James Axler – Zero City

Moving to the front of the store, they took positions near the front door and watched the street and corner. Dust devils danced along the gutters, a steady stream of sand blowing past them. It was like looking at a river.

“Gaia!” Krysty said, spinning on the man and staring at his face in frustration. “We are idiots!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Everything is going according to plan.”

“Your eye.”

Ryan touched his good eye, then scowled under his mask. “None of them have patches. They’ll spot me for a phony immediately.”

“Just a minute.” The redhead went into the back room, then came out and checked behind the counter. “Ah, knew there had to be some in stock. Here.”

He took the item and unfolded them. Sunglasses. They would cut down his vision, but it was their best bet. Sliding them on, he tucked the ends under the wrappings and shook his head violently.

“They’re not coming off,” Krysty said, brushing back her loose strand of hair again.

“Good.” Peeling back the rags on his wrist, Ryan glanced at his chron. “Too long. They’re taking too long.”

“Prime the pump?” she asked, raising her shoe box.

“Use this,” he said, giving her the Uzi. “You shoot, I’ll do the rest. Haven’t seen any women guards yet.”

“Agreed.” Stepping outside, Krysty fired a burst into the air, and Ryan yelled as if gut shot. Then the woman peppered the front of the bank with the rest of the clip, and they ducked back inside the store.

Seconds later, armed men poured into the street by the dozens. Some hit the ground while others spread out in a defensive pattern.

“A lot more than we bargained for,” Krysty whispered, dropping the exhausted blaster.

“The more the better for this job,” Ryan countered grimly.

“What the hell is going on?” demanded a sec man in bare feet.

“Where are the sentries?” a sergeant asked gruffly, cradling a longblaster. “Phil, Kaja, check the tunnel!”

The couple jogged over and returned just as fast.

“They’re all dead, Sarge!” Phil reported.

“Shot and stabbed,” Kaja added.

Suddenly, the door to the liquor store swung open, and out came two sec men with cloth covering their faces as protection from the storm.

“Hey, guys, see anything?” a sergeant shouted over the noise of the storm.

“No, sir,” replied the big guy in sunglasses. Then a tremendous blast filled the alleyway and sandbags cannonballed out, slamming into the stores across the street, smashing windows.

“Rockets!” a sec man shouted, and he started to fire wildly at the rooftops. A dozen more joined in shooting at anything and everything. But the weapons jammed constantly, and frantic hands struggled to clear the clogged mechanisms. But opening the breeches only made matters worse.

Deadly calm, Krysty and Ryan moved through the shouting crowd, their shoe boxes softly chugging. Sec men fell over, clutching their chest and bellies, blasters dropping.

“Snipers!” the corporal cried as a dead man collapsed at his feet. “Brewer, get on the roof and kill anybody you find!”

“Sir!” But the sec man took a single step before he also fell.

With the wind howling, another blast ripped apart the alleyway, spewing out chunks of vehicles, a flaming wheel rolling through the crowd of sec men. Stepping out of its way, Krysty shot the corporal in the throat to stop his commands.

Killing four more, Ryan reached the bank and kicked open the door. There were only a few people inside, and behind a teller’s cage was the youth from the platform in the ville. Only now he was dressed in a clean black uniform dripping with weapons, but it was his carriage and bearing that showed he was in charge, the new Baron Strichland. Their gazes locked for a moment. Registering shock, the teenager frowned and reached for his fancy blasters.

“Goodbye, Leonard,” Ryan said, firing three times.

But the bullets slammed to a stop in midair directly before the startled teenager, a spiderweb of cracks radiating from each impact point. Ryan cursed and retreated outside fast. Fireblast, this was a bank and the kid had been standing behind a sheet of bulletproof glass. His one chance to end this matter permanently had gone to hell.