[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"Norms," one of the stickies said in a thick, halting voice.
A period of time passed while damaged, rad-altered and inbred brain cells
tried to shake themselves into providing enough energy to fire the necessary
pinprick burst of electricity for another coherent thought. Five minutes
passed, maybe six.
There were no complaints. Many stickies had no concept of time. Sunup and
sundown was the extent of how their own internal biological clocks ticked.
Stickies needed very little sleep due to their higher body metabolisms. The
only thing fast about them were the killing rages they could be induced into
by high stress and fireworks and explosions.
The same stickie spoke again. "Norms& suck," he declared.
"Yeah, Howie," a second mutant agreed, his words articulated with more care
and speed . "You said it. Took you long enough, but you said it for all of
us."
Other stickies now began to speak, their comments overlapping and
interrupting.
"Drove the norms out of the city, but they still want to stay in the mall."
"I hear the mall's nice."
"Norms like it. Norms like nice things. Nice soft things."
"Mmm. Norms are soft."
"Norms are pussies."
"Could go for some norm pussy." Stickie laughter rang out in the warehouse.
Rough sex with a norm was always a treat, and they knew the mall was full of
succulent norm flesh. More discussion created a sexually charged atmosphere,
and one or two of the slower stickies were aroused and turned their attention
to more immediate fulfillment. "Yeah. Yeah," one of the pair breathed as his
right arm worked. He looked at himself with approval as he tugged and pulled
to create the enjoyable feelings. The second stickie involved in
self-gratification wasn't paying
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_41_-_Freedom_Lost heed. He was involved with his own
pleasure, preferring a softer, gentler touch that left him unaware of his
surroundings.
"I don't believe this," a new voice said. Unlike the others in the room, this
voice was hurried, with the words almost rushing out and stepping on top of
one another to get what was needed said as quickly as possible. "Playing with
yourselves again? If you're horny, go find a mutie slut. Just spare me the
sight of you guys flogging your logs for the amusement of your fellow muties."
Norm and Budd came out of the small office near the semicircle of furniture.
Once the office had been used for the dispatcher to check in and send out
truckloads of tobacco, but now it was a base of operations for the new leaders
of the stickie horde.
The pair had been living in Winston for many weeks now, and as the scarred
human had predicted, the two had managed to align the stickie population into
more of a coherent fighting force than ever before, even raiding convoys for
weapons. Any qualms about Norm's ancestry had been dismissed by his sheer
ugliness and by the long-haired Budd's willingness to back his friend up to
the table.
Politics weren't a stickie pastime. As long as they got to spend time burning
and chilling, they were content to take Norm's lead.
"See, Budd?" Norm said, his voice dripping with disgust. "This is why stickies
are the joke of Deathlands. When you could be plotting to take over, you're
too damn busy holding jack-off contests."
"Got someone for you to talk with," one of the members of the half circle said
slowly as he zipped up his pants. "Show you."
Norm and Budd followed the stickie to a corner room in the warehouse.
"Who is it?" Norm asked.
"A scavie. Has information to sell."
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"Never heard tell of that, a man willing to rat out his kind to a mutie," Norm
said.
"Could be a trick."
"Perhaps& he wants to live." Budd said. "Man wants to live& might do anything.
You should know."
Norm's lidless eye glared at the stickie. "He should still know better."
Budd stopped before exiting the room. "What about you, Norm? How do you fit
in?"
Norm's face became even uglier. "Shut your hole, Budd, before I shut it for
you."
The disfigured man walked into the dimly lit room, where Alton Adrian was tied
to a rickety kitchen chair. The man had been stripped naked, his long hair and
beard the only covering on his entire body. A dirty gag was wadded into his
mouth. The areas of exposed skin showed evidence of the loving touches laid
upon him by his stickie captors.
Norm began walking around the terrified bound man in a slow, lazy circle.
"Most of the problems I've ever had to deal with in Deathlands come from
people trespassing," he said. "Going where they don't belong. There's ways of
making jack doing this if you find them on your land or using your stuff, you
charge them a fee. Make them pay. Used to get my joint sucked two or three
times a week when I was a mercie running a toll road. See, if they didn't have
the jack, well, I made those going on through pay in different ways."
"Who are you?" the scavie asked in a weak voice muffled by the gag.
From behind Adrian, his captor spoke softly, in a near whisper: "No questions.
I'm talking now. You were over at the old hospital, my friend. Round in the
same area where six of my men disappeared a few days back. Now, I'm sure
you'll agree that stickies are not the most brilliant of the many noble
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creatures roaming Deathlands, and perhaps they got lost or ran off or even
found a room and ended up locking themselves in. I don't know. All I have is
the evidence in front of me, and that's you."
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_41_-_Freedom_Lost
Norm reached down and cupped Adrian's chin with a hand covered in scars. His
fingernails were long and sharp, jagged and uneven. He moved his hand up and
ripped the gag out of his prisoner's mouth.
Adrian inhaled deeply, the smell of rotting flesh flowing into his lungs as he
breathed. He gagged, but kept his composure as best he could.
"One of my friends says you have information to barter for your own miserable
life," Norm said.
"Y-yeah."
"What is that information?"
The scavenger paused, wondering if he could talk his way through being chilled
on the spot. "I know what happened to those six stickies."
Norm's one bulging eye seemed to grow larger in the broken socket of his face.
"Do you, now?"
"They're chilled. All of them."
"How?"
"They were chilled by a man named Ryan Cawdor."
The utterance of the name had a most curious and unexpected effect on the
scarred man standing before the helpless Alton Adrian. The mention of Cawdor
caused
Norm to twist his once burned fingers into a bony fist and strike out,
catching
Adrian full in the mouth. The skin on his knuckles peeled back from the gap
where the scavenger's front teeth were missing, making Norm bleed freely. The
force from the surprise blow caused the chair to tip over on one side.
"You stinkin' liar!" Norm cried, kicking Adrian in the ribs. "No fucking way
is
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_41_-_Freedom_Lost
One-eye here! No fucking way!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
"Norms," one of the stickies said in a thick, halting voice.
A period of time passed while damaged, rad-altered and inbred brain cells
tried to shake themselves into providing enough energy to fire the necessary
pinprick burst of electricity for another coherent thought. Five minutes
passed, maybe six.
There were no complaints. Many stickies had no concept of time. Sunup and
sundown was the extent of how their own internal biological clocks ticked.
Stickies needed very little sleep due to their higher body metabolisms. The
only thing fast about them were the killing rages they could be induced into
by high stress and fireworks and explosions.
The same stickie spoke again. "Norms& suck," he declared.
"Yeah, Howie," a second mutant agreed, his words articulated with more care
and speed . "You said it. Took you long enough, but you said it for all of
us."
Other stickies now began to speak, their comments overlapping and
interrupting.
"Drove the norms out of the city, but they still want to stay in the mall."
"I hear the mall's nice."
"Norms like it. Norms like nice things. Nice soft things."
"Mmm. Norms are soft."
"Norms are pussies."
"Could go for some norm pussy." Stickie laughter rang out in the warehouse.
Rough sex with a norm was always a treat, and they knew the mall was full of
succulent norm flesh. More discussion created a sexually charged atmosphere,
and one or two of the slower stickies were aroused and turned their attention
to more immediate fulfillment. "Yeah. Yeah," one of the pair breathed as his
right arm worked. He looked at himself with approval as he tugged and pulled
to create the enjoyable feelings. The second stickie involved in
self-gratification wasn't paying
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_41_-_Freedom_Lost heed. He was involved with his own
pleasure, preferring a softer, gentler touch that left him unaware of his
surroundings.
"I don't believe this," a new voice said. Unlike the others in the room, this
voice was hurried, with the words almost rushing out and stepping on top of
one another to get what was needed said as quickly as possible. "Playing with
yourselves again? If you're horny, go find a mutie slut. Just spare me the
sight of you guys flogging your logs for the amusement of your fellow muties."
Norm and Budd came out of the small office near the semicircle of furniture.
Once the office had been used for the dispatcher to check in and send out
truckloads of tobacco, but now it was a base of operations for the new leaders
of the stickie horde.
The pair had been living in Winston for many weeks now, and as the scarred
human had predicted, the two had managed to align the stickie population into
more of a coherent fighting force than ever before, even raiding convoys for
weapons. Any qualms about Norm's ancestry had been dismissed by his sheer
ugliness and by the long-haired Budd's willingness to back his friend up to
the table.
Politics weren't a stickie pastime. As long as they got to spend time burning
and chilling, they were content to take Norm's lead.
"See, Budd?" Norm said, his voice dripping with disgust. "This is why stickies
are the joke of Deathlands. When you could be plotting to take over, you're
too damn busy holding jack-off contests."
"Got someone for you to talk with," one of the members of the half circle said
slowly as he zipped up his pants. "Show you."
Norm and Budd followed the stickie to a corner room in the warehouse.
"Who is it?" Norm asked.
"A scavie. Has information to sell."
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_41_-_Freedom_Lost
"Never heard tell of that, a man willing to rat out his kind to a mutie," Norm
said.
"Could be a trick."
"Perhaps& he wants to live." Budd said. "Man wants to live& might do anything.
You should know."
Norm's lidless eye glared at the stickie. "He should still know better."
Budd stopped before exiting the room. "What about you, Norm? How do you fit
in?"
Norm's face became even uglier. "Shut your hole, Budd, before I shut it for
you."
The disfigured man walked into the dimly lit room, where Alton Adrian was tied
to a rickety kitchen chair. The man had been stripped naked, his long hair and
beard the only covering on his entire body. A dirty gag was wadded into his
mouth. The areas of exposed skin showed evidence of the loving touches laid
upon him by his stickie captors.
Norm began walking around the terrified bound man in a slow, lazy circle.
"Most of the problems I've ever had to deal with in Deathlands come from
people trespassing," he said. "Going where they don't belong. There's ways of
making jack doing this if you find them on your land or using your stuff, you
charge them a fee. Make them pay. Used to get my joint sucked two or three
times a week when I was a mercie running a toll road. See, if they didn't have
the jack, well, I made those going on through pay in different ways."
"Who are you?" the scavie asked in a weak voice muffled by the gag.
From behind Adrian, his captor spoke softly, in a near whisper: "No questions.
I'm talking now. You were over at the old hospital, my friend. Round in the
same area where six of my men disappeared a few days back. Now, I'm sure
you'll agree that stickies are not the most brilliant of the many noble
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creatures roaming Deathlands, and perhaps they got lost or ran off or even
found a room and ended up locking themselves in. I don't know. All I have is
the evidence in front of me, and that's you."
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_41_-_Freedom_Lost
Norm reached down and cupped Adrian's chin with a hand covered in scars. His
fingernails were long and sharp, jagged and uneven. He moved his hand up and
ripped the gag out of his prisoner's mouth.
Adrian inhaled deeply, the smell of rotting flesh flowing into his lungs as he
breathed. He gagged, but kept his composure as best he could.
"One of my friends says you have information to barter for your own miserable
life," Norm said.
"Y-yeah."
"What is that information?"
The scavenger paused, wondering if he could talk his way through being chilled
on the spot. "I know what happened to those six stickies."
Norm's one bulging eye seemed to grow larger in the broken socket of his face.
"Do you, now?"
"They're chilled. All of them."
"How?"
"They were chilled by a man named Ryan Cawdor."
The utterance of the name had a most curious and unexpected effect on the
scarred man standing before the helpless Alton Adrian. The mention of Cawdor
caused
Norm to twist his once burned fingers into a bony fist and strike out,
catching
Adrian full in the mouth. The skin on his knuckles peeled back from the gap
where the scavenger's front teeth were missing, making Norm bleed freely. The
force from the surprise blow caused the chair to tip over on one side.
"You stinkin' liar!" Norm cried, kicking Adrian in the ribs. "No fucking way
is
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One-eye here! No fucking way!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]