Judas Strike by James Axler

Author:James Axler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781933059655
Publisher: Gold Eagle
Published: 2001-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

"Agreed."

"Well, leaving won't be a problem," Ryan stated, looking over the collapsed tunnel. "We can climb the cave-in and reach the ground easy."

"Indeed. As long as the folks on the other side don't dig their way out," Doc reminded him curtly. "Perhaps I should stay as rear guard, to prevent such an occurrence."

"Good idea," Ryan said. "Anybody with us when we came back, and I'll use code."

Hesitating for a moment, Doc offered the man the M-16, but he pushed it back.

"You may need it," Ryan said, glancing at the ton of collapsed soil.

The scholar nodded. "Understood."

"Hey, what that?" Jak asked, retrieving a small piece of dirty cloth from the floor.

It wasn't a wick for one of the candle bowls, or a used snot rag. On a hunch, he held it to the clothing of the dead men and it was completely different.

"This Ann?" the teenager asked, showing it to the others.

Ryan took the rag and looked it over closely. "Same color," he said thoughtfully.

"And it has been ripped loose, not cut. Mebbe she's laying a trail for us to follow."

"Or a trap for us to walk blindly into," J.B. stated, straightening his glasses.

"Come on," Ryan said, advancing, "Let's find her and get out of here."

He took the point and crouched to sneak a peek around the corner of the tunnel.

There was a long passageway beyond that stretched for yards before ending at another intersection. Rising, he led the way down the corridor, pausing at a dark section of earth that rose ever so slightly above the rest of the floor. Ryan scuffed his combat boot on the ground and detected a subtle movement under the newly turned soil. He fired twice into the ground. There was a muffled cry and blood began to ooze from the earth.

"Triple stupe," he stated coldly. "Old trick. Trader taught it to us over beers at Charlie's bar."

"Called it a Hanoi Handjob," J.B. added.

"No shit?" Jak asked nervously, brushing back his snowy hair. The cannies buried a man to wait like a land mine for one of them to step on, and then he'd attack. It was brilliant. The teenager now scrutinized the dirt floor and the jigsaw-puzzle ceiling much more closely for any additional living traps.

Reaching the intersection, the companions found the tunnel went in both directions for a good distance, the walls lined with doors. Most were unlocked and led to sleeping quarters for families, empty now. A few were locked, and contained clothing from the prisoners, one room packed to the ceiling with assorted boots. But no weapons.

Every corridor ended in another intersection, each branching out into more corridors and side passages. Closed doors lined the bamboo walls, and they had to check each one before risking to leave it behind them. It was slow going, and they worried about the cannies preparing another trap. The gray men were smart and ruthless, a dangerous combination.

"Place is a bastard maze," Ryan growled, using a pencil stub to draw a map of the tunnel on a piece of the lighthouse journal.

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