excerpt from “Claws”
He closed his eyes, listening, taking in the near silence of the Underground. Something scuttled along the edge of the reddish building to the left. And there, so faint, in the distance, footsteps approached. They moved slowly, creeping. Multiple sets. They were listening, too, wondering, thinking. Cautious. How many men were already dead? How easy were they killed, these soldiers? He smiled and opened his eyes. They were cautious. The rifles would be set for full automatic. There would be no games, just shooting to kill. They’d already tried to take him alive; they’d learned the hard way that it was a waste of time – of life.
25 yards? Less? More? Shit! No time. No time. If they are spread out, I could be in the line of fire in seconds, if not already. Damnit!!!
He waited, crouching, listening. The footsteps closed. Suddenly all he could hear was thunder again as automatic fire opened up, spraying the car, rocking it. And he ran, springing up, driving for the building behind him. It was a mile, two, six, twenty miles – too far away. Not enough time. No time! The automatic fire reverberated off of the vehicle, and then above the din, there was a shout. And suddenly the ground erupted to the left of the vehicle, kicking up dust and shards of asphalt and concrete, the bullets tracking back. The first round hit the building, crashing against the old brick, shattering it. He held up his hands to protect his eyes, and leaped, hearing the rounds tracking closer, closer on the wall toward the window. Glass shattered, spraying the room, digging in to his arms and legs are he fell to the floor, rolling, springing up into a crouch, on knee on the floor, glass ripping through the cloth of his pants and cutting into his flesh. The far wall exploded in a torrent of shots, showering him with debris.
Go! Go! Go!
He scrambled to the right towards an open doorway, scuttled through the door, and was up on his feet running in a second……and slid to a stop, dropping onto his back. Gunfire erupted throughout the darkened hallway, the muzzle blast in the distance revealing three men in hard gear, rifles leveled, and casting eerie shadows on the solemn walls. Tracers whipped by, a horizontal meteor shower in the black space of the corridor. He could feel the heat of the rounds as they ripped through the air, trailing luminescent tendrils, a terrifying optical illusion.
Jesus! Fuck!
Rolling to the left, he flipped over onto his hand and knees and scrambled the last few inches to a hole in the wall, pulling himself through as the rounds tracked down and the floor erupted around his feet in a mushroom cloud of dust and debris. Just before he pulled himself completely into the safety of the adjoining room, a round ripped through his ankle and shattered the bone.
