Deathlands 124: Child of Slaughter by James Axler Page B

course.”
    “Why don’t they rebuild somewhere else?” Doc asked. “In a still zone or somewhere outside the Shift, perhaps?”
    “Because this is home.”
    Doc frowned. “What about moving some of Hammersmith’s equipment here and making this a still zone, then?”
    “We don’t know how to make it work,” Ankh said. “Only Hammersmith could do that.”
    “All this damage,” Doc said. “And all the deaths, past and future. Yet they still will not consider moving?”
    “They aren’t like you.” Ankh sniffed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
    Just then, a high-pitched voice broke in from behind them. “Ankh is right.” Exo had slipped to the back of the ranks when Doc hadn’t been paying attention. He approached them now, a fresh red-and-white-striped candy cane protruding from between his lips. “Only a shifter can truly grasp the importance of this place.”
    Instantly, Doc went on guard. The presence of the unpredictable leader of the shifters made his heart race, his muscles tense and the hackles on the back of his neck rise.
    As if sensing the tension, Exo clapped a hand on Doc’s shoulder, making him tense even more. “But you, of all the humans I have known, came closest to understanding.” Exo sank his fingers into Doc’s flesh, clamping down with a grip so tight it was almost painful. “Didn’t you once tell me this place inspired you?”
    Doc wondered if the question was a trap but knew he didn’t have long to consider it. “My memory’s been faulty lately, but this, I remember.” He smiled as he gazed out at the ville of Struggle. “It is very moving indeed. A testament to the resilience of the shifters in the face of great adversity.”
    Suddenly, Exo’s grip tightened, and Doc nearly cried out. Had he said the wrong thing?
    But then Exo merely leaned closer and patted his chest. “You do understand.” He smiled around the root of the peppermint stick and nodded. “We thrive on defeat. We are destined to rise up and rule, no matter how many times we are crushed.”
    “An indomitable spirit indeed,” Doc said. “Your people are to be commended.”
    “Commended?” Exo laughed and let go of Doc’s shoulder, then hauled back Doc’s swordstick and plowed the head of it into Doc’s belly. “Bowed down to, is more like it.” Next, he smacked Doc hard across the face with his open hand. “We will settle for nothing less!”
    Doc stumbled away from Exo, wanting more than anything to strike back at him and end the abuse once and for all, but realizing that to do so could lead to his death.
    “Enough talk,” Exo said. “We have delayed our arrival too long already.”
    With that, he ran down the side of the hill toward Struggle, on the heels of the rest of the shifters. That left only Doc and Ankh at the top, staring after the departing leader.
    “Why do I always feel like I am on the verge of being killed every time I talk to him?” Doc asked, taking deep, measured breaths to fight the pain from Exo’s strikes.
    “Because he’s always on the verge of killing you every time he talks to you,” Ankh replied. “But if it’s any consolation, he’s like that with everyone.”
    Doc frowned. “Surely you would save me to ensure your future plans.”
    Ankh shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, go right on thinking that.”
    And then the two of them started down the hill toward Struggle.
    * * *
    A S E XO AND his troop of shifters strolled into the ville, their mutie brethren came out of the woodwork to greet them. Crimson muties emerged from makeshift shelters, piles of junk and holes in the ground, scurrying through the rain to surround the new arrivals.
    They treated Exo and his forces like conquering heroes, showering them with garlands of what looked to Doc like feathers and crumpled newspaper and colored cotton balls. They hugged and kissed the shifters and chanted Exo’s name, dancing as they did so with arms upraised.
    But when it came to Doc, the locals kept their