Free Playfair's Axiom by James Axler Page B

fact it was intact. It was, however, filthy; Ryan, accustomed to the smells of himself and his friends after days of wandering in wilderness and ruin, felt a bit of a twinge at the sheer intensity of his body funk. He had a ratlike face, much of which was concealed, probably for the better, by big dark glasses. His hair hung over the shoulders of his shirt in tangled dreadlocks, so greasy they not only made it impossible to tell what color they might originally have been, but also actually left obvious stains when they brushed the already grimy fabric.
    “I’m Brother Joseph,” the tall man said in a rich baritone voice that flowed like honey. “This is my associate, Booker.
    “I am the spiritual guide of this community of seekers,” Joseph said. “I’m pleased to meet you all at last. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
    “What would that be, Brother?” Krysty asked, putting some sugar in her voice. Men tended not to get suspicious when a question came out in that kind of tone from that kind of face and body. Krysty had a great many assets—mental, spiritual and physical—and she wasn’t shy about using any of them to help her friends survive.
    In this case, Ryan knew, it could be important to know whether their reputations had preceded them. It happened. If they had, it might give them leverage they wouldn’t otherwise have. Conversely, if the saga of One-Eye Chills and his merry band wasn’t known here in the rotted-out corpse of St. Lou, it might just mean potential enemies could underestimate them. And whatever the sentiment of the ville as a whole, they had enemies here: burly Lonny’s bizarre behavior with their food demonstrated that.
    “Why, your running battle and heroic last stand in the ruins of downtown,” Joseph said. “You would be Krysty, would you not? Our patrol’s reports scarcely do your beauty justice. Nor your obvious intelligence. And you, Mildred—”
    He turned the considerable candlepower of his smile on Mildred. “Our own healer gives high marks to your field treatment of your wounded comrade. Had you not taken the actions you did, promptly and efficiently, we would not have had the opportunity to save his life.”
    “Hmm,” Mildred said. But she didn’t seem quite so full of piss and vinegar as she had a moment before.
    “And you are Jak, the valiant youth,” he said, turning and nodding. “And you, sir—Doc. I’m afraid our people made rather heavy weather of your full name.”
    “Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner, sir, at your service.”
    “An honor to meet you, Doctor. You are clearly a man of education. And last, the hero-figure, the leader-from-the-wilderness. Ryan. You must be a most remarkable man.”
    For once Ryan felt at a loss for words. He felt Krysty sidle against him and take his arm. “He is,” she said.
    Brother Joseph beamed more brightly. “Indeed! You are all remarkable men and women. Every man and woman is a star, the oracle tells us. But now you’ll want to pay a visit to your fallen comrade. I trust you’ll forgive me this briefdelay. After an afternoon of praying and meditating over what your advent might mean to this ville, I found myself dying to meet you. You’ll join us in an hour for supper, I hope?”
    “Sure,” Ryan said. That was an easy call, anyway. A free feed was a free feed. Neither the vegetable stew nor Lonny’s loogie had been enough to do more than dull the edge of hunger long-honed by privation.
    “Splendid. Come, Booker. We’ve business of our own to attend to.”
     
    “M ILDRED,” the man on the bed said in a rough-edged whisper. “Sorry. I let you down. Everybody…down. I…fucked…up.”
    Now wholly Mildred, and not even the least little bit the briskly professional Dr. Wyeth, the sturdily built black woman clutched his hand in both of hers. “Honey, no. Don’t talk that way. It wasn’t your fault.”
    “Bullet flies where it will, J.B.,” Ryan said. “You of all people should know that.”
    The