Arcadian's Asylum Read Online Free Page B

everyone.
    K.T. grabbed the handset for the shortwave. “Lou, bring it down to zero in three-fifty,” he said, visibly controlling his temper. The big man was the only one who could ever put him in his place, and resultantly he was always on his best behavior when talking to him.
    “Sure, no problem,” came the big man’s mild tones. “And you keep it frosty, you hear?”
    K.T. grinned. “I’ll try.”
    He turned to Ryan and Krysty, the grin turning apologetic. “Shouldn’t have said that to you. Ain’t nothing to do with you if Toms goes weird on us.”
    “That’s okay,” Ryan assured him. “But is there anything we should know? We’re supposed to be sec for you, so if there’s any problem…”
    K.T. frowned, craning his head out the front window of the wag before answering. When he turned back, he had a puzzled expression. “Y’know, I’d tell you if I could, but I’ll be fucked sideways by a bunch of horny stickies if I can see anything weird at all out there. Far as I can see, there’s no reason why we should be stopping.”
    Krysty’s hair pulled tighter around her throat, the coils moving in. “No reason” usually meant a real bad reason—just one that hadn’t jumped out to bite you on the ass yet.
     
    LOU REPLACED the handset after speaking to K.T., pulling a face that bespoke his own bemusement.
    “Guess you’d better get ready,” he said to J.B. and Mildred. “Guess we all had.” He stood with some difficulty in the cramped interior and moved to the metal gun cabinet bolted to the side of the wag. He took down a carbine and a Browning Hi-Power hand-blaster, checking that both were oiled and loaded before holstering the blaster and throwing the carbine over one massive shoulder. Both weapons were in decent condition.
    “You see anything out there that could be why we’re stopping?” he continued, directing his question to J.B.
    The Armorer shook his head. “Can’t see much, for sure,” he mused. “But there isn’t anything close enough to be visible or to cause too much disturbance to the cover.”
    Lou chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Then what’s the stupe bastard playing at? Last thing we should be doing is just pulling up on an open road, especially with all that cover.”
    J.B. studied the big man intently. There was little doubt that he was genuine. The sense of impending danger that had infected J.B. and Mildred caused the Armorer to wonder if the convoy itself was the source of apprehension. But if there was an enemy within, then Lou had no part of this. Nor did the other members of the wag crew, who were also murmuring their disquiet.
    Was it like this in every wag? J.B. wondered. If so, then what did the fat man have up his hairy-armed and snot-stained sleeve?
    The shortwave, up until then nothing more than a constant background undulation with a few crackling bursts of static, burst into life as messages were relayed from wag to wag, synchronizing the slowdown to a halt. At the same time, K.T. and Lou, as sec lieutenants, became focused on sec measures when the convoy had come to a stop. Each wag carried in its crew people who doubled as gear-humpers and sec. At a time such as this, all such personnel were focused on their sec duties. It was agreed that when the convoy had stopped, each wag’s sec contingent would exit first, backs to the wags, one on each side of the vehicle, covering both sides of the densely packed verge.
    “Where do we fit?” J.B. asked.
    “Good point,” Lou replied. He spoke into the handset. “K.T., if we deploy the usual people in defensive positions, what should we do with the additional sec group?”
    “They’re evenly spaced along the convoy, right? I’d say they could act as outrunners, mebbe scout the roadside. What do you think?”
    Lou turned to J.B. and Mildred, his expression begging the question. He beckoned J.B. to the handset.
    “Sounds reasonable,” the Armorer began as he approached. “Ryan, we take it in pairs or go