The Assault - By Brian Falkner Page 0,69

booby trap.

19. THE SHAFT

“GO!” CHISNALL YELLED, PUSHING BROGAN UP OUT of her chair. Monster grabbed her arm and pulled her with him.

Fleming didn’t move.

Chisnall stopped at the doorway that led to the science labs and looked back.

“I won’t fit—you heard that,” Fleming said.

“But—”

“Get out of here,” Fleming said. “I’ll do what I can to give you more time. Here, you’re going to need this.” He handed Brogan’s coil-gun to Chisnall, then moved behind a desk and aimed his own weapon at the doorway. “See you in another life.”

Chisnall didn’t stop to argue any further.

“Wilton,” Chisnall yelled on the comm as they ran through the lab. “Get the Pukes to lie down on the floor with their hands on their heads. Get the kids in a group. We’re heading in your direction.”

Behind he heard the sound of firing—Fleming engaging the enemy. Pinning them down in the entranceway.

“What’s going on?” Wilton asked.

“There’s an exit in the plant room, an air shaft,” Chisnall yelled. “We’re going to try and get the women and kids out of here before the warhead goes off.”

“How long have we got?”

“Maybe forty mikes,” Chisnall said. He heard a muffled curse on the other end of the comm.

They reached the maternity ward, and he raced to the first cell, examining the glass door. It was locked, but he hammered on the glass with the butt of his sidearm until it shattered. He knocked out the jagged pieces of broken glass and climbed through into the chamber.

“Ma’am, we’d like to take you home,” he said.

The staring eyes didn’t even turn to look at him.

He touched her face, and she responded to the touch, turning as if to look at him, but her eyes remained unfocused.

“Ryan, they’ve done”—Brogan stopped and dropped her eyes—“we’ve done something to these women’s brains. They’re not much more than vegetables. They can’t walk and they sure as hell can’t climb a ventilation shaft.”

“They’re humans too,” Chisnall said.

“Leave them, Ryan. Help me save the kids,” she said.

She was right. He knew she was right. But that didn’t make it right.

With a last look backward, he climbed out of the cell and ran with the others. As they ran through the empty nursery, he hit the release on his coil-gun and it sprang into his arms. Ahead of him, Monster had done the same.

The sound of Fleming’s gunfire came from the hallway behind them as they burst into the schoolroom. Then there was an explosion, and the gunfire was silenced. Fleming had done what he could. But now there was nothing to hold back the angry Puke army.

“Monster, get back to the first dorm,” Chisnall said. “It’s the only way in. Anything comes that way, shoot it.”

He ran into the recreation room. The adult Bzadians were nowhere to be seen, but terrified children huddled by the doorway.

“Where are the others?” Chisnall asked.

“Found a storeroom for gym equipment at the back.” Wilton grinned. “Stuck ’em all in there and told them there was a grenade attached to the outside door handle.”

“Is there?”

“Nope. Didn’t want to waste a grenade.”

“Okay, go help Monster.” Chisnall turned to Brogan. “Get the kids out of here. We’ll try and hold the Pukes off as long as we can. Price, go with them. Watch her. If you think she’s trying anything, shoot her.”

“Gladly,” Price said.

Chisnall reached up to his left shoulder and unclipped the ID tube. He handed it to Price. “This is my data recorder. It’s recorded everything we’ve done or said over the last few days. It has a built-in transmitter. As soon as you’re out, press here to trigger it. We have to get this information back to base. And it’s our ride home. They’ll use the transmitter to find us.”

She tucked it into a pocket and turned to the kids.

“Price,” Chisnall said.

She glanced back.

“I’m sorry that I thought it was you. That I didn’t trust you. It was just …”

She shook her head. “Get us out of here alive and all is forgiven.”

Chisnall nodded, then ran back to the long dormitory.

Monster and Wilton had taken up defensive positions. Monster was in one of the doorways; Wilton was crouched behind one of the potted plants, the long snout of his sniper rifle extending through the leaves. Chisnall lay on the ground in the middle of the passageway and trained his coil-gun on the door at the far end.

They didn’t have to wait long. The door began to open, then slammed shut as Wilton’s rifle cracked. The bullet ricocheted inside the dorm.

Chisnall shoved