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make it harder for the group to maintain unity if they had to find a way of
pulling out. It also suggested to her that perhaps Correll had a notion that
they might be watching their own backs in this manner, and wanted to keep them
separated to some degree.
The one-eyed man felt much the same about this, but knew that dissent in such
a situation, surrounded by the Hellbenders, hyped up to fight and believing
totally in their leader, wouldn't work. If anything, the way the Hellbenders
were feeling it may just get them chilled before they even left the redoubt.
Although they had been accepted by the group, he was as aware as the rest of
the companions that they were treading a thin line in a group that was riddled
with mass hysteria and insanity.
"Sure," he said simply, nodding briefly and turning to his people, a signal to
Jenny that her task here was done. As the woman walked away to resume her last
minute chores, Ryan spoke softly.
"Looks like the three wags we take are all equipped with radio& " He indicated
the wag with Correll already seated at the wheel, staring stiffly ahead and
almost in a trance, and the two wags immediately behind it. They were of the
stock from the redoubt, and were military sec wags, fitted with machine
blasters and antitank weaponry. "That's good, 'cause at least we'll have a
direct link if shit happens. We need to keep triple hard out there, especially
when we reach the destination and move into position. I figure it'll blow, if
it's going to, when they get first sight of the convoys converging. Until
then, we keep it down and wait.
This is a situation to react rather than act, okay?"
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There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the companions, and they
parted, moving off to their allotted wags.
Ryan and Krysty climbed into the wag that was already occupied by Correll. He
was at the wheel, staring straight ahead out of the front windshield, and
didn't acknowledge their presence. On his lap was cradled a metal box, sealed
and welded all around. It was about three by three, and had no identifying
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With no seeming point of entry, Ryan wondered what it was for. Did it contain
some kind of weapon that Correll had not told them about? Some kind of
mysterious old tech invention that he had found in the redoubt? If this was
so, then perhaps Doc would recognize it, as he had seen so much during his
time as a captive of the whitecoats of the Totality Concept. But on
reflection, Ryan thought it unlikely that it was weapon. The box was too
crudely constructed, too amateurishly welded to be something that was legacy
of the military-industrial complex that had left the world in such a
condition. No, this was something that
Correll himself was responsible for, and from the manner in which he was
gripping the box, it had some intensely personal meaning for him.
The one-eyed man turned to Krysty, but she had already seen the box on
Correll's lap. The same things had run through her mind as through Ryan's, and
she knew what he was thinking. It wasn't a good idea to ask her hair wrapped
itself tight to her when she thought of this, and without him having to even
frame the question, she shook her head almost imperceptibly.
Ryan and Krysty took their places in the wag. There were two other Hellbenders
there besides Correll: Travis and Cy, who was manning the blasters and antiwag
hardware that sat at the back of the wag. The comps glowed green and yellow in
the dark of the vehicle, casting a sinister light on his features as he smiled
a
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_65_-_Hellbenders greeting. Krysty wasn't sure that
she wasn't imagining it, but it seemed as though the entire party was set on a
suicide mission, and didn't really need Papa Joe to go over the top. They
could manage this quite easily by themselves.
As the one-eyed man slipped into the seat beside Correll, it seemed to snap
the gaunt man out of his reverie, and he turned to face Ryan.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice no more than a hoarse husk.
"If the rest of the party are ready to go," he stated.
"They will be," Correll said simply and, without even bothering to check if
this was the case, gunned the engine of the wag. It had been ticking over
while they boarded, and now the powerful engine roared deafeningly in the
enclosed space of the wag bay. The noise grew in intensity as it was joined by
the roaring of the other wags in the war party.
Correll put the vehicle into gear, and it began to move toward the exit ramp
that would take them up the necessary levels of the redoubt and out onto the
rock plateau.
As the leading wag approached the sec doors, Correll leaned out, punched the
exit code onto a small console and jerked the lever that would open the door.
As the door lifted, he took the wag through and out into the chem-raddled
morning.
Ryan winced as the change in light hit his eye. The low-level lighting of the
redoubt was replaced by the scorching sun, which hit them with no mercy as
they exited the redoubt, the red, rad-bloated orb distorted even more through
the haze of chem fumes that rose from the rapidly drying earth. The air stank
of
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_65_-_Hellbenders sulfur and a sickly sweet undertone
that couldn't be identified as the quality of the air changed. Instead of the
cool, cleaned air that was passed through again and again via the air
conditioning and purification system, they were hit by the heat, dust and
chem-soaked air that came after a storm.
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The wag turned sharply on the rock plateau, gravel and loose shale moving
under the large, heavy-tread tires and shooting over the edge of the rock
table, down to the base of the outcrop. It was a sharp turn to maneuver the
large wags on the relatively small space and take them down onto the road that
wound around the far side of the outcrop. In the second wag, J.B. gritted his
teeth as he swung the steering wheel, the wheels locking as the wag spun on
the loose surface. He righted it, hoping that the rear tires would hold on the
shale, and followed Correll's lead. Already clouds of loose earth and dust
were being thrown up by the motion of the wags, and it crossed the Armorer's
mind that the wags that came at the very rear of the procession were in danger
of being blinded by the opaque clouds that were being raised.
Correll had already hit the road that wound down the far side of the rocks. It
looked a steep and narrow path, and he took it at a speed that to Ryan verged
on the suicidal. The wheels locked on the angles of the road, the rear of the
wag sliding across toward the edge of the precipice, back end of the wag
waving wildly into space.
"The one problem with being so secure is that it makes it a bastard to get
down again," Correll said with a humorless grin that spread across his thin,
drawn face.
"As long as we get down the right way, and not the quickest," Ryan returned.
Correll laughed harshly but said nothing.
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