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futile, that there was no possible way of jumping him back through time to
rejoin his family.
Now he prayed for Ryan Cawdor.
"Please, Lord, hear me. I know that this man, Ryan, might not have been what
some folks would call a good man. I know he's butchered many of the ungodly,
but the overwhelming majority of them truly had retribution coming. He's
totally loyal to his friends, and he upholds the right. Isn't that what it's
all about, Lord? About upholding the right? Ryan Cawdor is a man who walks
through the valley of the shadow of
Deathlands and fears no evil. He doesn't pass by on the other side, Lord. So,
now he needs you now he's slipping into the darkness aid him with thy rod and
thy staff, Lord."
On his knees in the dimly lighted room, Doc wasn't aware that the others had
come in to stand behind him, listening to the sonorous, measured voice.
Jak raised a silent hand to brush an errant tendril of snow-white hair off his
high forehead.
J.B. leaned against the edge of the door, face lined and tired. He'd been
searching desperately for some other way out of the redoubt, for something
that might save the life of his oldest companion.
Krysty stood by him. She and Mildred had been experimenting for a day and a
half with the limited supply of drugs, trying to hit upon some combination
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that might drag the deeply unconscious man out of his coma.
Mildred had explained to her that the damage to Ryan wasn't caused by the
bacteria from the food. So a normal course of antibiotics would be fruitless.
It was the toxins that the bacteria had left in the stew that were killing
him. Antitoxins would save him, but the medicine cupboard didn't contain what
Mildred needed.
Experimentation was the only hopeto stumble upon something that would ease the
progress of the fatal disease.
Now he lay there, as still as a carved statue. His chest was barely moving,
and his breathing was stilted and labored. Twice already Mildred had been
forced to help him breathe through a crisis, and feeding was out of the
question.
Doc, face buried in his hands, was ending his prayer.
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Deathlands - Time Nomads
"I think that this might be fruitless as whistling in the dark. But if there
is someone beyond the veil, someone listening to the rambling words of a
damned old cretin, then help me. Help us. Help Ryan
Cawdor, Lord. I beg you. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy
Ghost."
The chorus of "Amen" from behind him made the old man start and look around,
nearly losing his balance and falling in the process. Krysty stepped forward
and helped him to his feet, his knee joints cracking like distant pistol
shots.
"Thank you, my dear. I do hope that you don't think the old chap's losing his
marbles?"
She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Course not, Doc. If it helps if anything'll
help, then it's worth a try."
"Why not Earth Mother's power, Krysty?" Jak asked.
She shook her head. The curls of dazzling scarlet were bunched and dull.
"Can't, Jak. Not the way Gaia's forces work. I could lift him up and break
metal and and do anything that needs 'power.' But it's more strength, Jak."
"Ryan needs strength."
"Sure. But from inside him." She managed a wan smile. "Sure I can help him a
little. Hold him and talk to him. It helps some. But when you get to the ace
on the line, Ryan'll make the scoreor he won't. That's all."
Doc looked at Mildred. "Any joy with the medicines?"
She rubbed her eyes and sighed. "If I never look at another mix of powders,
pills and liquids it'll be too damned soon. I don't know, Doc. I've worked out
something that might do the trick. Got it in this syringe here. It could
combat the poisons. If it does, then Ryan could pull through. Like Krysty
said, he's got the inner strength."
"If needle doesn't work chilled?" Jak said.
"That's about it. The paralysis of his muscles is almost total. Face is like
granite. The heart's slowing all the time, and I don't think his breathing can
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