There was no time to sort through the options. Queen placed her phone on the floor and raised her SIG. The weapon was equipped with a sensor that linked its holographic sight to the glasses, so now the phone showed not only the scene below but also a highlighted section where her shot would strike. She adjusted the barrel until it was centered on one of the gas-can toting mercenaries, and pulled the trigger.
The mercenary dropped, but before she could line up a second shot, the men by the cars opened fire on the balcony. As bullets hammered into the wooden railing, Queen was forced to retreat inside. She didn’t see what happened next, but she could smell it. The odor of gasoline was replaced by something else: the acrid tang of smoke. At first, there were just a few wisps of black vapor, but in a matter of seconds, the smoke became a cloud, roiling with convection waves as the fire spread.
Rook crept out the bedroom door but returned a moment later, shaking his head, accompanied by a trail of smoke. “No good. The first floor is already engulfed. They must have doused it first.”
“Looks like we’ve only got one way out,” Queen said, jerking a thumb at the balcony.
Rook didn’t challenge the assessment, and she knew he wouldn’t. They had worked together — been together — long enough that they didn’t need quantum technology to communicate. He stooped down and relieved one of the corpses of a Skorpion. He released the magazine, checked it and slammed it back in. “Out of the fire and into the frying pan.”
“Don’t be a pessimist,” Queen said.
Rook grinned. “I was talking about them.”
Queen returned his smile. “Right. Let’s get cooking.”
Mulamba didn’t share their almost psychic bond. “What are you saying?”
“We’re going that way.” Queen pointed to the balcony.
“But they are out there!”
“Not for much longer,” Rook said. He edged outside, using the smoke for concealment, and unleashed a burst from the machine pistol. Rounds sparked off the hood of the car parked below. A hand holding an identical weapon appeared above the front fender, and Rook drew back an instant before another volley raked the wall above the balcony. Rook was already back inside, so he didn’t see the man at the other end of the car move out into the open, training his weapon on the doorway, ready to take a well-aimed shot the next time an opportunity presented itself.
Rook didn’t see it, but Queen did. She saw everything in her phone’s display and with just a slight adjustment, isolated the man in the targeting box and took the shot.
“Got him.”
“Good, ‘cause we gotta go right now.”
Queen knew he wasn’t exaggerating. The room was filling up with smoke, stinging her eyes and lungs, and heat was radiating up through the floor. In a few minutes, or perhaps only just a few seconds, the fire would burn through, plunging them into the inferno, but there were still at least two more mercenaries outside, waiting for the flames to drive them out.
She put the glasses on and stowed the phone in a pocket, then turned to Mulamba. “We have to jump. You’ll have to go first so we can cover you.” She didn’t ask if he could do it. He didn’t have a choice. “Drop, roll and then run for cover, got it?”
He gave her a terrified look, but then Rook clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s got it. Am I right, Joe?”
Mulamba managed a wan grin. “Hakuna matata.”
Queen gave a three count, and at the word “Go!” both she and Rook laid down covering fire while Mulamba clambered over the rail and dropped to the ground.
“Your turn!” Rook shouted. He triggered another burst as she rolled over the rail. For a moment, she caught sight of Mulamba, on the ground and looking dazed, and then she hit. The impact jolted through her, sending a throb of pain up from the soles of her feet to her knees, but she remembered her own advice and tucked into a roll to reduce some of the effect. She came up searching for a target, saw movement and fired.
Rook landed beside her and rolled into a crouch, sweeping the barrel of his Skorpion back and forth, looking for someone to shoot. When no return fire came, he pivoted and scooped Mulamba off the ground. Queen turned in the direction of the parked car and ran. Rook stayed right behind her, half-dragging Mulamba.
Smoke billowed from every window of the farmhouse, obscuring everything to either side, but she could hear distant shouts and then the report of machine pistols. The mercenaries that had been covering the rear of the house were coming around to join the fight.
Queen rounded the front end of the vehicle, finger poised on the trigger of her SIG, but found only sprawled bodies. At least that much had gone in their favor. Rook and Mulamba ducked down next to her, and as Rook fired blind into the smoke, Queen tried the door.
Unlocked.
She crawled inside and a quick search revealed a key under the driver’s side floor mat. She slotted it into the ignition and gave it a turn. The engine turned over almost right away, but as it settled into an idle, she could hear a rattling noise. Some of Rook’s shots had perforated the hood and found their way into the car’s mechanical guts. It was running, but there was no telling how long it would continue to do so.
The window above her shattered, spraying her with glass fragments, but she stayed focused on the task of contorting her body into the driver’s seat while keeping her head down. Rook fired out the Skorpion, and then tossed Mulamba into the backseat.
“We’re in! Punch it!”
Bullets hammered into the car, drilling right through the metal panels. Queen winced as a fragment dug into her right thigh, but she didn’t let off on the accelerator. The car fishtailed a little as she wheeled it around, throwing up a spray of gravel, and then she straightened it out, aiming for the driveway.
The rattling noise from the engine intensified to an earsplitting crescendo and the smell of burning metal filled the interior of the vehicle. Indicator lights on the console flashed, telling her what she already knew: this was going to be a short ride.
The noise of the engine tearing itself apart nearly drowned out every other sound, but Queen realized that she no longer heard the distinctive crack of rounds striking the car. She raised her head and saw that they were almost to the end of the drive. A glance back showed the farmhouse, fully wreathed in smoke and fire. She also saw a pick-up truck, loaded with armed mercenaries, rolling out from behind the curtain of flame.
Queen eased off the gas a little to make the turn onto the road, but when she pressed it again, the response was sluggish. She floored the pedal, but the engine continued to clatter.
Their rented sedan was a tiny speck in the distance, perhaps five hundred yards away. “Come on,” she said, willing the car to hold together just a little bit longer, but the universe rejected her plea. The engine gave a final sickening thunk, and the clattering ceased altogether, plunging them into near total silence.
“Stay with Joe!” Rook shouted, and he was out the door before the car could come to a complete stop. He bolted toward their car, running all-out like an Olympic sprinter.
Queen had no intention of leaving Mulamba behind, but staying with him wasn’t the same as staying put. She threw her door open and swung out of the seat, only remembering the wound in her thigh when the first step sent a stab of pain through her entire leg.
Pain she could handle, but the tissue damage was another story. The bullet fragment had gouged into her quadriceps, and now the entire muscle was inflamed. She steadied herself against the car, ignored the agony and begged her muscles to keep going just as she had pleaded with the engine a moment before. Unlike the car, her body listened.