Yet.
Sundance wondered how far it was to the road. A boulder reared out of the brush, blocking his path. He walked to the left, around the boulder, speculating on his course of action once he reached the road. Preoccupied, he missed hearing the trooper until they nearly bumped into one another as they came around the seven-foot-high boulder at the same moment.
The soldier’s mouth dropped, and he frantically leveled his AK-47.
Sundance shot the soldier in the forehead with his left Grizzly.
The trooper’s face snapped back as the rear of his head erupted over the nearby vegetation. He tottered and sprawled to the turf.
And all hell broke loose.
Suddenly, soldiers were everywhere, barreling toward the sound of the shot, yelling and shouting, closing in.
Sundance darted in the direction of the road. He could see uniforms here and there, all bearing down on his position.
He was surrounded!
A tall trooper appeared from behind a tree directly ahead.
Sundance fired, his right Grizzly booming, and the trooper was propelled into the tree. He twisted to the left, crashing through a dense thicket, the limbs and thorns tearing at his clothing and skin, and then he was in a small clearing and there were three soldiers coming at him from different directions. He spun to the right and sent a slug into the mouth of the first, beginning his next turn even as he squeezed the trigger, unable to ascertain the effectiveness of the shot, and he plugged the second Russian in the chest and ducked and twirled, and the third trooper was mere yards away and squeezing the trigger on an AK-47. Sundance threw himself to the right, firing as he dove, his shot searing an agonizing path through the third trooper’s abdomen. And then Sundance was up and across the clearing and into the trees on the other side.
The forest was alive with bellowed orders and cries.
Sundance heard an AK-47 blaze away to his rear, and his left leg took a hit in the fleshy area of his thigh. His leg nearly buckled, and he staggered and went on, dodging behind a tree and hastening over a low rise.
Another AK-47, somewhere to his right, began shooting.
Sundance swerved to the left, then the right, always heading in the direction of the road. He lost all sense of distance. The road was up ahead, but he had no idea how far it might be, the yardage he’d covered, and he was genuinely surprised when he abruptly plunged from the underbrush and there was the road to the gate, not six feet away.
And soldiers.
Seemingly materializing out of thin air.
Sundance reached the road and bore to the left, going away from the Ministry, hoping his efforts weren’t in vain, hoping Blade was accomplishing their mission.
“Freeze!” shouted a stern voice to his right.
Sundance twisted and fired, and a thin trooper doubled over and toppled to the ground. And there was another one, charging from the left, and Sundance pivoted and shot the bastard in the right eye. A pair of soldiers came at him from the rear, firing their AK-47’s. Sundance felt a searing spasm lance his right side, but he refused to drop, to submit without expending his last ounce of strength. His body was a blur as he whirled, both Grizzlies thundering, and the two soldiers were slammed to the earth, but another one appeared to take their place, and Sundance shot him in the chest, continuing to rotate, moving, always moving, squeezing both triggers as three soldiers stormed from cover, and two of the Russians twitched and fell but the third wouldn’t stop for anything, and Sundance fired as the trooper fired, and fired again as the trooper dropped to his knees, then pitched to the asphalt. Momentarily, Sundance was alone, and he stumbled as dizziness engulfed him. He righted himself with a tremendous effort. How many times had he been hit? He’d lost count. And he’d lost a lot of something else too— blood. His uniform felt clammy and moist, especially the shirt. He lurched a few steps and stopped, reeling. If the Russians found him now, he was a goner.
They found him.
A lone trooper crashed from the underbrush on the left side of the road, swiveling an AK-47 at the crimson-soaked figure in the middle of the asphalt.
And a jeep roared up from out of nowhere, a machine gun blasting, its tires squealing as it barked.
Sundance tried to raise the Grizzlies, but his arms were enveloped by an overwhelming lethargy. His wounds took belated affect, and with a sigh he sank to the road.
Chapter Nineteen
Blade threw himself backwards, sweeping his Commando Arms Carbine up and pressing the trigger. The Commando boomed in the narrow stairwell.
The Russian soldier half a flight above was just squeezing the trigger of his AK-47 when the Commando’s slugs tore through his face and flung him to the stairs. The AK-47 fell from his lifeless fingers, rattling as it slid down several steps.
Blade hesitated, getting his bearings. He had entered Penza Hall on the ground level, then descended three levels to the lowest floor. The guard had led him up three floors from the bottom level, which meant he should be on ground level again.
There was only one way to find out.
There were two doors furnishing access to the stairwell. The one he’d just used, and another, the one which should lead to the loading dock.
Blade opened the second door and found the hallway he needed.
And a trooper jogging toward him with an AK-47 at the ready.
Blade shot the startled soldier, sending a burst into the trooper’s chest and flipping him to the floor. He sprinted toward the door to the loading dock. The laundry truck was probably gone. He would need to improvise another method of departing the Ministry. As he opened the door to the dock, the sound of the siren rose in volume. Another noise blended with the sirens; the repeated blasting of gunfire.
Sundance?
Blade scanned the loading dock and the parking lot. There wasn’t a vehicle in sight.
Damn!
Blade ran down the ramp to the lot and started across, bearing toward the west wall. If the clamor was any accurate indication, then a war was being waged near the west wall. He hurried, the Commando in his right hand.
A squad of soldiers unexpectedly came into view to the left.
Blade slowed, expecting to be challenged. But the squad leader gave him a cursory inspection and continued on, hastening in the direction of the front gate. Off to the north, more soldiers were jogging toward the gate.
If it was Sundance out there, he wouldn’t be able to hold them off for long!
Blade bounded across the lot in mighty strides, reaching a lawn encircling a lofty structure. He bypassed the edifice to the south, heading away from the gate. If every soldier in the Ministry was converging on the front gate, then he might be able to sneak over the wall near the southwest corner. He darted around a huge maple tree.
A Russian soldier, a big man with wide shoulders, was ten yards off, jogging to the northwest.
Blade slowed, hoping he wouldn’t be spotted.
The soldier glanced to the right and halted, his torehead creasing in perplexity. An AK-47 was slung over his right shoulder. “You!” he barked.
Blade touched his chest with his left hand. “Me?”
“Yes, you! Come here!” the soldier ordered.
Blade walked over to the soldier. “Yes?”
“Yes, sergeant!” the Russian corrected him. The sergeant’s brown eyes critically examined the giant’s uniform. “Where are you going?” he queried.
“To the wall,” Blade responded. “Sergeant!”
The sergeant pointed to the north. “But the action is that way!
Everyone is to assemble at the gate. Why are you going in the opposite direction?”
“Orders,” Blade replied.