if the friends’ suspicions were correct, they’d acquired the refrigerated wags as a result of that firefight. Maybe they weren’t that bad, then, if they could stop the arguing and pull together.
While this had been running through part of her mind, she had also been surveying the approaching attack party. The convoy had either slowed, or the attackers had picked up speed. Whatever the reason, they were now gaining, moving from a diagonal line of approach to a straighter line, aided by the slight bend of the old highway. Even through the clouds of their own dust, it was easy to see that the initial estimate of six, maybe eight, had been too optimistic. There were two rows, one running almost exactly behind the other.
Twelve wags.
Shit, Krysty thought. They had three armed wags, two men on bikes and two big cabs that carried a minimum of ordnance. If the attack party knew what they were doing, they could flank and divide the fire of the convoy, giving them openings to pierce the defenses. They couldn’t allow them to get that close.
Of course, being wild riders in the dustbowl region, the bastards might just be out of their brains on jolt, and up for a firefight rather than a concerted attempt to raid the convoy. That would make them easier to deal with, as they would be reckless and triple stupe because of the drug. Yeah, she hoped that was the scenario. They could just pick off the bastards one by one.
But they couldn’t take that chance.
“Doc, J.B.,” she said urgently, “you hearing this?”
“I am indeed, dear girl.” Doc’s tones were clear and ringing, even with the static. “I am assuming that we want to eliminate the risk before it becomes too close?”
“Got that right,” Krysty agreed.
“We’ve got cannon fire capacity in this wag,” J.B.’s voice said. “Eula tells me that you got that, too, Cody. And it’s in your wag, Doc.”
“Hell, yeah,” Cody said.
“I am told this is true,” Doc confirmed.
“Okay,” J.B. said slowly. Even from just the one word, those who knew him could tell that the Armorer’s brain was working overtime, playing out scenarios in his head, assessing every possibility as he estimated the best move for all concerned parties. “We haven’t heard from Jak or Ryan yet. Figure they can hear us?”
Cody was blunt. “No way. Stupe idea giving them the comm shit. Guys who bought the farm last time told me they couldn’t hear us, and just acted according to what they saw.”
It was as J.B. had suspected—whatever tactics they planned and relayed to each other, they would have to assume that Ryan and Jak would be acting independently. So they’d have to give them space, and not end up helping them buy the farm by accident.
“We have to keep triple-red alert for them. Soon as they see the enemy, they’ll head for combat. So we need to hit as hard as we can, and now. Millie, Krysty, you’ve only got ordnance for close-range combat, so it’s up to me, Doc and Cody to knock the bastards out. Lay down a barrage and get their range.”
“My dear John Barrymore, it’ll be a pleasure.” Doc cackled.
“Yeah, let’s hope it’s that easy,” J.B. said wryly.
“DOC, YOU SURE you used one of these before?” Raven asked as Doc seated himself behind the rocket launcher that had been mounted and bolted into an ob slit in the wag.
“Not this particular model,” he said with assurance, though ruined the effect by adding, “at least, I think not,” in an undertone, and thus undermined the confidence he wished to instill in Raven and Ramona.
“Yeah, that’s cool. We let the old guy loose with a honkin’ big piece of hardware that he doesn’t know squat about,” Ramona said dryly, without taking her eyes off the road ahead, squinting through the wash of dust that billowed from the refrigerated wag in front of her. “You see where these jokers are, Rave? ’Cause I can hardly see Ray’s ass in front of me.”
“That ain’t a pleasant
While this had been running through part of her mind, she had also been surveying the approaching attack party. The convoy had either slowed, or the attackers had picked up speed. Whatever the reason, they were now gaining, moving from a diagonal line of approach to a straighter line, aided by the slight bend of the old highway. Even through the clouds of their own dust, it was easy to see that the initial estimate of six, maybe eight, had been too optimistic. There were two rows, one running almost exactly behind the other.
Twelve wags.
Shit, Krysty thought. They had three armed wags, two men on bikes and two big cabs that carried a minimum of ordnance. If the attack party knew what they were doing, they could flank and divide the fire of the convoy, giving them openings to pierce the defenses. They couldn’t allow them to get that close.
Of course, being wild riders in the dustbowl region, the bastards might just be out of their brains on jolt, and up for a firefight rather than a concerted attempt to raid the convoy. That would make them easier to deal with, as they would be reckless and triple stupe because of the drug. Yeah, she hoped that was the scenario. They could just pick off the bastards one by one.
But they couldn’t take that chance.
“Doc, J.B.,” she said urgently, “you hearing this?”
“I am indeed, dear girl.” Doc’s tones were clear and ringing, even with the static. “I am assuming that we want to eliminate the risk before it becomes too close?”
“Got that right,” Krysty agreed.
“We’ve got cannon fire capacity in this wag,” J.B.’s voice said. “Eula tells me that you got that, too, Cody. And it’s in your wag, Doc.”
“Hell, yeah,” Cody said.
“I am told this is true,” Doc confirmed.
“Okay,” J.B. said slowly. Even from just the one word, those who knew him could tell that the Armorer’s brain was working overtime, playing out scenarios in his head, assessing every possibility as he estimated the best move for all concerned parties. “We haven’t heard from Jak or Ryan yet. Figure they can hear us?”
Cody was blunt. “No way. Stupe idea giving them the comm shit. Guys who bought the farm last time told me they couldn’t hear us, and just acted according to what they saw.”
It was as J.B. had suspected—whatever tactics they planned and relayed to each other, they would have to assume that Ryan and Jak would be acting independently. So they’d have to give them space, and not end up helping them buy the farm by accident.
“We have to keep triple-red alert for them. Soon as they see the enemy, they’ll head for combat. So we need to hit as hard as we can, and now. Millie, Krysty, you’ve only got ordnance for close-range combat, so it’s up to me, Doc and Cody to knock the bastards out. Lay down a barrage and get their range.”
“My dear John Barrymore, it’ll be a pleasure.” Doc cackled.
“Yeah, let’s hope it’s that easy,” J.B. said wryly.
“DOC, YOU SURE you used one of these before?” Raven asked as Doc seated himself behind the rocket launcher that had been mounted and bolted into an ob slit in the wag.
“Not this particular model,” he said with assurance, though ruined the effect by adding, “at least, I think not,” in an undertone, and thus undermined the confidence he wished to instill in Raven and Ramona.
“Yeah, that’s cool. We let the old guy loose with a honkin’ big piece of hardware that he doesn’t know squat about,” Ramona said dryly, without taking her eyes off the road ahead, squinting through the wash of dust that billowed from the refrigerated wag in front of her. “You see where these jokers are, Rave? ’Cause I can hardly see Ray’s ass in front of me.”
“That ain’t a pleasant
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