Free Perception Fault by James Axler Page B

just in for a world of trouble.” She didn’t let up on the door at all, but kept straining at it, jerking at the handle. “Why won’t this fuckin’ thing move?”
    “If you give my friends a minute, they’ll get us both out.”
    “Sure, and you’ll end up ransoming me to my father instead of them—don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”
    Ryan frowned. “Girl, I don’t even know who you are.”
    That stopped her, just in time for Ryan to hear J.B.’s voice outside. “Ryan, you alive in there?”
    “Yeah, but the doors are jammed. Can you bust them?”
    “Sure thing.”
    Ryan heard fading footsteps, then a strange whine, like metal rasping on metal, then a clink on the other side of the door. “So, who are you?”
    Puzzlement clouded her features. “You really don’t know?”
    Ryan poked the body of the driver next to him. “I know you’re important to these green shirts, since they went to a lot of trouble to capture you alive, but other than that, you’re just another outland woman to me.”
    “Just another— I’m Rachel Carrington, the daughter of Josiah Carrington, the leader of Free Denver.”
    Ryan nodded. “And the green shirts are fighting against your father, right?”
    “Yeah, lousy traitors. They want what my father’s spent his whole life building. They just think they can come in and take over. Not if I can help it.”
    J.B.’s voice sounded from outside. “Keep away from the door.” The engine of the other mil wag revved outside, followed by a sudden jerk on the frame of the upside-down 4x4. The engine revved again, and with another lurch, the door tore away from its hinges, letting in bright sunlight.
    Ryan motioned toward the door. “There you go.”
    “You’re letting me go?”
    “I don’t kidnap people for ransom. It looked like you were in trouble back there, and I thought you could use some help.”
    She stared at him for long seconds. “Who are you?”
    Ryan grinned. “No one of consequence.”
    Her expression changed from exasperated to puzzled. “I very much doubt that.”
    J.B.’s voice sounded from outside. “Company’salmost here, Ryan. You coming out, or fixing to stay in there for the rest of your bastard short life?”
    “You can go with us, or take your chances with the green shirts outside. It’s up to you.”
    “Choice like that isn’t any choice at all.” She scooted to the opening, scooping up the dead gunner’s blaster as she did so. But instead of pointing it at him, she extended a tanned hand, still oozing blood from a scraped knuckle. “Let’s go.”
    Taking it, Ryan was surprised by the strength in her wiry form. “Thanks.” He got up and glanced at J.B., who was regarding the woman with his habitual expressionless face. “J. B. Dix, Rachel Carrington, Rachel, J.B.”
    Dropping the metal cable and hook, which began retracting into the winch at the front of the mil wag, the Armorer nodded, receiving a curt one in return. “Rest of the group’s about two minutes behind us. This gully’ll be swarming with them soon, and I’d rather not be here when they arrive.”
    Ryan eyed Rachel. “Let me guess. If they were taking you that way—” he pointed in the direction the Hummer had been driving “—I’d guess your ville is back that way, right?” He jerked his thumb back the way they had come.
    “Yeah.” She saw J.B. about to ask the obvious question, and spoke first. “I got cut off from my unit, and it was either light out this way or try to break back through the enemy line. I thought I’d like to live another day, rather than kill myself trying to get back.”
    “But if we reach the ville, you can get us inside, right?”
    “Yeah, if we can reach it. There must be a hundred of those bastards between us and them.”
    “Then you might not like the idea I got in mind. Come on.” Ryan ran back to the wag. “Move over, Jak. Rachel, find a hole in the back. And everyone put on your green shirts right now!”
    Jak