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His gun boomed in his hand as Zack Hightower tackled him onto the concrete floor.
•••
Chris Travers had dumped a dozen rounds into the first Greyhound before he was confident it was disabled, and he had just begun to aim at the other damaged unit in the hall when a pair of dark-haired men leaned out from the doorway and opened fire in his direction.
He and Fish made it to the opposite side of the hallway entrance, and Hash and Jamie dove back around the near side.
The Cubans shot their MP5s over the two disabled Greyhounds, both of which were sputtering and sparking, on their sides and clearly all but destroyed.
“Fuck, that was close!” Jamie said.
Travers looked to Pace now, shouting across the bricked hallway entrance. “Rear security!”
Pace, Court, and Zoya aimed their weapons in both directions down the long tracked hallway, trying to see any dangers before the dangers saw them.
Travers reloaded, and as he did, Victors Three and Five leaned into the hallway and returned fire on the men in the doorway.
A pair of white humanoid robots appeared out of the doorway, armed with handguns, and they stepped into the hall fearlessly and fired round after round at the bricked corners, behind which the nine members of the augmented Ground Branch team were in cover.
Court leaned out quickly, saw what they were now up against, and then ducked his head back to safety. “That’s different,” he muttered.
Travers got his AK reloaded and began shooting blind around the corner. Hash did the same on the near side.
Court ran to the opposite side of the tracked tunnel, moved through the dark, and then pointed his barrel just to the left behind Victor Two. Bullets impacted the brick wall beside him as he aimed in carefully on a gun-wielding white robot that looked like a cartoon astronaut, and then he flipped the selector switch on his AK to full auto.
He fired three bursts that passed inches from Hash’s left ear. The first slammed into the unit’s chest and the second two hit it in its face and head.
The machine stumbled back; the eight rounds that hit it had severely damaged it, but the machine remained upright and somehow continued firing.
Court scrambled back for cover as the return fire sent stinging bits of brick into the left side of his face and neck.
Now Pace and Zoya leaned out in front of him, firing full auto, each one of them dumping a half mag before diving back to safety.
The incoming gunfire ceased for a moment; Travers leaned out and saw one of the two robots and one of the two humans still on their feet. Both had just finished reloading magazines; the robot was faster than the human, and they retrained their weapons up the hall towards the big arched tunnel.
Chris Travers shot the human in the forehead, blowing off a large piece of his skull.
•••
Gareth Wren pressed the trigger on his pistol again even though it wasn’t aimed at the man fighting him on the ground for it. The Englishman and former SAS soldier tried to pull his gun away, but Zack was able to hit it with his fingertips and knock it free. Wren fired once more, the bullet ricocheted in the concrete room, and then Zack slammed again into the smaller man’s torso, knocking him back over the bench by the door and down to the floor.
The American was on him before Wren could recover and re-aim, and soon the two men fought like mad for control of the weapon.
“It’s inevitable, Zack!” Wren shouted, grimacing with the strain of the other man’s strength fighting for his weapon. “You can be on the right side of history!”
“Fuck history, psycho!” Hightower shouted back, their faces close enough together to where Zack had to lean back to avoid having his nose bit off by his frantic opponent.
Finally, Zack got the man’s gun arm up and over Wren’s head on the floor. Wren had only one hand on it, but he controlled the trigger, while Zack had two hands on the weapon, but no control of the firing mechanism.
Wren kneed Zack in the groin; Zack lost strength for a moment, and Wren began to wrench the weapon free.
Zack lay on top of Wren, but he let go with his left hand, reached around under the Brit towards the small of his back, and pulled his Staccato XC pistol free of the man’s waistband.
He flipped off the weapon’s safety, now desperately trying to keep Wren from pulling his handgun down to shoot Zack through the top of the skull. Then he pointed the barrel up under Wren’s chin.
“Wait!” Wren shouted.
Zack began squeezing the trigger, but movement close and on his left had him shifting aim in a fraction of a second, taking the pistol off Wren’s chin and firing his arm out in the direction of a new threat.
