'You don't know?'
'Yeah. I'm not anxious to be auctioned off to some slimy sex-starved men, Eric. But I'm not sure certain death is better. I want to live.'
He nodded. She was right. It was one of the things he liked about Tracy, her practicality. None of that save- the-last-bullet-for-me-rather-than-let-the-Indians-get-me bullshit. She's learned fast. It's better to live. It's always better to live.
But Eric had other considerations. They would definitely kill him; there was no profit to be made in keeping him alive like there was with Tracy. And he had to stay alive. Timmy was still out there, a prisoner of Dirk Fallows. Eric had to do something about both of them.
'Okay,' he said. 'I'll go on my own. If I make it, I'll try to catch up with you later.'
'Sorry, Eric.' She shook her head. 'Guess I'm saying that a lot lately.'
'No need to. In your place I wouldn't risk it either.'
The door banged open and a squat thick-necked man jumped into the cabin aiming Eric's crossbow at them. He was shorter than Tracy, but with huge bulging muscles and a nasty sneer. A long ponytail hung like a question mark from his otherwise bald head. A.45 M1911A1 was holstered to his hip.
'Okay, Cap,' Griffin said, stepping away from the door to make room.
'Thank you, Griffin,' the deep voice intoned as he entered.
Eric stared silently at the captain's face. He thought he'd seen bodies ravaged in every way possible in 'Nam and lately in ways he didn't think were possible in New California. But this sight stunned him, made his stomach tumble. He heard a low moan of panic gurgle in Tracy's throat as she recoiled a few steps, her back pressed to the cabin wall. She gazed fixedly at his face, mesmerized by its grotesqueness.
The left half of the face was almost normal, perhaps once even handsome. But it was the right half that knocked the air out of you. The rough gray skin swirled in thick twisted lumps as if the flesh had once begun to melt, then changed its mind. The heavy brow sagged over the right eye almost blocking it out entirely. Yet under the thick canopy of gnarled skin shone that moist black eye. Intelligent, yet cruel, like some swamp creature's. The crusted mouth twisted into a thin slit that seemed partially frozen, stuck together on the right side. He wore a clean white skipper's cap to complement his flamboyant blue double-breasted blazer, its brass buttons buffed to a high polish. But the head peeking out of the hat was almost bald, flecked with clumps of wispy colorless hair the consistency of parched prairie weeds. The right ear was nothing more than a leathery hole, almost reptilian.
The captain smiled, but only the left half of his mouth moved. 'I take it from your stares you don't like my hat?'
Tracy didn't answer, swallowed loudly.
Eric glanced at Griffin, the crossbow pointing at his already damaged chest. No sense in trying anything yet. Wait for an opening.
'Guess you weren't expecting such a natty dresser, eh?' The disfigured captain laughed, the damaged side of his face shifting into islands of wrinkled scars. He looked at Eric. 'In the meantime, there's someone dying to meet you.' He held out a hand like an emcee introducing a new act. 'Heeere's Angel.'
The slender Vietnamese woman walked into the room. She was short, barely clearing five feet, but her face was just as beautiful as when Eric has last seen it, magnified through the lens of his M-84 scope. The royal tilt of the head, the long black hair cascading around her face. The slits of olive skin encasing eyes gleaming like stainless steel ball bearings. The pouting lips hiding small delicate teeth. But the hate in her face as she stared at Eric was almost as disfiguring as her companion's deformity.
'So, Eric,' she said, not smiling, her accent still heavy and halting, 'once again you are my guest.'
The captain smiled at Eric. 'I understand you've already met my little Angel.'
'Yes,' Angel answered for Eric. 'The last time Eric was my guest he made love to me all night. Then tried to kill me in the morning.'
'How rude,' the man said, clucking his tongue, half of his face crinkled with amusement, the other half a desolate moonscape. 'Well, I suppose we will be forced to return the favor, eh, Angel?'
Angel reached behind her back. When her hand reappeared it was clutching a Philippine balisong knife. She flicked her wrist and the double handles unfolded to reveal a sharp blade. She stepped toward Eric.
7.
'Right here.' She tapped the point of the blade against Eric's bandaged chest, then pulled the knife away, resting the tip against her pouting lip. Her tongue flicked against the blade absently as she studied his bare torso. When she decided on the right location, she pressed the tip of the blade just below the edge of the bandage. 'And here, I think. Correct, Eric?'
Eric smelled the faint sweet scent of jasmine spiced with ginger. Her own creation, he remembered. After all that had happened since they'd last met-to themselves, to the world- she remained the same. It was as if the events in the world didn't affect her directly. She was beyond their touch, as she'd been beyond his bullets.
'Well, Eric?' Angel twisted the blade, adding pressure. A drop of blood spurted onto the shiny metal. 'Am I correct? Would you not say those were the locations where you shot me?'
'Approximately,' Eric said.
She laughed, the small white teeth glistening like buttered corn. 'Then I should be dead, no? Instant kill, n'est-ce pas?'
'That's what I thought.'
The steel ball bearings shifted in their sockets. 'You mean, you hoped.' She twisted the knife harder, gouging the flesh. Eric didn't flinch. 'Poor, Eric. Forced to make love to me the whole night, just so he could get past my guards and close enough to kill me.'
'It was a dirty job,' Eric shrugged.
The captain roared with laughter. 'Quite a tongue on that boy, Angel my love.'
'That will be the first to go,' she smiled. 'But not the last.' She glanced at his crotch, showed more teeth. 'When I am through, poor Eric will be minus many things. Including his little friend here.'
'Now, now, Angel,' the man cautioned. 'I promised you Ravensmith, but not the girl. That's business. Look at that figure, that face. I'd wager whoever buys her will keep her tied on her back with her legs spread apart for a week at least.'
Angel glanced at Tracy for the first time since entering the room. She didn't like what she saw. 'I don't care what you do with her.'
'Hmmm. Perhaps a few sessions with the crew will break her in properly.' He smiled at Tracy. 'Though I warn you, young lady, the women will be even rougher with you than the men. Depraved lot, eh, Griffin?'
Griffin nodded. 'We try, Captain.'
Angel ignored the patter, her eyes locked on Eric's. 'You still haven't guessed it, have you? How I survived.'
'You used a double, I suppose. A sister, a cousin. Somebody you hired for just such possibilities.' He shrugged. 'It doesn't matter.'
'It doesn't matter?' She pulled the knife away from his oozing wound. With her free hand she reached up and unzipped the sailing jacket she wore over her jeans. She was naked underneath.
'My, my,' the captain grinned with mock surprise.
Her breasts were large for an oriental's, but firm and perfectly round. Her long dark nipples budded straight out like thorns. Between her breasts, slightly to the left and over the heart, was a small round scar no larger than a mole. Another was located a few inches lower. 'No double,' she hissed. 'Me! You shot me.'
Eric was confused. The scars were right where he'd shot her all right, but they weren't large enough to be bullet wounds. Besides, if he'd actually shot her there, she'd be dead. Unless…
'Ahhh,' she nodded, pleased at Eric's expression. 'Sweet Eric sees now.'
Eric sighed. 'Fallows.'
'Yes, Dirk was kind enough to come to my aid. Providing me with your description and a bulletproof vest to conceal under my coat. He was under orders to have me killed, but he had a plan. He always had a plan. Of
