spray of fluid into their faces. They bellowed, a subsonic roar that rattled my head, and staggered back, clawing at their eyes.
“Come on!” Losutu snapped, giving me an urgent shove forward. I saw that McMicking had cleared us a path, and with the stretcher rolling ahead of me I broke into a jog. We cleared the little circle—
“Behind you!” McMicking snapped.
I twisted my head around. The rear guard was moving forward, their mutual expression no longer one of anticipation. Snatching another bottle and igniter, I squeezed the fluid out onto the floor of the aisle behind us and tapped the edge with the igniter.
Blue-white flames crackled up, bringing the posse to a sudden stop. I squirted another bottle onto the fire; and as the heat washed across my face Losutu grabbed my arm and we made a mad dash for it. We reached the vestibule and squeezed inside, closing the door behind us. “That won’t hold them for long,” Losutu panted, his voice tight. “All the Modhri has to do is throw a couple of them over the fire to make a bridge.”
“Maybe,” I said. “On the other hand, he
“Are we talking, or are we going?” McMicking growled.
“We’re going,” I said. “Me first.”
He frowned briefly, then nodded. Holding the igniter ready, I pushed through the door and into the second/third-class dining car.
They were waiting for us: a triple semicircle of walkers standing well back from the door, several with towels or napkins hastily wrapped around their heads and low over their eyes to help protect against flambe sprays. All of them gripped weapons of some sort. Behind them, I could see more walkers awaiting their turn. “Hell,” I said.
“What did you expect?” McMicking countered. “This is the last really open area on the train, the last place they can effectively gang up on us.”
“What do we do?” Losutu asked nervously.
The walkers were still standing motionlessly, apparently waiting for us to make the first move. “No way out but through,” I told him. “Cannonball express?”
“Cannonball express,” McMicking agreed.
Taking a deep breath, getting a solid grip on Bayta’s arm, I flicked on the igniter and tapped the edge of the stretcher.
The whole top burst into flame, the blue-white fire quickly taking on a yellow edge as the cards and clothing and other flammables caught fire. Grabbing one of the flambe bottles in each hand, wincing at the heat singeing my face, I charged forward.
The triple semicircle gave way before the blazing cart. But as I guided the stretcher through the center of the line the walkers folded in from both sides, moving in to flank us. Aiming one of my bottles at the center of each side, I squeezed hard, angling the spray so that it caught the edge of the stretcher fire. The fluid ignited in midair, and a shudder ran through the group as suddenly two of their members were engulfed in brilliant blue-white halos.
But that brief shudder was all the breathing space we got. A second later they surged forward again; and this time I knew there would be no stopping them. Behind me I could hear the rhythmic cracking of bone as McMicking worked his nunchaku, but even he couldn’t handle this sheer weight of numbers.
Which left us only one option. “Masks!” I shouted at the others, snatching up another bottle with one hand as I grabbed my oxygen mask with the other. Squeezing the bottle into the face of a lunging Juri, I followed it up with a hard side kick to his midsection and clamped the mask over my face. “Masks?” I called again.
I got three terse acknowledgments. “Bayta—go!” I called, mentally crossing my fingers as a dozen weapons swung into the air around us. From the stretcher rack came a sort of sizzling
The front group of walkers came to an abrupt halt, their chests heaving, a look of bewilderment on their faces. The group behind them, trying to push their way through, suddenly froze as well. I cocked my leg for another kick… and then, as if their strings had been cut, every single one of the walkers collapsed onto the floor.
“My God,” Losutu’s muffled voice murmured. “What—?”
“Saarix-5 in my carrybags,” I told him, breathing hard through my mask, the cold oxygen tingling my nostrils as I gave the car a quick sweep of my eyes. They were dead, all right. “A little gift from the Spiders.”
“Oh, my God,” Losutu said again. “We’ve just—we’ve just—”
“Would you rather
“No, of course not,” Losutu said. “But
“They were already dead,” I cut him off, peering at the door at the far end of the car as I forced the stretcher over a couple of Halkan bodies. So far, the Modhri didn’t seem inclined to send in reinforcements. “Even if he somehow managed to stop the train, the Modhri couldn’t have let any of them live. They’d seen too much before he took them over.”
Losutu’s sigh hissed through his mask. “I suppose,” he said reluctantly as he picked his way squeamishly through the bodies.
“Bug-eyed monsters, remember?” McMicking said. “We have any more of that stuff?”
“Yes,” Bayta said. Her voice, in sharp contrast with Losutu’s, carried an edge of grim satisfaction. She’d hurt the Modhri, and hurt him badly. After having to watch the Spiders die, a little revenge apparently felt pretty good.
“Better save it until we need it,” McMicking advised. “This is a good fraction of the passengers, but there are plenty left.”
“And keep your masks on once we’re out of here,” I added, eyeing the black smoke now coming off the stretcher as I pushed it over the last cluster of bodies in front of the door. “This smoke can’t be very good for us, and the Saarix on our clothes will linger a few minutes before it oxidizes.”
“Will we have enough oxygen to get to the engine if we do that?” Losutu asked.
“We should,” Bayta said.
“We might also be able to pick up some spares along the way,” I said, pushing open the door and crossing the vestibule. McMicking again moved to take point, and we stepped into the next car.
We had reached the third-class section now, where the chairs were set in permanent rows. As McMicking had pointed out, that meant no more nice open spaces where the Modhri could concentrate his forces.
And it certainly looked like he’d given up the effort. Aside from the remains of two Spiders draped across the seats midway back, the car seemed to be deserted. “Watch it,” I warned McMicking as he started down the aisle. “They might be hiding behind the seats.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” he said with a touch of humor. Small wonder; in the cramped spaces available in here, they couldn’t come at him more than a couple at a time, numbers he and his nunchaku should be able to deal with quite handily.
“Watch it anyway,” I said, glancing back at the emergency medical kit set against the wall in front of the restrooms. “Director, grab the oxygen cylinder out of that kit, will you?”
“All right,” he said, retracing his steps to the kit and retrieving the cylinder.
McMicking had reached the far end of the car by the time Losutu rejoined us. “All clear,” he called back. “Whatever he’s planning, looks like he’s planning it somewhere else.”
The next car was the same: the remains of a few Spiders, no sign of enemies. Again, McMicking headed forward, nunchaku at the ready, while Losutu paused at the medical kit to pick up another oxygen tank.
He had just popped the kit open when the restroom doors at the front of the car swung open and two burly Halkas leaped out.
“Compton!” Losutu gasped, trying to run backward and instead bumping his leg into one of the seats and tumbling off balance into the aisle. “
Swearing under my breath, I dropped the stretcher’s leash control and sprinted toward him. But the Halkas got there first. One of them grabbed him by his jacket and hauled him to his feet, spinning him around to face me as he wrapped an arm around his throat. “Stop, or he dies,” he snarled.
There was no time to think, no time to pause and try to figure out what the Modhri was up to. I kept going, my momentum carrying me forward; and as I reached them I shot a hand forward, grabbing Losutu by the temples and slamming the back of his head hard into the face of the Halka behind him.
