By James Axler
Leaping via a mystery gateway from their pre-nuclear global, Ryan Cawdor and his survivalist team locate themselves in a fallen state that's shadowed by way of samurai rulers that threaten Cawdor's international.
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Most of the rooms adjoining gateways were stripped bare, though occasionally one might have a small chair or some shelves. This one had a rectangular table with bamboo legs and a glass top. On it was a crumpled silk scarf. Ryan picked it up and unfolded it, revealing a pattern of crimson flowers. "Chrysanthemums," Krysty said. " Doc took the scarf and held it to the overhead lights. "Hand-printed design, I believe. " "Table doesn't look American, either," Mildred observed. " A small seed of suspicion was growing fast at the back of Ryan's mind, growing and bursting into flower, an idea that might make a lot of sense of many of the things that had been happening in the previous weeks.
Ryan risked a quick glance around the edge of the desk, desperate to know what these jumpers looked like, but the angle of the consoles blocked them from view. Someone threw the lever, triggering the familiar sound of concealed gears whirring as they lifted the great weight of the sec door. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan could see Jak trembling with the suppressed tension, his red eyes seeming to glow like molten rubies. The whirring stopped, and the footsteps moved on and out. The sec door dropped slowly back into place again.
The armaglass door swung open more easily than usual, totally silent. Ryan paused in the entrance, peering at the deep-set steel hinges. "Been properly oiled," he said. " Jak asked as he looked out into the anteroom. " Ryan stepped out, aware immediately that the flavor of the air was different. " he began. But the others noticed it, except Doc, whose sense of smell was never that good. B. commented. "Too fresh," Mildred agreed. "Sort of an odd flavor to the air. Like a mixture of town and country.
Deathlands 31 Keeper of the Sun by James Axler