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Paulius sighted in, breathed out and squeezed the trigger. The woman’s head snapped back as her body fell forward — dead before she hit the ground. The man saw this, slowed. Paulius squeezed off another shot. The man spun right, left hand clutching at his shoulder.

The big diesel roared again. Engine 98 drove over the fallen roll-up door and smashed past the bus.

Paulius spun to the right, aimed and fired. The man coming from the east doubled over, fell face-first onto the snowy sidewalk.

Paulius sprinted for the fire truck, which was already turning left onto Chicago Avenue. He hopped up on the rear b.u.mper, then scrambled into the hose-lined bed. He stayed low, picking targets as he went.

So many of them … coming so fast …

He didn’t need to give Bosh instructions. The man had been given one clear objective: get back to the others as fast as possible, don’t stop for anything.

Paulius dropped two more bad guys before Engine 98 turned north on Mies van der Rohe Way. He faced forward. The cab’s roof topped out at his sternum, giving him excellent protection from the front while still providing a full range of fire.

He heard Bosh’s voice in his headset: “Commander, you might want to hold tight. It’s about to get violent.”

Up ahead, Paulius saw a line of cars set up b.u.mper-to-b.u.mper, blocking the street. He ducked down, wedged himself between the back of the cabin and the water cannon’s metal post. On the inside wall of the pa.s.senger-side tool box that ran the length of the bed, he saw a red fire axe held firmly in a bracket. If he ran out of ammo, it might come down to using that.

Bosh floored the gas. Engine 98 responded, picking up speed. The wide, flat, front metal b.u.mper hit first, bas.h.i.+ng a BMW to the left and a Ford truck to the right.

“Ho-leee s.h.i.+t,” Bosh said. “You see that f.u.c.ker fly?”

Paulius rose, looked for targets — there was no shortage, as Converted popped up on either side of the road, in building windows, just about everywhere he looked.

Aim, fire. Aim, fire.

The fire engine clipped the front of a UPS truck, spinning the delivery vehicle in a full three-sixty.

Aim, fire. Aim, fire.

The engine whined as Bosh s.h.i.+fted gears. He tried to weave through the obstacles as well as he could, but there were just too many cars. Engine 98 smashed into an old Buick, tearing the rear end clean off.

Aim, fire.

It was working. They were just a few blocks away from the clothing store.

Paulius thumbed his “talk” b.u.t.ton, hoping the short-range comms would work this far out.

“Klimas to Roth. Klimas to Roth, over?”

Roth’s voice came back almost immediately: “I read you, Commander.”

“Pack ’em up, Roth. Extraction in three minutes!”