James Axler Read Online Free PDF Page B

of Fairburn ville, they had both been surprised at the surge in customers as the day stretched into evening. Doc had made some efforts to talk with the locals, joining in with a couple of hands of dominoes with some of the older men, and losing with good grace.
    Jak had silently watched the room while the older man went about his business. The youth could scout for a man across two hundred miles with no more clues than a snapped twig and some churned-up mud once in a while, but he would never be one to put people at their ease. Part of that, Doc reasoned, came down to the lad’s appearance—whip thin, with alabaster skin, a mane of chalk-pale hair and those burning, ruby-red eyes. Doc was no domino expert, but he knew a lot about people.
    Gleefully losing a little jack to Sunday gamers was a sure way for an old man to ingratiate himself.
    Doc had asked his questions in a roundabout way, just another chatty wrinklie passing through the ville. But he’d deftly turned the conversation to the subject of the strange tower outside the ville, and he’d met with what he could only describe as a polite silence. He hadn’t pressed the issue. Instead he’d set about buying drinks for his new friends and losing a couple more rounds of dominoes.
    Jak had watched the whole performance with amusement. When Doc finally returned to his table, loudly be-moaning that the domino game was getting too rich for his blood, he and the teen had ordered a plate of food and discussed Doc’s conclusions while they waited for news on Krysty’s condition.
    “The truth of it is,” Doc began, “I do not think anyone hereabouts actually knows what the dickens that towering doohickey is for.”
    IN THE UPSTAIRS ROOMS, Mildred and J.B. were looking at each other while Ryan gently eased Krysty away from him so that he could see her face.
    “What did you say?” Ryan asked as though he disbelieved his own ears.
    “I just want to know why everyone is screaming,”
    Krysty said quietly.
    Mildred spoke up, her question holding no challenge, no judgment. “Who’s screaming, Krysty? Are we screaming?”
    “No.” Krysty breathed the word, shaking her head.
    “Not you. Out there. Outside. Can’t you… Can’t you hear them? The screams?”
    J.B. addressed the room. “Krysty’s always had real sensitive hearing,” he stated. But Krysty was shaking her head, her vibrant hair falling over her eyes.
    “What, Krysty?” Mildred asked. “What is it?”
    “It’s not far away,” Krysty told them, unconsciously biting at her bottom lip, tugging a piece of skin away.
    “It’s right here, all around us. You must be able…you must be able to hear it. Tell me you can hear it. Tell me.”
    No one answered, and the room remained in silence for a long moment, the only sounds coming from revelers downstairs. Krysty’s breathing was hard, ragged, and it was clear that she was trying to hold back her frustrated anger.
    Finally, Mildred reached across for her, and Ryan moved out of the way, stepping from the bed. “You’re okay,” Mildred assured Krysty. “It’s nothing, I’m sure.
    It’s nothing, Krysty, I promise you.”
    Quietly, J.B. led Ryan into the adjoining room and pushed the door between them closed. “This ain’t nothing,” the Armorer told Ryan flatly in the darkness.
    Ryan half nodded, half shook his head, the leather patch over his left eye catching the moonlight from the window. “What do we do now, old friend?” he asked quietly.
    “She’s not one of us and no more crazy right now than that old coot downstairs,” J.B. said, the trace of a smile on his lips. “We’ve carried Doc when he’s been ranting and raving and vision questing all over time and space. You know we have. We’ll take care of Krysty.”
    J.B. turned to the window of the darkened room, looking out at the street. There was a party atmosphere out there now, maybe fifty or sixty people milling around. Street vendors had appeared, selling roasted nuts from open