Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [26]
Just as they cleared the corner a booming explosion rocked the ice tunnel behind them. Hard on the heels of the explosion came the concussion wave and then –
Riley and Hollywood ducked behind the corner as a swarm of dart-like objects shot past them at phenomenal speed and thudded into the opposite wall of the tunnel.
The two Marines looked at each other in astonishment.
A fragmentation charge.
A fragmentation charge is basically a conventional grenade which has been filled with hundreds of tiny pieces of metal – tiny sharp-edged, skewed pieces of metal designed to be as difficult as possible to extract from the human body. When the charge detonates, it sends a wave of these lethal fragments rocketing out in every direction.
‘I’ve always said it,’ Riley said wryly as he popped his clip and jammed a fresh magazine into the receiver of his MP-5. ‘Always said it: never trust the fucking French. There’s just something about ’em. Maybe it’s those beady little eyes they all got. Those assholes are supposed to be our goddam allies.’
‘Fuckin’ French,’ Hollywood agreed thoughtfully, as he peered around the corner with one eye.
His jaw dropped. ‘Oh shit –’
‘What?’ Riley spun around just in time to see a second grenade bounce around the corner and come to rest five feet away from them.
Five feet.
Out in the open.
There was nowhere to go. They couldn’t get clear. Couldn’t run down the corridor and get away in ti –
Riley launched himself forward. Toward the grenade. He slid along the frost-covered floor, feet first, soccer-style. When he was within range he let loose with a powerful kick, and sent the grenade skittling back down the north tunnel, back toward the central shaft.
As Riley kicked the grenade, Hollywood lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulderplates and yanked him back behind the corner.
The grenade detonated.
Another deafening explosion boomed out.
A new wave of metal shards blasted out from the corridor, whipped past Riley and Hollywood, and slammed into the wall opposite them.
Hollywood turned and looked at Riley. ‘Fuck my Roman sandals, man, this is some serious fucking catastrophe.’
Riley was already up on his feet. ‘Come on, we’re not staying here.’
He looked over toward the other side of the north tunnel and saw Rebound appear at the opposite corner. With him were Corporal Georgio ‘Legs’ Lane and Sergeant Gena ‘Mother’ Newman. They must have come round from the western side of B-deck.
Riley said, ‘All right everyone, listen up. As far as I’m concerned, this is now a split op. If we cluster and get cornered, we’re all gonna be turned into strawberry fuckin’ donuts. We have to split up. Rebound, Legs, Mother, you head back west, round the outer tunnel. Hollywood and I’ll go east. Once we figure out where we are and what we can do with our position, then we can figure out how the hell we’re going to regroup with the others and nail these fuckers. You all okay with that?’
There were no objections. Rebound and the others quickly got to their feet and hustled off down the opposite ice tunnel.
Riley and Hollywood began to run east, following the curve of the outer tunnel.
As he ran, Riley said, ‘All right, what’s this? B-deck, right. Okay. What’s on B-deck?’
‘I don’t –’ Hollywood cut himself off as they cleared the bend in the tunnel and saw what lay ahead of them.
Both men stopped instantly and immediately felt their blood run cold.
Schofield fired up into the central shaft of Wilkes Ice Station with his Desert Eagle.
He and Gant were down on C-deck, inside a room which opened out onto the central catwalk. Schofield stood in the doorway, gun in hand, looking out across the central shaft and up at A-deck.
Behind him, inside whatever room this was, Gant was down on her haunches, shaking off her dizziness. She had taken off her helmet, revealing a short crop of snow-white, blonde hair.
Gant looked curiously at her helmet, at the arrow lodged in it. She shook her head, and put the helmet back on, arrow and all. She