Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [105]
But the final blow didn’t come. And still it didn’t come. And, after a time, it seemed it wasn’t going to.
The men let out their pent-up breath, unsure what this new turn of events might mean. Each had been resigned to their fate. Had they been reprieved? They didn’t dare to hope.
Some of them began to whisper. What had happened? Why had it stopped? Where had the thing in the hold gone?
From beyond the ruined door, there was only silence.
Chapter Twenty-four
DYNAMITE—JEZ HEARS A CALL—A SWIFT RETREAT—THE CARDS ARE ON THE TABLE
o your left! Harkins, to your left!”
Harkins waved his pistol in the vague direction of the enemy and fired three wild shots before cringing back into the cover of the barrels. The shadowy figure he was aiming for ran behind a parked fighter craft and disappeared from sight.
“Nice shooting,” Jez murmured sarcastically, then resumed scanning the dock for signs of movement. She flinched as three bullets pocked the barrels in front of her, searching her out. But the barrels were full of sand, and they were as good as a stone wall for stopping gunfire.
They’d put the Ketty Jay down close to a corner of the elevated landing pad, so as to give themselves only two sides to defend when Dracken’s men came for them. The barricades gave them good cover, and the largely empty dock meant that Dracken’s men had a lot of open space to deal with. But they had twenty men out there, and on Jez’s side there were only three. Two, if you didn’t count Harkins, and he wasn’t really worth counting. She checked her pocket watch and cursed.
They couldn’t hold out. Not against these odds.
Silo was crouched behind a barricade to her right, sighting along a rifle. He fired twice at something Jez couldn’t see. An answering salvo chipped the wood inches from his face.
There was one unforeseen disadvantage to their choice of position. Being close to the edge of the landing pad meant that they were near the lampposts that delineated it for the benefit of aerial traffic. Their attackers, on the other hand, had crossed the pad and were shooting from its center, where it was darkest. The landing-pad staff—who would use spotlights to pick out places for craft to land—had fled when the battle began, presumably to rouse the militia.
Jez wasn’t hopeful. She doubted help would come through these broken alleys quickly enough. Besides, being arrested by the militia was as sure a death sentence as Dracken’s men were. They’d be recognized as fugitives and hung.
Privately, Jez wondered if she’d survive that.
Don’t worry about that now. Deal with the things you can deal with.
“Silo!” she hissed. “The lights!” She thumbed at the lampposts.
Silo got the message. He sat with his back to the barrels and shot out the nearest lamppost. Jez took out another. In short order, they’d destroyed all the lampposts nearby, and the Ketty Jay sat in a darkness equal to that of their attackers.
But the distraction had let Dracken’s men sneak closer. Even in a quiet dock like this, there were hiding places. The need to fuel and restock aircraft meant there was always some kind of clutter, whether it be an idle tractor for pulling cargo, small corrugated sheds for storage, or a trailer full of empty prothane barrels waiting to be taken away.
There was movement everywhere. A shot could come from any angle. Sooner or later, something was going to get through.
Harkins was whimpering nearby. Silo told him to shut up. Jez looked at her pocket watch again. Rot and damnation, this was bad. They hadn’t expected twenty. Ten they could have held off. Maybe.
Something skittered across the landing pad, a bright fizz in the gloom. It took Jez only a moment to realize what it was. Dynamite.
“Down!” she cried, and then the stick exploded with a concussion hard enough to clap the air against her ears. The barrels murmured and rattled under the assault, but the throw had fallen short. Dracken’s men weren’t close enough to get it over the barricades. But it wouldn’t be long before they were.
She looked back at