them.
“Fire, you asshole, fire!” Slocock bellowed. “Before they start using their heavy stuff on us!”
Slocock was now directing the stream of fire from the high-speed minigun at the other men. Two of them immediately fell but bullets were still hitting the track at an alarming rate. They made a sound like a rain of large hailstones.
Wilson had his thumb on the red firing button but couldn’t bring himself to press it. Then he heard the minigun stop.
“Christ, I’m out of ammo! Shoot, damn you, Wilson!”
But he still couldn’t press the button.
The next thing Wilson knew he’d been shoved roughly aside as Slocock leaned over Kimberley and snatched the gun control away from him.
Then the big machine gun opened up.
In the distance Wilson saw the bodies of several of the mold-covered men jerk and twist as the bullets slammed into them. The others started to retreat back toward the row of trees.
Slocock kept firing, spraying bullets back and forth along the fleeing line of men. More of them fell. Soon none of them were on their feet. Several lay writhing with agony on the ground, while a few were trying to drag themselves toward the cover of the trees.
Slocock kept firing.
Wilson turned to tell him to stop but saw the expression on his face and said nothing.
Even when all the bodies were motionless Slocock kept shooting. He didn’t stop until the gun ran out of ammunition.
Wilson knew now why Slocock had volunteered for the mission.
13
“You stupid bastard! You almost got us all killed! The next time I tell you to shoot, you shoot, understand!” Slocock was shaking with anger and looked as if he could easily add Wilson to the pile of bodies in front of the truck.
Wilson was trembling himself, though whether from fear, shock, or simple disgust he didn’t know. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “But I’m not used to machine-gunning people down. I haven’t had your practice at it.”
Slocock’s eyes narrowed. There was a pause and then he said, in a quieter voice, “Well, matey, you’d better learn pretty quick-smartish if you want to stay alive.”
Wilson glanced at Kimberley for support but she was staring straight ahead, her expression dazed.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She nodded, then turned to Slocock. “Why do you think they attacked us?”
“Guess they wanted the vehicle. Or maybe the food supplies we’re carrying. But whatever they wanted, it stopped them from using their anti-tank gear, until it was too late.” He shot Wilson another accusing look.
Wilson turned his attention to the windshield. He pointed to one of the starry smears. “You think that’s cracked all the way through?”
“Nah. Just the outer layer by the look of it. We were lucky.” He twisted round and began to unseal the hatch. “I’m going to suit up and go reload the ammunition boxes. I’ll do a damage check as well while I’m out there.”
When Slocock had shut the hatch behind him Wilson said to Kimberley, “What are we going to do about him?”
She didn’t answer for a time. Then she said, “He’s right, you know. You did almost get us killed.”
He looked at her in amazement. “Are you serious? You’re taking his side on this? Kimberley, the man is a psychopath! I told you what Buxton said about him and this proves it.”
“Whatever he is, he saved our lives just then. He’s our only chance of making it to London. We need him.”
“You’re condoning mass murder?”
“It was self-defense. Besides, too much is at stake for us to be overly sensitive about the lives of a few people who were doomed anyway.”
“That’s a fine way for a doctor to talk.”
She sighed. “Don’t be naive. We’re doing this for the greater good, remember?”
He was about to continue arguing when a red light began to flash on the radio. Wilson pressed the “receive” switch and heard Slocock saying, via his suit radio, “I’m outside now. Just about to climb onto the roof. Keep your eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Give me a yell if you see as much as a leaf fall.”
They both listened to the sounds of Slocock clambering over the roof. Ahead of the truck all was still. Wilson was relieved to see that none of the bodies scattered about showed any sign of life.
Slocock finished reloading the guns, then climbed back down and came around to the front of the vehicle. They watched as the bulky white anti-contamination suit disappeared from view as Slocock bent down to peer under the truck.
Then they heard him say over the radio, “One of you start the engine, will you.”
Wilson was going to crawl past Kimberley but she said, “I’ll do it,” and slid into the driver’s seat. She switched on the ignition. The engine made a wheezing sound but didn’t start. “What’s wrong?” she asked Slocock.
“Dunno,” came his reply over the radio. “We got three bloody holes here. Some bastard was firing armor piercing bullets. And there’s a great puddle of oil under the engine.”
“You mean we’re stuck here?” asked Wilson, alarmed.
“Don’t know until I look at the damage. We’ve got spare parts and tools—might be able to fix it. But this armor cowling is going to be hell to get off.”
“Shit,” said Wilson. The thought of having to walk all the way to London filled him with despair. It would take days. And they’d never be able to do it wearing the anti-contamination suits.
“You any good with cars, Wilson?” asked Slocock. “I’m going to need some help out here.”
“No. I’m useless at anything mechanical. Can’t even change a typewriter ribbon without. “
“I’ll help you,” Kimberley told Slocock. “Where I come from, if you can’t fix your own car when it breaks down, it stays where it is for keeps.”
“Good girl. Put a suit on and get out here pronto. And bring the tool box with you. As for you, Wilson, the guns are loaded again now. If you see anything coming our way you shoot, understand?”
“Yes. I understand,” said Wilson grudgingly.
As Kimberley opened the hatch and prepared to crawl through he said to her, “Be careful out there.”
She grimaced. “Oh, come on, Barry. Save the cliches for your books.”
Deeply stung, he was at a loss for words as she disappeared through the hatch and swung it shut behind her.
He sat there fuming with anger for about an hour while Kimberley donned one of the suits and joined Slocock at the front of the truck. For a time he listened in on their conversation, but he got bored with their talk about past experiences with the internal combustion engine as they struggled to remove the cowling, and he switched off the radio.
It was hot in the cab and getting hotter. There was no air-conditioning, only a vent leading from the rear compartment which could be instantly sealed in an emergency. Wilson decided to leave the hatch open for a while to let what air there was circulate better.
At 11.30 a.m. Slocock and Kimberley returned for something to eat and drink. Wilson joined them in the rear section and helped them out of their suits, which stank of disinfectant.
“How bad is the damage?” he asked.
Slocock collapsed on one of the bunks and wiped the sweat from his face, which was glowing red from the heat and the exertion.
“Pretty bad. We’re leaking oil like a sieve and the fuel pump’s out of commission. Radiator’s also got a hole
