PLAZA by Brown Shane M

Author:Brown, Shane M [Brown, Shane M]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-03-04T05:00:00+00:00

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Dale wove through the ruins, firing over his shoulder, racing to join back up with Merc.

'Merc, I'm just coming around the Taj Mahal,' he radioed. Fontana had labeled this place the Taj Mahal. It looked nothing like it. At the time, Dale suspected Fontana couldn't think of anything better, so he just used the first name that popped into his thick head

I bet he doesn't even know what the real Taj Mahal looks like.

'Keep coming, boy,' Merc replied. 'I'm just west of you. You should see me soon.'

The Taj Mahal was a solid raised platform, about thirty feet across, surrounded by eight sets of steps. Dale wanted to call it the Squashed Spider, which it closely resembled from the air, but Fontana had gotten cranky about changing the name.

Dodging around the second set of steps, Dale suddenly came up short.

The corner where the steps met the main structure was a mess of human gore.

Dale felt something pliable under his boot. He'd stood on somebody's hand. Two glistening bones stuck from the dismembered wrist under his boot.

What has Merc done to this guy?

Scraps of uniform identified the remains of a security guard. Had something been eating him? Pieces of flesh lay scattered all over the place. Entrails stretched from the ruptured torso up the steps. The guard’s head lay raggedly cracked open like a half-peeled coconut. The blood looked just minutes old.

Merc couldn't have done this, could he?

Dale backed from the grisly spectacle and dashed off. He found Merc thirty meters away, crouching behind a pyramid-shaped section of wall.

'What took you so long?' demanded Merc.

Dale couldn't get the dead guard’s image from his head. 'What did you do to that guard back there?'

Merc looked surprised. 'I don't think I'd even hit one yet. Lucky shot, I guess.'

Dale scanned Merc. There wasn't any blood on him. He obviously hadn't been party to what happened back there. So what was it?

Dale jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'He wasn't shot. Something tore him apart. You have to see this.'

'We have bigger problems,' said Merc. 'I can't raise Fontana or Randerson on the radio. Maybe that last missile took them out.'

Dale insisted, 'No, you gotta see this. This isn't normal. Something just tore him apart a minute ago. It must be close. It's a wild animal or something.'

'Shut up,' hissed Merc.

'Listen. I'm telling you - '

'Shut up,' Merc repeated, holding up one finger, 'Listen.'

Now Dale heard it. A motor bike, revving hard along the top tier. 'That could be them.'

'Quick.' Merc dashed north across the tier. Within seconds they reached where the edge dropped to the middle tier. Both men crouched in cover. The angle provided a good view of the east bunker and the Gallery steps below.

More importantly, they spotted four guards racing to intercept two men hurtling along on a motorbike. One of the guards was Kline. The two men on the bike were Fontana and Randerson.

Fontana gunned the bike like a madman.

He slid the bike through a huge fishtail and accelerated hard along the tier's edge.

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