“We’re outta here,” Mildred said. With a jolt, she pulled away from the ruin of Ground Zero to cheers and whistles from the cargo box.
“Back across the River Styx, back to the world of the living,” Doc said. “A miracle of resurrection. We who are about to be reborn, salute you, Dear ferry-person.”
“Shut up, Doc,” Mildred said, “I’m trying to keep this lurching death trap on the road.”
Even though she had the whole road to herself, it wasn’t easy. It was difficult to pick out the shoulders what with the glare from the glass. Mildred showed a definite tendency to bounce off one side of the road and veer to the other. A case of overcompensation multiplied. Before things got completely out of control, she had to take her thumb off the speed button and let the uphill grade slow the wag.
The consequences of any error on her part would have been grave. If the wag left the road proper, it would cost everyone on board their hands and feet. And that didn’t take into account the whirlpools of frozen glass that loomed just off the shoulders. These whirlpools were fifty yards across with spiraling black centers that dropped thousands of feet into emptiness. If she tipped over into one of those great, slick funnels, it would have meant a much more complete disaster. The kind no one survived.
As Mildred rounded the edge of a particularly scary pinwheel of a chasm, she and the others saw something stopped on the road dead ahead.
Something big and black.
“It’s another ore wag,” Dean said.
“Why is it stopped like that, do you suppose?” Doc said.
“It mebbe wait,” Jak replied. “Block the road so we not get past.”
“I don’t see anybody around it,” Mildred said, reducing her speed to a crawl.
“Mebbe ambush,” Jak said, scanning the surrounding glass with his keen red eyes.
A pencil-thin green beam squealed over the wasteland, hitting the wag’s cargo box. The slaves back there started yelling their heads off. They yelled louder still when a second beam from the other side of the road zeroed in on them.
One of the shooters was firing from behind a jumbled row of ten-foot-high glass spikes. The other lay atop a small knoll above a gigantic whirlpool. Triangulated fire.
“They’ve got us pinned,” Mildred said.
Some of the slaves in the cargo box attempted to return fire. To do that they had to stick their heads up. Two of the captured rifles fell from the top of the box, followed by arms and heads of the men who’d tried to use them.
“They want to hold us here until reinforcements arrive,” Jak said.
“They happen to be doing an excellent job of it, too,” Doc stated.
“Not let do that,” Jak finished.
“It’s gonna be tough taking them out,” Mildred said. “We can’t leave the road because of the manacles. We can’t go forward because of the other wag. And they’ve got the high ground.”
“Why didn’t they just cut the road if they wanted to trap us?” Dean said. “Wouldn’t that have been the easiest thing?”
“I think Dean has something there,” Mildred said. “All their shots have been at the top of the cargo box. They don’t want to risk melting the road. Especially not here where it slides off so steeply. They want to keep the road to the mine open. We can use that.”
“How, pray tell?” Doc said.
“It means they’re not going to fire at the wheels,” Mildred said.
“Hide behind wheels,” Jak said, snatching up his laser rifle from the floorboards.
“And fire as I creep this wag forward,” Mildred said. “When they see that I intend to push their truck off the frigging road, you and Doc might get clear shots.”
“What about me?” Dean asked.
“I’m holding you in reserve,” Mildred said. “In case I need you when we get to the other wag.”
“Move fast, Doc,” Jak said. “Under wag quick.”
“I understand the strategy, dear lad,” Doc said. “Lead the way.”
Jak popped open the passenger-side door and hit the road running. He took five steps, then dived beneath the undercarriage, thrusting the laser rifle out in front of him. Doc followed a second later.