Storm Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 4) by Aaron Ritchey (best books to read for students TXT) 📕

We waited. Snowflakes sizzled into nothing as they struck our engines. Walking straight through town on Highway 82 felt like the worst plan in the history of planning.

“You and Dutch should get out,” I whispered to Wren. “Escort us through. I don’t think Edger snuck past us. I think she’s here with the last of those troops, waiting to ambush us. Or to make a deal.”

Wren sighed. “If it comes down to it, Cavvy, we give ’em the chalkdrive. I won’t let ’em kill Pilate.”

I noticed she said nothing about Micaiah. I didn’t blame her for that. Pilate was her everything; in some ways more of a father to her than he was to me, and we were biologically connected. Wren and Pilate were spiritual father and daughter, bonded through battle, closer than blood.

“Does Dutch or Marisol know about the chalkdrive?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” Wren said. “I haven’t said a word. While I love Dutch, I’m not sure I trust him.” That brought out a grin, part wistful, part lustful. “As for that little girl, the less she knows about our business, the better. You can’t torture the truth out of someone if they don’t know anything.

Pilate had said we’d have to leave him, that our quest mattered more than our family and more than friendships. But Wren was right. If it came down to bargaining for Pilate’s and Micaiah’s lives, I’d give Edger the cure to the Sterility Epidemic.

We just couldn’t let it get that out of control.

Wren put on her hat and her gloves before sliding out of our Stanley, Tina Machinegun over one shoulder. She grabbed Mrs. Panzerfaust from the back as well as the extra rockets in a backpack. Our victory over the Kashmir IV had re-armed us; too bad we hadn’t been able to grab any extra food before the airship went up in flames.

Wren marched over to the Audrey to get Dutch. He had an AZ3 with a backpack of his own full of ammunition.

My sister and her scoundrel of a boyfriend disappeared into the swirling snow, but I knew they’d keep us in sight while watching out for Edger and her troops.

Now the ARK had four targets to ambush, all lethal.

Poor Edger. She only had a couple of dozen Regios. I kinda felt sorry for her.

The snow blew in, blew out, blew in, blew out. It wasn’t a blizzard, only a snowstorm trying to quit, but like an alcoholic without AA, it kept on relapsing.

The Stanleys moved down the street. The Audrey stayed back ’cause Rachel knew that was the wisest course of action. The Marilyn was walking point, and if we drew fire, the Audrey could respond in kind.

We approached the downtown proper, or what was left of it. I’d seen video online about American soldiers fighting through the ruins of Shanghai during the Sino. The downtown looked like that, rat holes everywhere, perfect for snipers. On our left was a pile of rubble that at one point was a hotel, maybe named Jerome. We saw the “J” and a few scattered letters. On our right lay the ruins of a mall that at one time had been home to high class restaurants and shops meant only for the fabulously rich. Everyone knew that Aspen had been synonymous with wealth back in the day. Sometimes we spoke of it like it had been El Dorado.

We heard the rumble of a diesel engine come to life. It had been hiding in the rubble of the hotel, covered with white tarps and snow.

I expected the Humvee or the Athapasca troop carrier, but no, it was a piece of construction equipment, a backhoe loader with a huge bucket in the front.

“Shar!” I yelled.

“I see it,” Sharlotte yelled back.

I took a step as she swiveled the arms around, but then the Marilyn lost her balance and tipped forward. They’d dug a pit for us in the middle of the road. It was square, three meters wide, three meters deep, which wouldn’t have been a problem if we were upright. Problem was, we weren’t.

We toppled down, landing on our guns, cracking the windshield further. The water gushed out of our tanks and our pistons died right there.

The Audrey’s guns started up, gunfire thudding, but I knew what that backhoe loader had come to do. Not five seconds later, the Audrey was pushed on top of us, and there we lay, a tangle of metal arms, legs, cracked windshields, and no way to protect ourselves.

The horn of the backhoe loader screamed through the gathering gloom, calling for an all-out attack on us.

We were in trouble. In that pit, we were in trouble deep.

(ii)

I opened the driver’s side door, and thank God, I could get it open enough to squeeze out. I had an MG21 in my grip, the American standard issue assault rifle in the Sino-American War. Sharlotte opened her door, then closed it as bullets sparked and panged off the metal around her.

A round whined in ricochet and clipped my ear.

ARK Regios surrounded us. We were fish, the pit was the barrel, and those soldier girls couldn’t miss.

I raised my rifle, took aim, and readied myself to go down fighting like Butch and Sundance in that old western video. Oh, well, Mama, here I come.

Above us, in the muted silence of the snow, the whoosh of a rocket from Mrs. Panzerfaust took out half of the guns and girls aiming at us. They evaporated in an explosion that lit up the night and warmed my face. Debris clattered down on us, and dust mixed with the snowfall.

Then Dutch’s AZ3 rattled off round after round.

Those Regios had no choice but to seek cover. A 40mm grenade sent shockwaves across the landscape, and I recognized that sound. Tina Machinegun was talking dirty.

I climbed up through fallen Stanleys and yanked open Sharlotte’s door. Blood masked her face, and for a minute, I thought she’d been