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Cort
Strasser, now known as Skullface.
A while back, Jordon Teague had been the baron of Mocsin, one of the worst
pestholes on the entire gaudy-ridden frontier. But the ville had really been
run by
Teague's sec boss, Cort Strasser. Both Krysty and Doc had fallen into
Strasser's hands, as had Ryan himself. His escape had been helped by smashing
a pistol into the sec boss's mouth, crushing lips and teeth and leaving him
permanently scarred.
Then, months later, they'd crossed paths again with Strasser. He'd recruited a
gang of killers and was masquerading as the reincarnation of General George
Armstrong Custer. Jak had been a victim of the man's evil and perverted lusts
and had barely escaped, snapping one of the ex-sec man's fingers as he did so.
Strasser had managed to escape the final massacre on that occasion, and
vanished into
Deathlands.
But now he was back, holding the lives of nearly a hundred men, women and
children in the crook'd palm of his hand. Including Doc Tanner and Mildred
Wyeth.
"What'll we do?" the wag master asked. "I mean to say that even a real
ice-heart bastard can't butcher a hundred folks. Can he?" Nobody said anything
as he looked from face to face.
Doc felt as though someone had filled his veins with Sierra meltwater. Seeing
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Strasser brought back the shuddering, mindless fear that the man had instilled
during the time Doc had been in Mocsin, his heart broken, no willpower or
hope.
He hadn't even known who he was or where he was. And for much of the time,
Doc's befuddled brain hadn't even known "when" he was.
Mildred was only aware that the old man at her side had begun to shake as if
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he'd been stricken by the most virulent fever. She'd heard the name
"Strasser." She thought she recognized the name from some fireside
reminiscences with Ryan and the others. But she couldn't link it to any
particular adventure. However, she had no doubt at all of the dreadful effect
the sight of Skullface had induced in Doc.
"Cool it," she said, not moving her lips, taking care not to look in the old
man's direction.
"Strasser." The word hovered in the dark air around them.
"So?"
"Death incarnate. Cort Strasser. If he recognizes me then& " Doc ran out of
breath in his panic, and the sentence faded into stillness.
"You know him, Doc?" Unconsciously, in surprise, Mildred had raised her voice,
earning a warning glare from the nearest guard.
"Long, bad story. Oh, bad, bad."
If she'd been able to see Doc's face, Mildred would have been very concerned.
His eyes were glazed, like mirrors sprayed in a dull oil, showing no sign of
life or intelligence. His lower lip drooped and a thread of saliva looped down
across his unshaven chin.
The attackers had made no attempt to secure a perimeter once they'd taken the
ville. There wasn't any need. As far as they knew, everyone from Salvation was
already a prisoner. The departure of Ryan, Krysty, Jak, J.B. and Major Ward
had gone completely unnoticed by them.
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From such a distance, Ryan and the others couldn't make out what was
happening.
It was comparatively easy and safe to move quickly down the slope, keeping
parallel to the blacktop, picking their way to less than two hundred yards
from the edge of the ville. There was no guarantee that Strasser hadn't by now
thought to put a couple of his men to patrol the outskirts of Salvation. To
get caught now, or chilled by a lucky bullet from a nervous guard, would be
utterly stupid.
"What's going on?" Ward hissed, squinting toward the circle of fires. The bulk
of the ox wags were on their side of the township, and it was hard to make out
what was happening. "Looks like Strasser's strutting around telling everyone
how clever he is," Krysty said. "Gaia! But he freezes my heart."
Ryan had unslung his G-12 and resisted the momentary temptation to put it to
his shoulder and peer through the laser scope, center it on the lean throat
beneath the white ruffles of Strasser's shirt and pull the trigger, stop that
evil heart forever. At that range it would be difficult to miss. But the cost
in human life could be terrible. They only had a single long blaster between
them, and there were almost thirty in the attacking party, all heavily armed.
If their leader went down, neck-
shot and fountaining blood, there would likely be a dreadful massacre.
"What do we do, son?" Ward asked.
"Wait, Major. Watch and wait."
"Wait, Doc. Maybe he won't recognize you."
"He knows me, Mildred." To her horror she caught the glitter of tears coursing
down his lined cheeks. "Strasser made me& made me do things for him. Did things
to me, made his sec men& Laughed at& laughed."
"It's dark and there's a hundred folk here, Doc. He probably won't bother to "
"Shut your fucking mouth, bitch," one of the guards snarled, ramming the
muzzle of his rifle so hard into her stomach that she gasped in pain and
nearly threw up.
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Strasser paused in the center of the open space, looking around him with a
proprietorial smile, the whip tapping gently against the side of the mirrored
boots.
"Very good. Stand at ease. Good."
Mildred watched, trying to put into operation the things that she'd learned
from
Ryan and the others. Look for weakness, exploit it.
She sighed. It was impossible. The surprise had been total, and she knew that
there was nobody traveling with the wags who could lead a rising against their
captors. Though Skullface's gang was outnumbered by roughly three to one, they
still had complete control. They held all the blasters and with them went the
initiative.
A woman stood next to Strasser, and Mildred focused on her. She was dark
skinned, looking Mex rather than Yanqui, and her long black hair was tied back
in a ponytail with a bow of red velvet ribbon. She was only average height,
dressed in a white blouse and a black, divided riding skirt, over knee-length
boots, polished as highly as Strasser's own. She had a pistol at her hip and
also carried a silver-tipped quirt. She was beautiful in a strangely blank
way.
"My name is Cort Strasser. You might know me by the name that the foolish and
the superstitious use. Skullface."
Nobody moved or spoke. Mildred was wondering whether Doc was slipping into a
catatonic trance. And where was Ryan Cawdor?
Strasser went on. "My friends and I have taken over this ville as our base. We
have made the locomotive work and it carries us to another, smaller ville, in
the hills. You people may help us."
He began to move around as he spoke, heels clicking on the cobbles, gazing
incuriously at the settlers as he passed them. Strasser had started on the far
side from where Mildred and Doc were standing. Just a little past stood Elder
Vare, his arm around Sharon's shoulders.
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"We can always use workers. Women to cook. Men to fetch and carry. Children
to " There was a burst of cruel laughter from one of the bandits and Strasser
slowly turned his long, narrow head, eyes seeking the man who'd made the
sound.
"Take care, Hernandez," he said quietly. "Children will be cherished. We
aren't men and women of blood. Those who obey will live and live well. Those
who don't will perish and perish hard. It's as simple as that."
He'd walked slowly past half of the settlers. Mildred noticed that nobody had
actually looked Strasser in the face. She resolved that she would try hard to
avoid staring at him. To remain anonymous must be the least worst option.
The lean, black-clad figure halted, looking hard at one of the settlers, a
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