James Axler – Stoneface

Though a couple of the Sioux pitched from their saddle blankets with bullet wounds, the remainder leaped from horseback and grappled hand-to-hand.

The AMAC kept coming on a straight course for the cave entrance, bouncing over loose stones. J.B., Krysty and Jak triggered their blasters, and ricochets sparked from the front bumper guard. The windshield acquired a few stars, but it didn’t break. Nothing less than armor-piercing rounds could wound the vehicle, and though there were some in the sack, there was no time to load them into their blasters.

Snatching a gren from his sack, J.B. armed it and flung it in the AMAC’s path, trying to place it beneath a tire. A red-yellow bouquet of flame bloomed beneath the wag, and the dulled thunder of the detonation rumbled loudly. Still, the exploding gren did little to impede the vehicle’s progress.

Whirling, J.B. shouted, “Move, goddammit!”

He began to run into the blackness, hearing his friends sprinting beside and behind him. The engine roar seemed to fill the cavern. He heard a woman shriek, very briefly, and he cast a glance over his shoulder.

The AMAC rocketed through the cave opening, and the driver cut the wheels sharply to the right, stomping the brakes at the same time. The resulting skid wasn’t controlled, and the rear end floated around in a 180-degree turn. A wave of sandy soil crested from beneath it, the vehicle thrown off balance in the loose dirt when the brakes were applied.

The swinging rear end slapped against Fleur, swatting her off her feet and flinging her to the right. The rear of the AMAC hit the rock wall hard, with a shrill squeal of metal grinding into stone. It lurched violently to a halt.

The woman was pinned between the armored wag and the stone wall of the cavern. There was no need to dwell on the sight; the life had been crushed out of her body in a microsecond.

J.B. and his friends kept running through the dark throat of the cave, and within a few dozen yards they couldn’t see their hands in front of their faces.

“Everybody link hands,” Krysty said.

The Armorer had a small pen-flash in his pocket, and after the human chain was hastily assembled, he took the point. The light was hardly more than a needle of white incandescence, piercing only a few feet of the cloying blackness. The cavern widened, and the ceiling grew in height. Irregularly formed stalactites hung from above. The light glinted off mineral deposits embedded in the fissured walls. The walls were also decorated with faded, crude paintings and carvings, representations of bizarre figures and shapes. They were obviously very old.

“Petroglyphs,” Doc whispered. “Now I see why Touch-the-Sky didn’t care to enter this place. It’s a holy spot.”

The clink-crunch of stones came faintly from behind.

“Hellstrom isn’t worried about holy spots,” J.B. said softly. “If he gets a bead on us with one of those SA-80s, he can cut us to pieces without getting close.”

“Turn out light,” Jak urged, staring behind them. “Wait until gets into range. Chill him big time.”

J.B. complied and they were plunged into absolute blackness, which lasted only for a moment. In the gloom before them shone a fiery red orb, casting a blood-colored luminescence over their faces.

“Dark night,” J.B. managed to husk out.

Chapter Thirty-One

Before the door had opened more than a few inches, Ryan was bounding across the office toward the recess between the bookcases. Putting his back to the elevator doors, he held his breath and waited, the SIG-Sauer held in a two-handed grip.

Doug strolled past him, the Browning autoshotgun angled jauntily over a shoulder. His pace slowed when he saw no one at the desk, then it quickened. Peering around the edge of the bookshelves, Ryan watched the man reach the front of the desk, look around, then do a violent double-take. A gasp of horror escaped his lips and he rushed clumsily around the desk, bending over to check the Commander’s bullet-blasted corpse.

Ryan crossed the carpeted floor on the balls of his feet, sacrificing a certain amount of stealth for speed. He didn’t use his guns. He got behind Doug, gripped the man’s neck in both hands and twisted sharply. He didn’t hear the snap of breaking vertebrae, merely a faint metallic creak. Doug choked out a half-gagged curse and his hands came up, locking around Ryan’s wrists. The one-eyed man could feel his flesh and tendons being ground against bone, and it was all he could do to bite back a cry of pain.