James Axler – Rat King

realize what was being said. He was engrossed in his task, searching for a gren

that would be powerful enough to take out the outsiders but wouldn’t endanger

his own men or the redoubt. A lifetime of learning about the caverns and fault

lines that surrounded the enclave and the redoubt had led him to believe that

triggering a large explosion would cause a disturbance that could endanger the

stability of the redoubt’s structure.

“Sir, the Gen…” The soldier’s voice was more insistent. Murphy snapped back from

his preoccupation, suddenly aware of what was being said to him. He also noted

that the firing had virtually, ceased.

“What did you say, boy?” he asked, turning to look over the barricade. “Holy

shit…”

RYAN SIGNALED his force to hold its fire. On the opposite side Jak gestured for

his force to also cease fire.

“Who the fuck is that dipshit?” Mac whispered in awed tones, not knowing whether

to think Wallace mad or brave to the point of reckless insanity.

“Used to be in charge here,” Ryan said tersely. “We were the excuse for him to

be deposed by Murphy.”

“So what’s he doing?”

Ryan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Fucked if is,” Jak replied grimly.

Krysty saw Wallace remove the gren from his pocket, and she whispered in Ryan’s

ear, “We’ve got big trouble, lover.”

“You’re telling me,” the one-eyed warrior replied. “If he lets a gren loose in

the armory, we need to be two levels up, or at least get that sec door down,” he

added, nodding toward the raised door that would close off the route to the

armory.

“No, it’s worse than that, lover. It’s almost as if the Earth Mother herself is

screaming a warning to me. When he lets that gren go, we need to be as far away

from here as possible.”

MURPHY WAS at the front of the barricade, looking over the top as Wallace

approached.

“What’s that crazy…?” he whispered to himself before raising his voice. “Gen,

what do you want?”

“Even the score, Sarj. You have been tried under Reg 17B, Subsection A. You’re

guilty as hell, boy.”

“Shit, what are you talking about? What trial? There is no trial. I’m in command

here.”

Wallace laughed, loud and harsh. “Command? You call this command, boy? Look at

you—holed up with nowhere to run. You’ve lost, boy. Face it.”

“Bullshit. I’ve got the arms right here to win.”

“All you’ve got is your own sad chilling, boy,” Wallace said coldly.

Murphy saw the Gen hand out a gren, saw him pull the pin and lob the gren over

the barricade so that it landed in the center of the room. He watched as the Gen

turned and punched in the code on the sec door that made it start to close with

a creak and a moan.

“You bastard, you fucker,” Murphy yelled, realizing that it was too late for him

to scoop up the gren and throw it through the rapidly lessening gap where the

sec door was closing. He raised his blue Beretta and drilled three holes in

Wallace’s back, throwing the Gen against the wall.

Wallace turned as he slumped to the corridor floor. His eyes were fogged with

the approach of death, but he still managed to force a grin and a small chuckle

from his throat. His voice bubbled as the blood rose in his throat, the words

little more than a whisper.

“Never could get it right, Murphy. Not as smart as you thought, boy…not born to

lead…”

Murphy heard the words with an awful clarity as he turned to watch the gren.

There was a flash as the gren exploded, milliseconds later triggering the

waiting boxes of grens.

Murphy was already dead by the time the sound of the explosions rippled through

the crumbling corridor, a fraction of a second later.

MILDRED HEARD the explosions as she attempted to remove the first electrode from

a shaved portion of Doc’s skull. It seemed to be held only with tape, but she

was wary lest it be attached in some other way beneath. She heard the explosions

as one—a dull whump that made everything in the room shake.