James Axler – Zero City

“Please elucidate, sir,” Doc asked, confused.

“I only wanted the fire to get rid of the wood,” Ryan said, heading for the Hummer and climbing behind the wheel. The engine caught the first time. “Now let’s get the hell out of here, so we can come back and finish this.”

“To fight an army?” Krysty asked, dropping the med kit on the floorboards as she took the passenger seat.

Making room for Doc in the back, J.B. was smiling, as if he already knew the answer and highly approved.

“Hell no,” Ryan stated, driving away. “We’re going to stop the baron’s army. With one shot.”

THE BURNING BARRIER smashed apart, the smoking timbers tumbling to the ground as a bulldozer effortlessly plowed through. Right behind the rattling predark machine were a hundred sec men with blasters, then a dozen carts full of supplies. The dozer plowed the front of the tunnel clear of planks, sandbags and corpses as the sec force spread out, immediately setting up defensive posts and starting a perimeter sweep for enemies. A few carried muzzle-loaders, but the rest sported autofires, loot from the baron’s private armory mixed with the fancy blasters recovered from the dead jolt dealers.

Cradling M-16 submachine guns, the Wolf Pack marched into view followed by a sky-blue Cadillac convertible with the top down. Leonard was standing in the passenger’s seat holding on to the windshield. His longish hair was now a crew cut, and the teenager was dressed in a black jumpsuit, with leather bandoliers full of ammo crisscrossing his chest. A silver Desert Eagle rode at his right hip, and a Navy flare gun rested in a shoulder holster.

The driver was a grizzled man with an unhealed gash across his face from the destruction of the greenhouses. A sawed-off shotgun lay on top of the dashboard before him, his shirt pocket jammed with homemade shells.

The crowd of sec men moved out of the way for the Caddy, and it stopped in the middle of the access ramp for the tunnel.

“Sergeant,” Leonard yelled, indicating a soldier, “have the men establish a perimeter, then recce the local buildings for snipers. I want a safety zone of two full blocks. A storm is coming, and I want that bitch and her friend found before it hits.”

“Sir!”

Leonard watched the activity bustling around him as more wags rolled out of the tunnel. The trap with the APC had been extremely clever, but failed. The tunnel was severely weakened there, and the river was steadily trickling in, but the predark storm drains easily handled the flow and diverted the water…well, someplace else. He didn’t know or care where as long as the underground passageway stayed clear for his sec men. Timbers hoisted by car jacks reinforced the ceiling, making a maze for the wags to carefully maneuver through. But it worked. They were here and ready for a fight.

“Establish camp here, Captain,” Leonard commanded. “We can retire at night inside the tunnel in case of muties.”

“Or a storm,” the driver added, listening to the angry sky.

“Is that a good idea, Lieuten—? Baron?” Captain Zanders asked, running an uncomfortable finger along the interior of the collar of his new uniform. Anton Zanders an officer—his mother would have died with pride. “Shouldn’t we make camp inside the sports arena or the high school? They’re both in good shape. Gives us lots of room to maneuver.”

The young baron stared hard at the grizzled veteran until he felt flush with unease.

“Safety first, Captain. But thank you for the opinion,” Leonard said with surprising gentleness. “My father had favorites among the troops whom he would promote out of friendship. I do not. That idiot officer in charge of tunnel defense was the first man I sent to the farmers.”

“Sent to till the farms, you mean, sir,” the captain offered as a correction.

Looking over the men, the youth said nothing in reply.

Zanders tried to hide his pleasure and failed.

“The man was a total jackass,” he spit, “Should have told me, sir. I would have turned on the Machine myself and tossed him in.”

“Which is why you are in charge now, Captain.” Baron Leonard Strichland stepped down from the Cadillac and walked about.