Prophecy by James Axler Page B

couldn’t see a blaster on any of them.
    Part of his mind wondered how they managed to survive without the use of blasters, bow and arrow being—like a blade—an instrument with less range and destructive power, effective only if wielded with precision. Another part of his mind figured that Mildred’s sure eye and the sweep of his SMG could cut a swathe through these coldhearts…if that was what they proved to be.
    For the moment, that was less than certain. As the party of riders advanced, they had a confidence about them. There was no sign that they would raise a hand in anger, yet they seemed to fear no attack.
    Mildred and J.B. exchanged glances. This was nonormal situation. The Armorer shrugged and rose to his feet, stepping out from cover. Mildred followed. Both had their blasters at ease, yet their body language spoke of the ability to change to the offensive if necessary.
    As the mounted men drew nearer, they began to slow. J.B. studied them. It had been a long time since he’d seen anyone who was dressed and ornamented in a similar manner.
    As one, the mounted men came to a halt. They were within ten yards of the companions. As their horses snorted and moved their hooves, the dust settling around them, the warriors—for there was no doubt that this was what they were—sat impassive and silent. It was as though each was taking time to assess the people in front of them.
    â€œYou gonna say something, or we just gonna stand here and roast in this heat?” J.B. murmured laconically as the still and silence got to him.
    â€œYou and the woman are not attacking us,” the Native American at the head of the posse stated.
    â€œWe’d defend ourselves, but you show no sign of wanting to attack us,” Mildred countered.
    The flicker of a smile crossed the man’s weather-beaten face. “We have no desire to attack you. Why should we? We have been waiting for you.”
    J.B.’s brow furrowed. “Waiting?”
    He was answered by a brief nod.
    â€œHow did you know we would be here? We didn’t know it ourselves,” Mildred said sharply.
    The smile grew broader. “You know, even thoughyou don’t know.” The smile turned into a deep-throated chuckle as he caught the bafflement on their faces. “Come with us, and you will soon understand.”
    â€œMebbe we don’t want to come with you,” J.B. said guardedly.
    The Native American looked up at the empty, burning sky. “You’d rather stay out here?”
    â€œIt’s a good point, John,” Mildred said quietly, without taking her eyes from the men in front of them. “It doesn’t seem to be much of a choice for us right now.”
    J.B. sighed. “Guess so. We’ll take you up on it,” he said to the mounted man, adding, “For now.”
    Two of the mounted men moved forward from the group, indicating without speech that J.B. and Mildred should mount up behind each of them. Stowing their blasters, both raised themselves into the saddle, settling behind the impassive and silent warriors.
    It was only when they began to move off, and Mildred had the chance to survey the territory without the incessant march of her own feet that she realized at least one of the things that had been bugging her since they had first set out that morning.
    The dust and dirt floor of the plain was clear.
    What had happened to the locusts? Where were the frogs that had bombarded them? The ground should be littered with amphibians. If the live ones had sought shelter, then at the very least the ones who had bought the farm should be starting to stink up in the heat.
    But there was nothing.
    So where had they gone?
    Â 
    D IM LIGHT SUFFUSED the interior of the wag, heat from the rising sun stifling the atmosphere, making it hard to breathe. The stench of their own bodies filled the wag, the secured tarps keeping in the sweat and heat that had suffused them through the night.