Page 63 of Trigger Discipline

Lips tingling, he looked up at the dead thing—the Monkey Cat. It did look a lot like a cross between a cat and a monkey. With the exception of its face, which was beetle-like or maybe bat-like. And maybe he had just gotten used to the FUDs and the Handlers, or maybe it was because these things had skin that was impervious to the burning rounds, but they seemed scarier.

Especially their eyes. Bulbous and black. Blake looked down to see where the bullet had hit, and he could see a crack. In the eye. No.Overthe eye. They were wearing goggles or something. Maybe their real eyes were sensitive? Maybe to the sunlight? Or maybe to?—

“There they are!” Victoria shouted, pointing across the wide street.

Blake followed her finger. It took him a moment, but he finally saw them. Phin, Tommy, and Gabriel were huddled behind some ruined shopping carts. Gabriel and Phin had their guns trained on the action, but they weren’t firing.

Not that it mattered. With the fighting in front of them and buildings behind them, they were completely pinned down. It was only sheer luck the aliens hadn’t seen them yet, but if they did, there was no way they’d be able to get away.

They were trapped.

Blake’s heart dropped into his stomach. More Monkey Cats were pouring into the street, and the Handlers seemed content to hold the line, letting the FUDs race in and take out the Monkey Cats before they could even get close. It was total carnage.

“We have to get them,” Blake said.

“No shit,” Judd snapped, his mouth tight. “Any bright ideas? Because unless your name is Moses and you can part these assholes like the Red Sea, we’re up shits creek.”

Blake clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away from the carnage to take stock. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for until he saw it.

Pushing off the wall, he jogged over to the caved in hardware store. The front wall was gone, and the place was mostly broken plaster and whatever was above it. But he wasn’t looking for something small. Scrambling over a downed display case of weed eaters, he found the outdoor section. It was right at the front—the store beginning to advertise for spring.

The cage was knocked over, wires bent. Curling his fingers in the bars, he heaved until he could free one of the doors. It stuck. Blake kicked it, his boot slamming into the door until the hinges bent enough he could reach in and pull the tank out.

It wasn’t heavy, but he was so tired. His arms shook. Hefting the tank up, he braced it on his hip as he limped backout of the store. With a grunt, he set the tank on the ground in front of Judd.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Have you ever seenJaws?” Blake asked, standing on tiptoe to look toward the fighting. He would have to find the perfect place.

The vein in Judd’s neck bulged. “Yes, I have, but we’re a long fucking way from the ocean.”

“You said I needed to part the Red Sea,” Blake said, grinning up at Judd from under dirty lashes. “But what if I blow it up?”

“What? How?”

Blake’s eyes caught on a cluster of Handlers. Three of them were standing shoulder to shoulder, less than fifty yards from where Gabriel and the rest were huddled. More importantly, there was a fire burning at their feet.

Judd looked between him and the group of aliens. “No. No way. You can’t possibly go out there. Just throw it out and shoot it!”

Tamping down his irritation, he grit his teeth. “You’ve shot a propane tank, Judd. How’d that go?”

“How do you know I’ve?—”

“Look at me with those big cornbread fed, red-necked, country fried chicken clogged artery eyes of yours and tell me you didn’t take your daddy’s propane tank out back and shoot it.”

The man was silent for a minute. “With my .22.”

“And what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Right, because propane is generally safe,” Blake said.

“You have to heat it up,” Victoria finished.

Judd threw his hands up. “What does that have to do withJaws?!”

Blake sucked his teeth. “Smile, you son of a bitch,”he didn’t look up. “It gave me the idea.”