“Give them hell,” she yelled over the noise of firefighting within the enclosure of the bar.
Ryan didn’t shout back, but gave her an “okay” gesture and left.
As the one-eyed warrior hit the street and alley that ran along the rear of the drag, it suddenly seemed to quieten from a deafening volley to a dull roar, the blasterfire partly dulled by the pounding of his own adrenaline in his ears as he ran toward the alleyway that marked the end of the drag, shouldering his Steyr and swinging the laser blaster to hand in one fluid motion as he moved.
The plan was simple. The only parts of the Illuminated wags that weren’t entirely protected were the chassis and axles on the underside. Direct fire at them, and there was a chance of disabling the vehicle, as well as forcing the inexperienced Illuminated fighters into moving. And that was exactly what Ryan wanted: to separate the two vehicles. Not only would it make them easier to deal with if they had no backup, but it also increased the chances of capturing one.
And the one-eyed warrior wanted to take one of those wags very badly indeed. If he could capture one, then he figured that they would have a better chance of gaining access to the redoubt by using a principle that he would have called the Trojan horse—if not for the fact that the legend had been one of many lost forever in the nukecaust. Nonetheless, the principle behind it was one that had never been lost.
Ryan arrived at the alleyway and turned to find Mildred and Doc waiting for him. Looking across the divide formed by the road, he could see J.B., Jak, Dean and Krysty ready in position. The Armorer signaled that all was set on his side, and Ryan acknowledged. Then he turned to Mildred and Doc.
“How you doing?” he asked, having to raise his voice to be heard over the blasterfire along the main drag.
“Not so bad,” Mildred replied. “Feeling a little weak, but not so weak that I can’t lift and fire this,” she added, tapping the barrel of the laser blaster she was holding.
Ryan turned to Doc. The older man was looking pale, his skin ashen. And although he was holding a laser blaster, he was only using one hand, barrel pointed down; he was leaning heavily on the silver lion’s-head cane that housed his swordstick, with a rapier blade of finest Toledo steel. Usually, the cane was a camouflage for the blade. But at this moment, it seemed as though Doc had a greater need for it as support.
Doc managed a weak and yet still wry grin. “I have felt better, dear boy. My kidneys feel on fire and my chest appears to have a ton weight heavily upon it…but my hand is still steady, and my eye—if not keen—is still in focus.”
Ryan acknowledged the older man. “Just do what you can, Doc. And you, Mildred. If the wag gets driven back here, then there’s a good chance of nailing it. It may already be damaged.”
“One would hope so,” Doc agreed, turning toward the drag, “but we must never forget that there is nothing more dangerous than a wounded beast.”
Looking at Doc, Ryan felt that the older man’s words could as easily be applied to himself as to the wag that would be heading their way, but held his peace.
Like the Gate warriors at the far end of the drag, the companions assumed combat positions, laser blasters readied for attack, ears straining for an indication of movement from the wags in among the roar of combat that engulfed the main drag.
RYAN’S INITIAL SHOT had presaged a volley of blasterfire, and the first of several volleys of laser fire at the two Illuminated wags. In every bar and gaudy the Crossroads dwellers and the Gate warriors had directed their fire toward the undersides of the wags. The upper body of each vehicle was made of an alloy the likes of which hadn’t been seen in the Deathlands since before the nukecaust, and although the tires of each wag were of the same pervious rubber material as any other tire, they were protected by a metal shell made of this alloy that exposed very little of the tire itself. There was only a thin band of the tire that was visible, at the very base of the wheel where it would touch the road surface. However, the underneath of the vehicles, although Ryan could only assume that they were made of the same alloy, had vulnerabilities. If any shells or laser fire could damage the chassis or axle systems, or by a ricochet take out one or more of the tires, then the wags would be disabled.