Hard Drop (19 page)

“Cap.” Chip said, again, just as one of the soldiers turned and gave the station a long, hard look. Tyco froze. He watched the soldier, tracing the path of his eyes, considering what he was seeing and how he would react. He knew the soldier couldn’t see him in the dark below the stairs, but still he didn’t move, waiting for the soldier to move on. The stairs were directly overhead, just on the other side of the wall they were pressed against, but they would have to emerge into the open to reach them. He wasn’t about to chance that, with the soldier this close.

The soldier turned away, and Tyco tapped back slowly, letting out his breath.
 

“Get ready to move.” He muttered, under his breath, nodding at Hog. “You first.”
 

He knew he couldn’t chance explaining his plan to Chip over the comm, much as it might have helped, for fear it would be audible across the square. They would have to go alone, without any hope of covering fire. If the soldiers turned to look at the wrong time, they’d be sitting ducks.
 

Hog slid past him, moving into position at the edge of the stairway.
 

“Good luck.” Cap whispered.
 

“Fuck that.” She spat. She touched her fingers to her rosary quickly, turned the corner, and went.
 

She was quick about it, determined and careful, but none of her movements were actually exactly
quick
. She just moved with sullen fluidity, taking only the minimum number of steps forward, followed immediately by a quick retreat backwards up the stairs, heel by heel feeling out the next step behind her. It wasn’t graceful, nor was it ugly; she just moved with a determined purpose and did not hesitate.
 

She tapped in when she reached the platform, safely out of sight. Tyco exhaled slowly and turned to Ghost.
 

“Go.” He said, but Ghost shook his head.
 

“What about him?” He asked, nodding towards Shelley.
 

“He’s with me.” Tyco’s answer was final. Ghost, relieved to have Shelley off his hands for now, wasn’t about to fight his decision.
 

“Your call.” He said, and melted past them.
 

Ghost moved gracefully, finding shadows where there were none, and never stopped moving. The guards might have been staring straight at him and not have known. He was upstairs and tapping in in a heartbeat, long before Shelley was ready. Tyco saw the panic on his face and sighed inwardly.
 

The guards loitered in the square, smoking cigarettes inside the shade of the concrete husk opposite the station. They were sullen and nervous, a far cry from the sloppy, disorganized groups they had encountered earlier. It was likely, Tyco thought, that they had seen the corpses of their compatriots down the hill. Bodies had a way of sobering you up.
 

“Come on.” He nudged Shelley. “We have to move.”
 

Shelley nodded slowly, trying not to look at the men in the square and failing.
 

“What do I – what should I do - ?” He started. Tyco cut him off impatiently. He had no time to deal with the man’s uncertainty, not with the locals at their doorstep and the mission in the balance.

“Just stay behind me, we’ll do fine.” He said, and turned the corner before Shelley had the chance to doubt that.
 

He kept Shelley tucked in tight behind him, covering him as they stepped forwards towards the stairs.
 

“Easy, Doc.” He mumbled, eyes trained on the soldiers in the square. There was nothing between him and their rifles now but open air. The archway at the front of the station yawned open, seemingly miles wide. “They can’t see us.” He whispered reassuringly, as much for himself as for Shelley.
 

Shelley nodded breathlessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the soldiers. He followed Tyco blindly, putting one foot in front of the other, forcing himself to move.
 

The stairs were close now, only a few more steps away. Tyco could feel Ghost and Hog staring down at them, could feel himself holding his breath as he turned towards the stairs. He glanced back at Shelley, forcing himself to exhale, and nodded, indicating for the doctor to start up the stairs first.
 

“Go.” He mouthed.
 

Shelley turned, relieved, and lunged forwards up the staircase. He took large steps, moving slowly but launching himself upwards four stairs at a time, so eager was he to be out of the firing line.

He was five steps up when a pile of garbage shifted suddenly under his foot. A rat, large and furry and angry, rushed out and down the stairs in fury, squeaking every step of the way. It sprinted through Tyco’s legs and out into the daylight.

The soldiers in the square looked up in alarm. One raised his rifle, found the rat, and fired. It dropped in mid-step, its excited squealing quieted, sliding to a stop beneath the open station archway. The soldiers broke into loud laughter, releasing their tension in one loud burst.

Tyco heard the team behind him shift immediately, the soft clink of their rifles brushing against the cloth of their uniforms, signaling their alarm. He stood still in the shadows, staring out at the soldiers, waiting on their reaction. He could only hope they’d be satisfied with the dead rat.
 

The rat-killer started towards the station, moving towards the archway in short, measured steps. The thud of his boots on the concrete sounded like gunfire to Tyco’s ears, echoing loudly inside the station.
 

Shelley, still frozen in mid-step on the stairs, looked from Tyco to the soldiers, panic rising in his throat.
 

“Commander - !” He whispered, but Tyco waved him off without turning around. He moved slowly out of the light, pulling back slowly into the shadow as the rebel approached.
 

The soldier paused at the front of the station, letting his eyes adjust. He scanned the station interior, from the empty ticket booth to the wires in the control room to the waiting hall beyond. He stood there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. One tap sounded clearly on the radio. Chip had the shot. Tyco might have been more relieved if he hadn’t been plastered against the station wall trying to stay out of the man’s eyeline.
 

Tyco knew if the soldier took another step into the station, he’d be spotted, and then all hope of a quiet exit would be lost. Even if he and Shelley managed to stay out of the sight, there was the matter of the guard Chip had taken down earlier, his corpse slumped against the inner wall of the station where they had hidden him earlier. He was a grisly sight: head wounds were never pretty, and in this case there wasn’t much left that would qualify as a head.
 

The soldier turned away from the station unexpectedly, walking slowly back towards the group in the square. Shelley gasped in heavy relief, waiting until the man had left the entrance before heading farther up the stairs. Tyco followed as quickly as he dared. Soon enough, they’d be gone from here, and the soldiers below could have their dead companion all to themselves.

The soldiers outside cheered as their leader returned, standing to greet him as a hero. One offered him a fresh cigarette, while another shouted something out, leading the whole group to break out in raucous laughter. The leader shouted back, and they laughed again.
 

Without, another soldier broke off from the group, jogging quickly across the square towards the station.

“Cap.” Chip tapped in, interrupting Tyco on his way up the stairs.

Tyco turned just in time to see the young soldier enter the station, heading straight for the dead rat. He picked it up by the tail, turning and holding it up like a trophy for the soldiers outside to see.
 

“Look - !” He shouted, his booming, jovial voice echoing through the station, but he never made it to the punchline. He stood frozen in horror, staring at the dead guard propped against the station wall. His back tightened visibly, and he turned slowly to face into the darkness, fearful of the danger he found there.

He found it in the form of the barrel of Tyco’s gun, leveled at him from the protection of the stairs.

The man roared, flinging the rat into the station in Tyco’s direction and turning to run. His feet slipped and slid on the waste beneath his feet in his rush to reach the door.
 

He didn’t last long. Tyco opened fire at once, and Ghost and Hog joined in at once. The man’s cry was cut short, his feet slipped uncorrected, and he fell hard, slamming to the floor within arm’s reach of the dead sentry. Tyco wasted no time in leaping up the stairs, sweeping Shelley ahead of him and pushing towards the trains.

Chip’s rifle fired three times in quick succession before falling silent. A moment later, the sniper appeared from above, hurtling easily down a long flight of stairs and sprinting for the trains.
 

“How many?” Tyco asked him, covering the rearguard.
 

“Four more.” Chip said, running past him to the end of the platform.
 

Hog went to work on the doors, crashing her rifle butt hard against them repeatedly. They didn’t budge.
 

Shelley pushed her aside roughly, well-aware of the danger behind him.
 

“Violence is such a poor option.” He chided, and set to work searching for the hidden panel by the driver side door. He ran his hand intently across the smooth metal, feeling for the weakness, for the give in the metal that would signify the panel lay beneath.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them, shouting voices in the entrance hall. Tyco crouched by the train’s rear.

“Hog, Ghost, Chip - !“ he called out “Let’s get some fire back here!”

Ghost and Hog peeled off on command, but Chip hung back, looking at Shelley skeptically as he frantically traced his hands over the train’s body.
 

“It should be here…!” he was muttering to himself, clawing at the sleek metal desperately. “It has to be – “
 

His fingers caught suddenly, finding the edge of a small, thin flap of metal. His nails bent backwards, and he groaned in pain and relief, using his other hand to rip the door controls open.
 

He keyed in his code as fast as his fingers could fly, pounding the keys one by one with heated precision.
 

The first soldier crested the stairs behind them, and Tyco sent a long volley crashing into the walls around him, chasing him back into the stairwell.
 

“How’re we looking?” he called back to Shelley. But Shelley didn’t answer.
 

He stood rooted to the spot, shaking his head in disbelief. The doors remained sealed, the panel display blinking red, and Shelley, speechless, could not move.
 

“What is it, Doc?” Chip asked, but Shelley wouldn’t answer. And then he saw the message on the display.
 

“MAJOR E. P. STEVENS PERSONAL OVERRIDE REQUIRED.” It read.
 

“You can’t rewire that?” Chip asked pointedly.
 

“With what wires?!” Shelley’s reply was frantic and furious.

Chip stepped back, nodding his head, and pulled the rifle from his shoulder. “Right.” He said. “I get it.”
 

“What are you doing?” Shelley asked him, suspiciously. “What the hell are you doing with that rifle? It’s bulletproof - !”
 

“You have a better idea?” Chip snapped back, and Shelly fell silent.
 

Chip stepped around to the front of the train, finding the narrow glass window of the cockpit. He raised his sniper rifle and fired.

The first bullet cracked the window, thudding dully into the frame. He fired again and again, continuing until his bullets pierced the cab, cracking the glass into a million razor-sharp slivers. He stepped forwards and slammed the butt of his weapon against the shattered window, sending the glass crumbling into the cabin.

“Thank God.” He muttered, feeling the lightness of his weapon. His ammunition wasn’t infinite, and he was mindful of how many shots he’d used already on the cockpit. Gingerly, making sure to knock out the jagged remnants of the window, he climbed up the nose of the train and slid through the narrow opening. He landed in the cockpit, mostly unscathed, and disappeared into the cabin.

The battle on the platform had escalated as the four soldiers they had pinned down had been reinforced. Tyco’s rifle had kept them pinned down in the stairwell, but couldn’t hold him there endlessly. Already, a soldier had chanced the opening, rushing across the platform and taking cover behind a train. The others were taking turns firing blindly around the corner, working to keep Tyco pinned down. They were pesky now, a nuisance, but in short course they would be lethal.
 

Ghost responded by holding his rifle below the train car and laying down a burst of fire. The bullets sparked and skidding off the metal tracks and undercarriage, and the soldiers ducked out of sight.

In the brief reprieve, Tyco looked back towards the cockpit and saw Shelley standing furiously in the middle of the platform – white-faced, defenseless, and alone.
 

“Chip? Where the hell are you?” He tapped in, pounding his comm.

The armored doors shook, groaned, and then slid open, revealing Chip in all of his sneering glory.
 

“I don’t know about technology.” He said, grinning. “But applied violence seems to beat it every time.”
 

Shelley was in no position to argue. He leapt forwards along the line of the train and leapt headfirst through the open doors. Chip smiled as the man landed heavily on the cabin floor.

“All aboard, Cap.” He called, over the comm.
 

Hog, ducking as she switched magazines yet again, looked back to see Chip waving from the open train doors. She met Tyco’s eyes in weary relief.