James Axler – Exile to Hell

Kane unstrapped the Sin Eater from his forearm, took the two extra clips of ammo from Salvo’s belt and left him where he lay.

Grant crooked a quizzical eyebrow when he approached. “You didn’t chill him.”

Kane shook his head. “If we’re leaving, let’s leave. A squad could be on its way, and I don’t want another fire-fight before breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you?”

With a certain amount of bitterness in his tone, Kane replied, “One of the few old, ingrained habits I can’t bring myself to break. He’s a Mag, and I can’t murder a Mag in cold blood.”

Grant grunted, looked around and said, “Little late for that.” He said nothing more.

There wasn’t time for more than cursory introductions all around. They all scrambled into the armored box. Kane took the seat next to Domi, who still held the wheel. There was just enough room for Grant and Brigid to sit in the back. Cartons of survival equipment, food and containers of water were stored there.

Eyeing the girl, Kane saw for the first time the mini-Uzi tucked between her thighs and the seat. Turning toward Grant, he asked, “Does she know where she’s going?”

Domi reached for the instrument panel, saying,”Ask me. I talk.”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

She pulled down a couple of switches, worked the shift lever and put the machine into gear. The engine beat faster as the Sandcat lurched forward. “Watch and learn, sec man.”

The armored wag rolled across the warehouse, the treads flattening boxes and crushing cartons. Steered by Domi, the machine rolled steadily toward the rear wall. The barricade remover struck it with a loud banging of metal. A section of tin, just wide enough and high enough to admit the Sandcat, folded inward, a reinforcing cross-brace assembly of wooden planks snapping and splintering.

Kane peered out through the windscreen at the narrow passageway. It was cut beneath the very wall of the ville itself, shored up here and there by heavy timbers. He saw no light ahead of them, and since the walls were approximately ten feet thick, the Sandcat didn’t have far to travel.

The wag jounced roughly, its suspension creaking as its front end plowed into a barrier. Gray light suddenly showed, appearing in irregularly shaped patches and cracks. Then sunlight flooded the passage.

The Sandcat pushed inexorably through a false front, chunks of clay, squares of turf and masonry collapsing onto the hood, pattering across the metal. Kane couldn’t help but laugh. Guana Teague had managed to burrow an escape tunnel right under the wall of Cobaltville. God only knew how many hours of labor it had taken him to dig it, and then construct the camouflaged exit. Bribery had to have played a large role in the project, as well.

As if reading his thoughts, Grant said, “He was a corrupt bastard, but a clever one.”

Domi hissed, but not in reaction to the remark about Teague. She wrestled with the wheel as the wag tilted sharply forward, rolling fast down the face of the bluff. Though the windshield was still partially obscured by sliding sheets of grit and dirt, Kane recognized the area outside the east wall.

Teague had chosen well, since it was the least tactically important piece of real estate around the Ville. It was also something of a blind spot, positioned between a pair of Vulcan-Phalanx turrets. Before the sentries on the wall caught sight of the vehicle and brought the big guns to bear, they would be almost out of range.

The Sandcat picked up speed, and Domi made no allowance for the slippery bank sloping down to the river. It was a shallow ford, and as the front end nosed through the water, it caused an upsurging splash that washed away the dirt and masonry from the windshield. The wag churned across the ford, the river swirling almost to the doors. When it reached the opposite bank, one of the tracks began to spin, squirting mud and water in a high rooster tail behind them.

Domi cursed, worked the shift lever, and the treads found traction again, pulling them up the riverbank and onto dry land. Kane didn’t make any comments. He pretended to have faith in the albino girl’s expertise.