Page 23 of V-Day
“They only have to slow them down,” Rey said. “To the back deck, high position, we guard the stairs. The Insurrectos can only take them two at a time. A good shot can pick them off as they climb and hold the high ground until the house is clear.”
Adán didn’t bother asking if Rey was a good shot. It was likely he was—Rey was the type of man who would ensure he was competent in all critical areas of his profession. “Come on, then.” He held the door open for Rey. “We have to be in position before they reach the stairs.”
“Hurrying,” Rey assured him, as he clumped through the door.
They moved along the passage at the best pace either of them could manage, which was little more than a fast walk. There were people hurrying along it, squeezing past them.
The sound of rifles and smaller arms firing came clearly through the clanging of the fire alarm.
When Adán passed the red and white alarm panel, he pushed the handle back into the closed position. The alarm shut off and the sounds of hysteria jumped. Everyone would have heard the alarm by now.
Three steps down into the sunroom with its wooden slat blinds. It was empty. Everyone was heading for the front of the house and the doors there, to the open land beyond the circular drive.
“Under the window seat,” Rey said, breathing hard.
Adán limped over to the bench and tossed the cushions aside and raised the lid. AK-47s and other automatic and semi-automatic rifles rested on the foam beneath. He grabbed the AK-47 because he was familiar with the gun from his Smokey Silva role. He picked up the most lethal looking rifle, a heavy thing with matte black paint and air holes in the barrel. Rey could have it.
Rey had left Adán to grab the weapons. He was already at the glass doors, thrusting one aside to step onto the deck.
Adán hurried after him. The deck was also empty of people. For the first time he noticed that in the last few weeks, someone had replaced the deck’s front railing with a mortared brick wall. It was waist height, which was enough. Bricks were bullet-proof.
“Grab the box there,” Rey said, swinging himself over to the wall. “Haul it over so I can sit on it and still see over the wall.”
Adán leaned the rifles and his cane against the wall, then limped back to the empty beer crate sitting end-on by the steps up to the path which led to the front of the house.
He carried the crate over and dropped it so the open side was face down, then helped Rey lower himself so he was sitting with his plastered leg thrust parallel with the wall.
Rey straightened his back. He could see over the wall—just. It was the perfect height.
Adán eased up to the wall, staying low. He handed Rey the black assault rifle. He checked the load on the AK-47 and cocked it, then settled carefully on his knees and rested the rifle on the smooth line of bricks which capped the wall.
There were Insurrectos streaming along the jetty, running hard. They hadn’t reached the stairs.
“A dozen, at least,” Rey murmured and cocked the rifle. He looked at Adán. “Belly shots. Messy and disabling. It’ll keep them down. Single shots to conserve ammunition. Okay?”
Adán nodded.
Rey lifted the rifle, straightened up, aimed and fired in one smooth motion. A cry sounded. The soft thud of army boots on the planking of the jetty halted.
Adán lifted himself up, took aim at the first gray uniform he spotted and fired, then ducked back.
A bullet thudded against the brick wall and whined away with a sour note.
Sweat prickled under his arms and down his back.
“Don’t think about anything,” Rey told him and fired. “Focus on aiming better with every shot.”
Adán’s throat was too tight to speak. He lifted himself up once more and this time, lingered long enough to aim better and fired. He saw the man drop before he ducked back down again.
The snarling roar of big car engines and the slush of tires on the gravel at the front of the house echoed down the side.
Women screamed.
Adán whirled to peer down the path which ran up the side of the house, alarm crashing through him.
“Go!” Rey shouted. “I’ve got this!”
Adán lurched to his feet and away from the wall, hugging the side of the house so he would be out of sight of the soldiers on the deck below. He left the cane leaning against the wall. He couldn’t use the gun and the cane at the same time. The AK-47 was a two-handed weapon.
