It was hot work in the confined space. The sweat poured off him as he scrambled along on hands and knees. Behind him he could hear the steady rasp of Mildred’s breath.
When a light appeared in front of him, J.B. wasn’t sure what it was. It looked like an orange blob hanging in space. At first he thought it might be a stickle, so
he stopped short-and immediately took another direct hit from behind.
“What is it?” Mildred asked.
“End of the tunnel. Let me go up and take a look.”
J.B. crawled ahead, into the circle of unfiltered sunlight. He let his eyes adjust, then slowly raised himself up and poked his head out of the hole. The tunnel surfaced near the amusement zone’s back fence in the middle of a strip of parched dirt that had once been a lawn. As J.B. turned his head, he saw ten stickies creeping along the fence line, away from him. They had dried mud plastered over their backs and legs.
The Armorer dropped back into the hole. “Come on!” he urged his companions. “Hurry!” Then he crawled out and lay belly down on the dirt. When Doc and Mildred joined him, he pointed out the pack of stickies. They were running across the parking lot
“Somebody’s in for it,” he said.
“Shouldn’t we raise an alarm?” Mildred said. “Warn everybody?”
“Too late for that All hell’s going to break loose here in a minute or two.”
“I concur with J.B.,” Doc told her. “To thank us for our previous attempts to help them, the residents of Willie ville have jailed us, chained us and abused us. We have done more than enough for them. We have to find our friends and make our escape if we can.”
Mildred nodded. “Okay,” she said, “you guys have convinced me. Which way do we go?”
J.B. led them over the hurricane fence and into the
shadows behind the building that housed the Ghost Castle Spook Train. The sounds of cheers coming from the other side of the Freedom City compound made them crane their necks around the corner for a look-see.
“That’s Ryan!” Mildred said, pointing at the dark figure falling from the top of the hotel.
“Dark night!” J.B. exclaimed as Ryan jounced up in the air at the end of the rope.
“We have to do something quick,” Doc said.
No sooner had he spoken than someone shouted at them. “Hey, you! Hey! Hold it!”
A pair of sec men was running toward them, up the path from the Ferris wheel. The baron’s men suddenly stopped and raised their blasters.
As J.B., Doc and Mildred dived for cover, a flurry of autofire rang out. The burst of slugs clipped the corner of the building, spraying splinters across the dirt. J.B. grabbed Doc’s shoulder and pulled him to his feet.
“Move!” he said to Mildred. He rounded the back of the building and sprinted up the short flight of stairs to the heavily curtained doorway of the Ghost Castle Spook Train ride. An empty, two-person tram sat on the tracks in front of the portal. It was shaped like a miniature railroad flatcar. In the predark days the ride’s little tram was powered by electricity. Now an empty slave harness dangled from its bow.
J.B. led them around the tram and through the curtain. Inside, it was dark, cool and very quiet. They
followed the pair of tracks as they curved deeper into the building. There was bare metal scaffolding on the ceiling and, on either side of the tracks, a clutter of deceased mechanical and electrical devices, power cables, a conduit. In the weak light everything looked dim, gray and dusty. J.B. scanned the layout, searching for some kind of weapon and a likely spot to stage an ambush if they were pursued.
They hadn’t gone very far when they heard footsteps hurrying in the darkness behind them. J.B. pulled the others behind a plastic boulder covered with a century-thick carpet of dust. While they listened, the footfalls slowed. They were getting closer. Then torchlight leaped across the girdered ceiling.
“We know you’re in here,” a male voice said.
“We got your asses cold,” another added.