Jack Yeovil - Krokodil Tears

Terhune's fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling a close-range weapons menu out of the memory.

1:MINISCREAMER

2: CLOSE-RANGE SMARTGUN

3: ELECTROCHARGE

4: GAS GRENADE

She punched in a Code 3, and a Confirm.

The ve-hickle buzzed, as it discharged.

"See how you like that, hag witch!"

0036.

Jessamyn felt her body arch as the electricity hit. She sucked in a double-lungful of air and screamed, but not in pain. It was her predator's howl of triumph.

She remembered Doc Threadneedle suggesting she try sucking her finger and sticking it in an electric socket.

Every nerve in her body came alive. She had never felt stronger. How long would this last?

She scrambled up onto the top of the ve-hickle, still feeling the hyperbuzz.

Sex could not be better than this.

She came to the smartgun mounting, and ripped the multi-barrelled weapon out at the roots. It came away as easily as a dead treebranch. Metal tore. Wires shorted out.

The screamers started again, and she let the durium shields up inside her ears.

There was a battened hatch on top of the ve-hickle. This was going to be like opening a can.

0029.

Biggleswade saw the British heroine climb up onto the Argie tank, and cheered. He dragged his dead legs behind him, and pulled himself towards the battle. The girl was bloody buggering Victoria Cross material, and he wanted to be there to see her run the Union Jack up the flagpole at Port Stanley. Puerto bloody buggering Galtieri in-bloody-buggering-deed! The girl got a good grip on the hatch, and pulled it away, tossing it across the square like a dustbin lid.

0027.

The girl-thing was in the command centre. Susie Terhune scrabbled under her seat for the handgun stashed there.

Riegert was gone, out the hatch, screaming. He had made a dash when the quarry had dropped through.

Terhune got a shot off, but the quarry leaned to one side and the slug missed. It ricocheted off a bulkhead, impossibly loud in the confined space, and buried itself in the fleshy part of Terhune's thigh.

Blood filled her lap. She was strapped into her seat.

She tried to raise her hands, tried to surrender, but she couldn't move, words wouldn't shake loose of her mouth.

The quarry came for her. Jessamyn Bonney looked so young.

The screen flashed up a weapons menu, requesting operator input.

The quarry took her by the scruff of her neck, and shoved her face into the screen.

The glass cracked, and Terhune felt something go inside her skull. Sparks showered out of the ruptured system.

The quarry rammed her into the screen again. Terhune's face pushed through the window into the workings of the command module. Currents crackled around her, and she smelled her hair burning.

She continued to twitch like a headless chicken long after she was dead.

0019.

Manolo pulled another tab, and sucked the beertube. He sensed the pyramid vibrating.

The Argie came flying out of the tank, running from the British heroine. Jitters took careful aim, and got him with a headshot. The foreigner stumbled on a few steps, his brains leaking out around his earphones, and collapsed in a heap.

Bloody buggering serve him right!

He tried to sing "God Save the Queen," but blood came up from his chest. He realized he was due for shipping home to Blighty. With these scratches, he was out of the rest of the war. Bloody shame. He hoped the rest of the lads would do him proud.

There'd be free drinks for him for years in the Wise Serpent in Micklethwaite Road, Fulham.

The burning building behind him settled, and a triangular slice of wall slid out of place. Bricks rained around him, crushing him into the street.

"God Save…"

0018.

Manolo flicked a switch and brought up the other figure. 0012. There had been 75 Holderness-Manolo personnel at the outset of this engagement. Now there were 12.

He thought about that. He had expected losses, but this was above even his guestimate.

Terhune wasn't answering. "Rodriguez, do you copy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your position?"

"The jailhouse. It's pretty hairy down here."

"Have you terminated the quarry?"

"I cannot confirm or deny that."

0017-0012.

"There are seventeen hostiles left alive. Do you have reason to suspect that Jessamyn Bonney is among their number?"

There was a pause. "No reason, sir. But she is. I know she is. She'll be the last."

0017-0011.

H-M had just lost another man. The reparations on this were going to be cosmic. General Disaster would be upping the Agency's premiums next year for sure. The accountants would bum out on that one.

"Don't pull out until you've taken her down, Rodriguez."

"I don't intend to."

"Good man."

0016-0011.

Manolo decided to ride the vibes for the moment.

Jessamyn left the dead woman with her face in her terminal, and climbed onto the top of the command module. There was less gunfire now, but the whole town was on fire. The streets were littered with the dead. It was like Spanish Fork all over again. Like too many towns. A crazy man, someone she had never seen before, took a shot at her from a rooftop. The slug rang against the armourplate of the ve-hickle. She took aim at the sniper, but his roof collapsed under him, dropping him into the fire.

The only thing still standing in town was the gallows. There wouldn't be much use for that in the morning.

0011-0010.

They nearly had parity.

0010-0010.

That was a comfort. One H-M combat Op in full kit should equal four or five sandrats.

0010-0008.

Maybe desperation brought out survival instincts in the gangscum.

Rodriguez was still in place.

Nevertheless, it was time to take a little precautionary measure. Manolo pulled the security systems keyboard out of the dash, and entered the lock-down programs.

Durium shields slid down the windows, blanking out the moonlight. The interior lights flickered, and came on.

The wheels retracted, and the shutters closed their apertures. The DeLorean settled on the sand like a beached powerboat. Multiple locks slid into place, sealing the ve-hickle tighter than the Bank of Tokyo.

Explosive bolts sealed shut the cardkeyholes in the doorhandles. The only way in now was through the computer palm-recognition slab, and that was programmed only to reverse the lock-down upon the authority of executive-level Holderness-Manolo personnel.

0007-0004.

It was quiet in the DeLorean now. The LED figures blinked in silence. Manolo heard his own breathing.

0006-0003.

Simon Threadneedle walked down the main street. He knew he must look barely human, a robotic skeleton with a few charred scarecrow tatters hanging from the steel.

"Jessamyn," he called.

She looked round. She did not register any shock.

"Doc?"

"Yes. I'm in here somewhere."

"Doc…"

"I know."

They stood, looking at each other. She was bearing up well, a few bruises but nothing serious. Her clothes were torn, and her hair was a mess, but there was no damage. He could feel proud of himself.

"Is this over?" he asked.

"Nearly. No one's shot at me for a minute."

"So, we won?"

She made a gesture, indicating the scatter of bodies. "If you call this winning."

"You're here. That's what's important."

"It doesn't feel important."

0002-0002.

Manolo had the cast of characters worked out. H-M still had Rodriguez, and himself. The others would be Jessamyn Bonney and the doctor, Threadneedle. That would be the last of it. They were the improved humans.

0002-0002.

The Doc was in bad shape. Only now did Jessamyn realize just how completely he had transformed himself. His face was a melted-tar smear, with durium highlights. She saw the wires threaded through his limbs.