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to remember there couldn't possibly be any power flowing through the rail. But
trained responses were hard to break. In her time, even this brief a contact
would have been utterly lethal, the dreaded third rail carrying more hard
current than a federal penitentiary's electric chair.
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D4
"Got to find the redoubt," Dean said, starting to light the pressurized
camping lantern.
Ryan stopped the boy. "No lights," he ordered, withdrawing into the darkness.
Heart still pounding, Mildred rose stiffly and shuffled into the stygian
darkness beyond the shaft of sunlight pouring down the stairwell.
Then bright lights filled the ramp, and a Hummer bumped its way through the
twisted ruin of the grating and rolled slowly down the sloped ramp. Then it
surged with speed to ram through the turnstile and screech to a halt at the
edge of the platform.
"Over there!" a voice cried out, and the .50 cal started chattering, the big
slugs ricocheting everywhere in the confines of the tunnel.
Moving fast, the companions took cover in the darkness of the subway tunnel,
splashing through the ankle-deep water and kicking the rats out of the way.
The parallel beams of its headlights washing along the tunnel, the military
wag rolled to the edge of the platform, and Mitchum set the brakes but kept
the engine running.
"Think we can make that?" he asked aloud.
The corporal at the .50 cal scowled. He really wasn't sure about anything
after seeing the obliterated Hummer lying in pieces in that blast crater
upstairs. Damn outlanders were trickier than an old baron, and meaner than a
two-headed snake, "Don't know, sir," the corporal replied honestly. "Might
bust an axle. But we could winch a wag down."
"And give them a wag to escape in?" the colonel muttered. "Fuck that. We'll
stay here."
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Suddenly, lights flashed from the ramp and the second Hummer rolled to the
platform and parked along the first. But not so close that if one exploded,
the other would also be destroyed. The sec men had learned the hard way to be
wary of the one-eyed outlander and his crew of coldhearts.
"Orders, sir?" the driver of the second Hummer asked softly.
The private standing at the .50 cal nosily worked the bolt on the massive
rapidfire as a preparation to fire.
"Stay where you are and shoot anything that moves," Mitchum commanded,
removing the predark revolver from his shoulder holster and stepping from
behind the windshield. The sec man stood there for a while listening to the
sounds of the underground passageway before speaking. As long as he stayed
behind the headlights, the beams should blind anybody out there to his exact
presence.
"Ryan! I know you're there!" Mitchum shouted, the words echoing into the
darkness. "Surrender, and I'll make your death quick and painless! That's a
promise!"
There was no reply.
"Fight me, and it'll take you weeks to die!" the colonel shouted, losing his
patience. "And your bitch will be the first to get aced!"
There was a distant cough as if somebody were clearing their throat to speak,
then a mm round ricocheted off the fender of the armored wag, missing the
sec chief
9
by less than a prayer.
"Chill the fucker!" Mitchum roared, fanning the tunnel with his handcannon.
The twin black-powder machine guns chattered to life, filling the tunnel with
a hellstorm of hot lead.
Keeping close to the tile wall, Ryan placed the shots of his SIG-Sauer, then
switched to the Steyr and better accuracy. Most of the companions were
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ensconced in similar locations, blasters banging away as they tried for the
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headlights. The triple-stupe sec men couldn't hit what they couldn't see, but
the moment Mitchum thought of using the high beams this battle would turn
against them. Privately, Ryan had hoped Mitchum would be stupe enough to try
to lower a wag to the tracks. Then they would take it out with their last few
grens and the fight would be equal. But the man was too smart, or too cowardly
to risk a direct assault.
Sliding in a fresh clip, the Deathlands warrior heard something deeper in the
tunnel, then ignored it as the sound got fainter in the distance. Krysty and
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