Ghost Book Two: The Death Machines by Mike Stackpole Nathan Long

Author:Mike Stackpole, Nathan Long
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Ghost, Wasteland 2, Death, Death Machines, Post-Apocalyptic, Ghost Book Two, Rangers, Game, Raiders, Adventure, Wasteland, Apocalypse, Apocalyptic, Machines
ISBN: 9781941210024
Publisher: inXile entertainment Inc.
Published: 2014-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

– Chapter Seven –

We all jumped like scalded cats as bullets sprayed into the hall, chewing up the marble floor and ricocheting off the gold banisters of the broad stairs. Thrasher and Vargas dove left and Angie, Ace and Hell Razor dove right. I tried to follow them, but a bullet hit my pseudo–chitin shin guard and knocked my feet out from under me. I rolled for the stairs with bullets sparking all around me and bounced down half the flight before I was out of the line of fire. I think more bullets must have glanced off my armor before I got clear, because I left like I’d fallen out of a three story window – onto a rock garden.

“Ghost!” called Angie, as the doors finally recessed into the ceiling. “You okay?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say okay, no.” I checked myself head to toe, all in one piece. “But I don’t have any holes in me.”

“Glad to hear it.” That was Vargas’s voice. “Hell Razor, any grenades left?”

“Sorry, used my last one on those last guys.”

“All right, we’ll do it the hard way then. Ghost, can you get a peek through that door?”

“Can you cover me?”

“Will do,” called Vargas. “On your count.”

I opened my mouth to shout, then realized the Guardians would be listening too. Time for a little syncopation.

“One… two…” I popped my head up and saw a handful of Guardians hiding behind bits of heavy furniture, guns at the ready. They were positioned to give themselves overlapping fields of fire. They saw me and unleashed, but I was already ducking back and thinking fast.

“Three!”

The hammering of their automatic weapons gave way to the rising whine of laser rifles as Angie and Vargas fired blind around the corner. The sound died out.

“Five of ‘em,” I called out. “Entrenched. But I’ve got an idea.”

“Well, keep it to yourself,” said Vargas. “They might be listening.”

“Oh, they are,” I said. “Believe me. Just keep ‘em in there. I’ll be ready in a minute. And hey, Hell Razor, I need your rope!”

“Hang on.”

I slapped a full charge into the meson cannon and few seconds later a neatly coiled length of line arced over the railings and dropped onto the steps beside me. I quickly undid it, then tied one end around the butt stock of the meson cannon. Next came the crazy part. I pulled my kerchief from my pocket and threaded it through the cannon’s trigger guard, then pointed the gun straight up the stairs and tied the kerchief tight around its body so that it depressed the trigger. The purple death light streamed from the muzzle, eating the edges of the marble steps and burning into the ceiling above the open golden doors.

“Jesus, Ghost!” came Angie’s voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Get back from the doors!” I shouted. “Far as you can!”

“You crazy bastard!” called Vargas.

I heard them scrambling back as I heaved the big gun up the stairs so it landed at the top. It bounced as it hit, sending the thick purple beam zigzagging around.

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