Shotgun Honey Presents Volume 4 by Ron Earl Phillips

Author:Ron Earl Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

IV

Someone had strung a brightly colored ‘STUDENT PRIDE’ banner between the tall stone pillars marking the quad’s south entrance. It provided an ironic contrast to the mass of riot cops standing beneath, tricked out in black body armor, cradling rifles. Maxine’s guts clenched at the sight of them, but nobody shouted at the snowplow to stop as it rumbled past, headed for the service road that led off-campus. Beta Dog, no fool, chose to duck below window-level, rather than offer the officers his infamous one-finger salute.

Despite that bit of luck, they made it barely five miles beyond campus before everything went wrong. Maxine piloted the truck over the aging wrought-iron bridge that served as the gateway to the north side of town, lowering the snowplow (after much fumbling with the controls) to knock aside a couple of burned-out cars blocking the lane, as Beta Dog kept an eye on the micro-drones buzzing overhead and Julia, fearful of the distant crack of gunfire, kept her head tucked below the dashboard. Maxine placed a comforting hand on the back of her neck.

“Not sure this was the best route, governor,” Beta Dog said, pointing through the windshield at the far shore, where a line of steeltown bungalows merrily burned to the ground.

“We’re okay,” Maxine said, easing the truck into the bridge’s exit lane. “Just keep checking the news.”

Beta Dog did as ordered, flicking his phone-screen to keep up with the viral newsfeeds, the real-time video fed by the machines swarming overhead. “Riot line’s to our east,” he said. “Cops, too.”

“Whole campus was on lockdown,” Julia said.

“Really?” Beta Dog chuckled. “Maxine didn’t tell me that. We sailed right out of there.”

“Keep focused,” Maxine said, gunning the beast past the bridge off-ramp. The surrounding streets seemed empty, although it was hard to tell at this speed; she just hoped the flickering shadows in the vacant windows of the houses, and in the weeds behind the tall fences, were a trick of the sun, and not people readying to attack them. From here she could see the gray flank of the warehouse beyond the road’s far curve, one flimsy chain-link standing between her and many cases of beer and lots of profit. Maybe she would call Preacher afterward, brag about what she managed to pull off—

From between two houses loped one of those new military drones, the ones that moved on bent legs to a horrifyingly jaunty inner beat, looking like dogs bulked out with thick armor. It stopped in the middle of the road, facing them, and Maxine had two seconds and fifty yards to contemplate the cylinder strapped to the thing’s back, barely time to scream before the world exploded in a flash of white light, a curtain of fire over the windshield, Julia’s hand tight on her arm as everything went—

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