Wall of Night (49 page)

Noise.
Port side.

Beyond the vine-entangled handrail he could hear the soft crunch of footfalls. A few seconds passed, then a pair of hands emerged from the foliage. One of them gripped the railing, the other, parting the leaves to make an opening. A head emerged, then a torso. The paratrooper moved slowly, quietly, his eyes scanning for movement. Once he was crouched on deck, he gave a soft bird whistle. A second paratrooper crawled over the railing and dropped beside the first.

Wait,
Tanner commanded himself. He could feel sweat rolling down the back of his neck. His heartbeat rushed in his ears.
Were there more coming
?
he wondered.

After another ten seconds, no one else had joined the first two. That answered his question: Xiang was taking his time before rushing in. They sat crouched together, unmoving, AKs tracking up and down the deck.

Moving with exaggerated slowness, Briggs edged the barrel of his AK around the corner and pressed his cheek to the stock. He took aim, took a breath, then squeezed off a round. Even as the first paratrooper fell back, Tanner adjusted his aim and fired again. The second man slumped over.

Beyond the railing, a voice called in Mandarin:
“Shin-kao
!”
Report
!

Hunched over, Tanner rushed to the bodies. On each he found a pair of grenades and a spare AK magazine. He pocketed everything, then grabbed their weapons and tossed them down the deck, out of site. He grabbed the first body by the arms and dragged it around the corner, then came back and did the same with the second.

More voices now. Boots pounded through the underbrush. Four to six men, Tanner estimated.

Gunfire erupted, slashing through the vines and foliage. Leaves fluttered and branches dropped to the deck, revealing patches of daylight. Bullets pounded into the exterior bulk-head. The fusillade lasted ten seconds, then went silent.

Thunk
…
thunk
…
thunk
…

Tanner knew the sound: More grenades.

A shouted order: “Go, go, go …”

Here they come
…
Their recon party having failed, the paratroopers would come in force now, trading bodies in an attempt to overrun him.

He ducked down, covering his ears. Three overlapping explosions shook the deck beneath his feet. A cloud of smoke and debris rushed the alleyway. Shrapnel ripped into the wood beside his head.

He ejected the AKs magazine, slammed home a fresh one, then peeked around the corner. The alleyway's walls looked as though a giant rake had been dragged over them. Through patches in the smoke he could see the handrail trembling under the weight of multiple bodies. A pair of hands appeared, then another, and another …

From the starboard side he heard more grenades crash through the vines and bounce against the bulkhead.
“Kuai pao,
pa xia
! “
a voice shouted in Mandarin.
Run,
take cover
!

Crump,
crump,
crump
…
More smoke billowed.
Wait,
Briggs
…
The urge to run was strong. He quashed it.
Wait
…
Now
!

He spun around the corner, dropped to one knee, and opened fire. Using three-round bursts, he raked the railing until his magazine was dry. He ejected it, inserted another, kept firing. Bullets sparked off the steel railing. Chunks of foliage disintegrated, revealing more daylight.

He pulled back around the corner and glanced over his shoulder. Four paratroopers were climbing over the railing. One of them saw him and jerked his rifle up. Tanner ducked away. Bullets shredded the wood over his head. Briggs felt a sting on the back of his neck; he reached up and his hand came back bloody.
Splinter.

“
Zai Nar
!
Zhua Zh
ú
!”
There
!
After them
!

From the corner of his eye, Tanner saw a grenade bounce off the bulkhead and roll to a stop a few feet away. He kicked it with his heel, sending it back around the corner.
Crump
!
Screams of pain echoed down the intersection. He turned and sprinted down the alley and the engine-room hatch.

Halfway there, he stopped and knelt. He pulled out a grenade, jerked the pin, then pressed it spoon-down into his last boot print and covered it with a small mound of dirt.

Behind him, voices.

He spun, fired a dozen rounds at the paratroopers standing in the intersection. They scattered.

He sprinted the last ten feet to the engine-room hatch, heaved it open, and stepped through. He closed the dogging lever and leaned on it. “Hsiao!”

“Here!” Hsiao's flashlight shone down from the upper cat-walk. “Briggs, the phone—”

“I know, forget it. Come help me.”

Before Hsiao reached him, Tanner heard a muffled boom from the alleyway as his booby trap detonated. Hsiao jogged up. “What—”

Tanner held up a silencing finger. He pressed his ear to the hatch. Five seconds passed, then, from the other side, came whispered voices. He felt the dogging lever rise; he leaned on it. He grabbed Hsiao by the shirtfront and jerked him toward the hatch. At that instant, multiple AKs opened fire, tearing holes in the bulkhead on either side of them.

Hsiao stared wide-eyed at him and mouthed, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Tanner replied, then explained what he wanted to do.

“Got it. Ready when you are.”

Briggs gestured for him to lean on the lever, then backed up, took aim on the weakened bulkhead, and fired off half a magazine, further widening the gash in the wood. He pulled out a grenade, popped the pin, and shoved it through the hole.

“
Pa Yia
!”
Take cover
!

Boots pounded. The grenade exploded. Shrapnel peppered the hatch.

“Now!” Tanner rasped.

With their feet on its lowermost rung, he and Hsiao mounted the railing beside the hatch, gripped the top rung, and heaved back. Under their combined weight, the corroded steel groaned and began to bend down

“Harder!” Tanner urged.

The hatch buckled against Tanner as multiple bodies crashed against it. The dogging lever jiggled; Briggs took a hand off the railing and leaned on it

“Pull, Hsiao!”

Using their legs as levers, they began bouncing up and down in unison. With a shriek, the railing folded over until it lay across the hatch's jamb.

“Go, go!” Tanner ordered.

With Hsiao in the lead, they raced to the upper catwalk. Soong, struggling to raise himself to a sitting position, said to Tanner, “Good to see you.”

“Good to be alive. You ready to travel?”

In response, Soong turned to Lian. Eyes welling with tears, he studied her face.

Looking for his little girl,
Briggs thought

“Lian …” Soong pleaded.

She turned her back on him and stared at the far bulkhead. Below, there came a sharp
gong
as the hatch crashed open against the railing. Through the quarter-inch gap Tanner could see bodies pressed against the steel.

Soong tore his gaze from his daughter and looked up at Tanner. “I'm ready.”

Hsiao knelt down and hefted Soong onto his back.

Tanner said, “Go to the tunnel and wait for me.”

Hsiao nodded. “Okay.”

As they passed him, Soong grabbed his hand. “We go together, right?”

Tanner squeezed his hand and smiled. “I'll be right behind you.”

Moving at a hurried waddle, Hsiao started down the ladder. Once they were out of sight, Tanner knelt down beside Lian. She glared back at him. “You won't make it out of here.”

Briggs shrugged. “Maybe not.”

He drew his knife. Eyes wide, she jerked back. In one smooth motion, he cut her hands free, then stood her up and walked her behind the generator. He retaped her hands to the railing.

“Stay behind this and stay down,” Tanner said.

She blinked at him; cocked her head. “What?”

“When they break through there might be some shooting.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I think—I hope—that somewhere inside you is the woman I fell in love with.”

“You're wrong.”

Below, bodies crashed against the hatch. With each collision, the railing buckled and trembled.

“Maybe so, but that's a chance I'm not willing to take.”

As had Soong, Briggs studied her eyes one final time. She met his gaze evenly. For the barest moment he thought he saw a flicker of emotion there, but then it was gone. “Good-bye, Lian.”

He got up and trotted down the catwalk.

As he reached the tunnel's mouth, the engine-room hatch banged open.

With a jarring crash, the catwalk tore from its mounts and plunged to the deck below. Screaming, two paratroopers tumbled over the edge. Two more faces peeked around the jamb. Flashlights clicked on and pierced the darkness.

“Go,” Tanner whispered. “Head straight for the river bend, then into the trees.”

Hsiao nodded, then backed feet-first into the tunnel, reached out, grabbed Soong under the arms, and pulled him through and out of sight. Tanner turned and took aim on the hatch above. The paratroopers parted and a lone man stepped to the threshold. Though only partially lit from behind, the face was unmistakable:
Xiang.

Tanner laid the AKs front site over Xiang's sternum and curled his finger around the trigger..

“Lian!” Xiang called. “If you're there, call out.”

Silence.

Tanner hesitated.
Why wasn't she answering
?
His heart thudded.
My God,
was she
—

“Lian, you're safe now,” Xiang shouted. “If you can speak, tell me where they are!”

Still no answer.

Suddenly, from outside, came three rifle cracks. Xiang jerked his head around, then turned and disappeared aft, the paratroopers quick on his heels.

Tanner dove for the tunnel and started crawling.

He emerged from the relative dark of the underbrush into dazzling sunlight. An icy wind blew across his face. He shivered and blinked his eyes until his vision cleared.

Fifty yards onto the ice and halfway to the river bend, Hsiao was running backward and firing from the hip at the paddle wheel. Soong clutched doggedly to his back, his legs swaying from side to side. Bullets punched the ice around Hsiao's feet.

Briggs rolled onto his back and pushed himself out until he could see the upper decks. Four rifle barrels jutted from the shattered pilothouse windows, fire winking from their muzzles. Tanner pulled out his second-to-last grenade, pulled the pin, let the spoon pop free. He counted two seconds, then lofted the grenade in a high arc. It exploded in midair before the windows.

“Go, Hsiao, run!” he called.

With a wave, Hsiao turned and started waddle-running toward the river bend.

Briggs got up and started after them. He'd covered forty yards when the firing resumed. In his peripheral vision, he saw bullets striking the ice, each a mini-explosion of snow. Something plucked at his sleeve. He glanced back. Muzzles flashed from the bridge wings. Near the waterwheel, soldiers emerged from the underbrush and began to give chase.

Thirty yards downriver, Hsiao and Soong reached a berm of fallen trees trapped in the ice. The glistening trunks jutted from the snow, a natural fortification in the otherwise flat landscape. It was as good a place as any to make a stand, Tanner decided. Whether it would change the ultimate outcome, he didn't know, but he was determined to give Hsiao and Soong a fighting chance.

Ahead, Hsiao glanced over his shoulder, caught Tanner's eye, raised his hand in salute, then disappeared around the bend. Briggs put everything he had into a final sprint. Twenty yards to go.

Something slammed into him from behind. Off balance and spinning, he stumbled forward. Ten feet short of the berm, he sprawled into the snow. He pushed himself to his knees, trying to stand. His left leg buckled. He looked down. There was a bullet hole in his upper thigh.

Pushing off with his good leg, he dragged himself forward. The berm was five feet away. Bullets raked the tree trunks, snapping off branches and sending up plumes of snow. Behind him, voices shouted in Mandarin. The firing was steady now, the single cracks now a fusillade.

Go,
Briggs.
Get up
!

He tossed the AK over the berm, jammed the toe of his boot into the ice, got traction, then shoved. His hands touched the trunk. He got to his knees and threw his good leg over the trunk.

He felt a sudden stab of heat in his back. He pitched himself headfirst over the berm.

The entire left side of his torso burned. Working on instinct, gasping through the pain, he grabbed his last grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it over his head.

Crump
!

The gunfire ceased. Tanner rolled onto his side and peeked over the trunk. Twenty feet away, three paratroopers lay sprawled around the grenade crater. A few seconds passed, then he heard a grating sound, like stone on stone. Fissures appeared in the ice around the crater and began spreading outward like roots. The shattered ice began to wallow with the current. One by one, each of the bodies slid beneath the surface.

At the paddle wheeler the remaining soldiers—a dozen, Briggs guessed—stood on the bridge wing. At their head, binoculars raised, was Xiang. He pointed toward the berm, then barked an order.

Tanner rolled back out of sight. His vision sparkled. He tried to fill his lungs, but it felt like he was trying to suck air through a sponge.
Punctured diaphragm,
he thought.
Maybe lung.
He tore open his field jacket. There was a quarter-size hole beneath his bottom rib. He touched the skin; it was hot.
You're bleeding inside,
he thought dully.
Not good,
Briggs
…
Have to slow it down
…