Read Online A Hole in the Sky by William C. Dietz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William C. Dietz
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left, each shot would have to count. Pardo took a slug in the chest, stumbled, and took a nosedive.
Olson fired, missed, and paid the price when a well-aimed bullet smashed through his forehead. His boots left the floor, and he seemed to float briefly, before landing with arms spread. Dust exploded up out of the carpet.
Susan stood there for a moment as gun smoke swirled around her head. Then, conscious of how vulnerable shewas, she circled around behind the desk. Less than a minute later, the pistol was reloaded and ready in her hand as she crossed the room to where the green Hudson’s Bay blanket hung.
After slipping through the doorway, she followed a short tunnel to a wooden ladder. A patch of gray sky was visible above. Brewster had been careful to provide himself with a back door and Susan planned to use it. But not until she returned to the cavern and collected at least some of what she would need in order to survive outside.
She had just reentered the cave, and was about to visit the weapons rack, when Brewster uttered a heart-rending groan. “I’ll bet that smarts,” Susan said unsympathetically. Then she shot him in the head. “Have a nice trip to hell.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BAD COMPANY
Friday, September 25, 1953
The Badlands
The sky was blue, the highway was gray, and Capelli was running. With each stride, his sixty-pound pack parted company with his sweat-slicked back and hit him. He could just drop it, of course. But what then? How long would he last without food or backup ammo? Although that would be a moot point if the stinks caught up with him. At least a dozen of the creatures were closing in on them including a squad of Hybrids, a couple of Steelheads, and a hulking Ravager. None of which was of any concern to Rowdy, who was loping along at Capelli’s side with his mouth open and his tongue flapping in the breeze.
Capelli glanced back over his shoulder, only to see that Locke had lost even more ground. He knew it was just a matter of time before the stinks caught up with the businessman.
Capelli felt the ground start to rise as he passed a black Ford, a yellow Buick, and a work-worn John Deere tractor. The machine was hooked to a trailer that had been looted of everything except a rotting couch. But the combination of the incline and the presence of some abandoned vehicles gave Capelli an idea. A desperate one to be sure, but anything was better than letting the stinks gnaw on his bones, so he began to scan the cars ahead.Their batteries were dead, and had been for a long time, but maybe, just maybe, he could start one of the vehicles by compression. All he needed was a downhill slope, a key that had been left in the ignition, and tires that weren’t flat. And some gas. Enough to get them five miles down the highway.
Laughter echoed in his head.
Sure
, the voice said mockingly.
That would be wonderful. By why stop there? How ’bout a VTOL, complete with a beautiful stewardess, and a well-stocked bar?
Capelli wasn’t about to be baited. The top of the rise was just ahead. The pack slapped him on the back as he ran, his lungs were on fire, and his feet felt as if they were made of lead. Then, just when it seemed as if the torture would never end, he was there. The burgundy Oldsmobile was riddled with holes, and bones spilled out onto the highway when he opened the door. They rattled as they hit the ground.
A skull grinned at Capelli from the passenger seat as he eyed the floor and saw two pedals. No clutch, so the 88 had an automatic transmission. And Capelli knew it was damned near impossible to push-start one of those, so he slammed the door and looked back.
Locke was struggling. What had been a clumsy running motion had deteriorated into an awkward shamble. And farther back, partially concealed by the shimmering heat, the Chimera could be seen. And if they were tired, there was no evidence of it.
Capelli swore, turned back towards the top of the rise, and forced himself to run. He passed a
Olson fired, missed, and paid the price when a well-aimed bullet smashed through his forehead. His boots left the floor, and he seemed to float briefly, before landing with arms spread. Dust exploded up out of the carpet.
Susan stood there for a moment as gun smoke swirled around her head. Then, conscious of how vulnerable shewas, she circled around behind the desk. Less than a minute later, the pistol was reloaded and ready in her hand as she crossed the room to where the green Hudson’s Bay blanket hung.
After slipping through the doorway, she followed a short tunnel to a wooden ladder. A patch of gray sky was visible above. Brewster had been careful to provide himself with a back door and Susan planned to use it. But not until she returned to the cavern and collected at least some of what she would need in order to survive outside.
She had just reentered the cave, and was about to visit the weapons rack, when Brewster uttered a heart-rending groan. “I’ll bet that smarts,” Susan said unsympathetically. Then she shot him in the head. “Have a nice trip to hell.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BAD COMPANY
Friday, September 25, 1953
The Badlands
The sky was blue, the highway was gray, and Capelli was running. With each stride, his sixty-pound pack parted company with his sweat-slicked back and hit him. He could just drop it, of course. But what then? How long would he last without food or backup ammo? Although that would be a moot point if the stinks caught up with him. At least a dozen of the creatures were closing in on them including a squad of Hybrids, a couple of Steelheads, and a hulking Ravager. None of which was of any concern to Rowdy, who was loping along at Capelli’s side with his mouth open and his tongue flapping in the breeze.
Capelli glanced back over his shoulder, only to see that Locke had lost even more ground. He knew it was just a matter of time before the stinks caught up with the businessman.
Capelli felt the ground start to rise as he passed a black Ford, a yellow Buick, and a work-worn John Deere tractor. The machine was hooked to a trailer that had been looted of everything except a rotting couch. But the combination of the incline and the presence of some abandoned vehicles gave Capelli an idea. A desperate one to be sure, but anything was better than letting the stinks gnaw on his bones, so he began to scan the cars ahead.Their batteries were dead, and had been for a long time, but maybe, just maybe, he could start one of the vehicles by compression. All he needed was a downhill slope, a key that had been left in the ignition, and tires that weren’t flat. And some gas. Enough to get them five miles down the highway.
Laughter echoed in his head.
Sure
, the voice said mockingly.
That would be wonderful. By why stop there? How ’bout a VTOL, complete with a beautiful stewardess, and a well-stocked bar?
Capelli wasn’t about to be baited. The top of the rise was just ahead. The pack slapped him on the back as he ran, his lungs were on fire, and his feet felt as if they were made of lead. Then, just when it seemed as if the torture would never end, he was there. The burgundy Oldsmobile was riddled with holes, and bones spilled out onto the highway when he opened the door. They rattled as they hit the ground.
A skull grinned at Capelli from the passenger seat as he eyed the floor and saw two pedals. No clutch, so the 88 had an automatic transmission. And Capelli knew it was damned near impossible to push-start one of those, so he slammed the door and looked back.
Locke was struggling. What had been a clumsy running motion had deteriorated into an awkward shamble. And farther back, partially concealed by the shimmering heat, the Chimera could be seen. And if they were tired, there was no evidence of it.
Capelli swore, turned back towards the top of the rise, and forced himself to run. He passed a
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