pray, let us proceed,” Doc rumbled, drawing the LeMat to check the fresh load in the blaster. “The sooner started, the sooner finished. Ergo sum est , eh, my dear Ryan?”
“Bet your ass,” Ryan agreed, sharing a private look with Krysty and Mildred. They were unable to talk freely at the moment with Doc standing among them, but the man’s bizarre behavior would be discussed later.
Positioning themselves in front of the blast doors in a combat formation, the companions stayed razor while Krysty punched in the exit code on a small keypad recessed into the wall, then pressed the lever. There came the expected rumble of heavy machinery under the floor, then the sound of working hydraulics, and the nukeproof doors loudly unlocked and opened with a low rumble. A wave of cold washed over the companions as they gradually saw a solid wall of rushing water completely blocking the exit.
“Dark night, we’re under a waterfall!” J.B. exclaimed, resting the barrel of his AK-47 on a shoulder. A fine mist was coming into the tunnel, making everything damp.
“Good way hide redoubt,” Jak commented.
Going to the edge of the slippery floor, Ryan experimentally held out a hand and let the falling cascade impact his fingers. The water hit hard, but not with pummeling force, so this was clearly not a big waterfall.
“We’re going to need some rope,” Mildred said, holstering her blaster. “No way we’re going to try to breach that without support.”
A coil of rope had been spotted in the tool room of the garage and quickly retrieved. Lashing one end around Ryan, the rest of the companions took hold of the other end and tried to brace themselves.
“We could loop this once around the wag,” Doc suggested, glancing at the vehicle.
Shifting his grip on the rope, Jak snorted in contempt.
“Too risky,” J.B. answered. “Jak and I have that baby rigged to blow if Delphi farts too hard. Stay as far away from that wag as possible.”
“Accepted.”
“Good safety tip, thank you, Egon,” Mildred said in a singsong voice that meant she was quoting somebody.
Wrapping the end of the rope around his own middle, Doc gave the woman a quizzical glance, but she could only shrug in reply. The film Ghostbusters was one of her favorite movies, but its humor was a little too bizarre to try to explain to a schoolteacher from the 1880s.
Seeing that the others had dug in as best they could, Ryan shuffled forward again, moving closer to the edge, feeling the companions tighten the rope lashed around his waist. The cool spray felt refreshing on his face and, squinting his good eye, Ryan could almost see through the shimmering wall. Can’t be that deep then, he realized. Shallow and slow. This was just camou, and not a barrier to keep out folks.
His sleeves were already soaked, droplets of condensed mist trickling down his face into his shirt. He had taken off his jacket, but the man still felt like he was carrying fifty pounds of clothing.
“Ready?” the one-eyed man called over a shoulder, fingering the edge of the doorway.
“Abso-fragging-lutely!” J.B. shouted back over the muted roar of the fall.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan placed an arm over his head and stuck his face into the rushing water. The falls pounded on his arms, but not hard enough to knock him over. Extending a foot, he felt nothing beyond the tunnel, then stabbed downward with the AK-47. There was no resistance until the longblaster was completely submerged. There was a ledge about four feet away. Good enough.
Pulling back, Ryan gulped some air, brushed the sodden hair from his face, hunched his shoulders, and walked out of the tunnel. There was a moment of disorientation as he fell, then plunged into water. It rose to his chest before his boots hit rock. With the water pouring all around him, Ryan held his breath and waited a moment to make sure it was stable. Then he tugged once on the rope, saying that he was still alive, and got an answering tug before
“Bet your ass,” Ryan agreed, sharing a private look with Krysty and Mildred. They were unable to talk freely at the moment with Doc standing among them, but the man’s bizarre behavior would be discussed later.
Positioning themselves in front of the blast doors in a combat formation, the companions stayed razor while Krysty punched in the exit code on a small keypad recessed into the wall, then pressed the lever. There came the expected rumble of heavy machinery under the floor, then the sound of working hydraulics, and the nukeproof doors loudly unlocked and opened with a low rumble. A wave of cold washed over the companions as they gradually saw a solid wall of rushing water completely blocking the exit.
“Dark night, we’re under a waterfall!” J.B. exclaimed, resting the barrel of his AK-47 on a shoulder. A fine mist was coming into the tunnel, making everything damp.
“Good way hide redoubt,” Jak commented.
Going to the edge of the slippery floor, Ryan experimentally held out a hand and let the falling cascade impact his fingers. The water hit hard, but not with pummeling force, so this was clearly not a big waterfall.
“We’re going to need some rope,” Mildred said, holstering her blaster. “No way we’re going to try to breach that without support.”
A coil of rope had been spotted in the tool room of the garage and quickly retrieved. Lashing one end around Ryan, the rest of the companions took hold of the other end and tried to brace themselves.
“We could loop this once around the wag,” Doc suggested, glancing at the vehicle.
Shifting his grip on the rope, Jak snorted in contempt.
“Too risky,” J.B. answered. “Jak and I have that baby rigged to blow if Delphi farts too hard. Stay as far away from that wag as possible.”
“Accepted.”
“Good safety tip, thank you, Egon,” Mildred said in a singsong voice that meant she was quoting somebody.
Wrapping the end of the rope around his own middle, Doc gave the woman a quizzical glance, but she could only shrug in reply. The film Ghostbusters was one of her favorite movies, but its humor was a little too bizarre to try to explain to a schoolteacher from the 1880s.
Seeing that the others had dug in as best they could, Ryan shuffled forward again, moving closer to the edge, feeling the companions tighten the rope lashed around his waist. The cool spray felt refreshing on his face and, squinting his good eye, Ryan could almost see through the shimmering wall. Can’t be that deep then, he realized. Shallow and slow. This was just camou, and not a barrier to keep out folks.
His sleeves were already soaked, droplets of condensed mist trickling down his face into his shirt. He had taken off his jacket, but the man still felt like he was carrying fifty pounds of clothing.
“Ready?” the one-eyed man called over a shoulder, fingering the edge of the doorway.
“Abso-fragging-lutely!” J.B. shouted back over the muted roar of the fall.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan placed an arm over his head and stuck his face into the rushing water. The falls pounded on his arms, but not hard enough to knock him over. Extending a foot, he felt nothing beyond the tunnel, then stabbed downward with the AK-47. There was no resistance until the longblaster was completely submerged. There was a ledge about four feet away. Good enough.
Pulling back, Ryan gulped some air, brushed the sodden hair from his face, hunched his shoulders, and walked out of the tunnel. There was a moment of disorientation as he fell, then plunged into water. It rose to his chest before his boots hit rock. With the water pouring all around him, Ryan held his breath and waited a moment to make sure it was stable. Then he tugged once on the rope, saying that he was still alive, and got an answering tug before
Similar Books
