The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) by Ian Malone (great books of all time TXT) 📕

think we’ve got a problem,” House called from his crouch about 20 yards away.

Taylor picked up his rifle and hurried over to the corporal’s position. “What’s up?”

“I think we’re about to have company.” House pointed to the western tundra. “Have a look.”

Taylor accepted a pair of goggles from his trooper and put them to his own eyes. Sure enough, four larger vehicles were on approach.

“What are those things?” House asked.

“I can’t know for sure until they get closer,” Taylor said. “If I had to guess, though, I’d say they’re supply haulers of some kind.”

Jack, Stan, and Genovese hurried over.

“Well, now we know this thing ain’t abandoned,” the cowboy said. “That’s assumin’, of course, that the dome there is this caravan’s destination.”

Taylor turned his goggles back to the valley floor and spotted a narrow passage through the rocks along the dome’s westside perimeter. That’s where they’ll come through if it is.

“We have to find out what’s in that facility, Chief,” Genovese said. “That’s why we went through all the trouble to come here.”

Taylor didn’t disagree. How to accomplish that, on the other hand, was an issue all its own.

“Hey, Stan,” Jack said. “Remember that business on Yboure back when we worked for Asbaran? The one where our platoon got pinned down inside that Tortantula stronghold, so me and you slipped through security and tripped the gate?”

The Mississippian tipped up his fedora. “You really think we could pull that off here?”

“I’m open to suggestions if you’ve got an alternative?” Jack shrugged.

Genovese’s gaze darted between the two men. “Are you two old farts gonna keep the rest of us in suspense, or would you care to share this grand idea of yours with the class?”

Jack turned to his CO. “I think I’ve got a way to get us inside if you want that intel. If you’re interested, though, we gotta move now, before those transports get here.”

Taylor chewed his lip, then scooped up his rifle. “Brief me on the way.”

* * * * *

Chapter 14: Enemy Mine

“With all due respect to the folks at Hemming Arms, they really need to work on their uniform designs for non-human species,” Frank muttered. “All these layers are itchin’ the hell out of my feathers.”

“Something tells me gettin’ run over by an eight-ton vehicle might be even less comfortable,” Taylor said. “Just a thought.”

Frank grumbled a curse, then suddenly perked up. “Wait, I thought Jack said he and Stan had done this before and it was safe?”

“Sadly, bud, nothin’s safe in this business,” Taylor said with a grunt. He could hear the approaching caravan getting closer. “Now stop your spoutin’, or they’re gonna see us.”

Positioned in pairs—Taylor with Frank, Genovese with House, and Jack with Stan—the group waited on the road under cover of snow between the rocks Taylor had spotted from the hilltop overhead. There’d just been time to get there and cover their tracks before the inbound vehicles—heavy-duty carrier trucks with enclosed cargo spaces and six massive tires each—had rounded the last promontory prior to approaching the dome. At some point, the KzSha or earlier custodians of the dome had blasted an obvious path through the rock field. As such, there was only the one way through it, and Taylor was counting on the trucks slowing as they went through.

The ground rumbled as the caravan approached. Shortly thereafter, the rumbling turned into a shake, accompanied by the mechanized groans and wheezes of aging engines doing their best to power through rugged terrain.

Somebody needs to take better care of their equipment. Taylor felt the first truck reach them as its shadow passed by overhead in his goggles. “Now!”

Taylor wiped the snow veneer from his face with a quick brush of his sleeve as the truck’s bumper went past. From there, he leaned up and attached the magnets on the sling beneath his back to the vehicle’s undercarriage, then did the same with the magnets on his boots.

“Waaaaaa!” Frank yelped. The Buma had gotten one magnet attached but had missed with the second. Now he was being dragged by the sling.

In a couple of seconds he’ll be spit out the back and be seen! Taylor scrambled in his sling to shift himself around, then extended a hand and snagged a wing as Frank went by.

 “Careful of the feathers!” Frank yelled.

“Quit squawkin’ already and pick up your ass to shift your weight!” Taylor lifted the Buma’s wing out of the snow and pulled, then seized the other end of Frank’s sling when the rig came free. From there, Taylor grabbed hold of a pipe running crosswise under the truck’s frame and braced himself for all the pull he could muster. Ah, son of a bitch! A shot of pain ripped through Taylor’s shoulder at the sudden torque on his extremity. Still, he hung on until the Buma’s sling magnets locked, followed by the foot magnets.

“Thanks, boss,” Frank said, panting. “I owe ya one.”

“No problem,” Taylor said, equally winded. “Don’t take this personal, brother, but you seriously oughta consider cuttin’ back on some carbs when we get back to Earth. Between pasta night in the clubhouse and all that stout beer you drink, you’re not exactly the paragon of Buma health you were when you signed on with us.”

Frank aimed a sheepish frown at the snow, while his CO worked to massage away the throbs plaguing his hyperextended shoulder.

I’m gonna feel that one in the mornin’. Taylor glanced up when it suddenly dawned on him that Frank wasn’t wearing a jacket. The garment had apparently been torn off during their mad dash to get the Buma’s sling hooked to the truck’s undercarriage. Now all the alien could do was sit there and shiver.

“You gonna be okay?” Taylor asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Frank said, wrapping up as best he could in his wings.