Stone speared his blade through the man’s chest, yanking it clear in a spray of blood.
Breathing heavily, he snatched his crossbow from the ground and loaded it. He glimpsed Conrad and Nuria at the truck, fighting off Tamnicans. He saw Justine huddled in the shadows. He aimed his crossbow and shot a bolt into the back a head. He saw a grim smile flash over Nuria’s face. He kicked open the door to the watchtower. A Tamnican appeared at the bottom of the stairs and hurled a knife at him. He dodged the blade and fired with the crossbow, hitting the man in the stomach. He stood over him, yanked the bloodstained bolt free, and set it back in the crossbow. The man’s face turned white, he was struggling to breath. He clutched his stomach with trembling hands, blood running through his fingers. Stone climbed over him. The staircase curled up to a closed wooden trapdoor. He took the steps two at a time, heart thumping, knowing at least two more men waited for him. He had to knock out that fearsome weapon he had seen when they were first brought here. There was no way he could leave that in one piece and attempt to cross the bridge, even in a motorised vehicle.
Crossbow in one hand, bloodied sword in the other, he reached the trapdoor and waited. He listened. He could hear the shuffle of feet and whispered voices. He waited. Outside, was the sound of the Warden’s whip. There was a creak above him and a slither of cold air touched his skin as the trapdoor was slowly raised and a face appeared. He fired instantly. A young man screamed as the bolt thudded into his forehead. Stone burst through the trapdoor. A figure blurred before him and he drove the sword forward, sinking it deep through flesh. He was shocked at the face of a young woman, with cropped hair, a loaded crossbow slipping from her hands. He pulled free his sword and her body slumped onto the wooden floor.
He stepped over her and blinked, struck for a moment at the sight of the road snaking from the prison down the hillside, toward a gated wire fence, the long bridge beyond, the compound across the river. He could see lights and hear the distant sound of car engines. He was about to look away when he saw a stone building off this his left, brightly lit. A low fence bordered a tangled looking garden. He counted at least ten Tamnicans outside.
The Thinker’s house.
He nodded and turned his attention to the monstrous ballista before him. He raised his sword, set to destroy it, but then hesitated as he noticed it sat upon a circular shaped platform. He attempted to turn it and smiled thinly as it moved in all directions. Sheathing his sword, he peered from the watchtower and saw Conrad, Nuria and Justine still hiding beside the truck. The courtyard was littered with broken bodies and weapons. Men and women groaned. He heard a grinding sound as several prisoners began to open the main gate. Quickly, they were shot down in a hail of arrows fired by the bowmen at the tower.
Stone examined the beast of a weapon. It was constructed from wood, with metal panels. He saw a trio of long metal spikes loaded into it. He looked for a trigger but there was none. He crouched at one end and saw a wheel with a handle but when he turned it nothing happened. He couldn’t understand how it fired. He wiped the sweat from his face and studied it further. He traced his fingers along the projectiles, caught in a tight harness with a metal bar thrust through two loops, holding it in place. He felt the tension and realised it was a simple process of releasing the bar. He scanned the courtyard and saw the Warden lunge at two prisoners, slicing an arm off one and hacking into the chest of another. He was wounded, cuts down his face and body, an arrow lodged in his thigh.
Stone turned the weapon away from him and angled the great crossbow toward the tower. He yanked free the bar. The fearsome weapon jolted and the iron spikes whistled with deadly accuracy. He saw one of the bowmen severed at the waist, another decapitated. The third spike flew through the open doorway and he heard a terrible scream. There was no time to reload it and he had no real idea how to. He drew his sword and sliced and hacked at it until his face was raw with sweat.
In the courtyard, Stone went for the gate. The fires around the walls illuminated cobbles slick with blood and severed limbs. Groaning and pleading filled his ears. Men chased down men. He gripped the crank handle that controlled the gate and began to turn it. He gritted his teeth. It crunched and grated. The Warden’s head snapped around, blood streaked hair swirling in the moonlight. Stone could see the bridge. There were running footsteps and a woman and two men fled through the opening. Stone kept turning the handle as the Warden stalked toward him. A Cuvar hurled his club at Stone, striking him in the back. Winded, his hands slipped from the handle. He picked up his crossbow and fired, missing. The man lunged at him, clenched fists pounding Stone’s chest and face.
“Get out the fucking way,” shouted the Warden.
The Cuvar ran as the Warden stepped toward Stone, both hands clutching his sword. Suddenly, he yelled and spun round. Nuria’s dark face glowered at him. She came at him once more, striking again with her sword. Conrad moved from the shadows, edging toward him from the other direction. The Warden heard the unmistakable scrape of iron behind him. He realised he was surrounded; the three of them stepping closer, each one armed with a sword. His body seared with pain from a dozen wounds. His armour felt heavy. The three grew closer still. His heart was raging. His brow was thick with sweat. Stone lunged, hacking at his legs, slicing through flesh. The Warden cried out, flashed his sword wildly. The three leapt at him with screams of hatred, blades puncturing flesh; one in the back, one in the chest, one in the throat. The giant man toppled and hit the ground.
Breathing ragged, they ran for the truck.
The keys were on the dashboard. Stone jammed them into the ignition. He gunned the vehicle into life, pressed his sandaled foot against the accelerator. The vehicle jerked forward, huge tyres crunching over the sprawl of bodies. Voices screamed as Stone manoeuvred the truck through the gate. He peered along the dirt road that wound down the hillside. He saw a second road running alongside the prison toward the single house he had spied from the watchtower.
“What are you waiting for?” said Nuria, as he hesitated at the wheel.
“The Thinker’s house,” he said, grimacing.
Conrad glanced through the cabin window and slowly shook his head. Nuria placed her hand on Stone’s arm.
He nodded, stepped on the accelerator. The truck swerved down the road. He gripped the wheel and eased onto the brake. He felt the vehicle lurch and for a moment there was a collective gasp as they thought it might topple over. The wheels slammed onto the dirt surface and he powered forward towards the wire fence topped with barbed wire. He saw Tamnicans with white masks. As he drew closer, wheels churning rapidly, he turned on the headlamps, the long white lights blinding the men and scattering them into the brush as the truck ploughed through the gate, tearing the fence down behind it.
There was a burst of gunfire and bullets raked the green tarpaulin and wooden tailgate.
The truck roared onto the bridge, swerving from side to side. Stone’s eyes were unblinking, face intense, hands tightly clutching the wheel. Justine clung to Conrad. Nuria fidgeting in her seat as the headlamps streamed ahead and they all saw the obstacle of vehicles that had been driven across the top of the bridge. There were masked men with assault rifles and crossbows.
“Down.”
As they ducked, Stone fiddled with the lights and the beams became even brighter, nearly blinding the Tamnicans.
“Fuck,” he yelled, flooring the accelerator.
--- Nineteen ---
There was a flash of muzzles and the rattle of bullets as the truck crashed through the barricade with a tremendous screech of metal.
Sprawled across the cabin, the four of them were showered with broken glass as the windscreen was pulverised. Stone felt the wheel spinning and peered above the dashboard as the forest loomed around them. They were past the compound but he could hear the snarl of engines behind them. Brushing fragments of glass from his body he righted himself in the driver’s seat and wrestled control of the truck. Foot down, he powered along the road.
“They’re coming after us,” shouted Conrad, head thrust out the window, long hair streaming in the wind.
Justine, pieces of glass in her hair, screamed. Curled in a ball, she rocked, hands covering her head. Stone glanced down at her, for a moment, a fragile and pitiful sight bunched on the grubby cabin floor. It was cramped with the four of them in a space designed for three.
“Can you drive?” said Stone, and Nuria shook her head.
Cars and jeeps tore after them, engines growling, a loose column of rusted vehicles. Tyres spun as they accelerated forward. Stone swerved left and right, keeping his foot pressed hard on the pedal. The road was wide enough for them to flank the truck and he had to keep that from happening. He was certain they were much faster than this lumbering transportation vehicle but he also realised what the truck lacked in speed it made up for in bulk. There was a mirror fixed to both doors and he could see the vehicles spread behind them, glimpsing men with white masks.
“You need to get in the back,” said Stone. “Stop them from climbing onboard. Take the crossbow.”
He loosened the hip quiver, hastily tossed it to Conrad. The long haired man caught it and glanced nervously at the back of the cabin, realising there was no way into the back of the truck from in here. He stuck his head out of the window and the wind blasted his face. Stone swerved the truck and there was the crunch of metal as he clattered into one of the cars.
“Come on,” shouted Stone. “I’ll keep the truck straight until you’re in there.”
Nuria looked between the two men, the steely determination in Stone’s eyes, survival at any cost; Conrad was far from convinced, his face tinged with fear. He nodded to himself and opened the cab door. He stepped out, gripping hard as the wind buffeted him. The forest flashed past, a darkened blur. His heart was thumping, resounding in his head. His sword hung at his waist and the crossbow was strapped to his back. He took another step and then the truck lurched, as Stone turned to avoid a gaping hole in the road.
Hanging on, Conrad gritted his teeth and swung around the open door, onto the rear of the cabin, desperately clinging to it. Nuria slammed the door shut as a car powered alongside the truck. Conrad took off the crossbow, slotted in a bolt and waited for the car to nose past the tarpaulin covered flatbed. He raised the weapon and fired, mostly on instinct. His aim was true and the projectile shattered the glass and lodged into the driver’s head.
Conrad let out a cry and punched the air as the car spun away into the trees. He peered around the flatbed and saw more cars surging toward them. His triumphant expression drained away. Quickly, he drew his sword and sliced through the tarpaulin cover, ripping open the fabric. He rolled through the gap and landed with a heavy thump onto the wooden flatbed. He slid around as the truck lurched once more, ramming an approaching car. He got to his feet, balanced, and then Stone rammed a car on the other side and he tumbled once more, collapsing against a row of benches.
On his knees, Conrad looked out from the back of the truck as a Tamnican leapt from a battered car.
He threw himself toward the man, drawing his sword in one fluid motion, and spearing the blade through the Tamnican’s chest. The man’s weight pinned him for a moment. Gasping, he rolled the body off and dragged free his sword, coated with blood. There was a flash of a gun muzzle and Conrad hurled himself flat as bullets raked the inside of the truck. He felt the vehicle swerve from side to side.
The sky began to lighten as the truck tore through the forest, the broad road winding, grey and desolate, carved with twin headlamps, bright beams punching through the flailing tendrils of darkness.
Stone blinked at the road ahead, cars swarming around them, ramming into the side of the truck, trying to force them into the trees. He needed to shake these pursuers and return Justine to Dessan. He had his hopes pinned on Emil saving her. He glanced down from the jerking steering wheel and saw her eyes wide with fear. Emil could repair her broken body but nothing on the face of Gallen could repair her shattered mind.
In the back of the truck, Conrad raised his head and fired at the nearest vehicle. The bolt careered harmlessly off a large metal grill covering the windscreen. He fired a second time and cursed as it bounced away into the road. He dragged another from the quiver, his hand dipping in the spread of blood from the dead Tamnican. A spiteful grin spread across his face. He lowered the crossbow and waited. A car with a grilled metal windscreen accelerated toward the truck, both driver and passenger obscured with white masks.
As the vehicle grew closer he glimpsed the passenger begin to climb through his open window. Grunting, Conrad lifted the body of the Tamnican and hurled it onto the car. He heard a dismayed cry and snatched his crossbow as the car swerved; the driver unable to see past the hefty man sprawled across the windscreen. The Tamnican hanging from the window tried to drag the body free, pulling with both hands, but one foot had trapped in the metal grill. His eyes flicked toward the truck as he saw Conrad fire the crossbow. The bolt shredded the wheel and the car spun across the highway, slamming into another vehicle with a terrible sound of ripping metal, the tangled vehicles erupting into a giant fireball.
Stone saw the flames in his side mirror, a grim smile forming on his lips. He switched off the headlamps as the grey clouds began to glow at the edges.
“Shit,” he said, glancing down at the dashboard gauge.
“What is it?” said Nuria, looking over, seeing the white needle touching a red square.
She looked at him. He looked back at her.
A jeep cut across the truck and a Tamnican opened fire with a pistol. Nuria and Stone ducked. The bullets smacked behind them, gouging holes. Blind, Stone turned the wheel, feeling the tyres chew up rough grass and dirt. The vehicle jolted along and he turned the wheel again, crashing back onto the road. He glimpsed above the wheel and saw the Tamnican eject the magazine and reach into his pocket, pulling out a handful of bullets, hurriedly loading them into it.
Stone put his foot against the accelerator, as a shadow covered him.
“Down,” yelled Nuria, and he reacted, not even looking, as she lunged with her sword, across his back, driving it into the throat of a Tamnican hanging on the side of the truck. She yanked it clear and his body bounced along the road. Stone stamped on the pedal and ploughed into the jeep. It began to swerve as the driver fought to control the wheel. The handful of bullets dropped from the gunman’s hand but he slammed in the magazine and fired. Nuria screamed and her shoulder erupted with blood. Stone grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her down onto the seat, the bloodied sword slipping from her hand. At the sight of blood, Justine began wailing and slapping her head with her hands. She started to crawl onto the seat as Nuria panted, blood running down her arm. Stone rammed the jeep, an ear piercing wrench of metal against metal. The jeep bounced forward and spun off into the forest, smashing into a cluster of tall trees, tossing the gunman screaming into the undergrowth.
“It went through,” gasped Nuria, wincing. “I think it went straight through. I’m okay.”
Stone turned at the sound of Conrad calling to them.
“Are you okay?”
He ducked as an arrow hissed into the back of the truck and lodged next to his head. He saw a car speeding close, a masked, white gloved Tamnican leaning from it, notching a second arrow.
“Fine,” shouted Nuria, grimacing, tearing a strip from her shirt to plug the wound. “You?”
He ducked as another arrow thudded behind him and quickly reloading the crossbow, shooting wild.
“I really could do with a drink and a smoke,” he laughed, reaching into the hip quiver and finding it empty.
“How many?” said Stone, as the highway banked left, then right, the road ahead buckled and cracked.
There was a pause. The truck rocked as a car crashed into it. Stone glimpsed a masked bowmen and saw him fire at the front tyres. There was a loud hiss and the steering wheel became unsteady. He gripped it tightly. Justine was begging for him to stop. Nuria reached fo
r her, pain searing through her shoulder, her face filthy with sweat and blood.
“Eight,” shouted Conrad.
A car rammed against the rear of the truck and two men clambered over the tailgate, drawing swords. Conrad whipped his blade at them and Stone could hear the clash of iron as he powered the truck deeper into the forest, sunlight touching the tangled treetops, the leaves dripping with rainfall, a ferocious wind barrelling around the trunks. He looked down at the shaky white needle on the dashboard and saw it was deep in the red. The vehicle had almost exhausted the black energy. He glimpsed at the vehicles streaming toward the truck, firing arrows at the wheels. He heard another collapse, the rubber shredded by feathered arrows. Justine was sobbing, her weak and narrow body racked with inconsolable sobs. Stone had pushed the truck as far as it would go. They couldn’t outrun them for much longer.
“Conrad?” he yelled.
He caught the sound of laboured breathing and a scream, quickly followed by another.
“Conrad?” he shouted, a noticeable concern in his voice.
“Conrad?” echoed Nuria, tightly binding her wound.
“I’m here.”
“Hold on,” said Stone, reaching for Nuria. She felt the power in his arm and then suddenly the truck began to screech and the forest slowed all around them as he slammed hard on the brake, turning the wheel. The vehicle bucked, jolted and skidded along the highway, leaving thick black lines. It ground to a halt, curved across the road, blocking the way forward. There was an ugly crash of metal from behind them as two cars collided into the side of it and the truck rocked.
“Out,” yelled Stone, smashing the ignition as they leapt from the vehicle, pulling Justine with them. There was no way past, for now. He heard shouting and agonised cries. He glimpsed a Tamnican half through a windscreen, his body nearly sheared in two. A blood spattered Conrad emerged sword in hand. His eyes widened with concern as he saw Nuria’s gunshot wound but there was no time for words of empathy.
The Wasteland Soldier, Book 2, Escape From Tamnica (TWS) Page 23
