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far more threatening was the fact that the atrium was surrounded on all four
sides by the blind windows of the hotel's rooms, the second story with the
trim balconies. If there truly was a threat, then it could come snarling at
them from literally anywhere.
"Get out of here!"
"Which way?"
"Fuck knows!"
The noise could've come from anywhere. The corridors and suites of the hotel,
with their interconnecting doors and passages, made it impossible to locate
precisely where the sound had originated. The only thing that was certain was
that it wasn't the wind that had opened and closed the door.
Someone or something had entered the building.
Ryan started to move slowly toward the main accommodation wing, Krysty staying
with him. "Keep watching," he said quietly.
She laughed softly. "Now I never would've thought of that, lover."
They reached the arcade comp games, standing like a row of techno-confessional
booths, all with ultraviolet artwork showing scenes of urban mayhem, the
colors faded to gentler tones.
Now, with a wall at his back, Ryan touched Krysty, warning her to stand still
for a moment. "Listen."
"Nothing," she whispered. "Can't hear anything. Can't feel anything, either."
"Best we move. Get caught in this place and we're like hogs on ice."
They froze as another door slammed, closer, the noise echoing around and
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around.
"Outside," Ryan whispered. "Back the way we came, and look for a way of
getting out the building again. Maze like this and we could easy get trapped."
Once they were into the corridor again, there was the satisfaction of being
away from those blank, menacing windows. Now there was just a row of doors on
both sides, some standing open and some still locked.
Covered by Krysty, Ryan slipped into the first open room, moving catfooted
past the shrouded beds, to stand up against the closed drapes. He eased them
apart at the side with the barrel of the SIG-Sauer, squinting at the sunlit
expanse of tarmac that had once been the main parking lot.
He let the curtain fall shut and rejoined Krysty. "Nothing," he said.
"Nothing here, either. We going to get outside and head for the boat?"
"If it's Yoville and his gang, then they might have taken the boat. I get the
feeling that whoever is in the building already knows that we're in here."
"We keep going this way, then we finish up in the eatery. Out through that
into the lobby and the main doors. Or we could break a window."
Ryan shook his head. "No. Looked at the sec locks. Might be old, but they'll
take some forcing. Bound to take us a minute or two and make a lot of noise.
Give whatever's following us time to close in. Could put a couple of rounds
through the middle of the glass and then run for it."
"Subtle, lover. Real subtle."
Ryan grinned. "You sometimes ask me why I love you," he said. "That's one of
the reasons. Making a joke at a time like this. Good reason."
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THE HOTEL WAS as silent as a midnight grave. The carpet muffled their boots as
they stepped cautiously along, checking each open door before moving on,
nearing the main doors to the Fisherman's Cabin.
The rectangular Please Wait to Be Seated sign was wedged into a chromed metal
stand, just outside the entrance to the restaurant. There was a notice framed
behind glass on the wall, barely readable under a veil of dead flies.
Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays in the Lounge of the Fisherman's Cabin. Tony
Cormac and his Trio with songs from the shows. Eight thru late.
A sepia photograph depicted a slender man with a heavy mustache, beaming
toothfully out of the frame.
"Shame we missed his act," Krysty said. "Then again& "
"Ready to go in?" Ryan glanced back, as they both heard the repeated noise of
a door swinging shut. But it was impossible to tell whether the sound came
from behind or before.
"How about carrying on and around to the right? Don't like the shadows and
booths and corners in that eatery."
"Me, neither. Farther on is where the whole wing's collapsed. Get caught
there.
Cover me."
The large room was gloomy, with enough patches of darkness to conceal a
conglomerate of stickles.
Ryan crouched just inside the entrance, holding the door open a couple of
inches behind him, the muzzle of his blaster weaving in his hand, like a
heat-seeking missile. But he couldn't see any sign of life.
"Come in. Keep low."
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Krysty was instantly flattened against the wall on the opposite side of the
doors, her Smith & Wesson in her hand. She raked the room with her piercing
eyes, then shook her head slowly. "Nothing in here, lover."
He pointed to the exit, tapping his chest, indicating that she was to wait
while he went across first. But Krysty didn't seem to be paying him any
attention, staring past him toward the far side of the restaurant. Irritated,
he repeated the gesture, but now she was standing up, eyes wide.
"What are& " He turned. "Fireblast!"
The other doors were open. Standing there was one of the most bizarre
creatures that Ryan Cawdor had ever seen in all his years in Deathlands.
It was around seven feet tall, with very broad shoulders, narrow stomach and
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