Читать книгу Damage Control - Gordon Kent, Gordon Kent - Страница 34

They parted company with the Marines and the Indian sailors outside the headquarters building and then huddled in a window embrasure while shooting sounded in the street. A car had been blown up down the block, maybe by a rocket-propelled grenade, and the Marine sergeant said that a lot of the firing was coming from a security building down there.

“We’ll have to go the back way,” Alan said. He pointed. Down behind the buildings was a chain-link fence and then weeds—grass, scrub bushes, a few trees. “There’s a creek down there somewhere. Wasteland.” He knew what the base looked like on a map, knew that the creek divided it so completely that a bridge had been built over it. The wasteland might give them cover. He looked at Fidel. “Unless you want to hole up inside again.”

Fidel held up the CZ. “With one handgun? Any kid with a weapon could waste the lot of us.” He shook his head. “Lead us to the wasteland, Commander.”