Down came the rain in torrents, sounding like small caliber rounds as it pelted the armored hull of the APC. In only moments, the sharp reek of sulfur was heavy inside the wag, and the companions quickly tied handkerchiefs across their faces.
“Leak!” Dean cursed as a rivulet of yellow water trickled across the corrugated metal floor from under a console.
Unsure of the source, the companions stepped on top of the ammo boxes to stay above the acid. But the stream flowed freely into the open engine compartment, and soon wisps of smoke rose from the organic components of the machinery being dissolved under the chemical onslaught.
Slowly the water level rose inside the compartment and upon reaching the top started to spread along the floor. As it touched the dead woman, the acid started to eat away at her flesh, and the stink of sulfur became mixed with a more foul reek of copper.
Shifting to the wall seats, the companions watched for any other leaks in the hull when a tremendous explosion shook the APC from prow to stern, and a hellstorm of sand was blasted against the hull, temporarily making more noise than the rain. Only a second later, a whooshing roar passed by overhead, closely followed by another detonation.
“Dark night, that was a missile!” J.B. cursed, clutching his munitions bag. “The Trader must be here and he fucking thinks we’re Gaza!”
“Of course, we’re in his APC!” Dean agreed, keeping a tight grip on a ceiling stanchion near the turret. “Dad, what can we do?”
Quickly, Ryan looked around for the hand comm he had seen earlier and spotted it floating in the acid rain, the plastic already reduced to a thinning goo leaving only a tangle of wires and transistors.
“No choice! Everybody outside!” Ryan ordered. “If they hit us inside this thing, we’re chilled! Only chance we have is out in the open.”
“In rain?” Jak demanded incredulously, stretching his neck forward as if to bring the other man into clearer focus. “Better stay here!”
“With missiles on the way? If we stay, we die. Now move!”
Pulling out the ponchos from their backpacks, the companions draped the plastic sheeting over their bodies and heads, pulling them tight with nylon cords. Some canvas gloves were found in a tool box, not quite enough for everybody, but they all got at least one for their blaster hand, the other stuffed deep inside their clothing for safekeeping. .
“Better hope these shower curtains are tough enough,” Mildred said, cinching another layer tight around her head in a crude bonnet. “But I better warn you that if anybody trips or falls face first in the water…”
“We do a mercy killing and shoot them in the back of the head,” Doc rumbled from inside his white plastic cocoon. “Yes, we do understand, madam, and may God help us all.”
Stepping down onto the flooded floor, Ryan braced himself for a rush of pain, but the tough U.S. Army combat boots resisted the pool of acid for the moment. How long they would was another matter entirely.
However, neither Krysty nor Doc wore the military garb, and precious seconds were spent while they lashed the last of the plastic curtains around their leather boots as additional protection. If the group hadn’t taken spare curtains to make tents, they would be in a nuke load of trouble right now, even more so than they already were. He could carry Krysty, but who could have hauled the tall Doc Tanner around to keep him off the lethal ground?
“Everybody ready?” Ryan asked, going to the rear door and grabbing the latch. Just outside, he could hear the rain coming down in sheets now, wave after wave of death from the sky as every bit as deadly as the ancient nukes. “Okay, keep your head down and walk straight ahead! Let’s move!”
As Ryan pushed open the door, the rain came howling in, smacking against the plastic wrappings in fat yellow drops. Suddenly, Ryan understood why the Core had been wrapped in thick bandages from head to foot. Clever bastards.
Using an M-16 to hold the door wide open, Ryan stepped onto the soggy ground, his boots slipping about in the salty mud. Tucking away his blaster, he took Krysty by the hand, and then she did the same to Doc, and so on. Now supporting one another, the companions moved as a single unit across the killing field as another missile streaked by so close overhead their plastic coverings shook from the fiery wash.