As they all looked down, they could see the second elevator coming up from the bottom level. Even in the dim light it was obvious that the roof of the car was loaded with stickies.
“Dark night!” J.B. exclaimed. “Where’d they come from?”
“Must have transported in with the chamber open,” Ryan said. “The ones closest to the doorway probably got torn to shreds, but the rest of them made it through.”
Their own elevator started up with a lurch, but slowly. With each second that passed, the other car gained ground. It was clear that it would overtake them before they reached the top floor. No one had to spell out the danger: if the stickies got above them, the creatures had the tactical advantage. They could jump down and overwhelm Ryan and company by sheer force of numbers.
“Gren time,” J.B. stated. It was an announcement, not a question. And even as he made it, he had the frag in hand and was separating the explosive from its grip safety. He lobbed the bomb into the midst of the stickies below.
The solid thud of detonation was followed by the clatter of metal shards hurtling through the shaft
The companions looked down to see the car still rushing at them, rising up through the smoke. And as it climbed, more stickies poured up through the open hatch onto the roof, scrambling over the blast-ripped bodies of their fellow muties.
“Get down!” Ryan ordered, unstinging a LAW from his shoulder. His hands moved in a blur as he jerked the pull pin, rotated the rear cover out of the way, then extended and shouldered the launcher. There wasn’t time for him to elevate the weapon’s sighting system, but nor was there any need. The target was close and getting closer. Moving the safety handle to Arm, Ryan took a trap lead on the flywheel and pressed the trigger
bar.
The 66 mm antitank rocket launched with a roar, its HEAT warhead exploding a split second later. The top of the oncoming elevator’s roof vanished in a blinding flash of orange light, then its supporting cables snapped, jerking up as if they were made of rubber, coiling and slashing, sizzling through the air. The car dropped away, slowly at first, then faster and faster as it gathered momentum. The crash when it hit the bottom of the shaft made the walls tremble and sent a cloud of dust billowing up and sweeping over them.
Ryan tossed the spent launcher down into the pit as their elevator crept hesitantly toward the closed doors of the top floor. “Everybody down in the car,” he said, “except you, J.B. Fix the elevator so no one but us can use it”
Krysty followed Ryan, dropping down through the hatch. The heels of her boots squished into something soft and wet as her full weight hit the floor of the car. The inside of the elevator was a enamel house, the walls scorched and concave from the gren explosion, and dripping with fresh splatters of stickie blood. They
booted the knot of corpses aside and prepared to open fire the instant the doors parted.
There was nothing alive to shoot at, just an enormous, low-ceilinged, concrete-floored room lit by tracks of overhead fluorescents. To the left, along the wall, were a dozen camouflage-painted armor-plated wags parked there generations before.
“We’re clear,” Ryan shouted up at J.B.
The Armorer yanked the motor’s power coupling, freezing the car on the redoubt’s top floor. Then, he hopped down to join his companions.
They crossed the broad room in spread single file, on triple red alert, blasters up and ready, heading for the- row of APCs and Hummers. With the precision that comes from much practice, Ryan, Krysty and the others moved around die stored vehicles, sweeping for stick-ies in hiding. They found none.
“These wags look operational,” J.B. said. He opened the door of a Hummer and stuck in his head. “The nuke batteries are showing full charge. I think this redoubt’s antirad bunkering held up.”
Ryan Was admiring one of the two-track APCs. Its gun turret was set well forward on its squat, blocky body. The turret had four cannon barrels and, concealed in an armored bubble beside its top hatch, what looked to be a sophisticated electronic aiming system. Above the driver’s ob slit was an unfamiliar emblem: a solid red circle on a pale blue field.
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