The Old Man could hear their impact distantly on the outer hull of the tank. The three guides retreated to the far side of the vehicle, using it for cover. Coins used as sling bullets began to ricochet like metallic rain upon the tank.
“Move forward toward that arch at the far end of this hall.” It was Kyle on the tank’s phone. “We should be able to get back out to the street if we go that way.”
The Old Man gunned the tank’s engine, hoping the three of them were clear, unable to know for sure if they were.
“Poppa, are they going to be okay?”
“Yes. I would prefer if maybe you just closed your eyes until I say it’s good to look again, okay?”
There was no immediate reply and he suspected she would disobey him.
Beyond the arch, the tank’s headlamp illuminated another long hallway. The ceiling sagged the length of it. Rich wood paneling that must have once assured the gambling audiences this was indeed the finest of places to lose all their money and homes had long since been pried loose in wide patches.
For firewood, I imagine.
At the end of the hall, they turned onto an arcade of shops long gutted. Fixtures spilled out onto a marble palazzo or hung like the bones of criminals from the ceiling.
The Old Man swiveled the gun sight, searching the optics for his three guides. He found them behind the tank, covering their retreat from the hall as dark figures swarmed beyond the light of the tank’s headlamp. Far down the hall he could see more of the coin-mailed warriors advancing behind crude shields.
The Old Man backed the tank out and onto the main thoroughfare of the arcade pointing it toward where he hoped the exit might be.
I’m lost in here.
Grayson ran forward and waved at the Old Man to follow him.
Their torches are lost or gone out now.
The Old Man maneuvered the tank after the armored and masked Grayson who ran forward weaving into and out of the destruction and litter that had once been a grand passage of fine shops and luxuries. What the Old Man could not steer around he crushed beneath the tank’s treads, hoping each time the right tread would not suddenly break and strand them all.
He checked the dosimeter.
The radiation is higher here. Maybe we are getting closer to the street again.
It’s better than being trapped in here with these lunatics, my friend.
“Can I look now, Poppa?”
She listened to me.
And…
She is good that way.
“Not yet, just a little farther.”
It was hot inside the tank and the Old Man wiped at the thick, stinging sweat on his forehead.
Maybe I am still sick.
Concentrate!
The explosions went off behind them.
The Old Man felt the tank lift up slightly and then shudder as it settled back down onto the palazzo. When he swiveled the gun sight to see what had happened behind them, all was a blossom of powdery white dust in the tank’s optics. He could see nothing through its sudden storm.
He switched off the lights and activated the night vision.
Everything was still gray and floating dust.
No good, my friend.
He switched the headlight back on and returned to normal optics.
They’ve brought the ceiling down upon us. They must have explosives.
He searched for Kyle and Trash within the swirling dust and settling debris.
Trash stumbled forward, bleeding and waving at them to push on.
Where is Kyle?
There is no time, Old Man! Move forward or you and your granddaughter and the Boy will be trapped in here too.
The Old Man gassed the engine and swiveled the gun sight forward in time to avoid Grayson’s crawling body. Large arrows jutted out of his back and chest and arm. He rose stiffly, firing his rifle wildly with one hand into a darkened arch to their left. A moment later, another massive iron spike shot from the darkness and went straight through his chest.
The Old Man could hear his granddaughter screaming.
Ahead of the tank, dust clouds, thick and ashy, swirled through a jumble of broken debris. Where the path through the casino lay the Old Man could not see.
There is no clear way forward!
Trash appeared and waved wildly, passionately, for him to follow her now.
She is all alone out there.
And…
She is very brave.
And…
They all were.
Everywhere, the Old Man could see moving shadows and sudden figures leaping as Trash walked forward, firing at unseen foes. When they neared the far end of the arcade, a massive dirty marble fountain rose up. Above it, bodies dangled from a dome of smashed glass and skeletal ironwork directly over the darkly stained marble sculptures within the dry fountain.
Trash went wide to the left, her gun hammering bullets into walls and doors where unseen oppressors lurked in the darkness. Suddenly her gunfire stopped and she slung the rifle back onto her shoulder, drawing out a large knife with her other hand. A man with tiny rat teeth rose up from within the fountain behind her and pulled her down onto the marble floor. Coin-mailed men rushed from the darkness and dragged her across the dusty litter, back toward the blackness behind a broken-down double door. They were already greedily clutching at her armor, ripping away her mask, revealing her horrified and angry face.
She’s gone now.
There’s nothing I can do to save her.
The Old Man had to release his sweating hands from the controls for fear of breaking them.
Think!
There is nothing I can do to help her.
You can’t save her. But you can help her, my friend.
The Old Man swiveled the main gun toward the broken-down doors, pointing the barrel into the darkness beyond where they had dragged her. He reached over to the fire control switch.
The Boy slid past him, opening the emergency hatch in the deck plate.
How did he know that was there?
The Boy looked at the Old Man.
“Just get back to the street,” he said, his voice hoarse and dry. “I’ll find her. Then I’ll find you.”
And he was gone, closing the hatch behind him.
The Old Man waited, unsure of how long it would take the Boy to crawl out from between the treads. A moment later he appeared, steel tomahawk out, limping toward the broken-down door and the darkness beyond.
Go now!
The Old Man gunned the engine and circled the fountain. On the other side he found a large arch, once grand and opulent, now fading in neglect and damage, leading to another long hallway. Along its length, torches revealed a hall of horrors as beheaded mannequins held their arms upward. The long hall narrowed to an opening impossible for the tank to clear and the Old Man pressed the engine to full power, closed his eyes, and smashed the tank straight into it.
