By James Axler
Getting to know the still-standing Mount Rushmore, Ryan Cawdor and his band of post-apocalypse warriors are compelled to breach its stronghold, the place they find a striking cache of twentieth-century know-how.
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Extra resources for Deathlands 34 Stoneface
The three formed a rough circle, standing back to back. Ryan faced the way he had come, the SIG-Sauer held in a two-handed grip, barrel pointed upward. He waited for the first glimpse of the screamwings and didn't have to wait long. Several black shapes held aloft by furiously fluttering wings darted above the overgrowth, dipping and banking and diving. Ryan tried to keep them framed within his limited field of vision, but it was nearly impossible. The speed and maneuverability of the creatures was remarkable.
Mildred pushed herself stiffly to her feet. " Everyone retired to their tents. Ryan, as tired as he was, even with Krysty's head on his shoulder, found sleep elusive. His mind toyed with the images Zadfrak's words had conjured, settling on the man's sneering dismissal of the local Indian tribes in the region. Hundreds of years ago, Pa Sappa, the Black Hills, were held in high religious regard by Plains tribes. They were holy places, power points watched over by Wankan Tankan, the Great Spirit.
Ryan's eyes narrowed. " Groaning, Zadfrak sat up. " Though the light was dimming, Ryan gave Zadfrak a close inspection. No longer covered in blood, he didn't look like a healthy man. His face bore a deep pallor that the sun could never touch, and his naked torso and limbs were fishbelly white. Between red-rimmed, watery blue eyes, an X was carved into the bridge of his nose. The scar looked like the result of a painful process involving a red-hot needle. Though the man appeared to be in his early- to mid-thirties, he was thin to the point of emaciation.