But nobody could hear the warning. Struggling against the wind, the sec man reached the alarm bell and started wildly banging with all of his strength.
“Acid rain!” he screamed. “Rain!”
A few caught the muffled words and bolted for the nearest building as more drops descended from the mottled sky. Soon the sizzling noise rose to a deafening level, the ash compacting flat under the polluted deluge.
The guards at the wall cut themselves loose and headed for the bunker at the base of the dish. A private dropped his knife and had to untie the rope holding him secure. Stumbling after the others, he cried out as the rain hit his clothing and seared right through. Nuking hell, it was like touching a red-hot stove!
Going under the dish he was out of the rain, but he kept running. The wind could shift and he’d be dead in minutes. Somewhere far away, the alarm continued to ring as he crossed the encampment and finally made it to the bunker. Grabbing the handle, he tried to twist the latch but it remained firmly in place. Locked?
“Open the door!” the sec man yelled, pounding on the iron plates with a fist, “Open the fucking door!”
There was no response. Then a drop of rain hit him on the neck and he jumped from the pain, swatting at the point as if it were a bee sting. His fingers burned from the contact.
“Bastards!” he yelled, firing the Kalasnikov at the bunker. The rounds ricocheted off the armored door with no effect.
Dropping the blaster, he headed around the dish to try for the slave quarters. It was closer than the kiosk or the armory. Any building would do, but by now the rain was coming down in sheets, flattening the ash into something that resembled duty concrete.
A sudden gust swept acid over the sec man, and he shrieked as the cloth strips rotted away to expose his uniform, then the bare skin underneath. Frantically, he looked around for a canvas sheet, a tarpaulin, or anything he might use for protection. But whatever might have been available was now sealed under the hard covering of the solidified ash. The rain was pooling in gullies and trickling along to form streams that flowed toward the quarry.
The warning bell stopped ringing, and the trooper knew he was out of luck and time. Holding a hand to his forehead, he dashed into the rain, heading for the slave quarters. Stinging fire pelted him on the back, and pieces of his blue uniform flopped to his sides. He started to scream as the pain reached intolerable levels, but he kept going, combat boots splashing in the deadly water, the soles softening.
He crashed against the door to the slave quarters and grabbed the handle with both hands. Safety was only a foot away. He had made it. He would live! Yanking the door open, he saw a slave standing in his way. Grinning fiendishly, the woman struck the sec man with a bucket, the blow knocking him backward into the rain. He landed sprawling, the skin on his hands blistering instantly. As he shouted a curse, the water trickled into his mouth, swelling his tongue and burning the taste of sulfur down his throat. Recoiling, he tried to stand and fell face first into a puddle.
Sizzling agony washed his face, and he stood, realizing in horror that he was blind. Frantic, he ran for the dish once more and slammed into something large and hard. One of the support columns? He had no idea. The agony was overwhelming. He couldn’t think. Run! He had to run! The sound of an engine caught his attention and the bleeding man stumbled in that direction, whispering for help, the flesh sagging off the bones of his exposed hand. There was a splash. He tried to dodge something and rammed into hot metal. A Hummer! Those were coated with plastic against the rain. He would be safe inside.
Grimacing in fear, the sec man inside the Hummer stayed motionless behind at wheel, his hand tight on the door handle to make sure it didn’t open. The dying man beat on the glass with a bloody fist, the bones already showing. In a moment of compassion, the driver raised a pistol and pointed the blaster at the melting man, only to lower the weapon. The blast would shatter the window and let the rain inside. There was nothing he could do to help the poor son of a bitch.