Salvation Road. James Axler

are and where you come from. Oh yeah, and why you’re working out here in the middle of nowhere on an old wag stop.”

      Crow allowed a rare touch of emotion—a barely contained humor—to creep into his tone. “Sure there’s nothing else?”

      “Not yet,” the one-eyed warrior countered.

      “Okay, let’s take it from the top,” Crow began. “We all come from a ville called Salvation, which lies about three days from here along the remains of the old road. Salvation is run by Baron Silas Hunter, who’s the man who pays our jack.”

      “Good jack, by the sound of it,” J.B. interjected.

      “Certainly is, especially if we finish on schedule or ahead.”

      “Finish what?”

      “This way station. There are a number of old wag stops along this route that date back to beyond skydark, and our job—and the job of other teams like ours—is to get the way stations ready for when the well is open again. ’Cause Salvation is built around the remains of an old oil well, and the refinery that went along with it. Baron Silas’s folks have always been around these parts, and they’ve spent a long, long time trying to get the well and refinery going.”

      “And he has?” Ryan asked. When Crow affirmed this, Ryan whistled. “Fresh oil, refined—that’s big jack. How did he manage to get the thing going?”

      “Baron Silas has a deal going with the barons of all the villes in this region. They’ve bankrolled him in return for a share in the fuel he produces. That’s real power. And they need stops along the road to pick up and rest up on their way to and from the well. So here we are. Most of us working here are from Salvation. That’s not so on other stops. Guess you could say part of the payment is in manpower.”

      All Ryan’s people exchanged looks. Like anyone in the Deathlands, they knew how important fuel for wags would be. There were few vehicles left, and those that had survived were always short of fuel. To have such a source would give whoever possessed it, or formed an alliance, immense power.

      “So where do we come into it?” Ryan asked finally.

      “You don’t as such,” Crow replied. “You just happened to walk in. You can either walk away and take your chances, or you can join us and work. If we get this finished all the quicker because of you, then I guess we can spare a little jack. Plus you get your weapons back and mebbe the chance to see Salvation.”

      “Mebbe?”

      Crow shrugged. “Where you go after we finish is up to you. What do you say?”

      Ryan considered the options. The desert offered nothing but chilling. They couldn’t get their weapons back from the workers by force, as they were unarmed and outnumbered, and just mebbe there would be something of use to them in Salvation. Baron Silas Hunter sounded as though he could be interesting.

      “Tell you what,” the one-eyed warrior said eventually, “you take us to Salvation when we finish this job and give us back our weapons, and we’ll gladly work our way. Hard work is no problem, but that desert is a bastard.”

      Crow nodded. “I figured you’d see it that way.”