Susquehanna by Chris Pourteau

Author:Chris Pourteau [Pourteau, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: James C. Pourteau
Published: 2014-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Logan led them out of the sewer through a manhole and into a dim alley. Damp stone walls reached two stories high on either side of them. One building, the ex-TRACE spy told them, was Transport’s armory. The other was a flophouse for migrant workers from the cities of the Great Shelf, employed in Transport’s factories not far from here.

The fall air drew a shroud of coldness around them as it funneled down the alley. “Fifteen minutes since the last explosion,” said Logan. “They’re as out of position as they’re gonna get.” They spotted no Transport soldiers around the building or in the area; they must have been drawn away to deal with the bombs. Logan’s plan was working.

The lieutenant positioned Hawkeye and Bracer on the roof of the flophouse opposite the armory’s back door, its most vulnerable spot. Without his heavy machine gun, Bracer held position with only his laser rifle and sidearm, aided by his spotter. They stood above, watching the locked back door, which was painted red as a clear message to the locals to stay away. Hawkeye tracked his omni-lens constantly left and right, up and down. When he gave the signal, Logan and the QB joined them on the roof.

Hatch was careful to stay in the shadows, away from Transport’s security cameras. Those all-seeing eyes monitored most of the City’s roads and alleys, one more way the Authority controlled movement. He searched quietly through a trash container for camouflage, coming up with a huge cotton blanket. He cut a head-sized hole out of it, then draped it over Stug. With his broad shoulders beneath the makeshift poncho, he looked like a circus tent with a head attached. But at least the blanket masked his weapons.

“Is this really necessary?” whined the sergeant.

“Nope. Well, unless you want to survive the first ten seconds of this little play. Then yep.”

Stug wrinkled his nose. “It smells awful.”

“That’s okay, so do you. Think of it as an opportunity to practice your method acting.”

“Hey, look on the bright side, Sarge,” said Pusher. “You get to punch people in the first act.”

The sergeant smiled. “Glass is half full, then.”

Mindful of the security camera scanning the back entrance, Hatch and Pusher quickly crossed the alleyway, setting themselves up opposite Stug some thirty feet from the red door. They would cover the back entrance while Stug did his bit.

Once in position, the lieutenant assessed the flophouse roof. The QB and Logan would be hunched down along the wall by now, preparing to leap across to the armory. Hawkeye’s omni-lens dipped once, twice, the moonlight twinkling briefly off its glass.

All clear.

“You’re on, Falstaff,” Hatch whispered.

Stug splayed himself against the building in his circus poncho. Still hidden in a slice of shadow cut by the moon across the stone behind him, he waited patiently as the security camera panned across the alley. When it pointed directly away from him, Stug staggered forward.

The camera whirred, its motion sensor tracking the monotony of the empty alley on its return arc.

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