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some of its combustibility; that was why Finn was there as back-up. Now he was
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needed.
Although Ryan and the others should have been moving to the rear of the Best
Western, they waited to see what would happen. If the flamers didn't work,
then the whole attack was going to fail.
"Come on, Finn, you old bastard," Ryan muttered.
The firefight was gaining momentum. Bullets hissed and snapped all around the
front of the building as the Baron's sec army came tumbling out to repel the
attack. Jak Lauren was leading a group of fighters down the hill, darting from
side to side to use what little cover there was. All along the front of the
fortress, picking their way through the sticky, stinking mess of napalm, the
sec men were gathering their strength.
One of the men beside Finnegan fell soundlessly, shot through the head, his
blood and brains splashing over the road. They were a scant sixty yards or so
from the wrecked swampwag, and bullets started to bracket them. J.B. had
wanted to get closer.
"Fuck that!" shouted Finn, dropping to his knees, opening the valve and
pressing the ignite button. He pressed it a second time when nothing happened.
At his side, one of Jak's men also knelt, fumbling with the controls. A spray
of lead centered on his chest, and he went toppling on his back, the flamer
falling limply from his dying grasp, Finn pressed the button a third time.
Ryan held his breath.
KRYSTY AWOKE, tugged from her dream. Straining her exceptional hearing, she
caught the muffled roar of an explosion. And shouting. A lot of shouting.
"Lori," she called. "Wake up, Lori. They're here. Wake up!"
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THE JET OF FLAME, dripping beads of golden fire all along its magical length,
struck the center of the ruined swamp-wag, playing over it, instantly igniting
the hundreds of gallons of napalm.
Finn jumped to one side, releasing the main control of the flamer, burying his
face in his hands at the cataclysmic explosion. Jak Lauren and his group
stopped in their tracks, shrinking back from the inferno that raged outside
the motel. The sec guards were destroyed in the blink of an eye, converted
from fighting men to dancing puppets, tugged by strings of fire. Their thin,
helpless screams were drowned by the ferocious roar of the flames. The entire
front of the building caught fire, and lakes of smoking crimson spread inside
through shattered windows and doors. In less than one minute, the whole place
was ablaze.
The men with Ryan and J.B. stood and gaped. Night became dazzling day. The
shooting stopped for a few moments, replaced by the noise of the fire and the
screeching of hundreds of wild birds, erupting from the trees all around. Ryan
saw a great slim-necked white bird with an enormous wingspan flying
majestically away over the burning motel.
"Now," he said, breaking the others from their shocked contemplation. "Come
on.
To the back."
BARON TOURMENT HAD been sleeping, his arm resting across the hips of a slim
Cajun girl. Her tanned body was covered with bites and scratches, and she had
slithered into a merciful, drugged sleep.
Mephisto burst into the room, his clothes crumpled, a blaster in his hand.
"They're here! For fuck's sake, Baron, get up and fight, or run!"
"Who? The one-eyed man?"
"Don't know. Move this slut outta the way." He pulled the girl to the floor;
moaning, she resumed her slumber. "Bombs. Fire-sprays. Blasters. It's a
fucking war out there."
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Tourment reached for his braces and buckled them on while Mephisto outlined
what had been happening.
"Whole place is burning. Must be twenty dead. Could be more. It's bad. Real
bad, Baron."
Tourment hitched on his belt, with the twin pistols in it. Stub-gripped Ruger
GP-
11Os, a matched pair of silver-plated revolvers that had been taken from one
of the gun stores in downtown Lafayette years back.
"How many out there?"
Mephisto shook his head. His own customized M-16, with its ornate cockerel's
head, dangled from his right hand, almost as if he'd forgotten he was still
holding it. "Don't know. Plenty. Thought I saw the snow wolf."
"And the man with one eye?"
"Who?"
Tourment reached for his trembling sec boss and grabbed him by the front of
his jacket. "You heard me, offal! Was there a man there with only one-eye?
He's the one to be feared. I know it. I've seen it."
"Didn't& didn't see him. Time's racing, Baron. The place is lost. Got to get
out."
"Side way, canoes," said the giant black, striding to the door of his suite.
"Get the two women and bring 'em."
"Too late for that," said Mephisto, his voice rising until, it was almost a
hysterical scream. "Don't you& it's fucking over. We lost. One fucking bang
and a damburst of fire, and we're done."
KRYSTY LAY STILL, resting, harvesting the layers of calmness. Knowing that if
the motel was under attack by Ryan, then it would not be long before Baron
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Tourment, or one of his sec men, remembered them and came looking for them.
That could be the moment when her special powers might be most needed. Lori,
at her side, lay still, whistling to herself to keep her spirits up.
HALF A DOZEN SWAMPWAGS were already rolling around the back of the blazing
building, with sec men still clambering into them, ready to run.
Exchanging fire with Ryan's party, all of them fell dead, with only a single [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]