Chapter Thirty-Five

When the war wag stopped for a bathroom break, not a single soul stayed inside the vehicle. They’d been on the road for four hours by then, and everyone needed to stretch his or her legs.

Fortunately, they were finally out of the Devil’s Slaughterhouse, so the fauna promised to be less lethal. And according to Hammersmith, they were less than half an hour from the core, so it was the perfect place to stop.

In fact, everything seemed to be going smoothly. They were making great time, and the wag was holding up. Hammersmith’s attitude was still cranky, but his driving had evened out somewhat. And in spite of their proximity to the core, Krysty wasn’t having agonizing seizures, just moderate headaches. The pot had really made a difference in her pain level, and it didn’t seem to be causing any negative side effects.

But as well as things were going, Jak couldn’t relax even a little. Union’s warning continued to resonate in his head. Some kind of threat was imminent, one she wanted to save him from, though she’d told him to keep the rest of the team in the dark about it.

Jak’s tension over this warning had increased with each passing mile. Of course he had to tell his companions, but he had to do it without Union seeing him. That had been impossible on board the wag, but at least he had a shot at it when Hammersmith stopped for a break.

As casually as he could, Jak split away from Union. He saw Ryan circling a nearby hill and couldn’t follow in case she was watching, but then he skirted another hill and doubled back. He caught Ryan just as he was finishing relieving himself and approached with a finger over his lips, warning him to keep quiet.

Ryan scowled as he zipped up his pants.

Jak hurried over and whispered, very aware that he wouldn’t have long until Union came hunting for him. “Union said threat on way. Offered save me, said not tell anyone.”

“What kind of threat?” Ryan whispered.

Jak shrugged. “Won’t talk ’bout now. One personality broke ranks but silent since.”

“Okay.” Ryan nodded. “We need more information. We need to interrogate her—at least draw out the friendly personality and get more info out of her.”

“Draw out? Good luck. Is three against one in that head.”

“But one ally is still better than none.” Ryan drew his SIG-Sauer. “Let’s go round her up.”

“What about others?” Jak asked.

Ryan shook his head grimly. “They’ll figure out what’s happening soon e—”

Suddenly, a great thunderclap of an explosion erupted nearby. Ryan and Jak exchanged a quick look that said it all: there’s that threat she was talking about.

Then, without a word, the two men charged around the hill and headed in the direction of the blast, which also happened to be the general vicinity of the wag.

* * *

RICKY HAD BEEN walking toward the wag when the artillery shell came down beside it.

Hearing the telltale whistle of the shell, he instinctively turned and ran, but he didn’t make it far before impact. The resulting explosion threw him forward, facedown in the sand, then showered him with shrapnel and debris.

His back and ribs hurt, but at least he was in one piece. He’d been just far enough away, with the wag between him and the explosion, that he hadn’t become a fatality.

But that could change fast. Because shells were like cockroaches: if you saw one, more were always close behind. Not to mention whoever had fired the round.

The relative peace of what had been an uneventful drive to the core had just gone out the window.

Listening for more artillery whistles, Ricky scrambled to his feet and quickly assessed the immediate area. The wag lay smoking on its side, the passenger compartment blown open by the shell. Luckily, from what he could see, no one had been blown open with it.

In fact, the other members of the group were sprinting in from behind the nearest hills. Krysty and Mildred ran together, weapons in hand. J.B. charged around another hill with his Mini-Uzi in one hand and his Smith & Wesson scattergun in the other. Hammersmith and Union, however, were nowhere to be seen.

As for Ryan and Jak, they raced from behind a hill on the opposite side of the bombed wag, heads instantly whipping toward the swath of visible horizon up ahead.

Ricky followed their gazes and immediately got the same burst of adrenaline he always got right before a big fight. There in the distance, he saw something he’d seen a few times during his young lifetime, during his time in the bloodstained Deathlands.

It was an army bristling with weapons, every blaster barrel pointed in his direction.