J.B. wasn’t the only one to notice this.
“I’ll take left,” Tammy yelled, moving in the opposite direction to the Armorer, and showing her natural talents as a warrior. Like J.B., she had observed the doors, and had also caught sight of the wiry man in the fedora leveling his Uzi and peeling away from the main body of the caravan.
Galvanized into action by the two shouts of command, the Gate Amazons split into three with a natural grace that made the body of warriors seem like a flowing river spilling around a rock. Fanning out into three streams, they then spread farther apart to make themselves a harder target to hit.
Mildred and Dean followed J.B. to the right, while Krysty and Jak moved off to follow Tammy, their direction dictated by their proximity to each shout.
Doc, however, didn’t move forward. His mind was racing. He recalled only too clearly some of the dangers Ryan’s warriors had discussed in their short briefing. As Doc had been some way back in the caravan, having been in the process of moving up from his previous traveling position on the armory wag, he had seen the beginning of the firefight with a perspective denied those at the front.
Why? The single thought raced through his mind. Why would the Illuminated Ones’ sec force, on home territory, not utilize the advantage of the upper levels in the building, allowing them a clean sweep of the concrete area? Unless their forces, which weren’t infinite at any rate, were to be split in some way. Split, perhaps, because the exits that had been used to access the wrecks and block the road were to be used again to mount an attack from the rear, as his companions had considered a possibility.
More than a possibility. Just the briefest of glances told Doc that the Gate warriors were focused on the front, and even the men leading the wags, armed as they were, hadn’t yet considered to glance behind them.
“By the Three Kennedys, this could be appalling!” Doc muttered to himself, turning on his heel and racing back through the dispersing Gate Amazons.
Seeing Doc rush toward them, Jon and Petor both felt confusion. They hadn’t known Doc long, but although they considered him quite mad, they would never have thought of him as a coward.
Doc saw their faces, and yelled, “No—behind! Look behind.”
There were two groups of wags at the rear of the caravan. The first consisted of the camp materials and the armory, and was still standing in the roadway they had just traveled. The second housed the children of the tribe and the food supplies. These had already been moved into what little cover was supplied by the buildings facing the open area. Both groups of wags were manned by the men of the tribe, carrying rifles and machine blasters. None of them looked particularly at ease with the blasters, and none of them seemed too pleased at Doc’s garbed words.
Petor spun on the top of the armory wag and caught just the briefest glimpse of a gray uniform as it flitted from the cover of one doorway to another.
“Fuck, he’s right. They’ve got behind us!” the young man yelled as a breathless Doc caught up with the armory wag.
“Secret exit…how moved old wags…should realized sooner…” Doc gasped, trying to climb up and join them on the armory wag.
“Don’t worry, you thought of it soon enough,” Jon said, helping Doc to mount the side of the wag. “Sooner than us stupidworks bastards would have.” He turned his attention to the other men of the tribe and snapped out the order, “Watch all the sides. Try and save ammo, but shoot the fuckers as soon as you get a chance.”
He spoke not a moment too soon, for as his last words rang out on the air, a beam from a laser blast scored the air past his shoulder, plucking at the thin material of his shirt and making it smolder.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, dropping from his upright position onto one knee.
Beside him, Petor took careful but swift aim with his Lee Enfield .303 and snapped off a shot that shattered the visor of the purple-clad Illuminated One sec man who had stepped out to take the shot. Soundlessly, any cry muffled by his helmet, the sec man crumpled, dropping his blaster.