by M. R. Forbes
He scanned the shelves in a hurry, skipping over the various weapons stocked there, pausing when he found a crate full of familiar magazines in the bottom corner. He pulled it out, checking them quickly. They were for the Marine Corps rifles. He thought he saw a couple of the secondary magazines with the explosives mixed in.
It was perfect, except he needed both hands to carry it. He tucked the rifle under his arm and lifted, carrying it out to the rugs, next to where Chains was watching the displays. He looked at it too, at the same instant the east turrets started to fire.
“Did you bring those greppers out of the starship with you, Sheriff?” Chains asked.
“Not that I know of,” Hayden replied. “I’ve got the ammo; we need to get to your car.”
“We can’t go out there.”
“We can’t stay in here.”
“Sheriff.”
Hayden turned. Jake was standing there; rifle pointed at him.
“You tried to kill me,” Jake said.
“Jake,” Hayden said.
Chains stepped in front of him, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and pulling it from Jake’s hands. “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “You’re still alive.”
“It hurts,” Jake said.
“Case in point,” Chains replied. “Dead doesn’t.”
The bluntness seemed to penetrate the shock. He nodded.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Hayden said. “But we have to move. Can you take the ammo?”
Jake handed Chains the rifle and then picked up the crate of ammunition. He followed behind them as they headed back toward the door, making it to the stairwell. The two guards he had knocked down were gone.
That didn’t mean they were anywhere close to being safe. He could hear a storm of feet above them, beating a path down from the top floor of the building. He didn’t know whether it was in response to their escape or the trife’s attack, but either way, they didn’t have a lot of time.
“My car’s on the second floor,” Chains said.
They bypassed the first underground level, escaping the stairwell to enter the second floor of the garage. There were a hundred or so travelers on this level as well, in even worse condition than the group above them. They had gathered together, sitting tensely as they listened to the barely audible thumping whine of the turrets firing round after round of heavy shells at the trife.
Chains’ car was the only one down here, dark and menacing in the corner of the floor. A single traveler was sitting beside it, a rifle resting across his legs.
The people watched in silence as they crossed the dirty, garbage-strewn floor to the vehicle. The man stood, holding up the rifle.
“Relax, Gus,” Chains said. “It’s me.” She reached into a tight pocket on her pants and retrieved a Note, handing it to the man. “Thanks for keeping her safe.”
The man grumbled something as he made the Note disappear. Chains ran around to the driver’s side, pulling out another chain from the back of her pants. A single key rested on the end of it.
“Were you hiding that in-” Hayden started to ask.
“Safest place for it,” Chains replied before he could finish. “Get in.”
Hayden grabbed the back door and pulled it open. “Throw the ammo in here and then take the front,” he said.
Jake tossed the crate onto the back seat. Hayden put his foot into the car, pausing to listen.
The turrets had stopped.
“The guns are quiet,” he said.
“Maybe the trife changed their minds,” Jake suggested.
“Or maybe Wiz ran out of bullets,” Chains said. “I saw the display. There were hundreds of the buggers.”
“It doesn’t matter, we’re leaving,” Hayden said, finishing his entrance and pulling the door closed.
Chains turned the key, the vehicle roaring to life. Hayden’s heart skipped at the sound. He had never been in a car before. He had seen them in old movies, but that wasn’t the same thing.
“Hang on,” Chains said.
Hayden was pushed into the seat as the car accelerated, charging toward the nearby ramp. They hit it hard, bouncing the heavy vehicle and jostling him, knocking him against the door. He winced at the spike of pain in his already bruised shoulder before steadying himself.
“I don’t think I like this,” he said, his stomach already getting queasy.
The tires squealed as the vehicle rounded the ramp, ascending toward the first level. The brakes screamed when Chains jammed down hard on them, throwing Hayden forward.
“What the hell?” he said, looking out the windshield.
One of the Scrappers was blocking their path; big revolver pointed at Chains through the glass.
“Where the grep do you think you’re going, bitch?” he said.
Hayden slumped back in the seat. Chains turned her head toward him. “There’s a seatbelt on your left side. Take the metal and click it into the small opening on the flat part on your right side.”
He found the belt and pulled it across his body.
“Get out of the car, bitch,” the Scrapper said. The others were approaching from the floor, their guns drawn. “Now!”
He clicked the belt into place.
“Are we getting out?” Jake asked.
“Not a grepping chance,” Chains said. Her whole body shifted as she reached for the accelerator, gunning the engine and lunging toward the Scrapper.
He had just enough time to fire one round, which hit the glass and skipped away.
“It’s bulletproof, asshole,” she said at the same time the spikes on the front of the car slammed into him, puncturing his stomach and leaving him impaled.
He hung from the front of the car as it continued to accelerate, pointing his revolver at the windshield and firing wildly. The bullets scuffed the glass and ricocheted harmlessly away.
They rounded the ramp, and Chains slammed on the brakes again. Hayden’s belt pulled tight against him, holding him in place. The Scrapper wasn’t so lucky. The change in momentum pulled him from the spike and threw him to the floor.
“We forgot to open the gate,” Chains said.
“I’ll take care of it,” Hayden replied. “Back up.”
He leaned over, digging through the crate of ammunition until he found the shorter magazine. He pushed it into its place on the rifle before unbuckling his belt and opening the door. The roar of engines echoed from the garage behind him, the Scrappers preparing to give chase.
“Sheriff,” Jake said, frightened.
Hayden brought the rifle to his shoulder and triggered the secondary munition. The small, silver ball launched from the smaller barrel with a thunk, hitting the bottom of the solid metal gate and sticking. He ducked behind the door as it detonated, the explosion blowing a huge hole in the barrier, and sending a wash of dirt and debris back toward them.
He climbed in, grabbing the door and pulling it, the car already starting to move again. He got it closed just in time, allowing them to pass through the hole without shearing it off.
“Sheriff,” Chains said. “I think this was a bad idea.”
He looked forward through the windshield. A sea of dark shapes was caught in the headlights, dozens of trife charging toward Crossroads.
And they had just given the demons a way in.
17
“WE CAN’T LET them into the building,” Hayden said as Chains drove the car through a group of the trife, spearing one and sending the others tumbling over the roof.
“Are you grepping kidding me?” Chains shouted in response. “You’re the one who just blew open the door!”
“The guns had stopped firing. I thought they were gone. At the very least, I didn’t expect there would be so many.”
And now that they were out in the open, the many were giving them fresh attention. Chains turned the wheel, sending the car into a sliding spin and bringing it to a stop facing the doorway.
“How the hell are we supposed to seal it?” Jake asked.
&n
bsp; Hayden started to open the door.
“What are you doing?” Chains said. “Close it.”
“I can’t shoot them from in here.”
“Open the grepping window. The button on the handle.”
Hayden found the button and pressed it. The window started to descend. As soon as it did, one of the trife jumped toward him, trying to stick its head through. He put the rifle to it and pulled the trigger, blowing its brains out.
The car rattled and shook as the trife climbed onto it, hissing as they tried to get through the armored exterior. More of the creatures were moving into the hole in the gate, making their way toward the innocent travelers inside.
They vanished a moment later, crushed or thrown aside when the first of the Scrapper Enforcer’s vehicles rose out of the garage. They tore through the ranks of trife, the soldiers clinging to the frame opening fire on the creatures.
“We can’t stay,” Chains said, putting the car in motion again. Hayden fell back, barely avoiding a trife arm as it swept into the car. He put two rounds into it, and it disappeared.
“The people in there didn’t do anything,” Hayden said. “It was my mistake. We protect the innocent.”
“Not this time,” Chains said, jerking the wheel as one of the trife tried to jump onto the hood. Its body hit the spikes instead, tearing open against the metal before it fell off. “We’ve got company.”
He motioned behind them with her hand. Hayden flipped over to look out the rear window. The Scrappers had altered their path, ignoring the trife and giving chase.
“Can they really be that mad about Orion?” Jake said, noticing their tail.
“Apparently,” Chains said. “Or maybe they want the explosives I have in the trunk.”
“Explosives?” Hayden said.
“Uh. Yeah. Maybe.”
“What kind?”
“What do I look like? I don’t know. The job was to transport the boomsticks to Haven for a buyer there. My contact told me not to stop until I reached Crossroads or Haven, no matter what. That’s what I tried to do, but someone in the car with me cocked it up.”
“How do I get to the trunk?” Hayden asked.
He watched the muzzle flashes from the Scrappers behind them and heard the pings of slugs against the back of the car. One of the shots hit the rear window, leaving a scuff on the glass.
“You can’t without stopping, and I'm not stopping.”
“You have to stop,” Jake said. “You’re on the south transverse. It doesn’t go anywhere.”
“Is that right? It goes away from here. That’s good enough for me right now.”
Something hit the car from the side, shaking it hard enough it skidded on the road. A trife head appeared in the windshield, blocking Chains’ view. She slammed on the brakes again, throwing the creature off before accelerating into it. Its efforts to avoid the spikes failed, leaving it impaled by the leg and hanging in front of the car.
“Geez,” Chains said.
They continued into the night, passing between the large guns on the south side of the Crossroads. Both guns had stopped firing, and smoke was pouring out of one of them, suggesting it had broken down. Dozens of dead trife were scattered in front of them, torn apart by the heavy slugs.
The path ahead of them was clear of the creatures, but that didn’t mean they had escaped. The Scrappers stayed behind them, all three of their vehicles riding in a wedge formation at their backs. Bullets continued to ping against the metal, the Enforcers hoping they could score a solid hit. Chains tried to keep maneuver the car to keep their aim off, but as long as they were going south, they were going the wrong way.
“You’re going to run out of road,” Jake shouted, looking over at the woman. “Have you ever been this way before.”
“West to Haven,” Chains said. “North to Sanisco. Never south.”
“I have, and since we aren’t riding horses, you’re driving us into a dead end.”
“Shit,” Chains cursed.
The headlights had captured what Jake was talking about. A pile of junk cars had materialized in the middle of the road, spilling across the entire thing. There was nothing but overgrown brush behind it.
“Stop the car!” Hayden shouted.
“No,” Chains replied. She threw the car into another spin, slowing its momentum.
Hayden could tell how much the car was slowing. He couldn’t stand by and let the trife kill all of those people. Not when he was responsible for them getting in.
He leaned back, kicking the door open.
“What the grep-”
He didn’t hear the rest. He threw himself from the car, hitting the ground on his shoulder, the rifle cradled against his chest. He rolled away from the vehicle as it finished the spin, inertia pulling the door back closed. He came to his feet, the Scrapper vehicles approaching in a hurry.
He squeezed the secondary trigger, sending another silver ball their way. It hit nearby, exploding a moment later in a gout of dirt that sprayed across the open cars.
Bullets whizzed past him, hitting the ground nearby. Chains was starting to accelerate, swerving to get around the Enforcers.
“Come on, Jake,” Hayden said, running to his left and firing the rifle at the oncoming Scrappers. He could see the bullets hitting the metal frames of the cars, sparking off and causing the shooters to turn aside. “Don’t let her leave.”
He kept running, the rifle clicking as the magazine ran dry. He pulled it out, grabbing the only one he had and pushing it in. The Scrappers were bearing down on him, changing direction to run him down.
Chains had passed them, headed back toward the north. The red lights on the back of the car brightened.
Hayden stopped running, turning to face the cars. He brought the rifle up again, using the reticle in the display this time. The roar of their engines was deafening, drowning out any other sound.
He pulled the secondary trigger, sending a silver ball into the ground only a half dozen meters in front of him.
The Scrappers kept coming without slowing. He could see the driver of the lead car, his lips split into a wild grin, his eyes wide with excitement at the thought of plowing into him.
The ball exploded.
The force of the blast threw up dirt from below the lead car, along with enough kinetic energy to lift the vehicle from the ground and throw it to the left. It hit the second Scrapper car there, slamming into it and throwing both of them violently to the side, the massive tires passing less than a meter from Hayden’s face. The third car wobbled and skidded, sliding to a stop on his right.
He pivoted toward it, aiming for the Scrappers. Short bursts bypassed the frame, hitting the Enforcers as they tried to get a bead on him and dropping them off the car.
The ground started to shake.
“Hayden!” Jake shouted.
Hayden spun back toward Crossroads. Chains had stopped the car after all, and Jake was outside, pulling a box from the trunk.
“Come on!” he yelled.
The ground shook again. Hard.
Hayden turned in a quick circle, his eyes tracking closer to the sky. He could feel the goliaths steps, but he didn’t see them.
He broke into a run, sprinting toward the car.
Guns cracked behind him, bullets digging up the ground at his back. The driver’s side door swung open, and Chains climbed out, rifle in hand. She fired back at the Scrappers, cutting off their attack.
“Shit,” Jake said. “Hurry.”
Hayden looked back over his shoulder. Two goliaths had come into view behind the brush, their large eyes glistening in the moonlight. They were moving quickly, charging toward the source of the noise.
“Chains, get back in the car, let’s go,” Hayden said.
Jake slammed the trunk closed, carrying the case around to the side of the car.
A deep groan echoed behind them. The ground shuddered again. Hayden made it to the vehicle, yanking open the door and diving inside.
“Go, go,
go,” he said.
Chains shoved the pedal to the floor, the rear tires spinning without grip for a second before the car jerked ahead. The engine roared as they gained speed, heading back toward Crossroads.
“You’re the craziest, luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” Chains shouted back at him. “You should be dead.”
“I’m not, and neither are you. Jake, open the box.”
Jake did, revealing long, narrow cylinders with small wicks sticking out of them.
“How do you use these?” Jake asked.
Chains leaned over, pushing a small button on the dashboard. “When it pops back out, it’s ready,” she said.
“What?”
“Trust me.”
They sped back toward Crossroads. The goliaths were behind them, following the sound of the engine. Hayden leaned between the two front seats, watching the button on the dashboard anxiously.
“How long does it take?” he asked.
“Not that long. It’s an old car, okay? A grepping classic by almost five centuries.”
They reached the dead turrets. The trife were still out there, massing near the entrance. Hayden could see the gunfire pouring out of the open garage door, Crossroads guards recovering and pushing the creatures back.
“Any time now,” Hayden said.
“I know, it’s slow, we get it.” Chains growled as she spoke, slapping the dashboard. “Come on, you grepper!”
They waded back into the trife, the car powering through them and throwing them aside. The heaviest group was a dozen meters from the entrance, trying to make it through the hail of bullets.
The button popped up.
“About grepping time!” Chains shouted, pulling it out. The end of it was red with heat. “Put the fuse against it.”
Jake did as she said, lighting the end of the wick.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Throw it out of the damn window, you idiot, or we’re all going to die.”
Jake hit the window control beside him.
“Into the middle, Jake,” Hayden said.
He pushed himself up, climbing out of the window and sitting on the top of the door. He drew his arm back and threw the stick at the trife, the cylinder tumbling end over end and landing among them.