The Wabash Cannonball – Part One
“Come down, brother mine! O come down, do!” Frank gestured expansively with one long arm at the rock where Hitch and Joe were hiding.
“I think we must,” said Joe. “I have a better chance of talking sense to him face-to-face.”
“Can you walk?” Hitch asked, offering him a hand as Joe struggled to rise. “And what about the sniper, eh?”
“I’m not bleeding any more,” Joe said. “But I’m not fully functional. And the sniper hasn’t hit anyone else, so I think we can discount that threat at least for now.”
“Brother, come down!” Frank roared.
Joe shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “Besides, Hitch, what better choice do we have?” Together they started back to the corral.
Up and off to one side, Spider watched from behind his own rock. He cradled the railgun to keep it away from the dust, but he had already serviced and reloaded the weapon and didn’t take his eyes off the circus below. He had Buran clearly in view to his right, the monster nearer but half-turned away and the wounded one and his friend off to the left across the railroad tracks. The problem was that the railgun was slow to recharge and reload so he’d only have time for one shot, and Buran wasn’t signaling him which target he should hit. If he waited, the monster would see the terrible bloody wound his hypersonic dart had made and realize he was up here. If he waited, surprise would be lost…
Buran motioned with one hand, passing it off as if wiping sweat from his brow. The monster it would be, then, and they would find out what the gleaming steel bolt would do to that blocky head. Find out just how big the wound would be and how far the blood and brains would fly. Spider grinned; unlike his nerdy team members he liked real weapons better than any first-person-shooter.
He stood and brought the massive barrel down in one smooth motion. One of the zombies pointed, wordlessly, and the monster began to turn but it was too late because he let the breath out and his finger caressed the firing stud and…
He had a half-second to jerk his head as a foot crunched softly in the sandy gravel behind him, a microsecond to regret that his twitch had sent the shot awry, and no time at all to dodge before the same foot flicked up and turned his lights out.
Kevin had sent them in, heart heavy but obedient to his mother’s firm command. Now they stood back from the corral, behind the co-ordinates that should mark the last of Buran’s men and across the road from Hitch and Joe’s last position.
John Lee leaned over and kissed his wife softly on the cheek. “I love it when you look like that,” he said. “Mrs Peel, we’re needed!” They both laughed. Sue tipped his bowler hat with one finger and kissed him back. John twirled his umbrella, pointed into the scramble of rocks and raised an eyebrow. Sue smoothed her leather jumpsuit nervously, then nodded, meaning ‘You go this way and I will go that.”
Minutes later, John scrambled around a boulder and found Sue standing over the prone form of one of Buran’s men, a bazooka-like weapon propped against a rock. John made to peep over the ridge of rock, but Sue stopped him with a touch and pulled his head down. Thinking she wanted to say something, John inclined his ear but Sue merely smiled and lifted off the bowler hat. Together then they raised up just enough to look at the scene below.
It was a madhouse; the tracks, the train, the milling translucent men carrying picks and shovels… The pilots were assaulting any zombies who wandered near, Joe and Buran were rolling in the dirt and Frank was nowhere to be seen.
“I think we’d better go see what we can do to assist,” John said. Sue raised one eyebrow and pointed to the fallen man, then the gun. John’s face set hard as he said, “You smash that little toy – pull the wires or something. I’ll take care of this one.” He whipped the umbrella through the air, sword emerging from the hilt. Sue turned from the gun, reaching out to stop him, but he handed her the sword instead and efficiently removed the man’s boots before rolling him on his back. “You have to remember this isn’t real,” John said, retrieving the sword. The blade flashed down once – twice – severing the Achilles tendon in each ankle.
Sue gasped softly, but said nothing. Instead she turned back to the gun, pulling circuit components and cracking the boards over her knee.
Together they headed around the rock and down to the melee below.
I HATE losing files...I am VERY COMPULSIVE about backing stuff up...
