Eden’s Twilight by James Axler Page B

unseeing eyes.
    The other companions remained silent. Nobody blamed Doc for fading away now and then after the horrible tortures he had endured at the hands of Cort Strasser and the lunatic whitecoats of Operation Chronos. He usually snapped back to reality if there was any trouble. The man looked sixty, but was actually only about thirty-eight years old and possessed a wiry strength. Doc was a valuable asset to the group, not a liability.
    Just then a soft beep sounded from the radar.
    â€œThere’s something big to our left,” J.B. said, studying the glowing screen. “It’s kind of hard to tell with all the trash in the air…but I’d say, a thousand yards, mebbe two.”
    â€œSomething moving this way?” Ryan asked, finishing lacing his boot and quickly pulling on the second.
    J.B. watched the screen for a minute. “Nope, it’s not moving at all. Must be ruins, or mebbe a ville.”
    â€œSounds good.” Krysty grunted and sent the vehicle in the new direction.
    Less than a mile later, the companions rolled through a wall of brambles to see a jet plane sitting in the middle of a field of grass. The plane looked in perfect condition, and there was a human body lying facedown on the ground nearby.
    â€œA sky fighter!” Krysty exclaimed, shifting gears and applying the brakes to stop the wag. “Haven’t seen one of those in years!”
    â€œNot just a plane, that’s a Harrier jumpjet!” Mildred exclaimed, needlessly pointing. “Or whatever it is the U.S. Navy called the things! It carried more bombs and missiles than a dozen other jetfighters!”
    â€œThat’s mighty interesting,” J.B. said, putting his boots down on the floor and grabbing the S&W shotgun. “Think it might have a survival pack for the pilot?”
    â€œWorth doing a fast recce,” Ryan agreed with a smile, taking up the Steyr and walking to the rear doors.
    As J.B. joined him there, the men checked over their weapons before throwing the bolt on the heavily armored door. Instantly, both of their rad counters started clicking wildly. They quickly pulled the door shut again, ramming the bolt back into place. With pounding hearts, they waited as the clicking slowly eased and then stopped.
    â€œFireblast, it’s triple hot out there,” Ryan growled, checking the now silent rad counter again just to be sure. “We’d have been aced in seconds if the door had opened all the way.”
    On closer inspection, he now could see that the aircraft’s tires were flat, and small vines had grown over the body, holding it motionless to the ground. The plane and pilot had been lying in the exact same position for countless years.
    â€œPoor bastard must have caught an airburst nuke and died of rad poisoning just after landing,” J.B. said with a snort. Dark night, he could see the missiles under the wings! The thing was a treasure trove of blasters and tech only yards away, but even if they could reach it, the items would only bring a long, painful death.
    â€œThank Gaia the our vehicle is rad proof,” Krysty said, starting the engine again and moving away from the plane. Then she sharply changed direction and headed into a wild thicket of thorny bushes.
    â€œSmart,” Ryan acknowledged, reclaiming his jumpseat. “If the pilot was trying to reach an airport, there should be something in his last direction.”
    â€œWe’ll know soon enough,” Krysty agreed, crossing a small creek.
    Hours passed and the UCV survived a dozen more stingwing attacks before the winged muties finally gave up and the war wag rolled on through the growing jungle in relative peace. Colorful birds sang from the trees, and swarms of bees buzzed over fields of brightly colored flowers.
    At noon, the companions shifted positions, Ryan taking the wheel and Krysty going to the back to eat some hundred-year-old military chicken chow mien right out of the Mylar