”

      His tone was far from happy, and Ryan couldn’t help but notice the look that shot between the two sec lieutenants. They had no idea what the fat man wanted, and they were concerned at the way he sounded.

      If Toms wanted a firefight, he could have it. His people obviously had little idea, if this was his intent, so despite being outnumbered, Ryan was sure his people could take out the sec force, or go down with most of them. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

      As they drew level with the leading wag, eye contact with Doc and Jak made it clear that they should be ready to fight. The ghost of a smile crossed the albino teen’s visage. When was there a time when he wasn’t ready for such an eventuality?

      Toms stepped back from his sec lieutenants, Ryan’s people and the sec man who had stepped out of the lead wag with him. He looked over all of them, slowly. It seemed to go on forever. In the elongated and pregnant pause, it seemed to Ryan that the land around them closed in. He was aware of the humid heat as the sun rose in the sky, its rays of light barely penetrating the thick canopy of leaves even though the heat bounced off the road before reflecting back off the oily, dark leaves. They absorbed the heat and moisture before bearing it back down on the people beneath.

      The entire world seemed amplified. The quiet in which they found themselves now that the wag engines had died and they waited for the silent trader to speak only served to make the undertones—otherwise hidden—seem greater.

      Ryan felt like his nerve endings were stretched taut enough to break; he knew without looking that the rest of his companions felt the same.

      Yet still the fat man couldn’t bring himself to speak. Finally, when he did, it wasn’t at them. Rather, it was into the handset.

      “Stewie, make up the jack that we owe the newbies and bring it up to me.”

      The tension