hunch that she'd be kept upstairs, just the same. I could always visit the King's dungeons in the basement, if my search came up empty. The guard at the gate had hinted that the lab was not far from the underground garage. I couldn't remember anything resembling a garage attached to the main building, and I suddenly thought of the moat. The King would have planned for that. I raced down the hall.
As I passed the front door, an angry hail of gunfire struck it. There were explosions and rocket sounds- something hit the wall that shook the floor under me. Violence was eating its way through. I gritted my teeth and ran. There were four doors that stood closed on my right. I expected one to fly open and vomit gun-toting King's men-nothing. At the end of the hall, a set of stairs ran up, and a set led down. I ran up; doors like those opening onto the King's room awaited. Instead of knights, there were skeletal ladies-in-waiting carved into its panels. They held black lacquered roses. Too easy. I pushed the doors open. Another long hallway. A man stepped out of hiding at the end of it. He carried a long auto-shotgun. He wore a long rubber trench coat, bulletproof vest and Enforcer helmet. The gun blazed in his hands. The door to my left exploded. Stone archways opened every ten feet on both sides of me. I dove into the closest arch on my right. The door inside it was locked. The auto-shotgun roared again, three times. The oak paneling opposite me was blown to pieces. I was showered with splinters. That made four shots. I looked up. A light over the door illuminated the sad dead bridesmaids. I shot it out. The guard's gun roared twice. The wall came away over my head. Shadow fell with plaster and lath, and with it came enough calm to think.
The guard was wearing a protective Kevlar and plastic mask. Masks had eyeholes. I was a good shot, but only good. Hitting an eyehole at twenty feet would require an excellent aim. I had five bullets left, so I would have to be accurate. Just my luck, both guns were unfamiliar. Further along the hallway were two more lights designed to resemble flickering oil lamps. I used Willieboy's gun. Two shots later and darkness held half the hall-I tossed the empty gun toward the guard. The auto-shotgun roared three times. The big slugs tore into the wall closer to the guard so I felt a little satisfaction with my plan. His aim was off or he suspected that I was on the move toward him. I pulled out the King's gun. I had three shots and none of them clear. The guard was about forty feet from me, and I had to shoot through an overgrown plastic begonia. I aimed, and fired.
The first bullet must have gone in the right eye slit, because the second scored a sparking groove over the brow of the nose and ricocheted. The guard fell heavily, and hard. I ran up the hall, gun pointed at the fallen man. He was a tall one. His body covered a lot of floor space. I stepped over him. The door he had protected was locked. I knelt. There was a key on a chain at his belt. I pulled it. It was attached by a foot long piece of cable that I wasn't going to be able to chew through. His belt would have to come off. I grabbed the buckle with my free hand and a heavy fist smashed into my left ear. I said something like, 'OOOF!' My gun fired with a spastic squeeze of a finger. I whipped up both arms to block his. The iron mask looked at me. I could see one eye peering out. My shot had been good. I just happened to have a shot a dead man. Black syrupy liquid drooled out of the ruined eye slit. As his heavy cabled muscles came into play, I began to curse my recklessness. Of course, the King of the Dead employs dead men. Willieboy had already told me that. And so far this was the biggest and strongest dead man I had ever seen. He slipped two hard hands around my neck, and stood straight up with me. I started punching and kicking automatically. I grabbed his baby fingers and heard them crack as I turned them back and twisted. I couldn't sneak my grip under the others. They were as hard and unyielding as steel.
Acting on impulse, I grabbed his elbows, pulled him closer. I could hear him grunt against the strain. I straightened my index finger and jammed it into his left eye. I'm sure I tore the nail off doing it, but it fit. The guard screamed in terror aware that I was about to blind him. He dropped me and clutched at his face. He pulled at his mask. The auto-shotgun had fallen behind him. I had noticed a pair of swords hanging on the wall over my right shoulder. They crossed behind a shield bearing a coat of arms. I leapt up, and ripped one from its scabbard, then brought it swinging around at the guard's neck. Hands and head flew into the air in a fine black spray. The body lost its balance, then spent a few horrible moments trying to stay upright stabbing the wall with its drooling stumps. It dropped drunkenly. The head had rolled down the hall and under the table that held the begonias. I picked up the auto-shotgun, pointed it at the door's lock mechanism, and fired-the wood splintered. The door was of heavy oak. Two more shots and the lock fell away. I kicked it open, sword in one hand and auto-shotgun in the other.
The lab was dimly lit, but it appeared exactly as it had in the monitor. Across from me, I saw a silhouette move. I ran over hard tiles, head whipping back and forth-casting around for enemies. My hair was on end. I was painted black with blood. Red swam before my eyes. I realized I was growling. I could still hear gunfire and explosions outside the building. The guards were giving a hell of a fight. But most of them were already dead, had been hired for that reason. That would explain the duration of the battle. I was at the cage. Julie Hawksbridge looked as pretty as her picture. She appeared to be well fed and clean, though her eyes had a hollow shadow of horror under them. I smiled. She looked terrified. I understood why. She had heard gunfire outside her prison, then closer at hand, and then to have the door burst open and a blood-soaked clown run in. I must have been a pretty sight. I broke the ice, before she went mad.
'I'm Wildclown, a detective. Your brother hired me to find you!' My voice had a jagged edge to it.
'Hurry!' was all she said. I noticed that her voice had managed to retain a tone of innocence despite her treatment.
'Stand back,' I ordered, motioning her out of the line of fire with my hand. The lock shattered after four shots. I pulled the door open. 'Hurry.' She ran out of the cage. Her lithe figure was covered in gray pajamas and slippers. Her face held a determined look.
'This way,' I hissed, then turned to lead her out of the lab. She screamed when the guard's body stumbled in front of us. It pawed the air with its leaking stumps. I half-backed him out of the way, and continued along the hall. We got to the top of the stairs. The front doors were under assault, the noise was terrible. They shuddered. Harsh black smoke burst through growing cracks. Sparks leapt from the heavy ironwork. Terrific explosions shook the building. I led Hawksbridge down the first set of stairs and then the second. I shouldered the door open. A damp, low hall awaited. A single light lit its dark length. At the end of this, another set of stairs. The deeper we went, the harsher the concussions from the war outside. I ran ahead of the Hawksbridge girl stabbing the darkness. The shadows were deep.
At the end of the stair another door. Two roars of the auto-shotgun later and we entered a garage. A cylindrical Authority Transport about thirty feet long glowed in dim red light. My boot slipped on grease, I slashed the concrete, and was up again.
'Hurry!' I peered into the darkness, but was still flash-blinded by the action of the auto-shotgun. Long shadows stretched through lurid emergency light. I ran up to the transport. Authority transport vehicles are built strong from front to back. The thick bodies are cast from solid steel. A single loading door opened in the rear. I led Hawksbridge to the back of the transport, and found it unlocked. I twisted the recessed handle, and the door levered open as a ramp. I ran up, wiping more grease from my hand. Inside, there was a low orange light. A muted warning horn insinuated caution. In the back of the transport was an open steel sarcophagus containing a liquid. Strange oily reflections rippled over its surface. Then I gagged on the smell. Formaldehyde-of course, the King's getaway vehicle. There was still room in back for his guards. I motioned Julie to follow me, then activated the internal lock that raised the ramp and shut us off airtight. When the door boomed shut, I heard the faraway purr of an air exchanger. The formaldehyde fumes began to disperse.
I ran past the sarcophagus and around a steel bulkhead to the driver's seat. I motioned to the passenger chair, and leapt behind the wheel. Gas, clutch, shift, and an awkward joystick to steer by. I grumbled, looked around. The keys were in the ignition. I started the engine. It kicked over with a powerful roar. Then, I activated the window. A heavy steel plate slid away from a thick shatterproof glass strip that ran around the front of the vehicle. In front of us was a long dim ramp leading upward at about 25 degrees. A light flashed on the console. 'Warning: Doors Closed. Activate Over-ride.' I glanced around the console, but could see no over-ride switch.
I turned to Hawksbridge. She had taken the passenger seat. 'Don't worry, we're almost there.'
'Where are you taking me?' Her blue eyes were round with fright.
'To safety, I hope…' I tried to sound confident, but wasn't sure we'd live to see the next five minutes. I stepped on the gas, the engine bellowed, and with rapid acceleration we flew up the dark ramp. Two strong screeches warned me when we tagged the wall. I noticed the ramp was capped with a flat panel of steel. It flew toward the windshield. 'Hang on!' I yelled more to myself than to anybody.
An explosive crunch of metal and we were through. The doors were hidden flush with the ground about twenty feet past the moat. Our speed tore them out of the way, and then we were airborne. There was a sickening moment when I thought the transport was going to fall back on itself, then impetus took over and landed us
