Free Perception Fault by James Axler

mussin’ their hair, why don’t ya!” J.B. yelled back. “This is a machine gun, not a bastard scalpel!”
    “All right, all right, we’ll do it the hard way.” Ryan heard sniggering from the passenger seat and glanced over to find both Jak and Doc apparently sharing a private joke. “Want to tell me what’s so bastard funny?”
    “You said…hit anyone…in rear,” Jak got out between chortles. Doc’s laugh grated on Ryan’s nerves, as well, but he ignored it and concentrated on getting closer to the wag ahead of them.
    “Shut your mouths and look sharp—mebbe snipers above.”
    His words sobered the two up, and they returned to watching the surrounding countryside as it blurred past. They’d left the long hillside behind now, and were jouncing through a series of smaller foothills, the wag’s engine growling as it powered up one side and down another. Ryan followed them into a narrow valley, where there was barely enough room for both vehicles to drive side-by-side.
    “Watch it, Ryan, could be a trap,” J.B. called down from the top.
    “Better keep that longblaster ready then, shouldn’t you?” he yelled back.
    “Hope your plan to get her out of there is better than the one that got us into this,” the Armorer shouted, holding on to his beloved fedora with one hand.
    “Better, no, crazy, yeah!”
    A few hundred yards ahead, Ryan spotted what he was looking for. “J.B., keep a lookout behind us! Jak, give Doc the shotgun!”
    The albino teen frowned at the order. “What, why?”
    “’Cause you’re going to take the wheel in a few seconds. Now hand it over!”
    Dumping the blaster into Doc’s lap, Jak prepared to move over and take command.
    “Doc, just point and shoot to keep that turret gunner’s head down. And for fuck’s sake, don’t drop it!” For once Ryan was pleased that fléchette rounds were in the shotgun, as they wouldn’t penetrate the armor. “Now!”
    The old man stuck his face and upper body out of the window, his long hair swirling around his face like a demented, blaster-toting prophet. He unloaded on the back of the mil wag as Ryan mashed the pedal to the floor, drawing a burst of speed from the ancient machine he would have thought impossible a few moments ago.
    The two mil wags hit the widened plain at the same time, Ryan having pulled them abreast of the other Hummer. “Take it, Jak!” Ryan said, waiting until he felt the teen’s foot stomp down on the gas pedal before releasing it and handing over the wheel, as well. There was a slight sway as Jak maneuvered himself into the driver’s seat, but the 4x4 steadied soon enough, and Ryan pushed the driver’s door open, pulling himself up and out using the hinges of the door as steps.
    Krysty leaned forward. “Lover, what the hell are you doing?”
    Ryan glanced back at her, but didn’t stop. “Back in a sec.”
    Before she could protest further, he stepped out onto the roof and let the door slam shut under him. J.B. had his back turned, sniping with the .50-caliber blaster as best he could at the far-off mob of green shirts streaming down the hill like rows of ants. Ryan didn’t spare him a second glance, as his attention was focused on the dull brown mil wag slowly pulling away from his own vehicle. The hot, dry wind whipped at his face, making him squint as he watched the other wag come closer.
    Only a couple yards separated them, and as Ryan gauged his timing, Jak drifted slowly right, bringing the back of the mil wag to within a yard of their front bumper. Doc let loose one more blast from the autoshotgun at the turret, ruffling the hair of the man inside, who had just started to poke his head back up.
    It was now or never.
    Ryan took two large steps across the hood of the Hummer and leaped into space.

Chapter Seven
    The trip across seemed to be over in a second and stretch on forever at the same time. Ryan felt the brief, strange sensation of weightlessness for a moment, and didn’t dare look down at the