The explosion from the snub-nosed blaster was deafening in the enclosed space, and the impact at such close range blew Dee backward into the mouth of the smaller passageway, where his already dead body cannoned into his brother.
“No!” It was an anguished yell from Ant as he saw what had happened. Without pause he pushed past the inert form and out into the larger passage.
Jenna, leaving Harvey to deal with things, had already brushed past him and was heading in the opposite direction without a backward glance. Harvey, stunned, looked after her. Things had happened just that bit too fast for him to react. He was still looking as Ant emerged.
Stupidly, Harvey turned his head back in time to see the twin bear down on him, spattered with the blood of his brother. His shotgun was raised. Harvey’s own blaster was at a lowered angle, and in the fraction of a second it took him to bring it up, the dreadlocked sec man was on him, his shotgun rammed up against Harvey’s throat.
“You chilled my brother, you fuck. Now it’s your turn,” he yelled as he squeezed the Smith & Wesson shotgun’s trigger, the blast shaking him as the recoil and impact was contained between his own body and that of the sec chief.
The blast was enough to actually sever Harvey’s head from his body, the bone and flesh of his throat and neck disintegrating under the charge. His nervous system spasmed in shock as it lost contact with his brain, and his finger squeezed again. The Colt Magnum Carry avenged his chilling by discharging into Ant’s stomach before he had a chance to move away from the sec chief.
His scream of agony was high-pitched and despairing as he lost his own life in avenging the loss of his twin’s.
Ryan emerged, taking in the carnage in one swift glance, also noting the retreating Jenna. He turned to follow, but was stayed by Krysty’s hand on his arm.
“Leave her to me, lover,” she said rapidly. “I can deal with her tricks. You get the nuke.”
Ryan agreed, but even as he did, the titian-haired beauty was already speeding off in pursuit of Jenna, her blaster poised as she ran, already making up ground.
One thing was for sure—there was no one else now between them and the nuke. He looked back to where Doc, Mildred and J.B. were approaching.
“Hurry, people,” he called. “We’ve got a clear run, but who knows how much time.”
DEAN, JAK AND BLAKE had assumed their initial positions of cover, returning fire from the barricade and moving forward by degrees as the covering fire from behind drove the opposition down.
“How many they got?” Dean shouted to Blake.
“No more than a dozen blasters, most of ’em probably low on ammo now,” Blake replied.
“Draw now,” Jak called to Dean on hearing that.
The younger Cawdor knew exactly what the albino meant. He left cover and headed for an overturned barrow, deliberately slowing for a fraction of a second to show himself more clearly before executing a dive into cover. That fraction of a second drew three tempted marksmen into the open, showing themselves above the barricade.
Jak had been waiting for it. As the three men rose, so, too, did the albino with three leaf-bladed knives in his hand. In one fluid motion, the knives left his hand, flying with uncanny accuracy to their targets.
“Only nine now,” he called as he took cover again.
On the other side of the opposition barricade, ville dwellers started to melt away into the units as much as possible, leaving only the sec men standing, firing back, hopelessly outnumbered and certain to be chilled.
The nine men exchanged glances. There was only one option.
Shouting to spur themselves on and try to work up a frenzy, the suicidal sec men mounted their barricade, firing at random.
The volley of blasterfire that tore into them ended the conflict in a matter of seconds. All caliber of shot tore into them, cutting them down before they were even over the barricades.
“Stop!” Blake yelled. The noise was so great he had to repeat himself several times before the noise ceased, and the suddenly silent air was filled with the spent smell of burned cordite.