Park Skarda-April Force: Emerald Part 33

In the midst of the carnage Zandak stood tall, urging his men on.

A wave of aviation fuel gushed across the floor, igniting, sending up a chain reaction of fire and oily black smoke.

"Now!" April yelled.

Breaking from cover, she raced across open ground as Skarda, Flinders, and Rachel swept the hall with covering fire from the cover of the doorway. Turning, she let loose with the AA-12, firing the mini-warheads into the crush of men.

Explosions blew apart stone and flesh.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Zandak spin around, his AK-47 spitting flame in her direction.

Throwing herself to the left, she dove for the floor, her right hand flas.h.i.+ng down and out. One of the Fusion Fulcrums sliced through the air. Its ceramic tip grazed the soft flesh at the base of the Atlantean's neck as he leapt away, but not before a line of 7.62mm rounds from his rifle tracked across her chest, spinning her around just as two more of the slugs tore away the flesh of her left tricep and shoulder. Spurting blood, she staggered, dropping the shotgun. Then another burst of bullets smacked into her, st.i.tching an arcing line across the face of the vest, striking unprotected flesh just under her left armpit.

Skarda cried out. With his finger yanked back on the trigger of his Barrett, he leapt out into the open, the rifle spitting out a deadly arc of fire until the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. Unhit, Zandak staggered backward on the blood-slicked floor, ducking to a crouch. Throwing away his rifle, Skarda stooped to s.n.a.t.c.h up the shotgun as Zandak shoved up from his haunches, his finger locked on the trigger of his Kalashnikov, spraying a stream of bullets. But his aim was off and the slugs burned the air over Skarda's head, one gouging a furrow on the top of his skull and another nicking the hairline above his left ear. Blood welled up instantly, sluicing down the sides of his face.

Wiping away the blood, Skarda whipped up the snout of the AA-12 and pulled the trigger. The warhead streaked toward the Atlantean in a direct line, but the tall man dove to his right, falling out of sight behind broken marble. The warhead exploded against a fallen column behind him.

Grabbing April by the armpits, Skarda ground his heels to find purchase on the blood-slicked floor, dragging her to safety. Bullets smacked against the slabs at his feet, showering him with needle-pointed chips of marble that stung his exposed flesh. At his back, Flinders and Rachel kept up a withering barrage of fire from the doorway.

Inside the shelter of the stairwell, he laid her on her back, dropping down beside her. She was unconscious, her face ashen. His searching eyes inspected the damage. The chest hits, s.h.i.+elded by the vest, had only knocked the wind out of her, but the wounds on her arm and flank were gus.h.i.+ng blood. He could see the exposed muscle on her tricep. With shaking hands he ripped open trauma dressings and applied them to her wounds, then wrapped her in compression bandages.

Flinders hurried to his side. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine. She's a tough one."

He ignored the look of horror on her face as Rachel joined them, the barrel of her rifle still smoking. "We're out of ammo."

Solemnly he nodded. "We have the pistols and the grenades on our vests," he said. "Plus your bag of grenades." He scuttled forward, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the AA-12, breaking it open. It was out of sh.e.l.ls. "April has some more in her vest-"

Then he whipped around as boots hammered on the stairwell. Zandak burst into view, his face and jumpsuit splashed with blood, training his AK-47 on all three of them.

Skarda didn't even take time to think. Lunging forward, he heaved the shotgun at the Atlantean with all the force of his arms.

Not breaking stride, Zandak stepped back, swinging his rifle to bat the gun away before it struck him. Skarda leapt at him, throwing his arms wide, wrapping the taller man in a bear hug and knocking him off his feet. The rifle skittered away, clattering down the steps. But the Atlantean was like an eel, using his height and slim build to wriggle loose, smas.h.i.+ng the side of Skarda's skull with a brutal head b.u.t.t, and springing to his feet in one fluid motion.

Blood gushed down the sides of Skarda's face, the flap of flesh covering his bullet wound ripped away. Zandak kicked him in the jaw. Pain shot through Skarda's head like jolts of electricity. Again Zandak lifted his foot to strike, but Skarda rolled toward him, reaching out and grabbing his ankle with both hands.

But instead of trying to step out of the way, Zandak bent over, reaching down and picking Skarda up with both hands, the muscles and tendons popping from his arms like steel cables, his veins bulging. A sound of animal rage escaped his throat as he lifted Skarda up and threw him against to the floor with a meaty smack, his hand snaking down to pull out a pistol.

But then he lurched forward as both Flinders and Rachel leapt on his back. The pistol went flying from his grip. For a moment he staggered, snarling, then he backpedaled, smas.h.i.+ng them against the limestone wall. Crying out, they fell away and the Atlantean leapt at Skarda, his fists hammering.

Bringing up his knee, Skarda drove it into the taller man's groin.

It only served to make him madder.

His fists drove at Skarda, plowing into his head, his stomach. The back of Skarda's head slammed against the hard floor, sending sparks showering in his vision and making his ears ring. Another blow...and another. His face contorted in agony. Through a haze of pain and nausea, he tried to think.

Out of the corner of his vision he saw the shotgun.

But it was out of sh.e.l.ls.

Think...

Zandak's hand had closed around his fallen pistol. But instead of firing, he was using it as a club, striking Skarda again and again, his face distorted by hate and blood l.u.s.t.

Skarda groaned, his vision swimming.

Then an idea...

Forcing his arm to move, he willed his fingers to search for the hump of a grenade in a pocket on his vest. Found it! Ripping open the flap, he pulled the pin, knowing that the tight confinement of the pocket s.p.a.ce would keep the spoon firmly in place.

But Zandak didn't know that.

Parting his b.l.o.o.d.y lips in a grin, he brought his hand up and showed the Atlantean the pin.

"Five..." he counted down. "Four..."

Fear clenched Zandak's face. With a choked cry he leapt away, his feet pounding for the staircase. He stooped to s.n.a.t.c.h up his fallen rifle, then bounded down the steps.

Rolling to his stomach, Skarda yanked the grenade from its pocket and tossed it over the railing. Seconds later he heard another awful cry and a sharp bang echoed through the hallway, followed by billows of acrid smoke.

Flinders and Rachel ran to his side, helping him up. His legs felt like they were made of rubber. Blood streamed down his face and bolts of pain seared through his nervous system.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Flinders cried out. "Oh, my G.o.d! Oh, my G.o.d!"

Reeling, Skarda tried to grin at her, but it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

Then a noise came from the stairway.

Flinders recoiled, letting out an involuntary cry.

Swinging around, he saw Zandak lurching up the steps, his jaw a b.l.o.o.d.y mess where shrapnel had torn away flesh and bone, his left shoulder and arm missing, leaving only a ragged red stump.

In his remaining hand he clenched the AK-47, ready to fire.

Skarda lunged, hitting the floor hard and grabbing the AA-12. His hand snaked into April's vest, yanking out an explosive sh.e.l.l. Ramming it into the breech, he pointed and fired, just as Zandak's head and upper torso loomed high in his vision.

The warhead struck Zandak at the top of his sternum, blowing his head and neck to gory ribbons of flesh. What was left of him dropped out of sight.

April groaned. Her eyes opened.

Skarda scuttled to her side, staring into her ashen face. "You look like h.e.l.l," he said with a grin.

"You don't look so good yourself."

Blood dripped from his wounds. The women knelt down next to him, quickly applying field dressings to the worst of them.

He got to his feet. "I've got to shut down that computer room."

Wobbling a bit, he started for the open door. The din of gunfire and explosions was loud in his ears.

But Rachel shot up, spinning around and fixing him with an intent gaze. She held up the bag of grenades. "For my country," she said in a quiet voice.

Before he could stop her she had s.n.a.t.c.hed up Zandak's pistol and went racing through the doorway, sprinting across the open floor, heading for the entrance to the command center corridor. An instant later a hail of bullets cracked around her, following the path of her pounding feet. At the doorway an Atlantean soldier appeared. He dropped to a crouch, aiming his rifle at her onrus.h.i.+ng figure. Lifting the pistol, she shot him in the head and he flew back with a red-rimmed hole in his forehead, out of sight.

Another holocaust of bullets pulverized the wall in front of her. Zigzagging in a corkscrew pattern, she made a lunge for the doorway. Then slugs punched into the armor of her vest and she staggered forward, losing her balance, lurching to right herself as another round of bullets drilled through the muscles of her thigh.

Crying out, she dropped to one knee, throwing her hands out in front of her and slapping her palms against the limestone wall. On her right was the open doorway. In agony, she hauled herself toward it. Another round blasted her, smas.h.i.+ng against her chest like a succession of fist blows, spinning her around. Another bullet tore off her right ear in a geyser of blood. Blasted from the wall, a jagged shard of limestone sliced through her cheek. White bone glistened under the wound.

With scrabbling fingers she grabbed the edge of the door opening, grinding her teeth together as she hauled herself through. With a desperate lunge she threw herself to the ground and rolled, hearing a volley of slugs blasting apart the wall where she'd stood just seconds before. Strength ebbed from her body.

Flipping over, she raked her eyes down the hallway, cringing, expecting more bullets to come blasting in her direction from the door of the command center.

Then she froze.

Pteor was advancing toward her, a monstrous presence in the gloom of the corridor, his jewel-like eyes blazing with l.u.s.t. Behind his moving legs she could see two black-suited commandos guarding the entrance to the computer room, staring at her.

Realization struck her like a club and she almost laughed. They weren't Atlanteans.

Tomilin had betrayed them, too!

The gigantic man stalked closer, his fingers flexing. The thought of his hands touching her again filled her with terror.

Her hand as heavy as lead, she brought up the pistol and fired.

The bullet seemed to have no effect. He kept on coming.

She fired again.

No effect.

The hammer clicked. Empty.

Dragging the ammo bag in front of her, she reached in with both hands and grabbed a grenade, pulling the pin and keeping her hands hidden while she counted down to three. Then she whipped her arm forward, lobbing the bomb at the spot between the giant's shoes. With a little bounce it rolled behind him toward the commandos' position.

Pteor saw it. An emotion tore across his face.

Fear.

Through a dizzy haze, she recognized it. She barked out a vicious laugh. "Payback's a b.i.t.c.h, buddy."

With a sharp bang the grenade exploded, blowing up in the faces of Charbonnet's men and hurling jagged metal fragments into Pteor's back and legs as he was blown against the wall in splatters of blood and shredded flesh. What was left of his shattered corpse smacked against the floor with a meaty thud.

Coughing out lungfuls of smoke, Rachel groaned. The giant's huge body had protected her from the blast, but she had suffered terrible wounds from the gunfire. Putting out a hand, she hauled herself to her knees. Pain shot through her like searing razor blades. Blood sluiced from the hole where her ear had been. Woozily she looked down, seeing a pool of bright red blood where she had lain. A curtain of blackness closed over her consciousness. She felt life slipping away.

But she knew what she had to do. Using the wall to drag herself to her feet, she stood and drove herself forward toward the doorway of the control room, leaving a b.l.o.o.d.y trail behind her. Each step was an agony. Opening the ammo bag, she pulled the pin on another grenade, holding the spoon in place inside the bag as she staggered ahead.

She reached the open doorway, slick and streaming with the blood and guts of the commandos. Their twisted, shredded bodies lay in heaps.

Sucking in a deep breath, she stepped over a severed arm and swung her body around the corner, seeing more body parts and two more shrapnel-riddled corpses sprawled out over their console stations.

The other stations were empty. Blood pounded in her head, making her thinking fuzzy. It didn't make sense. There should be more people here. Tomilin should be here so she could kill him. They must have all run away when the grenade exploded.

It didn't matter. She could still destroy the computers.

She was about to toss the grenade satchel into the center of the room when Tomilin stepped through a doorway on the opposite side, aiming a pistol at her "Too bad," he said evenly. "It would have been fun."

Then he shot her between the eyes.

Rachel fell backward, her nerveless fingers releasing the grenade's spoon. The bag hit the floor, flopping open to reveal its deadly contents.

The glint of metal caught Tomilin's eye. With instant appraisal he leapt back, racing through the doorway just as the improvised cl.u.s.ter bomb exploded, blowing the computer room to rubble.

___.

When he heard the blast from the command center, Skarda stooped to help April get to her feet. Her strength was shaky, but the trauma dressing had staunched the flow of blood. But her vest and pant leg were soaked with red.

His vision reeled and he had to steady himself. He'd lost a lot of blood, too.

"Looks like Rachel made it," he said.

"Maybe."

"Think you can run?"

"I'll make it."

But he could feel her body trembling under his arm. He knew she had incredible reserves of strength she could tap at will, but still he said, "We can't risk it. We're going to have to take the Chinook and you're the only one who can fly it. I'm going to have to carry you."

Steadying her, he ducked down and slung her across his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"Flinders!" he called out. "Grenades!"

Instantly deducing his plan, she s.n.a.t.c.hed two grenades from her vest pouches and pulled the pins, lobbing the bombs at the nearest barricade of broken columns. She dropped back behind the safety of the wall.

When the twin explosions erupted, the three sprinted out into the open. Seconds later they flattened themselves against the inside walls of the opposite corridor, their chests heaving with exertion.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Flinders stared at the devastation Rachel's attack had made. Pteor's body lay sprawled over the floor, a red mess of mangled flesh and splintered bone. Beyond him lay the severed arms and legs of the guards.

She turned, clutching the wall, fighting down a surge of vomit.

Skarda laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Almost imperceptibly she bobbed her head, then pushed herself away from the wall, heading for the command center doorway, eyes locked straight ahead.

The computer room looked like a slaughterhouse. Lowering April to the floor, he crouched low over a blood-drenched ma.s.s of pulp, then turned his face up to the women. "Rachel."

Flinders sucked in a breath and spun away, her face going ash-white.

A chill raced up Skarda's spine, followed by a wave of cold fury. But he shut off the emotion. With a grim nod, he made a quick survey of the corpses. "No Tomilin."