Part 33 (1/2)

In the midst of the carnage Zandak stood tall, urging his men on.

A wave of aviation fuel gushed across the floor, igniting, sending up a chain reaction of fire and oily black smoke.

”Now!” April yelled.

Breaking from cover, she raced across open ground as Skarda, Flinders, and Rachel swept the hall with covering fire from the cover of the doorway. Turning, she let loose with the AA-12, firing the mini-warheads into the crush of men.

Explosions blew apart stone and flesh.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Zandak spin around, his AK-47 spitting flame in her direction.

Throwing herself to the left, she dove for the floor, her right hand flas.h.i.+ng down and out. One of the Fusion Fulcrums sliced through the air. Its ceramic tip grazed the soft flesh at the base of the Atlantean's neck as he leapt away, but not before a line of 7.62mm rounds from his rifle tracked across her chest, spinning her around just as two more of the slugs tore away the flesh of her left tricep and shoulder. Spurting blood, she staggered, dropping the shotgun. Then another burst of bullets smacked into her, st.i.tching an arcing line across the face of the vest, striking unprotected flesh just under her left armpit.

Skarda cried out. With his finger yanked back on the trigger of his Barrett, he leapt out into the open, the rifle spitting out a deadly arc of fire until the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. Unhit, Zandak staggered backward on the blood-slicked floor, ducking to a crouch. Throwing away his rifle, Skarda stooped to s.n.a.t.c.h up the shotgun as Zandak shoved up from his haunches, his finger locked on the trigger of his Kalashnikov, spraying a stream of bullets. But his aim was off and the slugs burned the air over Skarda's head, one gouging a furrow on the top of his skull and another nicking the hairline above his left ear. Blood welled up instantly, sluicing down the sides of his face.

Wiping away the blood, Skarda whipped up the snout of the AA-12 and pulled the trigger. The warhead streaked toward the Atlantean in a direct line, but the tall man dove to his right, falling out of sight behind broken marble. The warhead exploded against a fallen column behind him.

Grabbing April by the armpits, Skarda ground his heels to find purchase on the blood-slicked floor, dragging her to safety. Bullets smacked against the slabs at his feet, showering him with needle-pointed chips of marble that stung his exposed flesh. At his back, Flinders and Rachel kept up a withering barrage of fire from the doorway.

Inside the shelter of the stairwell, he laid her on her back, dropping down beside her. She was unconscious, her face ashen. His searching eyes inspected the damage. The chest hits, s.h.i.+elded by the vest, had only knocked the wind out of her, but the wounds on her arm and flank were gus.h.i.+ng blood. He could see the exposed muscle on her tricep. With shaking hands he ripped open trauma dressings and applied them to her wounds, then wrapped her in compression bandages.

Flinders hurried to his side. ”Is she okay?”

”She'll be fine. She's a tough one.”

He ignored the look of horror on her face as Rachel joined them, the barrel of her rifle still smoking. ”We're out of ammo.”

Solemnly he nodded. ”We have the pistols and the grenades on our vests,” he said. ”Plus your bag of grenades.” He scuttled forward, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the AA-12, breaking it open. It was out of sh.e.l.ls. ”April has some more in her vest-”

Then he whipped around as boots hammered on the stairwell. Zandak burst into view, his face and jumpsuit splashed with blood, training his AK-47 on all three of them.

Skarda didn't even take time to think. Lunging forward, he heaved the shotgun at the Atlantean with all the force of his arms.

Not breaking stride, Zandak stepped back, swinging his rifle to bat the gun away before it struck him. Skarda leapt at him, throwing his arms wide, wrapping the taller man in a bear hug and knocking him off his feet. The rifle skittered away, clattering down the steps. But the Atlantean was like an eel, using his height and slim build to wriggle loose, smas.h.i.+ng the side of Skarda's skull with a brutal head b.u.t.t, and springing to his feet in one fluid motion.

Blood gushed down the sides of Skarda's face, the flap of flesh covering his bullet wound ripped away. Zandak kicked him in the jaw. Pain shot through Skarda's head like jolts of electricity. Again Zandak lifted his foot to strike, but Skarda rolled toward him, reaching out and grabbing his ankle with both hands.

But instead of trying to step out of the way, Zandak bent over, reaching down and picking Skarda up with both hands, the muscles and tendons popping from his arms like steel cables, his veins bulging. A sound of animal rage escaped his throat as he lifted Skarda up and threw him against to the floor with a meaty smack, his hand snaking down to pull out a pistol.

But then he lurched forward as both Flinders and Rachel leapt on his back. The pistol went flying from his grip. For a moment he staggered, snarling, then he backpedaled, smas.h.i.+ng them against the limestone wall. Crying out, they fell away and the Atlantean leapt at Skarda, his fists hammering.

Bringing up his knee, Skarda drove it into the taller man's groin.

It only served to make him madder.

His fists drove at Skarda, plowing into his head, his stomach. The back of Skarda's head slammed against the hard floor, sending sparks showering in his vision and making his ears ring. Another blow...and another. His face contorted in agony. Through a haze of pain and nausea, he tried to think.

Out of the corner of his vision he saw the shotgun.

But it was out of sh.e.l.ls.

Think...

Zandak's hand had closed around his fallen pistol. But instead of firing, he was using it as a club, striking Skarda again and again, his face distorted by hate and blood l.u.s.t.

Skarda groaned, his vision swimming.

Then an idea...

Forcing his arm to move, he willed his fingers to search for the hump of a grenade in a pocket on his vest. Found it! Ripping open the flap, he pulled the pin, knowing that the tight confinement of the pocket s.p.a.ce would keep the spoon firmly in place.

But Zandak didn't know that.

Parting his b.l.o.o.d.y lips in a grin, he brought his hand up and showed the Atlantean the pin.

”Five...” he counted down. ”Four...”

Fear clenched Zandak's face. With a choked cry he leapt away, his feet pounding for the staircase. He stooped to s.n.a.t.c.h up his fallen rifle, then bounded down the steps.

Rolling to his stomach, Skarda yanked the grenade from its pocket and tossed it over the railing. Seconds later he heard another awful cry and a sharp bang echoed through the hallway, followed by billows of acrid smoke.

Flinders and Rachel ran to his side, helping him up. His legs felt like they were made of rubber. Blood streamed down his face and bolts of pain seared through his nervous system.

”Oh, my G.o.d!” Flinders cried out. ”Oh, my G.o.d! Oh, my G.o.d!”

Reeling, Skarda tried to grin at her, but it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

Then a noise came from the stairway.

Flinders recoiled, letting out an involuntary cry.

Swinging around, he saw Zandak lurching up the steps, his jaw a b.l.o.o.d.y mess where shrapnel had torn away flesh and bone, his left shoulder and arm missing, leaving only a ragged red stump.

In his remaining hand he clenched the AK-47, ready to fire.

Skarda lunged, hitting the floor hard and grabbing the AA-12. His hand snaked into April's vest, yanking out an explosive sh.e.l.l. Ramming it into the breech, he pointed and fired, just as Zandak's head and upper torso loomed high in his vision.

The warhead struck Zandak at the top of his sternum, blowing his head and neck to gory ribbons of flesh. What was left of him dropped out of sight.

April groaned. Her eyes opened.

Skarda scuttled to her side, staring into her ashen face. ”You look like h.e.l.l,” he said with a grin.

”You don't look so good yourself.”

Blood dripped from his wounds. The women knelt down next to him, quickly applying field dressings to the worst of them.

He got to his feet. ”I've got to shut down that computer room.”

Wobbling a bit, he started for the open door. The din of gunfire and explosions was loud in his ears.