Incoming lead peppered the machine, and the laser started to pulse once more when the crystal lens was shattered by a 7.62 mm tumbler. As the energy weapon winked out, the companions charged to finish the job at close range. Bullets tearing it apart, the damaged machine tried to run, to dodge, then climbed into the complex rigging of the DNA sculpture for protection. But once the droid was clear of the bikes, Ryan hosed the artwork with a chem storm of flames.
Dripping fire, circuits sparking, the droids still tried to escape, but as its onboard systems overheated and shut off, the machine fell from the sculpture and landed on the parked bikes. The crash sounded louder than doomsday, pieces of fender and windshields flying into the air.
“Good thing the machines are old and slow,” Krysty said, reloading her revolver as she looked around the plaza. “We wouldn’t stand a mutie’s chance in a rad pit against a fully functional droid.”
“Mebbe.” Shuffling among the wreckage, J.B. lifted a fuel-drenched seat from the jumble of steel and rubber only to toss it away. “Son of a bitch did this deliberately,” he growled.
Exchanging clips, Mildred agreed. “It’s probably in its programming to destroy the transport of the enemy as a last action.”
“Two still okay,” Jak said, righting a Harley. He pressed the ignition and the engine purred to life.
“This one is okay, too,” Mildred added, starting her bike. The rpm were low, and the engine had a slight ping now, but it still operated.
“Okay, scav what you can, pile it on the two,” Ryan directed, black smoke from the burning sculpture rising high into the stormy sky. “The rest of us walk from here.”
“Only a couple of blocks,” Krysty said. “But we better stay sharp.”
“Razor,” Jak agreed, climbing onto the motorcycle.
After gathering what intact supplies they could and retrieving their backpacks, the companions started down the ancient boulevard, watching the alleyways and rooftops.
Suddenly, Krysty turned and fired, a small lizard sitting on a garbage can blew apart, the bloody gobbets smacking against a stone wall. A block later, Dean triggered the Weatherby, the corner window on a second floor shattering on both sides from the arrival of the big grain .460-caliber round. From somewhere inside the building came the chest-thumping roar of a gorilla.
“Hot pipe, missed him,” the boy stated, fumbling in his pockets for more ammo.
But the search became more intense, and soon the boy realized he had lost count and was out of rounds for the longblaster. Scowling, he draped the weapon over a shoulder and pulled out his Browning Hi-Power, racking the slide to chamber a cartridge.
Cradling the softly hissing flamethrower, Ryan made no comment as they approached the subway station, his every sense strained to the limit. Obviously a converted train station, the white brick building stood two stories tall, with an impressive face for the tourists. A row of slit windows skirted along the overhang of the red tile roof.
“That would make a good fort,” J.B. observed, adjusting his glasses. Then the man stopped dead in his tracks to start firing the Uzi in controlled bursts.
“Twelve o’clock high!” he shouted over the stuttering roar of the deadly rapidfire.
Heads swiveled, and there was the mutie spider crawling over the building. The beast paused on the top of the roof to spread its mandibles wide and hiss loudly.
“Run for the door!” Ryan ordered as he triggered a long arching spray into the sky, aiming a lot higher than the oncoming mutie.
As the companions raced for the entrance to the station, the stream of burning fuel shot across the plaza and descended in a fiery rain upon the creature, its stubbly hair instantly igniting. Keening in pain, the creature danced madly about, snapping at the fire on its back.
Charging after the others, Ryan rejoined his friends at the entrance to the station, J.B. already busy at the lock. Jak and Mildred had parked the bikes nose to nose and were stripping off the saddlebags; Dean and Krysty were taking everything they could with them, while Doc stood guard.
Putting his spine to the wall, Ryan started sweeping the flamethrower back and forth, establishing a growing half circle of flames on the plaza before them. Before he was done, the spider arrived and tried to cross the field of flames, but the heat forced it temporarily back. The mutie keened again and tried another section only to be repulsed once more.