“Say that again,” the baron demanded.
“We were watching him in the cafeteria,” sec chief Grundwold said, “and waiting for the best time to take him because we didn’t want to make a scene so close to his victory over Mog.”
“And then…?”
“And then a fight broke out over one of the breeders. In the confusion the one-eyed outlander got out of the building.”
The baron was circling the sec chief now, like an animal going in for the kill. “Say that last part again.”
Grundwold cleared his throat. “In the confusion, the outlander got away.”
“You let him get away.”
Grundwold said nothing.
“You let him get away,” the baron repeated.
“Yes,” Grundwold said, his shoulders slumping with the words.
“So now an already dangerous man has even more reason to rally the slaves against us. He’s already their hero, but now he’s a symbol of their own imprisonment.”
Again Grundwold said nothing.
“Isn’t that right?” The baron pressed home the point.
“He won’t get away.”
“Isn’t that right?” the baron repeated, not letting the sec chief steer the conversation away from the subject of his own failing.
Grundwold lowered his head. “That’s correct, Baron.”
“If you were in my position, what would you do with such gross incompetence?”
Grundwold knew exactly what he’d do to a sec man who screwed up. He would demote him several ranks and give him the most menial job until he was aching to prove his worth again. But of course, that wasn’t even close to the way the baron would handle such things. As a result, Grundwold said nothing, knowing it was a question he couldn’t possibly answer correctly.
“You can be sure I wouldn’t send you to clean toilets,” the baron said. “That might be your style, but it’s not mine. You see, I happen to need a sec chief at the moment, more than I’ve ever needed one before. But I need a competent one.”
“Yes, Baron.”
“I believe you are a competent sec chief, Grundwold, so I’m going to give you another chance to find the one-eyed outlander.”
“Thank you, Baron.”
“But not before I impose a suitable punishment.”
Grundwold closed his eyes, knowing that suitable punishment from the baron could be anything from a slap on the wrist to the removal of a limb.
“On your knees, Grundwold,” the baron ordered. Then he turned to Norman Bauer. “My special crop, please, Number One.”
Norman Bauer, who had been standing by impassively, went to a cupboard high up on one of the walls in the office and took out the baron’s “special crop.” It was an electric cattle prod, thicker than his usual leather crop, and was fitted with rechargeable batteries. It could administer a powerful and painful electric shock with a single touch.
Baron Fox circled the kneeling Grundwold, then touched the prod to his shoulder.
Grundwold’s body jumped as the room was suddenly bathed in the warm glow of electric blue. He groaned in pain as he tried to remain upright on his knees.
“Repeat after me… ‘I will catch the outlander.”’
“‘I will catch the outlander,’” Grundwold grunted.
Baron Fox touched the prod to Grundwold’s hip.
Grundwold’s torso jerked sideways as all the muscles on his right side contracted.
Then, as Grundwold lay on the ground struggling to catch his breath, the baron touched the prod to his thigh and watched the sec chief’s leg twitch and convulse with electricity.
The sec chief screamed in pain.
The office smelled of ozone and burning flesh.
“Say it again,” the baron said. “Louder this time, and with conviction.”
Grundwold’s words were lost in a scream.
THE MAIN BUILDING was quiet, except for someone screaming in pain in a distant part of the building. At this time of day there would be people and sec men walking the halls outside her room, and there would be sounds of the workday beginning outside.
But there was none of that this morning.
Krysty opened the door and found that there wasn’t a sec man in the hallway. The building seemed abandoned, and she sensed it had something to do with Ryan. He was somehow in mortal danger, but was at least safe for the moment.
She stepped into the hallway, closed the door to her room and set out to find Mildred. If something was going terribly wrong, they’d have a better chance of surviving if they were together.
WHEN CLARISSA REACHED the entrance to the part of the hydro-electric tunnel she called home, there were still several muties waiting outside. They seemed happy to see her, and even happier still when she opened up a bag of leftover fish and uneaten scraps for them.
“Gather the tribe,” she told them as they ate.
“Series?” one of the muties asked.
He’d meant to say “serious,” but it had come out wrong. Of course it was serious, but what was the best way to explain it to the triple-stupe brain-damaged muties so they would understand. “Yes,” she said in the end. “Triple-big serious.”
The muties seemed to respond well to her words, but she decided they needed to be even more excited about what was going to happen.
“Tonight. All you can eat.”
That did the trick.
The muties cleaned up the fish scraps, then scrambled away to gather the tribe.
“I DON’T SEE ANYBODY out working the orchards,” Dean said as he crouched amid a tumble of weeds. “All I see is sec men walking up and down the rows between the trees like they’re looking for something.”
“Someone,” Jak said.
Dean looked at Jak. “You think someone escaped?”
Jak nodded. “Ryan.”
“But if no one’s out working, how will we get a message to my dad, Krysty or Mildred?”
“Don’t know. Mebbe give signal.”
“What kind of signal.”
The albino shook his head. “Don’t know yet.”
SEC CHIEF GANLEY brought the raiders to a rest atop a rise north of the ruins of the city that had been labeled Clifton Hill. From here they were able to see the waterfalls, what had once been Niagara Falls and, more importantly, the thriving farm complex. Behind the perimeter of a wire mesh fence was the wealth of breeding men and women that Reichel ville desperately needed to survive.
“Is that the place?” someone behind the sec chief asked wearily. They had been carrying fish to offer in trade for hours over the rough terrain, and many were close to the point of exhaustion.
“Yes, it is,” Ganley answered.
“It’s fenced in, and there are sec men on patrol everywhere.”
It seemed madness now to think they could trade their meager fish for slaves, but that had been their plan from the start and Ganley was determined to try trading first. If he succeeded, they might be able to trade for breeders on a regular basis, and if he failed, then they would return to try to take what they couldn’t get in trade.
“I’ll need two to come with me,” Ganley said. “The rest of you can rest here until dark.”
Rhonda was the first to step forward, followed by several men.
The sec chief put a hand on Rhonda’s shoulder. “No women. They’d take you as a slave in a second. Besides, I need you here to lead the raid if I don’t return.”
Rhonda looked disappointed, but understood.
“Franz and Ruznicki,” he said.
The two men stepped forward and picked up the fish they’d be offering in trade.
Ganley turned to the rest of the raiders. “If we’re not back by dark…We hope we won’t meet you on the last train heading west.”
And then they were gone.