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salvage recently unwrapped from the original plastic. His voice was soft, and he looked a bit unhealthy to Ryan. But he carried the M-4 as if he knew which end the bullets came out of, and he showed no hesitancy in voice or posture.
    Ryan dropped his panga beside him. “Do what you gotta do.”
    Men armed with crossbows disarmed the companions. Like their leader, they were dressed in crisp predark clothing that mostly fit them. One of the benefits of living in or near a nuked-out city was the ability to reap its bounty.
    One of their captors, a burly young man with brown hair, scraped the housing of the Steyr’s scope against the concrete wall.
    “Careful with that, son,” Ryan rasped. “That’s delicate precision optics you’re dealin’ with, there.”
    “Show some respect, Lonny,” the man with the M-4 said long-sufferingly.
    “Aw, Tully,” Lonny said. “They’re just coldhearts.”
    “They were fighting coldhearts,” Tully said. “So do we. That don’t make us coldhearts.”
    “Indeed,” Doc said. “So why not leave us our weapons and gear and let us go our merry way? We will not cause you a bit of fuss.”
    “Remains to be seen. Now if you like keeping your skins on you better get ready to hustle. Acid rain’s coming. Smells like a bad one.”
    As if in response, raindrops pattered off the top of the wall and dug little craters in the gray dust. Ryan felt his facial muscles wince tightly in anticipation of the pain of an acid strike on exposed skin. But the drops that struck the hands held over his head and his cheek were just normal rain. Fat and somewhat greasy, but not corrosive.
    Not yet. This was merely a little harmless foreplay.
    “What about J.B.?” Mildred demanded. “We’ve got a wounded man. You don’t propose we just leave him here to die?”
    “No,” Tully said. “But if he can’t walk you’ll have to carry him. Now get moving, or we’ll leave you all to sizzle!”
    “But he needs a stretcher!”
    “Woman, do we look like we’re carrying a stretcherwith us? Pick him up and carry him, or leave him, but get moving right now. ”
    “Easy, lover,” Krysty murmured. “He’s right.”
    “Yeah.” Ryan forced himself to unwind a notch as he unlinked his hands atop his head. When no one shouted or shot at him he hunkered down and grabbed J.B. by the shoulders. “Being ordered around by strangers goes straight up my back.”
    Krysty moved to Ryan’s side to help. He didn’t worry about her carrying her share of the load. She was a strong woman. He flashed a narrow-eyed look at Mildred.
    “You gonna help or let us drag his feet through the rubble?” he asked.
    Tears ran down Mildred’s cheeks. “It might kill him, just carrying him like this for any distance!”
    “You think the acid won’t? Jak, help her get his legs. Hang on, J.B. This is gonna hurt.”
    “Don’t be a stupe,” J.B. croaked. “Just leave me.” His eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out again.
    “Not gonna happen,” Ryan said. “Nobody gets left behind.”
    Shooting a final ruby glare at the captors to either side of him, Jak moved toward the wounded Armorer. Doc moved forward.
    “Allow me, lad,” Doc said, stooping beside Mildred. He grabbed one of J.B.’s boots and stood with his three companions.
    “Now, as I heard it said—let’s make tracks!”

Chapter Five
    They traveled south. Tully led them out of the ruined building into the street, which was relatively unobstructed there. They made for the shelter of an intact section of overpass. It should protect them from the acid rain, if the wind didn’t blow too hard.
    The Armorer was a small man and not carrying any excess flesh. He was all bone and wiry muscle. Ryan was surprised by how heavy his friend actually was.
    Their captors had shouldered the companions’ packs. Ryan guessed that had more to do with preventing them from whipping out any nasty hidden surprises than a desire to lighten the loads of four people carrying