James Axler – Zero City

“Got one,” she stated, savagely clearing another jam. “But more coming.”

Ryan didn’t reply, concentrating on his driving.

Krysty swept the tunnel with the machine gun until down to her last linked belt. However, the next vehicle didn’t repeat the mistakes of the previous one, but drove through the blackness, visible only by the fiery flowers of the muzzle-flashes from the blasters of the sec men. The steady ricochets off the back armor of the APC spoke highly of their accuracy, and the lack of a blaster powerful enough to punch through the 12 mm alloy plating.

Climbing from the top gunner’s seat, Krysty joined Ryan in the front of the wag.

“Ammo?” he asked, pumping the brakes for a test. Good thing they were going EVA soon. The engine temperature was climbing like a rocket. The wag had been damaged back in the ville. Cooling system, oil system, something like that. And at the rate the engine was warming, it would never reach the other end of the tunnel. But that wasn’t the plan.

“One belt left,” she answered. “Can’t use that if we want to get out of this alive.”

By the dim glow of the dashboard, Krysty disassembled a grenade. Hers had been taken by the guards, but Ryan still had his from the armory in the redoubt. Now it was the key to their escape. Extracting the plastic explosive from inside, she cradled it in both hands and climbed back to the gunner’s seat atop the war wag.

“Hold on!” Ryan cried, yanking the steering levers hard in opposite directions. Tires squealing, the aft treads dug into the macadam and the APC was brought to a shuddering halt across the middle two lanes of the roadway.

Reaching under the dashboard, he pulled out handfuls of wires. “Engine is dead,” he stated.

“Blaster is set,” Krysty added, climbing down and swinging past the chairs to reach the door.

They hit the ground running and took off into the darkness. Pausing for a moment, Ryan fired his silenced pistol at the vehicles as they braked at the APC.

Some scattered rounds came their way, and Krysty fired the MAC-11 back at them a few times. “Wonder how long it’s going to take them to think of using the APC’s machine gun on us—”

A fireball erupted atop the wag, closely followed by an even louder detonation, the concussion knocking the companions off their feet. Burning men dashed about shrieking as an inferno grew in the tunnel, the black lump of the shattered APC a hulking shambles amid the crackling flames.

“J.B. was right,” she said grimly. “A little plas-ex in the blaster barrel and they blow themselves to hell.”

Another explosion shook the tunnel, and the entire passageway shuddered, a low creaking moan sounding from the walls. Tiles rained off the ceiling, and chunks of concrete were starting to come loose.

“Seems to have worked too well,” Ryan commented, taking her arm and starting to back away. “Fireblast! If the containment sleeve cracks, the river will flood in and we’re dead, too.”

The pair sprinted down the tunnel, trying not to imagine the millions of tons of polluted water pressing against the weakened tunnel walls and struggling to get in.

IN THE PREDARK RUINS, a pickup truck rattled to a noisy halt in the parking lot of the library, and five sec men disembarked. The alcohol lanterns hanging from the grille of the wag showed the ground was churned with explosions, spent brass everywhere. A line of smoldering trucks edged the parking lot, and two corpses lay sprawled on the sandy asphalt, an old white-haired man, and a short guy without a shirt. Neither man was armed.

“Well, well,” Benson said, stepping from the pickup. “Look what we have here. Charles, Hawk, recce the area, see if there are any more folks about. Fred, check the trucks.”

It took only a few minutes to check the perimeter of the parking lot before the men returned, giving the all-clear signal.

“Great! Let’s check for loot, boys.” Benson beamed happily.

“But what about the muties?” a nervous private asked. “Shouldn’t we be inside?”

“Not going back to the ville before we find Harold,” the sergeant admonished. “Besides, between the searchlights and our lanterns, no mutie is coming anywhere near this spot.”