Page 30 (1/2)

Becuz I drugged him, I think to myself Two drops in his wine from a tiny brown bottle Eccinel, that’s what Slim called it

DeMalo ain’t easy is why, Jack’s sayin We shook his throne e blew Resurrection He don’t knohen or where we’re gonna hit hiht, I says, I hear you

We can trash his playrooo back?

No, I says, we’ll leave it

A cool night breeze stirs the earth air of the bunker A little ways ahead, I can see ht stream down the stairs Jack’s up ’em an out like a shot He hates these Wrecker places Claihosts, but I’it outta this tomb I put a foot on the first step What was that? Frolanced on somethin I cast about till I find what it is My skin prickles all over

The gleam is metal A lock on a door A lock that’s bin sanded an oiled The door’s set well back in the shadows You’d hafta to be lookin to see it

Jack, I says Git back down here

It’s a tumbler lock Alone, I’d be outta luck But I ain’t I’ot a lifetih, he’s cracked tuo, but I prevail Jest a quick look inside, then we’ll be gone

He listens an turns Listens An turns He woos that lock open An we go through the second door

This tiht our way Torch in one hand, shooter in the other The ground beneath our feet slopes doards Gradual, like a long, slow ramp Here, too, the walls an floor is hard-packed earth The ceilin’s shuttered with planks Propped up with struts an girders

I says, Whoever made this place didn’t have comfert in mind

Maybe they had to do it in a hurry, says Jack

I take a closer look as we pass There’s signs of fresh repairs Many of the shutter planks look new It’s bein kept in good order We go down, down, deeper into the earth The air grows cooler an thicker I hate it I sweat I breathe deep

Finally, Jack stops Okay, we seen enough, let’s go, he says

As the words leave his lips, I take a step There’s a click-click-click-click We’re blinded by light I shoot, on instinct, an dive at the ground Wood cracks Dirt rains down on top of us My shot must of hit the roof Probly smashed a shutter plank As the din fades to silence an no one shoots back, we slowly git to our feet We cough the dust froht roundels of light cling to the walls ahead Four line the left wall The saht path to a iron slab door With a big iron wheel in the leam pale in his filthy face His hair’s dusted thick with dirt

Door three, he says Be uest

Sudden sets ht It moves smoothly Well oiled, like the lock There’s a soft hiss I feel the door sigh I tug an it swings wide open

Let’s see what he’s got in here, says Jack

As we step past the door, red lights appear in front of us They’re scattered all over, high, low an in between There’s a lot of ’eht Not like the ones on the ralow Like the last of a sunset on a cloudy winter day

It’s our hts, says Jack Somehow it sets ’em off