Alpha Wave
In the postapocalyptic world of Deathlands, the past and its way of life are as obsolete as myth. Now the days are filled with death, violence and little promise. Still, the human spirit endures, and a group of intrepid warrior survivalists dare to believe that out there, something better is on offer. If they live long enough to find it.Across the flat plains of the Dakotas, an iron horse shrieks and rumbles across refurbished tracks. Inside the boxcars, Ryan Cawdor and his companions face trouble unlike any other. Jak is missing, Krysty is dying and the train is loaded with sec men, whitecoats and a horrifying experiment–a baron with psionic abilities using stolen children to fuel his mad dream for mind control of every living soul in Deathlands.
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The ceremony was over
âI donât know what it is weâve stumbled into, but Iâm thinking it looks mighty big, J.B.,â Ryan said.
âAgreed,â J.B. said, quickly glancing behind them.
The Armorer pointed to the open door ahead and Ryan took the lead, jumping onto the raised step and ducking through the door and into the car. J.B. followed, trotting up the step and out of the sunlight.
The interior smelled of incense, heavy and cloying, and thick drapes hung over the windows, blocking out the dawn light.
A lone figure sat at the tableâa woman wearing a hood. She looked up as they entered, lit by the candle before her, and Ryan saw the deep lines of age crisscrossing her face.
âCome in, gentlemen.â
Ryan glanced behind him, checking to see if the sec men had followed them into the car, but no one was there.
As they stepped closer to the elderly woman, Ryan saw what it was that sparkled on her cheeksâtwin tears of blood. And then he felt the world drop from beneath his feet.
Hitherto every form of society has been basedâ¦on the antagonism of oppressing and oppressed classes. But in order to oppress a class, certain conditions must be assured to it under which it can, at least, continue its slavish existence.
âKarl Marx and Friedrich Engels
The Communist Manifesto, 1848
THE DEATHLANDS SAGA
This world is their legacy, a world born in the violent nuclear spasm of 2001 that was the bitter outcome of a struggle for global dominance. There is no real escape from this shockscape where life always hangs in the balance, vulnerable to newly demonic nature, barbarism, lawlessness. But they are the warrior survivalists, and they endureâin the way of the lion, the hawk and the tiger, true to natureâs heart despite its ruination. Ryan Cawdor: The privileged son of an East Coast baron. Acquainted with betrayal from a tender age, he is a master of the hard realities. Krysty Wroth: Harmony villeâs own Titian-haired beauty, a woman with the strength of tempered steel. Her premonitions and Gaia powers have been fostered by her Mother Sonja. J. B. Dix, the Armorer: Weapons master and Ryanâs close ally, he, too, honed his skills traversing the Deathlands with the legendary Trader. Doctor Theophilus Tanner: Torn from his family and a gentler life in 1896, Doc has been thrown into a future he couldnât have imagined. Dr. Mildred Wyeth: Her father was killed by the Ku Klux Klan, but her fate is not much lighter. Restored from predark cryogenic suspension, she brings twentieth-century healing skills to a nightmare. Jak Lauren: A true child of the wastelands, reared on adversity, loss and danger, the albino teenager is a fierce fighter and loyal friend. Dean Cawdor: Ryanâs young son by Sharona accepts the only world he knows, and yet he is the seedling bearing the promise of tomorrow. In a world where all was lost, they are humanityâs last hopeâ¦.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter One
Krystyâs head throbbed. The pain had been getting steadily worse for the past three hours, ever since they had left the redoubt.
She gazed up as the sun poked through the angry clouds scudding across the violet sky, trying to keep her mind off the pain. As she did so, Krysty could hear the concern in Docâs voice as he spoke with Ryan and J.B. a few paces ahead.
âLook at her, Ryan,â Doc said, gesturing over his shoulder at Krysty. âThatâs not a normal reaction. Something is clearly having a negative effect on our usually effervescent Krysty.â
J. B. Dix, the armorer for the group, glanced briefly at his lapel pin rad counter, his walking pace, much like his expression, unchanging.
âAnything?â Ryan asked, though he already knew the answer. J.B. was a man of shrewd logic, and wouldnât even waste the intake of breath to confirm it unless the situation had changed. Ryanâs single eye stared out across the empty landscape, before he turned back to address Doc. âRadiationâs at normal, and thereâs nothing here we havenât faced a hundred times before. Dust and muties, mebbe, but nothing new.â
âSand,â Doc corrected. âNot dust, Ryanâsand.â
Doc was right. All around them, as far as he could see, horizon to horizon, was nothing but sand. Sand and sand-colored rocks and sand-colored pebbles, gradually getting smaller and smaller until the pebbles were just grains of sand and the cycle started over again. It had been like that ever since the companions had stepped out of the redoubt eight miles behind them.
Ryan Cawdor marched ahead of the others with long powerful strides, his dark hair catching in the wind, the SSG-70 Steyr blaster swinging against his shoulders as he set the relentless pace across the wasteland.
