“Triple load!” he shouted through chattering teeth. “Same as before! Ten, mebbe fifteen to defuse!”
“Do it!” Ryan shouted, gunning the engine. “We’ll hold them off if they’re stupe enough to try again.”
Mildred gave a sharp whistle, and Jak started firing the M-60. Rattling and shaking, the predark truck appeared around the curve, the cannies steadily firing their blasters. Blue smoke trailed from its tailpipe, telling of serious engine damage. The headlights were gone, smoke poured from under the hood, but it was still moving, building speed and coming straight toward them this time.
As the companions cut loose with every weapon they had, Ryan studied the battlefield. Dense trees lined both sides, so there was no chance of driving through those. They couldn’t cross the bridge, and if they tried to swim across the river they would be sitting ducks for the cannies to pick off with longblasters. Oddly, the battered truck was coming straight down the middle of the road, as if inviting the companions to try to get by, which made no sense. The Hummer was faster and armored, so no way could the cannies stop it with another sideswipe. Then the man saw the others were throwing handfuls of something out the sides of the wag. One of the objects hit a rock and loudly detonated.
“Blasting caps! Those’ll blow our tires to pieces.”
“But why did they come back?” Dean asked, rummaging in his clothes for another clip. Briefly, he made a mental note that he should make a vest or something with nothing but pockets for spare ammo. Yeah, that was a good idea. “We weren’t chasing after them.”
“It’s the Hummer,” Krysty stated, thumbing fresh cartridges into her blaster. “We busted their wag, so the cannies want this as a replacement.”
“And us for supplies,” Mildred added grimly, working the pump on the S&W shotgun she’d borrowed from J.B.
The boy registered surprise at the statement, then fierce hatred. “Let them try,” he growled, for a split second sounding exactly like his father.
The truck was only fifty yards away and coming faster all the time. Spitting a curse, Ryan turned in his seat and stared hard at the bridge. Sure enough, there were small metallic dots scattered over the weathered planks. More blasting caps had been strewed about to stop anybody from following them across. Only now the small explosives might also set off the land mines and chill J.B. while he was working underneath, and there was no way to tell him of the charges on top of the bridge. They were trapped.
Having no choice, Ryan started tying off the steering wheel with the rope. “Get ready to go EVA!” he shouted, throwing the wag into neutral and shoving the stick on the gas pedal. The engine roared to life. “We’ve got to take them here on the road!”
“What for?” Jak demanded from the sputtering M-60. The dangling ammo belt was nearly gone, but the teenager still rode the machine gun on full-auto.
“Just do it!” Ryan shouted, throwing the Hummer into gear. The wag lurched ahead, tires spinning in the dirt.
Spewing smoke and blasterfire, the rattling truck loomed before the companions. Through the broken windshield, Ryan could see the cannie driver watching eagerly as the two wags closed with frightening speed. Then the scarred man’s toothy expression rapidly changed as he realized the Hummer wasn’t trying to get around, but was on a collision course.
“Now!” Ryan shouted, diving from the wag. He hit the ground hard, but managed to roll off the blow and stopped, lying on his side, blaster still in his hands. Jak and Doc landed nearby, Mildred and Krysty close behind. There was no sign of Dean.
Slamming on the brakes, the cannie driver bellowed in rage as the two vehicles violently smashed into each other, glass shattering over the sounds of crunching metal. Every loose item in the Hummer went flying as its armored grille pushed in the front of the truck, the working engine propelled backward into the cab, crushing a man with a snake tattoo on his face.
Somebody began to scream as fuel gushed from a hole in the gas tank, pooling on the ground under the destroyed wag. Bleeding and dazed, the cannies stumbled from the truck, slipping on the shards of glass scattered on the road.