Axler, James - Deathlands 31 by Axler James

Author:Axler, James
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Twenty

The doors were reinforced with sec steel, and Ryan saw immediately that there was no way he could shoot out the locks. It would take four ounces of ex-plas or a couple of implode grens to break them down.

"Windows," Krysty said.

"Shutters are sec steel, as well."

Now it seemed as if everyone in the room was waking to a choking fog of swirling poisonous gas. Near the entrance doors, Ryan, Krysty and the shogun were farthest from the attack, which had started in a distant corner.

Ryan caught the first sniff of it and immediately found his eye watering, the back of his throat prickling as though someone had sprayed pepper in his face.

Krysty had pulled out a kerchief and pressed it against her nose and mouth, standing still with her eyes shut. "Gaia! What is it?"

Mashashige replied, "Sarin gas, I think. There was a supply left after terrorist actions in last predark months. It kills."

Ryan wondered whether the gas was heavier or lighter than air. But he decided immediately that it didn't

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matter, since the panicking men were running around and stirring it up all around the ballroom.

"We cannot block the vents," Mashashige said. "There is not a hope. I regret that you will die with me in a fight not of your making."

"No rad-blasted fight, is it?" Ryan coughed so hard it felt as though he was going to bring up his guts, sickened by the realization that time was racing away and the last train to the coast was already pulling out of the station.

With everyone on board.

There was a little light filtering in through narrow strips of wired glass set in the entrance doors. Only about three inches wide, they offered no chance of escape.

But Ryan stumbled toward them, holding the SIG-Sauer in front of him, dragging Krysty with him.

Mashashige followed them, ignoring the mayhem behind as men fell down, bleeding from the eyes, noses and mouths, hands clawing at their own faces to try to relieve the agonizing effects of the gas.

"Can't get through there," Krysty panted.

Ryan pressed the muzzle of the heavy blaster against the nearest panel and fired three shots, shattering the glass, letting in a tiny amount of fresh air. He did the same on the second and third of the three strips, pressing the barrel out into the cool air of the hallway and firing off the rest of the mag.

He was glad that the built-in baffle silencer had finally given up the ghost some months earlier, allowing the full-throated roar of the blaster to echo out into the rest of the Best Eastern Serendipity Overlook.

"Someone will hear and come," Mashashige said, coughing, his voice muffled by the wide sash that he'd wrapped around his narrow, angular face.

Behind them there was a scene of nightmare horror.

Ryan glanced over his shoulder, wiping his streaming eye, seeing that the gas was still vomiting from the vents, swirling around, flooding the lungs of every man there.

"This," Krysty panted, pressing the short-barreled double-action Smith amp; Wesson 640 into Ryan's hand.

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