Страница 31 из 42
"… says grenade! John says use a grenade!" "Not yet!" Leon screamed back. "Get clear!" Thwap-wap, two more globs flew across the chasm, one hitting Cole's boot, the other only inches from
John's sweating face. Put on the power, John. With a final, deeply felt grunt, John grabbed the wood at the very top and pulled himself up, pulled and then was pushing down, bringing his knee up to climb out.
"I'm good, go!"
Cole the mad turtle needed no further incentive. He took off ru
– and they were diving and rolling, the blasts almost simultaneous, KA-WHAM-WHAM, the sound of powdered rock raining down, an incredibly high– pitched squealing coming from somewhere.
"You got 'em! You got 'em!"
Cole was standing in front of them, a look of unabashed glee and not a little awe on his narrow face. John sat up, Leon next to him, both turning back to see. They hadn't killed all of them. Two of the four still on the other side of the chasm were mostly intact, alive, but blind and broken, their legs splintered, black fluid obscuring whatever was left of their faces as they squealed in fury, the sound like a guinea pig being stepped on. The other two must have been directly in front of the blast; they were just bleeding, shattered bags, bones sticking up from the liquid piles like – like broken bones. From the manmade gorge there were more of the screaming squeals, and noth– ing leapt out to attack. For all intents and purposes, it was over. John crawled to his feet, studying the back of his hand. Contrary to how it felt, the skin hadn't melted off. There were a few small blisters forming and the flesh looked scorched, but he wasn't bleeding. "You okay?" Leon asked, standing and brushing at his clothes, his youthful features looking a lot less youthful to John.
I'm not calling him a rookie anymore.John shrugged. "Think I broke a nail, but I'll live."He saw that Cole was still beaming at them, his
body shaking with the adrenaline aftermath; he seemed at a loss for words, and John had a sudden clear memory of how he'd felt after his first battle, the first in which he'd acted bravely. How helplessly elated he'd been. How incredibly alive. "Henry, you're a fu
"No, no, no, you stupid shits, you're dead!"
His voice was a little slurred, but he was too shocked to give it much notice, too upset. They wouldn't survive the Hunters, he knew that -
– but they weren't going to survive the Ca6s, either.
Reston couldn't believe that they'd made it this far; he couldn't believe that of the twenty-four specimens they'd encountered, all but one Dac had been left either dead or dying. Most of all, he couldn't believe that he'd let it continue, that his pride and ambition had kept him from doing what he should have done in the first place. It wasn't that he was out of his league, he was in the i
Nothing; then he suddenly realized that the quality of light in the room had changed, brightening. He turned in his chair, hoping desperately that it wasn't what it seemed to be…… and the row of monitors that showed the surface were all spitting snow. All seven, off-line – and only seconds later, before Reston could even digest what had happened, all seven went black. "Hello?" He whispered into the dead phone, his whiskey breath hot and bitter against the mouthpiece. Silence. He was alone.
Andrew "Killer" Berman was goddamn cold, cold and bored and wondering why the Sarge had even bothered putting anyone on the van. The bad guys weren't coming back, they were long gone – and even if they did decide to come back, they sure as hell weren't going to try to get to their vehicle. It'd be suicide.
Either they had a backup car or they're frozen solid out on the plain somewheres. This is total bullshit.
Andy pulled his scarf up around his ears, then readjusted his grip on the M41. Fifteen pounds of rifle didn't sound like much, but he'd been standing for a long goddamn time. If the Sarge didn't get back soon, he was going to get into the van for a while, rest his feet, get out of the cold; they weren't paying him enough to freeze his balls off in the dark. He leaned against the back bumper and wondered again if Rick was okay; he didn't really know the other guys who'd been cut up by the frag, but Rick Sha
Those assholes come back here, I'll show 'em bloody…
Andy sneered a grin, thinking that they didn't call him Killer for nothing. He was an excellent goddamnshot, best on his team, the result of a lifetime of deer hunting. And also cold, bored, tired, and irritable. Dumbass duty. If the trio of dickheads showed up, he'd eat his own hat. He was still thinking that when he heard the soft, pleading voice come out of the dark. "Help me, please – don't shoot, please help me, I've been shot…" A breathy, feminine voice. A sexy voice, and Andygrabbed his flashlight and turned it out into the black,
finding the voice's owner not thirty feet away. A girl, dressed in tight black, stumbling toward him. She was unarmed and injured, favoring one leg, her pale face open and vulnerable beneath the bright light. "Hey, hold it," Andy said, although not too harshly. She was young, he was only twenty-three but she looked even younger, just legal maybe. And a nicely stacked legal, at that. Andy lowered the machine gun slightly, thinking how nice it would be to help out a lady in distress. She might be with the three criminals, probably was, but she obviously wasn't a threat to him; he could just hold on to her until the helicopter came back. And maybe she'd be grateful for the help…… and hey, playing the hero's a good way to earn points, big time. Nice guys might finish last, but they certainly get laid an awful lot along the way.