Sooner Dead (Gamma World) - Mel Odom [38]
CHAPTER 10
Primo lurched across the catwalk and made it two steps before a bullet ripped through his left thigh. As he crumpled, at least one more round struck his body armor. He cried out in pain and reached for his dropped rifle.
Crouching, Hella morphed her hands into pistols and took up a position with her back to the wall. Stretching out her right leg, she kicked Primo’s assault rifle over to him. He grabbed it and pulled it to him gratefully.
“Hella!” Fear underscored Stampede’s voice.
“I’m fine.”
“Get down from there.”
“We’re under attack. I can’t see what’s going on down there.” Hella edged up and peered over the top of the wall. Bullets continued to rip along the catwalk, picking off slow guardsmen and creating a hellish racket as the rounds drummed against the sheet metal before ricocheting off.
A pack of Sheldons aboard motorcycles broke from the tree line. A few of the armadillo bikers flew small flags with snarling, purple dragons. For the most part, they rode two to a motorcycle, and a few of them were in sidecars that jerked and sailed over the uneven landscape.
“It’s the Purple Dragons.”
“Kid.” Primo tried to lever himself up. His eyes locked on hers. “Gotta sound that air horn. There’s guards in their racks that aren’t gonna know what’s going on.”
Hella didn’t know how anyone could miss the fact that the trade camp was under attack.
“The guard’s right.” Stampede sounded calm but Hella knew he would be moving into a position to return fire. “If you can sound that alarm without getting killed, do it.” His voice rose. “Faust! Hey, Faust! We have to open the gates, get those people outside inside before those Sheldons massacre them!”
Thinking about the people trapped outside the trade camp made Hella more angry. She morphed the guns away and took back her hands then scuttled down the catwalk to the air horn.
“I know the Sheldons are counting on the gates being opened!” Stampede sounded rushed but he was calm at the same time. His urgency was tangible. “We’re going to have to get the gates closed again before the Sheldons get in here. Move it.”
Hella reached the air horn, grabbed the crank, and turned it swiftly. Instantly the eerie wail rose over the trade camp. Down in the streets, the stunned guards shook off their paralysis and immediately raced into positions.
When everything went south, rely on training. That had been one of the first lessons Stampede had taught Hella. She released the crank on the air horn and raced along the catwalk toward the flaming guard post. The biker army had targeted those emplacements because they had heavy artillery there, but Hella hoped that not all of it had been destroyed.
Bullets hammered the catwalk and whined off around her. A round glanced off her left shoulder, turned away by the chain mail. She cried out at the pain, stumbled, but kept moving.
“Hella!”
“Chain mail caught a stray round. I’m fine.”
Flames twisted inside the guard post and reached for the sky. Evidently the rocket that had struck it had carried an incendiary secondary payload. Dead men inside the ruined structure tightened up as the heat caused the ligaments to contract. Hella had seen a lot of bodies left by a fire. The ones that weren’t totally burned up were always left looking like people getting ready to box, their clenched fists raised before them.
She had some luck, though. Thrown free by the blast or lost by someone standing outside the guard post, an XM25 grenade rifle lay on the catwalk. The rifle was squat and ugly, designed with a bullpup configuration that placed the six-round magazine behind the trigger to help provide better balance. The weapon weighed fourteen pounds but felt like an anchor as Hella tried to stay behind cover and lift the XM25 at the same time.
With the grenade rifle settled over her shoulder, Hella took a quick breath then popped up and swiveled so she faced over the wall. She squeezed the trigger slightly and activated the laser rangefinder.
Stampede had taught her to use weapons, all kinds of weapons,