Amazon Gate Page 7

  All turned to look at him, but it was Gloria who spoke first, in a voice that was edged both with concern and fascination.

  "Why would that be, honey?" she whispered, as though he were a frightened child.

  Jak looked directly at her. There was no recognition in her eyes, but something else—a light that he couldn't define.

  He spoke slowly. "Remember whitecoat things from past. Always like watch experiments. How they know where stickies go out here? Also remember hunting herds, stalk for long time before go for kill. Mebbe…"

  Doc smote his forehead with the palm of his free hand, the knuckles of the other turning white as he gripped the silver lion's-head cane.

  "By the Three Kennedys! How could I have been so stupid as to not see it! The lad is, of course, right."

  "Right about what, Doc?" Ryan questioned with an urgency in his voice. An agitated Doc was always inclined to take the long way around to the point, and yet the very fact that he was agitated suggested that there was little time for a long ramble through Doc's mind.

  "My dear Ryan, let me take you back to the early days of my youth, when I attempted to study the migratory and hunting patterns of small mammals near my home in the beautiful hamlet of South Strafford, in what we used to call Vermont in those halcyon days—"

  "Skip the travelog, Doc," Mildred snapped.

  The old man shook his head as though to clear it. "Of course, of course. I apologize for my distress. It is just that I feel like a fool for not seeing it before. I used to tag animals of different species and then follow them, to see where they went. I could always spot them by the tag."

  "I don't get it, Doc. What's this got to do with the stickies?" Dean asked in a puzzled tone.

  "Simply this, young Cawdor—the stickies have been altered and then released. Why, if not to track them and see what they do?"

  "Fireblast! In which case they'll be marked in some way, and whoever performed the surgery will be out for them soon enough," Ryan finished.

  The warrior queen had been listening intently to them, all the while keeping one of her piercing blue eyes on the albino. Although some of their speech had passed her by, she had grasped the gist of it and said hurriedly, "If we're under threat here, then we move now and get back to camp. That's far enough away to give us time and shelter, and we have numbers there."

  Ryan nodded. "That's good, but it doesn't account for what you want to do with us. We coming with you or making our own way?"

  Gloria flashed him a smile that showed strong white teeth that reflected the sparkle in her wild eyes. "I thought that was settled, sugar. You come with us and we look together. I'm not leaving you behind now."

  Both Krysty and Mildred noticed that the woman's eyes strayed to Jak when she spoke the latter sentence.

  "Then we can relax and get the hell out?" Ryan asked.

  "What are you waiting for, sweets?" Gloria said before turning to her warriors and speaking once more in the singsong "eh-la, eh-la" chant that was obviously a signal.

  This time there was a different intonation to the chant, an emphasis on the second syllable rather than the first, and it was this that gave the cue for the warrior women of the Gate to holster their blasters in the small leather pouches they kept in the small of their backs.

  Jak looked across at Ryan, who was puzzled by the expression on the albino's face. There was something there that Ryan couldn't recall having ever been part of Jak Lauren in all the time that he had known and fought with him. It wasn't fear, neither was it apprehension. It was something that fell into the gray area between the two.

  Jak recognized the question in Ryan's steely blue eye. "Why go with them?" he asked simply.

  "Makes sense," Ryan replied carefully, aware that Gloria could hear every word.

  "Better on own. Something go wrong when people strange."

  "Mebbe. But mebbe not this time," Ryan said guardedly. "This could help both of us, and this is land where we may need help."

  "Better on own," Jak said hoarsely with an agitated shake of his head.

  "You've got nothing to fear from us, honey," Gloria said softly, aware that she was intruding but feeling it was important to make her point.

  Jak fixed her with his glowing red orbs. "Not you. Something beyond. Not to trust anyone…anything. Can't explain, but—"

  "You a doomie?" Gloria asked him.

  Jak gave a curt head shake. "No, but had strangest feeling."

  "I know there's been something—something you haven't been able to talk about," Ryan said quietly, "but this is necessary for both of us. We go with them, and that's final."

  Jak shrugged.

  Gloria smiled at him. "We're not that frightening, sweetie. And we've got this far in one piece."

  Mildred was once more aware of the way Gloria regarded Jak before she turned to her warriors and snapped her fingers twice.

  With an understanding that could only have been born of traveling and hunting for so long, the group that had been covering the companions dispersed into the veld and the surrounding bush, while Gloria raised a hand to stay Ryan and his people when they made to move. She waited, with her head raised and a distant look in her eyes. Her nose quivered gently at its upturned tip as she sniffed the early evening air.

  From the distance came the sound of whistles, differing in pitch and length. Jak could tell that they came from five different mouths, and from an equally differing number of locations. Each whistle told Gloria something that she needed to know, and when the last whistle had died away on the darkening air, she nodded her approval.

  "Okay, we can move out now. Follow me, and stay together."

  "I think we've got some idea what to do," J.B. murmured laconically to Mildred as he watched the warrior queen stride out onto the veld, hair swaying in time with her hips. She made no attempt to stealth, so confident in the abilities of her scouts that she felt no danger.

  Mildred turned to the Armorer. "I feel as diffident about this as you, John, but we'll just have to go with it for now."

  The Armorer nodded. "Ryan's right to go with it right now. I just wish we knew more about them."

  The party left the confines of the charnel house clearing and entered the veld, strung out in a line behind Gloria. As soon as they were out into the open, the atmosphere lightened. They were clear of the stench of death and the oppressive enclave of trees. The veld itself was a beautiful sight by the light of the setting sun, the last rays of the day stretching fingers of opaque orange light across the grassland. They were walking directly into the sun as it sunk beneath the horizon, and the warrior queen was outlined in silhouette, a shadow fanning out behind her to cover the first two of the party that followed—Jak being in the lead, as he had still been at the head following the initial exit from the forest.

  Mildred found a strange significance in the fact that the albino was absorbed by the shadow of the woman, and she headed toward Krysty, catching up to her.

  "Is it me, or have you noticed the way that Gloria keeps looking at.Jak?" she whispered into her friend's ear.

  "Yeah, and that could cause us problems, right?"

  "If you're thinking what I am, then it surely could," Mildred replied. "I don't know what the hell is bugging Jak, but it has to do with whatever happened in the mat-trans jump, and somehow he thinks it involves Gloria. Because he sure as shit hasn't been looking at her the way she's been looking at him."

  "Right," Krysty agreed, "and if she comes on to him and he freaks, then that could really put us right in the shit. Which is exactly what we don't need right now."

  "So you think someone should mention this to Ryan? Just in case he hasn't noticed…"

  "I'll talk to him about it when we're alone. He knows something's up, but whether he's picked up on this aspect…" She tailed off, before adding, "Well, he'll know soon enough."

  IT WAS an uneventful trek across the veld. As they continued along the trail, the light faded slowly into twilight, and the temperature dropped. The hum
of insects decreased in the night air, and the companions followed Gloria across the plain.

  The woman walked at a steady pace, seemingly untroubled by the possibility of any attack from man or beast as darkness fell, her trust in her tribe sisters total and born of long experience and the natural arrogance of one born and bred to lead. It was reflected in the lazy hip sway of her walk, which Ryan realized was deceptive when he looked back over the territory they had covered.

  As they traversed the plain, the warriors of the tribe who had dispersed to scout the territory assembled around their queen, forming a party that flanked the companions, offering them protection but also—if looked at it in a certain light—hemming them in.

  Both Ryan and J.B. noted, with admiration and also for future reference, that the female warriors seemed to glide across the veld and slip in and out of the shadows, seeming to join up with the main party as though from the very air itself. They were obviously well trained and possessed a natural grace that had become a tribal trait through sheer necessity and survival over the years.

  Margia, the blond armorer of the tribe, was the last to join, appearing from the shadow of a nearby outcrop and falling into step beside Doc.

  "Madam, may I congratulate you on your companions' ability to deceive in the darkness," the old man murmured with an inclination of his head.

  Margia chuckled. "You're a strange man, old one. You make me laugh, and I like that. It's going to be good to have you around. Most men are dullards and are only useful as packhorse or for stud."

  "I fear that both functions may find me past my best," Doc commented.

  Margia chuckled once more, a harsh, throaty sound that echoed across the plain, its resonance making it carry more than its volume.

  Gloria looked over her shoulder. "Shut it, Marg," she snapped. Then she caught Jak's eyes as he studied her from behind.

  Her tone softened as she said to him, "Whatever's worrying you, sweets, don't think about it until we reach camp."

  Jak looked away without answering.

  They continued in silence for another twenty minutes before they came within sight of a clump of trees. It was a smaller wooded area than the forest the companions had traversed earlier in the day, and barely visible in the darkening sky were small tendrils of smoke from a campfire.

  Gloria tsked. "Stupidworks men. They never learn, never. The only safety is in invisibility."

  "What do you expect?" Margia murmured. "Only good for two things."

  "Don't be too harsh," added the tall tribe member with the auburn curls, her voice fluting and melodious against the harsher tones of the blond armorer. "Petor and Jon are in trust with the fires, and they're still only boys."

  "Tell that to us when we have our bastard throats cut," Margia rejoined.

  "Enough," Gloria snapped as they approached the woods. "I'll deal with it soon enough. Best just to get home first."

  They had reached the edge of the woods, and the warrior queen gave a sharp whistle that pitched up in tone toward the end of its duration. As it died away on the night air, two women appeared to materialize from the shadows, leaving their posts to acknowledge the return of their queen.

  As the companions entered the wood and the relative safety of the Gate camp, each wondered in turn what they would find there.

  Chapter Six

  The camp was set within a clearing that had been hacked into the heart of the wooded area. Taking a naturally clear area, the Gate tribe had carefully enlarged it enough to form a space large enough for them to set up camp.

  Apart from the few telltale wisps of pale smoke that curled into the black of the night sky, there was no indication of the camp until they were actually in it. The clearing was lit by oil lamps and blazing torches, but those were shielded on one side by small baffles of metal and foil that reflected light inward and also prevented it from leaking beyond the boundaries of the camp. In the same way, the fire that warmed the cold night air was protected by a series of canvas baffles that kept the heat within a small area and also directed the smoke into the woods rather than directly upward. For this reason, the fire was on the opposite side to where they entered the camp, allowing the baffling to form a chimney that twisted off to one side and over the lamps.

  The Gate themselves were gathered near the fire, apart from those who were keeping watch. They were nowhere in view, but from the way the warrior women they had seen so far had melted in and out of the shadows, Ryan and his people all knew that there was a strong guard presence, invisible in the darkness outside the camp. All the women were dressed in the same way as those they had seen: brief and practical, but in such a way as to leave no doubt that they were all highly trained and fit, with rippling musculature and fine bone structures. Few women were over five and a half feet, and many of them showed the same fine bone structure and svelte petiteness of their queen. The men, on the other hand, looked of sturdier stock. There were, at first glance, about half as many men as women in the tribe, and all the males were heavily muscled, with well-developed leg and arm muscles from their tasks as the heavy workers. They seemed to have a wider gene pool than the women, as there were Slavic and Celtic features spread about the group, as well as dark Mediterranean types.

  Observing this, Doc was formulating a few ideas about the tribe, which he imparted to Dean in a murmur.

  "My dear boy, this is a lesson in practical survival among a nomadic people. From the look of the women, I would say that they have a common heritage. By rights, this should make them slavering inbreds by now. But when you examine the male makeup of the tribe, you will observe that they come from a wider range of racial types. I suspect that the women have always been dominant, and by some instinct of received knowledge have realized that they need to keep a wide range of types within the tribe, and so have picked up these men along the way to stop their race degenerating.

  "Furthermore, you'll notice that the women are more heavily armed."

  That was true, as the women all carried machetes or pangas and their handblasters, all holstered in the small of the back, whereas the men carried only knives or pangas, which were slung on their belts for ease, rather than sheathed for combat like those of the women.

  "And their musculature is formed by combat training rather than heavy work. I would surmise that they are the warriors, and that the men are subordinate and used purely for maintenance. It is interesting that the men are content with this, which is something you don't often find… Oh!"

  Doc stopped short as he realized that his lecture to Dean had become too long and rambling, and had attracted the attention of others. As he looked around, he could see that several of those gathered around the fire had turned to him. Ryan was watching with a wry smile, while Mildred was trying to hide her obvious exasperation. J.B. and Krysty were both pretending to look elsewhere, while the Amazons who had accompanied them into the camp were trying not to laugh, and were looking to their leader for their cue. Gloria was watching Doc with her lopsided grin, and it was only Jak who appeared not to notice. The albino was too concerned with taking in his surroundings, oblivious to all except his own concerns.

  Margia nudged Doc. "Hey, not bad for a man. You've got something up here, if not down here," she said, tapping his head and then his crotch.

  Doc was outraged. "Madam, as if it were not enough that you listen in to a private conversation, you then have to make free with portions of my anatomy that you have no right—"

  "Okay, Doc," Ryan said easily, "we get the idea."

  "Yeah, but he's right," Gloria countered, acknowledging Ryan's right to speak out of turn to her. "Marg's always out of order with newcomers. It gives her a feeling of power, right, sweetie?" she directed at the blonde.

  Margia shrugged. "It's just a bit of fun."

  "Yeah, well, it can wait until later," Gloria said. Then she turned to the tribe gathered around the fire. "These newcomers are good warriors. They have a quest, and they will join us for part of the journey. May they find their
own path as we find ours. Mebbe the paths converge, mebbe they part company. Until such time, they will be with us. Make them welcome."

  Turning back to Ryan and his companions, she added, "Come, sit and eat, then we'll talk."

  They followed her to the fire, where they were welcomed into the loose semicircle formed by the tribe members. There were about thirty seated around the fire, and from the conversation Ryan was able to estimate that there were another six or seven women who were hidden in the woods, keeping watch. They would shortly be relieved and take their place by the warming fire.

  Looking around, Ryan could see how they had managed to construct their camp. They kept some pack animals, as he could hear the whinnying and hoof-stamping of mules or horses stabled somewhere to the right hand side of the camp, away from the fire. A large pot hung over the fire, issuing an aroma that was mouthwatering, and the food they were given in light plastic bowls consisted of a stew that was made from the roots and small mammals—mostly rabbit— of the woodlands, flavored and spiced from herbs picked wild. It certainly made a change from self-heats, which was what they had initially intended to rely on for the first part of the journey.

  There was a number of tents in the camp, laid out in a horseshoe formation that began at the edge of the seating area by the fire. A path break had been left down the center of the encampment, down which they had been led on entry. The tents were a mixture of plundered predark camping tents and some constructed from material scavenged and bartered along the way. Canvas and artificial materials had been dyed and painted in dark colors to blend into the twilight of the camp. Tubular frames made of lightweight aluminum and toughened plastic supported the tents, which were mostly for habitation, but a few of which were obviously used for storing what supplies they carried and for the armory.