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mounds no, piles of bricks. Deep underground, the locals lived underground
again, but the doors were no more than a yard tall.
"Mutie runts," Jak observed under his breath. "Good. Easy picking."
"Bullshit, pygmies are fierce warriors," Mildred corrected, wiping a sweaty
hand on her pants. She had to keep a good grip on the crossbow. The thing
would have a worse recoil than a shotgun. "They have to be or else don't
survive. In Africa, there were little natives deadly accurate with blowpipes
and poisoned needles.
They could chill a man on the run at a hundred feet. Small doesn't mean weak."
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In the center of the ville was a bubbling spring, the air rich in the smells
of boiled meat and something else. A hoist of odd bits of metal and some wood
hung over the spring, metal chains dangling out of sight in the water. The hot
spring was their cooking pot.
"Not bad," J.B. muttered in spite of himself. "They're not mindless muties,
like stickies."
"Which makes them ten times more dangerous," Ryan said, then stopped talking.
A low singing came from a large squat building with star-shaped windows.
"That looks like their temple," Doc ventured hesitantly. "Maybe we caught them
on Sunday services."
"Odd windows," Jak said. "Worship sky, mebbe."
"It's probably been a long time since they last saw the stars," Mildred
agreed. "If ever."
Raising an open hand for silence, Ryan listened carefully. He could hear
voices from most of the buildings to their right. Sounded like dozens of
villagers, maybe more. But to their left they could hear only faint animal
grunts.
"Head for the barnyard," Ryan ordered, creeping forward through the shadows.
"There's too many locals to chance a raid. Runts or not, a hundred can easily
kill five."
Staying in the boulders, the companions started toward the left when a
horrible smell began to infuse the atmosphere. The stink was easily
identifiable as raw sewage, and soon they found themselves ankle deep in a
gooey field dotted with tiny white sprouts, then grayish balls and finally
huge mushrooms almost a foot high.
"Dinner," Jak said with a grin, stuffing mushrooms into his shirt. A few of
the smaller sprouts went directly into his mouth. Two chews and he swallowed.
The flavor was a bit salty, but tasted wonderful.
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Mildred plucked a mushroom and inspected it closely. "These are okay to eat,"
she said, then greedily stuffed it whole into her mouth. Even raw it was
wonderful.
"Mmm," J.B. mumbled around a mouthful, harvesting handfuls and stuffing them
into his carpetbag with the Molotov cocktails.
Trying one himself, Ryan grunted his agreement and started yanking up the
largest mushrooms. Ripping off the dirty stalks, he slid just the clean tops
into his pants. After boot soup, damn near anything would taste great.
Filling the pockets of his frock coat, Doc smiled. "Hunger is the best sauce,
my friend."
"Fucking A," Jak agreed wholeheartedly.
After taking as much as they could comfortably carry, the companions continued
toward the farm. Mushrooms were good, but you couldn't live off them. Damn
near no vitamins at all in the tasty fungus. Reaching a spot near the low
wall, one by one the companions darted out of hiding and raced across the open
field of stone. The jagged crystal bits sparkled dangerously on top of the
wall, but they easily jumped over and resumed positions in the shadows at the
base.
When they were all inside, Ryan led the way along the wall, the companions
staying low where the darkness was thick. It occurred to Mildred that these
might be shadows to them, but brightly lit areas to the runts. But before she
could communicate the idea, Ryan called a halt as they reached a ring of small
stalagmites rising close to one another. Inside the stony picket fence was a
breathing sea of hairy bodies, naked pink tails whipping about as the sleeping
horde squeaked and rubbed comfortably against their fat neighbors.
"We were right. This is a ranch," Ryan stated. "Just common rats. No signs of
the big crabs."
"Mayhap the wall is for the crabs," Doc suggested. "To keep out the predators.
I
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used to live on a farm, and there was no greater cursed thief than a fox
stealing a chicken."
"Good, then rats lazy," Jak said eagerly, moving past both of the men. Going
to the fence, the teenager darted out a hand and grabbed a rat, slitting its
throat with a knife. The rodent barely squeaked before it died. Stuffing the
body into a carpetbag slung over his shoulder, the teenager proceeded to catch
and kill as many as he could before the fat sleepy rats got wise and moved
away from his lethal hands.
"Sixteen," Jak said with pride, patting the bag. "Fresh meat tonight." With
those words, the companions went motionless as something walked from the
shadows.
It was a runt.
Wearing a loincloth and soft boots covered with fringe, the mutie stood barely
three feet tall. His skin was white to the point of being transparent, and
blue veins were clearly discernible. His hands possessed elongated fingers,
and both of his oversized eyes were a pale pink in color. Long black hair was
tied with leather thongs on top of his head in two bushy tufts.
Pausing at the stalagmite fence, the runt sniffed the air for a moment, a
three-
fingered hand drawing a crystal dagger from a rat-skin sheath. Then, moving
even faster than Jak, it grabbed a bunch of rats by their tails and swung the
bodies hard against the rock wall. The animals squeaked once as their heads
smashed into pulp, and the mutie walked away humming.
"Just a cook," Ryan ventured once the runt was gone from sight.
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"Those tufts must be feelers," Mildred muttered. "So they don't slam their
heads on the sloping tunnels."
"We got food, and if they have stone knives, there's nothing else here to
steal,"
Ryan stated bluntly. "Let's go."
As they headed along the wall, a runt staggered out of the darkness barely
able to stay on his feet. Going to the wall, he lifted his loincloth and they
heard a
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splashing sound. Sighing in relief, the mutie completed urinating and started
back the way he had come, then turned abruptly and headed for the rat farm.
The companions tried to duck out of his way, but the runt was too fast and he
gasped at the sight of the norms hidden in the wall shadows. Drawing a dagger,
he inhaled for a scream and Ryan moved like a panther, crossing the few yards
in a heartbeat Violently, he slammed a fist into the mutie's face to the sound
of shattering bones. The runt flailed its arms and dropped limply to the
ground.
Moving past the corpse, the companions jumped over the wall and started across
the open plain when an odd noise in the air above made them spin, braced for
an attack. Unexpectedly, a net dropped from the sky, entangling their limbs
and weapons.
"Two-legs!" another female runt called out loudly, advancing into view. "Live
two-legs here!"
Shoving her weapon against the rope strands, Mildred fired the crossbow. The
homemade arrow took the mutie in the throat, and the runt backed away, gasping
for air as blood trickled down her chest.
A knife in each hand, Jak slashed wildly, the net parting at every touch of
his blades. Soon the companions shrugged off the last few pieces of the
restraints.
Darting to the stalagmites, the companions paused to take stock of any wounds
and see if there was any pursuit.
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