Eric Flint: Time spike

They're not even shooting back. Just trying to get to the woods." They had to be Luff's own people, then. Between what they'd learned from the armory raid and what they'd seen since storming the prison, Luff had disarmed every convict except his own inner circle-and most of that inner circle was now trying to get out. "Shoot as many as you can, but don't take any risks. If some of them make it to the woods, we can live with it. Their ammunition won't last long, no matter what.

After that, it's them barehanded against the dinosaurs." "Right. My money's on the dinosaurs." It sound as if Marie and her people could handle it, and Andy needed to concentrate on taking the machine shop.

This was almost over, and he wanted to finish it. Now, before the horror just overwhelmed him. He knew that, to the day he died, he'd never be able to get those images out of his mind. And would always blame himself for the slaughter, in the end, no matter what reassurances people gave him. The horror had happened on his watch.

For someone like him, with his sense of duty, that was all that mattered. The only thing he could do now was end it. Watkins came up to him. "Don't worry about the ones who make it into the woods. Kevin and a few others can take care of that problem, over the next few days. Might take a week. Probably not." Andy stared at him. Watkins smiled. "For Kevin, it'll be like hunting deer. Except deer are more dangerous." All things considered… "Okay, fine. We'll leave it to him." Hearing a little commotion, he turned. James Cook and about half of the Boomers had come into C-block. "The towers are secure,"

Cook said without preamble. "And one of your guards-I don't know his name-told me to tell you that they've cleared D-block. They found a couple of hundred prisoners in there still alive. All of them locked up except seven, and those went back into a cell without putting up a fuss. So what's the plan now?" Hearing that two hundred people had survived in D-block was something of a relief. But not much. That block had held over three times that many inmates, just a few weeks earlier. But Andy pushed that aside, for the time being. First things first. "Machine shop. All that's left." Cook nodded, then gave the cells packed with still-living inmates a long, considering look. "You want, we Boomers can pick out some worthy men for you. Have them take the lead in the charge." He gave the prisoners that distinctive smile of his. The one Andy thought would probably terrify Las Vegas casino owners if they saw it coming. It was obviously terrifying some of the inmates. "Least the fuckwads can do," Cook added. The offer was tempting. But Andy wasn't about to go there. "No, we'll handle it. Our job, not theirs." "Get ready," said Luff. "We'll butcher 'em as they come in, and it'll all be over." The twenty men he had left didn't say anything. A couple of them nodded. Luff decided things had probably worked out for the best. Reliability was the key. With steady men, you could accomplish wonders, and the last hour or so had been a ruthless selection process. Any of Luff's reliables who weren't quite reliable were trying to get out through the east gate. Or trying to hide somewhere. The ones left were really reliable. All he needed. "Come out with your hands in the air! You will not be asked again. You have exactly ten seconds to respond." From inside the building came a reply. "Fuck you!" Andy looked at his watch and waited. "Five seconds!" There was no response. "One second!" Crack! That shot almost hit him. He could hear the bullet whizzing by. Before he could even give the order, three guards lobbed gas canisters through the building's broken windows. Hulbert could see movement through the open windows, even with the smoke. He said to the guard lying next to him on the roof: "I'm right-you're left." That was Bradley Scott, one of the guard force's sharpshooters. Scott fired a moment later. By then, Rod had a man in his scope and took him down. For the next few seconds, firing from the vantage point of the roof and working from each side, they shot every man inside the machine shop who made himself visible. Six, all told, and maybe two others. Not all of them would be dead, though. Three of the shots Rod had taken had been at exposed limbs, and he was sure the same was true of Scott. Nickerson and the other shooters on the other buildings were doing the same. Two minutes went by. After the first ten seconds or so, no shots had been fired from the machine shop. There'd been no counterfire at all.

During that time, other guards kept lobbing gas canisters into the building. By now, Rod knew, the inmates inside would be in bad shape.

Suddenly, waving a white strip of some kind of cloth, five men burst out of the building. Two men came behind them, but those last two were shot in the back by someone still inside before they could get out of the door. The five men who'd made it out were coughing, their eyes running. Two of them vomited the second they were through the door and took their first breath of fresh air. Vomiting or not, though, they scrambled to the side, out of the line of fire of anyone in the machine shop. The other three men had already done so. None of the guards moved. Andy went over, crouching low, and caught one of the prisoners by the shirt. "Who's still in there, Sternwood? Answer me, damn you." "Luff. Him and Krouse and Ray." He coughed. "Everybody else is dead in there, 'cept us. Maybe one or two more are alive, but they's hurt bad." One last charge, then. If that much gas hadn't forced Luff and the other two out, adding more wouldn't help. Andy would lead the charge himself. It was his responsibility. He dragged the prisoner over to the next building, letting the other four make their own way on hands and knees. Once that was done, he started giving orders into the radio. But James Cook interrupted him before he got very far. Somehow or other, he'd gotten his hands on a radio. He must have been standing next to a guard holding one, and had told him to hand it over. The guard would have obeyed, probably without even thinking about it. Cook was one of those people-Andy was another, himself-to whom authority came easily. "Andy, that's nuts. Fuck the machine shop. I've been talking to Boyne and he tells me most of the equipment in there will survive anyway. It's steel and cast iron."

"Survive what?" "I'll blow the damn thing. Give me ten minutes to go find Leffen. Then give him half an hour-hell, give him an hour-to figure something out. Fuck going over the trenches. Luff ain't worth it. Just snuff him like a rat in a hole." "He's right, Andy,"came Rod's voice."We can take the time. We've got the whole building surrounded and this one doesn't have any connecting underground corridors. Let's do it Cook's way." Andy hesitated, then realized they were right. His fierce urge to lead a charge into the building was just a half-suicidal way of trying to atone for his lapse in duty.

But, whatever else, he had no right to risk the lives of other people in the doing. "Okay, we'll try it. James, go ahead. Take as much time as you need." By Andy's watch, it took exactly one hour, six minutes and fourteen seconds. Without any preamble except a brief alert over the radio-that was for the benefit of the sharpshooters-Cook appeared in the courtyard, pushing a supply cart ahead of him. He was moving fast, almost but not quite running. The cart was loaded with bottles.

Big ones, most of them, all connected by some sort of fuse arrangement. God only knew what was in them. God and Carter Leffen, whose peculiar genius was now completely unrestrained by the need to avoid casualties. As soon as Cook appeared, Hulbert and the other sharpshooters starting firing into the building through the windows.

As covering fire went, it was absolute and complete. If Luff or either of his two men tried to shoot at the oncoming cart-if they even raised their heads enough to see it in the first place-they'd be dead. When Cook got to the open door, he planted his foot on the rear axle of the cart and put his weight on the handles. That was enough to hoist the front wheels into the building. Then-damn the maniac-he took the time and risk to enter the building pushing it in front of him. He'd have no covering fire, now. Not from Hulbert and Scott, anyway. He was right in their line of fire. The sharpshooters on the other buildings kept firing, though, and that was evidently enough to keep Luff and his men down. A few seconds later, Cook came out of the building.