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It was Gutsy.
Screaming.
Spider exploded from the chair and snatched up his bo, running to help his friend.
37
GUTSY SAW SPIDER RUNNING TOWARD her.
“No!” she yelled, waving frantically at him. “Go back! Get help!”
Spider’s feet outran his ability to understand her words or warning. By the time he got to Gutsy, she grabbed his shirt and, in a voice so ragged she barely recognized it as her own, told him what happened. Then she shoved him back the way he’d come. Spider was confused, but he didn’t waste time trying to sort it all out. Instead he whirled around and raced back to town.
Gutsy turned, too. Sombra stood beside her, reading her intent. He began barking at her, scolding her. Warning her.
“No,” said Gutsy. Growling out the word. “No.”
She wheeled and ran back to Captain Ledger.
38
“WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU doing here?” roared Ledger. “I told you to get to safety. To warn everyone.”
“Spider’s doing that,” said Gutsy as she threw her weight against the door. The concrete around the hinges was crumbling, and the stacks of canned goods were vibrating their way inward. Gutsy shoved them back, trying to toughen the wall, but she knew—as Ledger did—that if the hinges failed, then the crates would not be enough.
“This door’s not going to hold,” warned Ledger. “Go barricade the far end of the tunnel.”
Gutsy looked at the crates that still lined the hall. The wood was pine. Not very strong. But an idea sprang into her head.
“Hold on,” she said, and launched herself from the trembling doors. She grabbed a case of canned pinto beans with both hands, turned it, and dropped it. The case landed on the point of one corner and instantly broke apart, sending cans bouncing and rolling everywhere. Gutsy snatched up two slats and chopped the ends into sharp tapers with her machete. She repeated this with several other pieces until she had a small pile of wooden shims.
Watching, Ledger began to grin. “You are one smart freaking kid.”
Gutsy took a shim and stuck the tapered end into the crack between door and frame. It didn’t slide in easily, but she managed to force it, hammering it in with the butt end of her machete handle. It only went in a couple of inches and stopped, jammed solid.
She grabbed another shim and repeated the action on the far side of the doorway.
“Between the doors, too,” said Ledger. “And underneath. Use them like doorstops.”
The reinforcement was not going to stop the maniacs from breaking down the door, but it would definitely slow them down.
“Will this hold long enough?” Gutsy asked, but then followed Ledger’s gaze to the cracks around all the hinges.
“Crates,” he said, and immediately they grabbed crates of food and began stacking them against the door, building row on top of row. He stacked them higher and she added extra rows until there was a slanted wall, like one side of a pyramid. The two dogs barked and snarled at the things outside. There were not enough to cover both of the big doors, but maybe enough to keep the doors from being smashed in.
The pounding on the other side of the doors was getting more furious, and the hinges were grinding their way out of the stone. It was obvious to Gutsy that if they left now, they’d never make it to safety—and a fight midway along the tunnel would be suicide.
They both leaned their weight against a part of one door that wasn’t blocked by boxes. With every impact Gutsy could feel the shock wave go right through her. It felt like punches to the heart.
She heard Ledger hiss and looked down to see him tear open his pant leg. The cut from Grimm’s spoke was deep and ble
eding freely. She glanced at the dog and saw that almost all of his spikes glistened with the dark blood of those howling monsters. Her eyes met Ledger’s, and again there was that fatalistic acceptance.
“Yup,” he said, “there’s a pretty good chance I’m infected.”
“No…”
Ledger sighed and leaned his head back to rest it against the crates, gritting his teeth each time the killers slammed into the doors. “Be almost funny if that was how I went out after all the stuff I’ve dealt with.”
