grabbed him from behind and yanked him to the ground. In the next second, there was a loud explosion from above.
“About fucking time you got here,” said Lia when the ringing in Dean’s ears stopped.
14
Rockman studied the sensor grid. “They got them all,” he told Telach finally. “Tommy took out the machine gunner with a grenade. Got him right in the head. Big mess.”
“How’d you miss the dogs?” asked Telach.
“The spread,” he said. “They must have been in the back of the truck sleeping. We just weren’t close enough to hear. We knew where the people were. They would have stayed in the shed and the truck if the dogs hadn’t gone crazy.”
Telach frowned.
“Got movement on the road,” he told her.
“Tell them.”
“I’m about to.”
15
Lia began trotting toward a pile of wrecked buses farther back in the lot.
“Is Karr hurt?” Dean asked, running to catch up.
“Nah.”
“Where is he?”
“He started circling around to ambush them when you didn’t show up,” she said. “He just took out the machine gun. He’s looking to see if there’s anybody else our friends in the Art Room missed.”
“Aren’t we going to back him up?” asked Dean, grabbing her arm as they reached the closest bus.
She jerked her arm away. “He can handle it. Just watch my ass, okay?”
“She’s got a cute one,” said Karr in his earphones.
Dean reached to his shirt and undid the muffle, putting his mike back in place. “What happened to you?” he asked.
“I had to go deep. You did a good job, Charlie Dean. Noisy, though.”
“They fired first.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Karr laughed. “Stick on Lia. I’ll come over and play tail gunner. I always like the dirt road.”
Dean walked past a row of Mercedes S sedans. There was a break in the row about ten cars down on his left; he turned up and walked past another two rows of pickup trucks, these mismatched among Fords, Chevys, and Toyotas. Beyond the second row sat a decrepit bus. Dean walked to the right and saw that the rest of the yard was laid out with various pieces of machinery and pipes. He nearly tripped over the bodies of two dogs, then saw a figure working at a piece of metal ten feet away, beyond a large Y-shaped piece of metal piping. A small blue flame appeared and danced in the air.
“Lia?”
“What?” she snapped without turning around.
“Just making sure it was you.”
“No, it’s Mr. Midas.” She went back to cutting the metal.
Dean, his left hand on the clip of the gun, scanned the area to make sure they were alone. Lia kicked at the metal, removing a rectangle about twelve inches long. She worked at the remaining piece almost as if she were a sculptor, burning the edge into a wavy pattern.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked finally.
“Baking a cake,” she said. “I think this is it.”
“Okay, Princess, let’s move,” said Karr.
“Coming.”
“Dean?”
“I can hear you,” he said.
“Grab her and pull her out of there.”
“Fuck you,” said Lia, jumping up and grabbing the piece of metal she had cut off. She kicked the dirt around in what seemed to Dean a fairly useless attempt to scatter the bits of burnt metal that had fallen off and then cover her tracks. Then, as Dean moved backward toward the old bus, she started to run full speed toward one of the pickups on the right, tossing something in the back.
“Come on, Chuckie,” she said, catching up on a dead run.
Dean started to run after her. “What’s up?”
“Two trucks,” announced Karr. “Mile away. Meet me at the perimeter fence where we came in.”
Dean followed Lia out past the buildings, through the marshy field, and back along the alley where he’d originally been posted. Lia sprinted hard and threw herself about eight feet up the fence, hustling upward seemingly without breaking stride.
“Separation,” she hissed as she hit the top and twirled over.
“Screw separation,” said Dean, starting up after her as the headlights of the approaching truck swung across the far side of the fence.
“Charlie, take the blankets and clips with you,” said Karr. “Don’t forget them.”
Dean had trouble with one of the clips, and the blanket on the razor wire was hooked on the inside of the fence. He tugged and almost lost it over the side, which would have meant going back in. Finally he got it and, barely holding his grip with his left hand, managed to drop it below. Just as he started down, gunfire erupted beyond the lot where they had left the van. Within thirty seconds, Kalashnikovs were roaring all along the fence line. Dean couldn’t tell from where he was what was going on, and he didn’t stop to observe, dropping the last eight feet from the fence, grabbing the blanket and tucking it beneath into his pants as he ran. A flare shot up from the access roadway, lighting the night. As Dean squared his AKSU in the direction of the gunfire, he heard a loud hush, the sort of sound a vacuum might make in a sewer system. It was followed by a crinkling explosion and then a loud rumble; one of the trucks had been hit by a small antitank missile, which ignited its fuel tank and a store of ammunition.
A second later, the compound they’d just left erupted with a series of explosions. The loudest came from the pipe area Karr had told him earlier to ignore — the underground tank exploded, spewing fire into the air.
Dean stared at it for a second, then realized the van was starting to move. He ran to it, grabbing at the rear door as the truck veered suddenly to the left. Somehow he managed to throw his weapon and then himself inside. One of the AKSUs fired from the front cab and then a grenade exploded nearby. Smoke and the acrid smell of burning metal filled the back. The van slammed to a stop and then quickly began backing up at high speed. Both Lia and Karr were shooting now — Dean fished for his gun but lost it as the truck tipped hard to the right, wheeled around, and sped erratically over the field, bouncing wildly over ruts and through a ditch.
And then it was over. The gunfire stopped, the ride smoothed out; they were on the highway. Dean couldn’t even see the glow of the burning flares through the window.
“How you doing back there, baby-sitter?” snarled Lia from the front. She was in the driver’s seat. “Pee your pants yet?”
“I thought he did pretty well,” said Karr. “Sorry about the big bangs at the end, Charlie. That was mostly for effect.”
Dean looked up at the top of the truck. Several rounds had come through the walls.
“Some effect,” he said.
“The problem with dealing with the Russians is that you have to act like the Russians,” said Karr. “You have
