by James Axler
“She made a mistake, but now ain’t the time to discuss it.”
“Hey, you all coming or what?” J.B.’s question was punctuated by rapid shots from his mini-Uzi.
Ryan released her and unslung his AK-47, unfolding the stiff stock and setting the burst selector to single shot to conserve ammunition. “She’s your responsibility now, Sergeant, and know this—if she endangers any of us like that again, I’ll take her out myself.”
“That may cause a bit of a problem between us.” His Colt Commando held in one hand, Caddeus went to the door and peeked out, then edged outside, keeping Rachel close to him. “Again, something we can discuss later. Let’s move, Cawdor.”
Still fuming over the incident, Ryan tamped his rage down and concentrated on one of the things he did best—getting out of a lethal situation in one piece. Readying the AK, he came out to back up J.B., who was scouting the ascending stairway that would take them up to the next level. Caddeus exited the cave after him, hugging the wall, keeping Rachel behind him as he also moved toward the stairs.
Sensing movement from above, Ryan looked up to see a figure aiming a longblaster at them from about twenty yards away. Snugging the weapon’s stock to his shoulder, he snap-aimed and fired two rounds. The figure jerked, then pitched forward and fell soundlessly to the rock floor, almost at Ryan’s feet, his ancient carbine shattering to pieces upon impact. His head was still intact, enough for Ryan to make out the neat hole in his lower jaw, the slug having bored through his head and blown off the top of his skull.
“Ought to make them think twice before rushing at us anytime soon.” Waving J.B. forward, Ryan took the rear guard position, figuring they’d have more trouble from that side than above, judging by the frantic motion he saw around the main fire. He snapped off three more shots in that direction, and was gratified to see several of the figures duck for cover. What he really wished for was his Steyr, which had been left in the wag back on the surface—but who’d have thought he’d need a long-range weapon a couple hundred feet underground?
The loud chatter of J.B.’s mini-Uzi and Caddeus’s carbine above him made Ryan take the stairs in four giant bounds. As he leaped, he started taking fire from across the chamber, the bullets sending up fragments of hard clay as they smashed into the wall and floor next to him. Ryan reached the next plateau and ducked around the wall. Sticking his AK back around the corner, he fired several shots in the general direction of where the enemy fire had been coming from, the longblaster bucking in his hands. Glancing over, he saw J.B. on the opposite side of the semicircular bowl they were in, with Caddeus firing from the doorway of the cave they had hidden in earlier.
Caddeus let off a 3-round burst, then another. “Move, Cawdor!”
Ryan bolted across the clearing under the other man’s cover fire. Hitting the wall next to J.B., he turned and aimed at the muzzle-flashes across the way. “Go! I’ll cover you!”
The Armorer nodded and began creeping up the stairs again, firing single shots both above him and ahead as he went. The return fire was more organized now, with shots coming from at least four different directions. He did his best to keep their heads down, but was aware of his dwindling ammunition supply. “Caddeus, get her out!”
The sergeant led Rachel along the wall, firing his carbine one-handed at the enemy shooters as he stepped along the wall. As they passed, Ryan handed Rachel the Beretta. “Don’t shoot any of us!”
The glare she gave him was pure hatred. “If we’re trapped, I sure as hell won’t save a bullet for you, either.” She shrugged off Caddeus’s hand and aimed the blaster above them as they began climbing the next stairway.
Ryan fired twice more, then followed, watching for movement on the stairs at the other end of the landing. Seeing shadows, he waited until the head and upper body of a man appeared, then leaned around the curving wall and fired twice, watching him drop, and the rest of the men fall back. He scurried to cover with the rest, almost slipping on the thin layer of what seemed to be dried horse shit all over the floor.
There were at least three more flights to go, and Ryan was starting to doubt whether any of them were going to make it to the tunnel alive. The incoming fire was withering now, a sustained hail of bullets that seemed to be coming from all directions. They chipped off fragments of rock that proved to be almost as dangerous, as J.B. found out when one flying piece gashed his cheek, only about a quarter-inch from his eye.
“If we stay here, we’re dead!” he said, wiping blood off his cheek.
Ryan poked his head and longblaster out long enough to squeeze off three shots, then ducked back as a curtain of lead rained down on them. “Tell me something I don’t know. We need some kind of diversion!”
“How about some cover?” Caddeus shouted.
“Sure, but what?”
The sergeant nodded at the cave entrance behind them. “Might be something burnable in there, could make a smoke screen.”
Ryan and J.B. exchanged glances, and the Armorer shrugged. “Better than nothing.”
Caddeus waved them forward. “I’ll cover you—got the most ammo left. Go! Go!”
He changed magazines with quick, efficient movements, then leaned out and fired short bursts at each of the places showing muzzle-flashes. “Move it!”
Ryan and J.B. shot out from the wall and ran to the cave, bullets pinging off the rocks around them. The Armorer had just reached the opening when he stumbled, grunting as he grabbed the back of his right leg. “Damn! I’m hit!”
Ryan almost bowled him over as he pushed the smaller man inside. “Fireblast, don’t give them a second chance. Here, let me see.” He switched on the flashlight and played the beam on J.B.’s leg. “Hell, it’s barely a scratch.”
He was downplaying the wound’s seriousness. The bullet had punched through the other man’s calf, a neat hole that steadily leaked blood with each movement. “Hold still.” Ryan tore off a strip from J.B. shirt and wrapped the wound tightly. “Can you walk?”
J.B. put weight on the injured leg briefly, his sallow features tightening as the pain hit. “I can limp, but not fast.”
“Still better than carryin’ you out.” Ryan moved the flashlight to illuminate the room. “This looks promising—I think.”
The room was filled with stacked piles of what looked like large bricks of dried horse dung, carrying with them that unmistakable smell. Ryan poked one, finding it solid under his hard tap. “If we had more time, we could build a whole wall of this.”
“Yeah, only one problem—this shit is hard to light, and I don’t think any of us want to stick around out there any longer than necessary.”
“Mebbe—” Ryan’s thought was interrupted by Caddeus’s shout.
“Cawdor, if you’re doing something in there, you better do it fast!”
Ryan panned the light around one last time, thinking he’d caught a glimpse of something shiny in one corner. The gleam of glass reflecting his flashlight beam caught his eye, and he stooped to pick up a jar half-full of a pale yellow liquid. Opening the rusty screw-top, he sniffed it. “Kerosene.”
“But not enough to light all this.”
“Mebbe it is. Take off your shirt.” Ryan stripped his off as well, and tore it into narrow strips. “Soak each one in the kerosene, then wrap it around a brick.”
J.B. took his off, exposing a chest as pale as the rest of him. “I liked this shirt, you know.”
“Just be glad I’m not suggesting we use your pants, too.” Ryan had created three of his homemade smoke pots and was working on the fourth when J.B. raised an eyebrow.
“How we going to ignite these? My butane is empty.”
“You’ve got a flint and steel, right? You spark them, and once they’ve caught, I toss them out the door. They’ll break up, which is more or less what we want, to spread the fire around—”
“You hope.” J.B. had finished making his four and stood ready to go. “Let’s do it.”
“Caddeus, we’re ready!”
; “About bastard time. It’s getting thick out here!”
“Okay, here it comes!” Ryan held the first brick while J.B. created a shower of sparks with his knife blade and magnesium fire starter. The wick caught almost immediately, and Ryan tossed it out into the middle of the clearing, where it broke into several large pieces upon hitting the ground. The flaming cloth was still going, however, and soon the pieces were smoldering, as well. Ryan followed suit with the other ones, tossing them as soon as the cloth caught. He tried to angle them closer to the stairs, so the produced smoke would cover them as they climbed, but the enemy shooters caught on to their plan sooner than he’d expected, and began shooting at the dung bricks as soon as they were tossed out, succeeding in blowing one apart in midair.
When they were finished, there was a smoky pall over the area, but it wasn’t nearly as thick as Ryan would have liked. “Better than nothing, I guess,” he said. “You ready?”
J.B.’s mouth was a grim, thin line as he favored his leg, but he nodded, raising his mini-Uzi. “Let’s do it.”
Ryan led the way, ducking out the door and heading for the stairs. He’d only taken three steps when he felt a stabbing pain lance through his left shoulder, followed by another one near his neck, and a third stabbing through his right collarbone. The air filled with a chattering sound, and he realized he was being shot from above. Whirling, his arms felt like they were on fire, yet he raised his AK-47 using only his elbows, screaming with the pain as he unloaded the rest of the magazine into his attacker, who was standing on the roof of the cave. Hit by several of the bullets, the man jerked under the impacts, then fell backward as Ryan did the same.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Ryan!” Heedless of his own injuries, J.B. bolted to his side, firing his Uzi through the veil of smoke at the shooters on the far side of the cave. Grabbing Ryan by the legs, he dragged him back to the wall. “How bad is it?”
Ryan was having a hard time keeping his head straight; it suddenly wanted to wobble all over the place. “Not good. I know that much.” He brought his trembling neck muscles under control to look down at his shoulders, seeing a lot of blood, and the jagged end of bone poking up through his skin on his right shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt much, though.” That was strange, but true. At the moment, the upper portion of his body felt oddly stiff and almost numb.
“Enjoy that while you can, because it won’t last.” J.B. gingerly explored the wound. “This is going to hurt a lot.” J.B. eased himself under Ryan’s right arm, eliciting a groan of pain from his old friend as he gripped his hand tight to keep him in place. “You’re going to want to die in the next few minutes, but you hang on, you hear me?” When he stood, Ryan nearly threw up from the agony shooting through his injured shoulders.
The room was swimming now, and Ryan’s vision kept telescoping in and out. First gray, then spots of black, then back to normal. “J.B., if it comes down to it, you won’t let them get me—”
“Don’t talk like that. No one’s dying in this shit hole, you hear me? Your legs still work, now use them!” J.B. snapped off a long burst through the smoke, which was growing thicker now, providing a good wall of cover. “Just hang on. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
“If you say so…” Ryan was finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other, but he did his best to focus through the fog of pain and listen to J.B.’s commands. They were moving now, and he dimly heard the smaller man cursing him out in between exhorting him to climb the steps they were on. To Ryan, it felt like they were floating. He tasted blood at the back of his mouth and swallowed it, aware he was closer to boarding that last train to the coast than he’d been in a long time. He tried shaking his head to clear it, but the movement only gave him vertigo, making the room sway and spin around him.
They’d obviously met up with Caddeus and Rachel, who were both still shooting as they progressed farther up the vertical labyrinth of stairs and caves. Ryan heard only part of the conversation, but he caught J.B.’s strained voice saying “—I’ll step over both your dead bodies before I leave Ryan here. Now keep shooting and get the fuck moving!”
The rest of the trip out came to him in a haze—climbing, running and more climbing, a scream from someone—Caddeus, mebbe?—and more arguing between a thin man in glasses that Ryan should have recognized, and a woman he knew he couldn’t stand, although he couldn’t remember why. All he knew was that his arms and shoulders ached like a son of a bitch, and maybe the smaller man should do what the woman was saying and leave him here to rest a bit.
“If I get some rest, I’ll be all right. Just let me rest a bit…”
“Fuck you, Ryan. I haven’t carried your ass all this way to leave you now. Fuck you, too, Carrington. Mention dumping anyone again, and I’ll kneecap you myself and leave you for the shooters. Now pick up the sergeant and move your—”
Ryan didn’t hear the rest. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, awakened only by bright flashes of pain every time he took a step. The good thing was that they had stopped climbing, but now every time he opened his eyes, he saw crazy strobes of bright light, interspersed with an eerie red glow. There were more blasters firing around him now, the bright flashes illuminating the thin wearing man’s face, his teeth gritted as he shot at figures that seemed to be staying just beyond the light. Next to him was a blond-haired woman supporting a black man whose face was tight with pain, yet who still held a carbine that he fired every so often as she hauled him down a dark corridor.
“Almost there. Keep that eye open, Ryan. I didn’t haul you this far to have you fuckin’ die on me now!” Ryan pried his eyelid open and glared at the thin man. If he could just move his arms, he’d pop that tough-talking bastard right in the mouth.
“Wait’ll I get my hands on you, asshole.”
“If we get out of here, Ryan, you can beat me to your heart’s content, but until then you stay awake, dammit!”
Ryan did his best to listen, but the prospect of sleep was just too tempting to stave off. The tunnel they were in seemed to go on forever, and it was warm here, so warm. His head lolled, and he slumped forward, only to be awakened by a stinging slap across his cheek.
“I’m not gonna tell you again—stay awake!”
“Tryin’ to. Gotta beat the piss out of you when we—get outta here, remember?” Ryan lifted his head, which felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds, to see a bright square of light ahead. “Hey! I see…light ahead.”
The glasses-wearing man—J.B.! His name is John Barrymore, or J.B. for short, Ryan suddenly remembered—was panting as he wrestled Ryan’s stumbling body forward. “Yup, and we’re heading right for it. Gonna have Mildred patch you up and you’ll be back slinging lead and walking tall in no time. Just…a little farther…now.”
They staggered forward another few yards, with both J.B. and the woman yelling as they walked. “Help! We got wounded down here! Help! Anyone out there?” They entered the light, which was so bright it hurt Ryan’s eye, making it squeeze closed.
An oddly modulated, artificial-sounding voice answered. “All humans in the pit, we have your companions in our custody. You have ten seconds to surrender and throw your weapons up here, or we will open fire on you. This warning will not be repeated.”
“What the hell—?” The woman and the man conferred for a moment, then the man shouted back. “Okay, we’re tossing everything out. But send someone down to help us, please!”
They threw every weapon they had out of the pit, even the Sig Sauer holstered at Ryan’s waist, which he would have held on to, if not for the curious fact that he couldn’t move his arms. One was being held by J.B., causing a dull agony to burn across his entire arm and shoulder. His other arm dangled at his side, and even thinking about moving it made his upper body hurt. His entire chest and back felt wet and sticky, and while Ryan hoped it was sweat making him uncomfortable, the tang of warm copper in his nostrils—and his increasingly common spells of light-headedness—made him think otherwise.
“Stand by to remove vehicle from the pit. All humans inside may wish to take cover.”
The artificially modulated voice was drowned out by the roar of a large engine as a wag approached. Whatever it was, it kicked up a lot of sand and dust, bringing a cloud that swirled around in the pit, reducing visibility to zero.
“Back into the tunnel. It’s our only chance!” J.B. shouted.
Nearly unconscious, Ryan tried to resist being dragged into the darkness again, but he couldn’t stop a mouse right now, much less his determined friend. No sooner had they reached the tunnel entrance than something slammed down on the roof of the wag with a loud bang, making the whole vehicle shake. The trapped wag started to rise, slowly at first, then faster as the machine pulled it out of the trap. It rose into the air and disappeared from view.
“Humans, come out, and you will receive assistance,” the voice called again.
“Come on, Ryan. I’m gonna get you some help.” J.B. pulled him back out again, moving much more slowly now. Before they could see anyone above them, two small devices fell into the hole, releasing streams of white gas as they hit the ground.
“Knockout gas…cheatin’ bastards.” J.B. tried to let his friend down easy, but he fell over suddenly, and Ryan slipped from his grasp, collapsing to the ground and unable to break his fall. He landed on his face, scraping his cheek in the rough dirt, and lay there, unable to move.
If that is knockout gas, I sure wish it’d work faster, he thought. He saw J.B. slumped over next to him, out cold, and the blond woman seemed to be unconscious, as well. Ryan wasn’t sure about the black man. He couldn’t see what had happened to him.
He heard someone calling his name from very far away, a woman’s voice shouting, “Ryan!” He tried to answer, but his mouth was bone-dry, and he couldn’t even make a sound, no matter how hard he tried. Next came an odd scraping noise of boots on dirt, as if someone had jumped down into the pit. Ryan heard approaching footsteps, then he was rolled onto his back, the afternoon sunlight burning into his eye before it was blocked out by a figure bending over him.