The knife sat in her palm as she rapidly hitched up her jeans and secured them. She took two strides forward, palming the knife so that the blade shot out away from her body as she triggered the mechanism with a soft clicking sound.
It was little, but enough to attract the attention of the sec man, who recognized the sound of old, and swung around in his seat to face her, bringing up the Uzi.
Ayesha knew she would have to move fast, and ironically it was Anita’s stupidity that saved her.
“Ayesha, what are you doing with that?” she asked in a voice that was pathetic and stupid, hiccuped still with her sobbing.
The words were enough to distract the attention of the sec man—distract him enough for his head to turn toward the sound of Anita’s voice and give Ayesha the vital fraction of a second to slice across his exposed throat with the knife. Her arm was well muscled, and she put enough power and momentum behind the stroke to slice across the exposed flesh cleanly and deeply. His windpipe and carotid artery were opened, and the blood pumped from him in gouts as he opened his mouth to speak, only a choking husk emerging through the damaged flesh as the light faded in his eyes.
The dark girl was swift, her reactions sure. As he choked, she shot out of her seat and grabbed the Uzi, wrestling it from his grasp and turning to cover the sec man riding shotgun, who had turned at the sound of activity in the rear of the wag. She clicked off the safety and held the blaster firmly and in a manner that suggested she knew exactly how to handle it.
“Don’t even think about it unless you want to be spread over the windshield,” she said quietly but firmly, adding over her shoulder, “I think we’re in charge now—right, babe?”
Chapter Fifteen
The journey was proving long and arduous. It was approaching the middle of the day, and the sun bore down on the Hellbenders’ convoy with a relentless force. Inside the wags, the heat built up to a humid, stifling pitch. For those who were using the old preDark military wags that had been left in the redoubt, it was slightly more bearable, the insulation inside the wags cutting down some of the heat that was stored in the metal. But although these wags also had air conditioning, the drivers had been instructed by Correll not to use it, as it would eat up more fuel, and the gaunt man wanted to make sure they had enough to get them to the rendezvous point and also to carry out any maneuvers they may need to make without the wags running dry and spoiling the military action.
But it wasn’t just the heat. The track they were taking was across desert terrain that had been muddied by the lashing chem rains and churned up into a quagmire. This was now drying, the ridges of wind driven mud now becoming hard obstructions beneath the wheels of the wags, making steering hard and bumping the vehicles and their contents uncomfortably across the desert floor. They also had to keep an eye out for those patches that had turned into quicksand and were proving less willing to dry out. Spotting anything was hard, as the powdery soil was becoming dust, driven up in clouds from the hard ridges by the constant disturbance of the wag wheels, the resultant dust clouds making visibility poor at times.
It was easiest for the front wag, piloted by Correll. For J.B., Lonnie and those wag drivers that followed them, things were proving to be at times disorienting.
“If we all make it to the right place at the right time, and in one piece, that’ll be the biggest achievement of all,” Mildred commented sardonically as J.B. had to swerve hard to avoid a deep rut that came out of a dust cloud at the last moment.
“That’s when the difficult bit starts,” Jenny countered, fixing Mildred with a piercing stare. “We have to be disciplined and motivated.”
“Sweetie, you sound like a machine,” Mildred returned, a wry smile crossing her face. “You can be as disciplined and motivated as you like, but you need to get to the enemy first. And this is a real bastard.”