“Mebbe we could all lift in unison like before,” Ryan suggested, eying the impossible stairwell.
“One more jostle and he could die,” Mildred stated. “We had to do it the first time, but never again. He’s not going anywhere. Not down the hall, not across the hall. Nowhere.” She pointed. “That’s why a jacket is under his leg to keep it from shifting position.”
Sitting upright, Ryan chewed over this unwelcome information. “For how long?”
“Couple of days at least. Maybe a week. I can’t tell until he stabilizes and I can chance trying some tests.”
J.B. whistled. “Trapped here for a week. Possibly with more of those winged things roaming the streets. Not to mention the wolves and the sec men from the ville.”
“They might be able to help, but probably not,” Krysty said, her hair coiled protectively against her nape. “Always best to plan for the worst. It comes true more often than not.”
“So we dig in for the duration. Should be safe enough once we seal this building,” Ryan observed, running stiff fingers through his black hair. “Okay, we definitely have got to do something about the skylight. Mebbe we could replace the glass so it isn’t obvious where the accident happened.”
“This will never be a hardsite,” J.B. stated. “Front door is a joke, and there must be a hundred windows to this place. It’s a frigging glass box.”
“We can nail boards across the inside of the office windows and jam the hallway doors shut. That’ll give any attacker two things to get through,” Ryan suggested. He had felt helpless watching the doctor work, but this was a combat matter now, and he was back in control. “However, this bastard central air shaft is begging for attack.”
“Mebbe we could lace barbed wire across the railings,” Krysty suggested. “That would give us a good three levels of protection. Nothing is going to fly through that. Probably find some in the local hardware store. Nails, too.”
“Sounds good. But first we recce the whole building to make sure that we are alone here,” Ryan declared, a hand on his blaster. “Then we go get the big conference table from the first floor. Set it over Dean to hide him from sight and protect from any more falling glass.”
“That will do for a start,” Mildred said. “And then dump furniture into the elevator shaft till it’s jammed solid. That’s an express route down here.”
And to Dean. A chilling thought. “Which leaves the stairs as the only way in or out. What the hell. We can’t retreat anyway.”
A crash made everybody draw weapons as the door to the stairwell burst open and running figures emerged. Postures relaxed only when the companions recognized Jak and Doc. However, the two men bore serious expressions.
“Gone,” Jak said bluntly. “Med kit gone!”
“Along with the Hummer!” Doc added, radiating ill-controlled anger. “The M-60 and a lot of rifles off the wall.”
“We’ve been jacked?” J.B. cried in disbelief.
“Indeed, sir. Curse the Visigoths!”
“Shitfire, we were only here a few minutes!”
Mildred checked her wrist chron. “Well over an hour.”
“More than long enough,” Krysty said, her red hair a wild, fiery corona.
Then Doc added, “But the rockets are still in the pawnshop. They took the useless predark blasters and left the LAWs. That I do not understand.”
“Illiterate,” J.B. stated. “Couldn’t read boxes.”
“Any tracks?”
“Impossible to see in the night,” Doc reported, resting on his cane. “Even if the moon were full, the sky is solid with clouds.”
“Storm coming,” Jak agreed knowingly. “Big one.”
Irritably, J.B. pushed back his fedora. “Swell. That’ll erase any tire tracks we could trace.”
“Then we find the bastard tonight,” Ryan stated gruffly. Retrieving the Steyr, he checked the clip. Taking out the half-full clip, the man slammed a new clip into the loading recess and worked the bolt, chambering a round. “Doc, stay here with Mildred and Dean.”
The physician stood, clicking back the hammer on her revolver. “If I have to operate, we’ll need that kit badly. However, this could be a trap to lure us outside.”
“Sure as hell hope so,” Ryan stated, starting for the stairs. “That would mean they’re still nearby.”