James Axler – Rat King

“You and you,” he snapped, gesturing at two of them. “Guard him. The rest of you

come with me. Spread the word that we’re in charge now. Things are going to be

different.”

He turned back to Wallace. “I’ll deal with you when I’ve dealt with the

outsiders.”

“I wish I had your confidence in you, boy,” Wallace said with a sneer as Murphy

left the room.

Murphy’s plan was simple—position sec men so that he could guide the raiding

party down a certain path, insuring that they could be trapped and chilled with

the minimum of fuss. After all, they had only seen the redoubt once, so they

would have no idea where they were going.

This overconfident reasoning neglected the fact that he had witnessed their

ability to find their way around the base when they had earlier escaped from his

guard. But Murphy was high on his own sense of victory, and his memory had

become selective.

RYAN AND J.B. HAD SPLIT the forces. The Armorer and Mildred had taken three men

and were to try to locate Doc. Their objective after this, regardless of result,

was to secure the mat-trans unit. Ryan and the others, including Abner, Mac and

the other three ville dwellers, were to try to eliminate Murphy and Wallace, and

use the plas-ex that they knew to be in the armory to mine the redoubt and bring

it down once and for all.

The combined party made its way down the corridors of the redoubt, headed for

the point at which their paths would diverge. Ryan took the lead, followed by

his friends and the outsiders, who were beginning to show their lack of

experience in a combat situation. Their initial bravado had given way to

nervousness, and their tension crackled from man to man, making them jumpy.

It was something Ryan wanted to avoid: an itchy finger on a blaster trigger, and

it was likely to be one of their own party that bought the farm, rather than any

of the redoubt’s sec men. So his people were there to calm them down, keep them

relaxed by their own vigilance.

But so far the corridors had been deserted. A wailing siren cut through the air,

loud and insistent. It was a maddening sound, and didn’t help the composure of

the outsiders. Otherwise there was nothing: no sec men, no tech. Just the debris

of a rapid pullback.

It was something that Ryan had expected. The tactics used by the redoubt sec men

seemed to be along these lines, if Wallace was running things. But if it was

Murphy now? And what if the two factions were at war with each other? Ryan

didn’t want to contemplate being caught in the cross fire of the two groups.

They came to a junction in the corridors. Ryan halted the line and flattened

himself to the wall, edging forward until he was at the corner. He picked up a

discarded clipboard from where it had been thrown to the floor. With a flick of

the wrist, he tossed the board into the gap where the two corridors conjoined.

The blasterfire was deafening. Mostly Uzi, on rapid fire, thought J.B. His

keenly trained ears picked out four men firing. He held up four fingers when the

one-eyed warrior looked back at him. Ryan nodded his agreement; his own hearing

had picked out the same amount of fire. As the corridor ahead was clear as far

as they could see, it was obvious that this was the direction Murphy or Wallace

wanted them to proceed.

It was taking them away from the elevators down to the armory, but there were

other ways to get there. First they had to get across the junction.

Ryan beckoned Mac and whispered an instruction in his ear. The fat sec man

nodded and turned to relay instructions to Abner and the other ville dwellers.

J.B. moved up to Ryan’s side. “The usual?” he asked.

Ryan nodded. J.B. shouldered his Uzi and checked the M-4000. The deadly load of

barbed steel flechettes was in place. He pushed his fedora back on his head and

looked Ryan in the eye.

“Let’s go.”

On the count of three, J.B. stepped into the open long enough to let loose a