“Could be,” Ryan agreed, tapping the fuel gauge. Half-full, more than enough. “If so, they’re going to come after us in force. Night will be here soon, so we’ll stay in the trees until it’s dark, then make a run for the redoubt across the grasslands.”
“I’ll take rearguard,” J.B. said, the Uzi in one hand, the M-10 in the other. He was sitting reversed on the seat with his back to Mildred, legs braced against the lower bars of the cage, the buddy-bar snug between his thighs.
Dean changed position to copy the older man. The chrome steel of the buddy-bar rose to his chest and was very uncomfortable, but the stance gave him a good purchase to fight from. That was good enough.
“Mehi loricatus oportet occulte!” Doc stated in Latin, holstering the LeMat and tying down the flap. His hands clumsily worked the arming bolt on the subgun, and he eased off the safety.
“No headlights,” Mildred translated. “Bastards can’t hit what they can’t find.”
Starting forward into the growing darkness, Ryan zigzagged the big bike past the lush growths of pine and willow. “Just shoot anybody you see,” he added grimly, bent low over the handlebars. “They won’t be trying to take us prisoners anymore.”
IN THE LAB, Sheffield was awkwardly typing commands on the computer keyboard. Impatiently, he watched the vector graphic grow and change on the softly glowing screen. Checking the assignment integers, the man cursed in frustration when he realized that the numbers were wrong. It was aimed much too close to risk a shot. Now he would have to start all over again!
“Good news, sir!” said a voice from the intercom on the desk. “We got a report that the outlanders are at the quarry.”
“The quarry?” he repeated slowly. “Who told you this?”
“A sentry reported in just before he died. We’re sending most of the troops there.”
“Recall them immediately,” the officer commanded. “It’s a trick to divert us. Send everybody to the south. That’s where they really are.”
Pursing his lips, Sheffield then continued, “The troops have a maximum of forty minutes to find the assassins of Dr. Jamaisvous, then recall them immediately.”
“Sir?” the intercom asked puzzled.
“Just do as you’re ordered, trooper.”
“Yes, sir! Hail the New America!”
Cutting off the intercom, Sheffield returned to his work. Starting the programming cycle again, he typed much more carefully, and a slow smile grew as the flashing numbers on the computer screen began to take on the desired configuration.
THE QUARTET OF BIKES raced across the open fields of Tennessee bluegrass. Headlights off, it was difficult to see anything in the way, and Ryan often found himself jerking the handlebars at the very last moment to avoid hitting a large rock or some other obstacle. However, it was a good half hour since they stole the motorcycles, and they were more than halfway to the redoubt.
“How close are we?” Krysty shouted, her hair streaming in the wind.
“Just a few more miles!” J.B. yelled in reply.
“Great!”
“My dear Krysty, can you do something about your hair, please?” Doc asked. “I can barely see!”
Grabbing handfuls, she stuffed the living tendrils gently into her shirt collar and did the top button. “Better?” she shouted over a shoulder.
“Infinitely so. My thanks!”
“No prob!”
Suddenly, bright lights illuminated the field in bouncing cones of stark white light, and there came the slow chattering of subguns. A copper-jacketed round zinged off the safety cage around Doc and Krysty, another bullet slamming directly into the backpacks behind Ryan.
“It’s other bikes!” he shouted, and slapped a switch, turning on his own headlights. Now able to see clearly, the man pressed the big motorcycle on to much greater speeds. The ground flashed below the wheels in a constant blur. With Ryan cutting the way, the others also increased their speed and pulled away from the oncoming motorcycles.
“Ace the leader!” J.B. shouted, cutting loose with the Uzi and subgun. Targeting the closest headlight, he put a long burst from the blasters just above the jiggling light source. There was a crash of glass, and the Harley veered off abruptly, then hit something and flipped over. Tumbling out of control, the bike rolled over and over, the screaming sec man trapped inside the cage bouncing about like a boneless rag doll.
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