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as something more than man or mutie had been erased the moment Ryan's name
came into the picture. Norm was gone, and in his place was Johnson Lester, the
cowardly sec man who'd encountered Ryan twice before.
Lester, who blamed Ryan for the downfall of Willie ville, and for his own
miserable luck in being forced to work the wheel, and being caught when the
ville was blown apart.
Lester, who'd been saved by a stickie and traveled to Winston in hopes to
staking his own claim to power.
Lester, who was now undeniably insane.
"Sure," Adrian replied, speaking through his split upper lip. "Sure, he's
here. Ryan
Cawdor, or One-eye, with the eye patch, and J. B. Dix, and the albino, and the
old fart they call Doc, and the woman with red hair "
"Mutie!" Lester screamed, cutting Adrian off. "She's a mutie bitch whore!"
"All of them killed those stickies," the scavie said. "Now they're in Freedom.
Working sec. Mall's been getting ripped by stickie attacks. Got them to help.
Heard about that right before leaving Freedom yesterday."
Adrian was talking faster now, hoping he'd be freed. He spoke of frozen heads
and hidden loot, but quickly went back to Ryan when his captor demanded to
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know more. He'd switched the man's attention to another object of hate. He'd
given him information. Perhaps he'd managed to talk his way clear, and if so,
he was getting the hell out of North Carolina as fast as he could run, and
going all the way back to Georgia, and to his family, and his home.
And when Adrian finally fell silent, his throat raw and aching, Lester had
crawled back into whatever mental cubby hole the scarred man kept his former
persona tucked away in and the much cooler Norm had come back out and was
driving the
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"You were correct, Mr. Adrian," Norm said, cool, calm, collected. "Your
information has proved most valuable."
Alton dared another question. "Can I have my clothes?"
"Why? Of what use are they to you now?" Adrian's stomach turned to ice, as
cold and hard as any of the men frozen solid in the cryo laboratory he'd seen
before.
"Need my clothes to leave," he stammered. "I I'm leaving this hole and never
coming back."
"Well, you're right about one thing. I do indeed doubt you are ever coming
back,"
Norm said, smiling cruelly as he opened the door to the earthen cell and waved
in the two waiting stickies. The muties effortlessly lifted the scavenger and
the chair he was bound to between them and followed Norm out of the door. And
then it was Adrian's turn to scream, cry and curse as his own inner demons and
fears came scuttling out, unleashed and gibbering as he was carried into the
center of the cavernous tobacco warehouse and dropped painfully to the floor.
The wooden chair splintered and broke, and he was free, his arms and legs
tangled in strands of wire. He rolled in the dust, struggling in the dimly lit
area to stand erect.
How could his big score have gone so badly? He'd only wanted a second look at
the cryo chambers for himself and now he'd succeeded in chilling himself.
He got to his feet and saw the circle of the stickies closing around him.
"Please," he begged, weeping, tears running down his cheeks and into his
beard.
His cut lips started to bleed from Norm's sucker punch once more. "Please!"
The smell of the blood from the injured human made the circle of stickies
anxious.
Norm stepped forward from the circle, carrying a small metal canister painted
in deep green.
"Do you know what is inside this container?" he asked to a chorus of oohs and
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_41_-_Freedom_Lost aahs.
Two stickies hesitantly raised their hands, like obedient pupils in a
classroom.
"Not you, dammit," Norm growled. "I was talking to our guest."
Adrian didn't answer.
"Come now, you're a scavie!" Norm needled him, holding out the canister like
the eager host of a pre-dark game show. "You've seen this before! Inform us!"
The naked man continued to cry.
"I take it back," Norm snorted, raking his gaze over his brethren. "As bad as
you stickies get, at least you don't shit yourself and start sniveling when
your number is up."
Norm stepped up to the weeping Adrian and grabbed him by the hair, pulling
hard, making the man crane his neck and fall back as he looked up into the
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horribly disfigured man's eyes, which seemed to be glowing with a malevolent
evil. Adrian looked up and knew in his heart he was viewing the devil himself.
"This, friend Alton, is a container filled with black powder. As I'm sure
you've heard, what with your thriving career in information exchange, that
stickies have developed most unusual ways of using this substance for their
own amusement. A
cut here, a stab there, and fill the hole with powder. Or if one doesn't want
to make a hole, one can use some of the other orifices of the human body. Eye
sockets, ears, the nose, mouth. A particular favorite is ramming a heaping
helping of powder up a man's ass and lighting a fuse. Boom! Blows his cock
clear across the room!" The gathered stickies began to gibber and talk among
themselves, waiting for the word. Norm turned to them to grin and wallow in
the sensation of power, still keeping his grip on the scavie's hair.
"If the powder disturbs you, we can try some other stickie game. Perhaps tie
you down spread-eagle, and push thumbtacks in your eyes. Push straight pins
under your fingernails, into your balls. Take a knife and cut you to pieces, a
bit at a time.
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There are always alternatives."
Adrian was listening and decided Norm was right. He reached up, grabbing the
scarred man's hand that gripped his hair. He grabbed the hand with both of his
own, and pulled with all of his fading strength. Norm fell flat, dropping the
powder and losing his hold on his prisoner's hair. Adrian rolled over on his
captor and began to throttle him with both hands.
"If I die, you're going with me!" he screamed as he squeezed as hard as he
could, willing all of his own hate and fear into the man below him.
His last, desperate ploy never stood a chance.
The stickies fell upon him from all sides, their terrible clinging hands
adhering and lifting, tearing his body and flesh in all directions in a
massive display of carnage. Red blood and white bone; tan skin shredded and
burst purple internal organs, all on display as the man was disemboweled and
eviscerated like a fleshy pinata by the mutie pack's horrible abilities.
Budd helped Norm to his feet as the other stickies paraded the various body
parts of Alton Adrian around the warehouse.
"Tonight," Norm stated. "We go tonight."
"Not ready," Budd tried to protest. "We need time."
"Cawdor is in there, laughing at me. We go tonight. I'm chilling him
personally!
We go tonight!"
Chapter Twenty-Two
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