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“They’re not coming down,” Zech said, crouching beside Joe and pointing up the hill.
“Just keeping us in place so the main force can do the dirty work,” Joe replied.
“Who should we fight?” Zech asked.
All in all, they’d have a better chance against the larger group, as these men appeared unarmed. But that didn’t make the odds good. They were down to fifteen healthy men, with seven wounded, four dead, and three missing. If they took them on they’d be outnumbered four to one. And if they ran for it, they’d be picked off in the open field one by one.
“Nobody,” Joe replied. “We need another option.”
He turned his attention to the small building sixty yards away. It had garage-style doors. It fronted a gravel road. That suggested it held a number of vehicles inside. Cover and a chance for mechanized transport. Joe would take it. But how to get there without getting mowed down?
“I need three arrows,” Joe said to Zech.
Zech handed them over and Joe taped an explosive charge to each one. He pointed down the hill. “Two that way…” And then pointed up the hill. “And one that way.”
He shouted to the other men and pointed to the maintenance shack. “Get ready to run for the building.”
After starting the timer Joe handed the first arrow to Zech, who threaded the bow and launched a high-arching shot without needing to leave the safety of the gully. Joe handed him the second arrow before the first had even landed. He aimed this one a little to the right and let the bow sing.
Both arrows landed point down, sticking in the ground maybe thirty yards in front of the oncoming group. Joe had set the timers in hopes of detonating both charges simultaneously, but they were a half second off. The first arrow exploded in a thunderous clap, followed by what sounded like an echo as the second charge went off.
The effect was local devastation as a half dozen men were thrown through the air from each explosion, while others were knocked down, deafened by the blast, and pelted with heat and shrapnel.
Joe and Zech had already turned around and threaded the third of the explosive-laden darts. Joe pressed the timer, but instead of launching the arrow, Zech rocked back as a bullet went through his shoulder. The arrow fell to the ground, its timer running.
Joe lunged for it, leapt out of the gully, and ran up the hill, hurling it like a javelin, and then diving to the turf.
—
At the top of the ridge, the Overseer saw the arrow flying and slowly tumbling. He found himself vaguely amused at the desperate attempt and oddly captivated by the motion of the projectile. He could see that it wouldn’t reach them, but tipped his cap at the effort.
He pulled his sunglasses into place and spoke to his men. “Down boys,” he said calmly.
The arrow hit the hill fifty yards away and began rolling backward. It detonated with a thud, sending an eruption of dirt, grass, and smoke into the air.
Clods of soil and tiny bits of shattered rock rained down around them. The Overseer ducked his head and brushed away the falling debris as he waited for the view to clear.
As the dust and smoke drifted away, he saw the truth. His opponents had used the explosives to cover their retreat. He saw the last of them scurrying like rats into the maintenance shed.
Pulling the radio off his belt, he confirmed for Vaughn what his machine probably already knew—having seen it through the eyes of its servants.
“The savages are cowering in the maintenance shed,” he explained. “We have no easy line of approach. Suggest using the missile-armed drones to obliterate it. We’ll be in position to gun down anyone who tries to escape.”
Chapter 58
In his air-conditioned control room Vaughn remained concerned by the back and forth of the battle. He hadn’t expected such organized resistance on the part of the escaped subjects, even with NUMA’s help. As he looked on, palls of smoke were drifting over the field, and both groups of his men seemed to be under an artillery barrage.
“How many men have we lost?”
TAU’s response was clinical. “Connections have been broken with nineteen subjects, meaning they have been killed or damaged beyond repair. Another fifteen are exhibiting signs of acute distress.”
As Vaughn considered that, the Overseer’s call came in, updating the battlefield situation and requesting assistance from the missile-armed drones.
“Is he correct?” Vaughn asked.
“His assessment of the battlefield situation is accurate,” TAU said. “But shells from his rifles would penetrate the siding of the maintenance building as easily as missiles.”
“I don’t want bullets,” Vaughn said bitterly. “Send the missile carriers and turn that shed into an inferno.”