Rattling the handle of an ambulance, only to find it locked, Mildred turned at the quote and frowned. “Don’t know that one. Is it Emerson?”
“One of my own efforts, madam,” he answered, staring into the distance. “From when I wrote poetry and thought it a very important thing to do. A million years ago.”
“You’re a poet?” Mildred chuckled.
He offered a wan smile. “In due honesty I must admit my works were very poor things, indeed.”
“Quiet. We’re being watched,” Ryan said, the hairs on the back of his neck stiffening. The man raised the Steyr and gently worked the bolt to chamber a round. This clip was the first of the ammo from the armory of the pirates, and he hadn’t had a chance yet to check the cartridges. He was going to find out real fast if it was any good.
Using the Uzi to tilt back his fedora, J.B. said, “Yeah, I can feel it, too. Just like when we were traveling with the Trader, and the convoy would roll into a pass. There was nothing to see, but we could tell the bastards were there anyway.”
“Gorilla or spider?” Jak asked, reaching for a knife and biting back a curse. Damn pirates took everything. He needed to get more soon. Had to be something in this city he could use or adapt.
Slowly turning, Ryan didn’t answer, his eye staring hard at the alleyways and rooftops. That’s where he could launch an attack from. And he had learned from experience to always consider what the enemy could do, not just what they might do.
With a cry, Dean turned and fired. A rat exploded into gory fur off the hood of a car, the .460 Nitro Express round continuing onward to slam into and punch a hole through a brick wall. The blast of the Weatherby echoed along the concrete canyons of the city, slowly fading into the distance.
“If the locals didn’t before,” Ryan growled, “they damn well know we’re here now. Put away that long-cannon, Dean, and use the Browning.”
“Sure, Dad,” the boy said. He cleared the breech of the heavy rifle, then slid in a third round before slinging it over a shoulder. The .460 rounds of the big-bore longblaster were so huge, the breech could only hold two spare cartridges in the internal mag, plus a third up the pipe. Not a lot, but the thing hit like a bazooka.
Pulling out his Browning semiautomatic blaster, he clicked off the safety and jacked the slide.
“Ready,” Dean announced somberly.
Ryan gave a nod, then continued scanning the multitude of buildings. Five, six, ten stories tall, the buildings stood in lines along the downtown like mountains reaching for the stars.
“First thing we need is to recce this burg,” he said, annoyed. “Be here for years if we have to check every building.”
“That seems to be the tallest,” Krysty said. “We could see the whole island from the top.”
“Not going to find a redoubt from above,” Mildred countered, then added, “but we’re not going to see people walking the streets, either.”
The redhead frowned. That was true. Somewhere in this city there had to be a redoubt, or a gateway. But where could it be located?
“Check gov office,” Jak stated casually. “Or base.”
“And after that?” Doc inquired politely.
Unconcerned, the teenager shrugged.
There was a shattering of glass, and the companions spun to see Doc reaching through a busted car window to withdraw a map. Carefully, he unfolded it on top of the vehicle’s hood, then crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed the wad away.
“Fiji,” he said succinctly.
“Okay, top of the skyscraper it is,” Ryan decided, hoisting his longblaster. “Should be easy to spot the dome of the capitol building or a military base from there.”
“Easy enough to get there,” J.B. agreed, looking at the granite monolith towering above the metropolis. “We just keep making rights and lefts until we’re there.”
“Unless we pass a hardware store,” Ryan said. “Army-Navy, camping outlet, anything like that. We need supplies.”
“How much food does each of us have?” Krysty asked, patting the pockets of her bearskin coat. She had six MRE envelopes and a small can of soup. That was iteverything else had been abandoned in the horse cart.