Slow Burn (Book 4): Dead Fire Read Free Page B

conversation died away. We were hypnotized by the surging mob, as they pushed and beat on the gate, the manifestation of death, trying vainly to storm the castle. Vainly, for the moment.
    I broke the trance. “As much as I hate to say it, I think we’re coming to the end of our hiding phase here. It may be time to run soon. What are your thoughts, boss?”
    “Boss?” Steph looked at me with the smallest of fragile smiles.
    I shrugged.
    “If you’re not going to call me Steph, I think I’d prefer Captain.” It wasn’t harsh; just a simple request between friends.
    “ Jefe ?” I asked, trying for levity. I was finding that humor was often the only way past all of the repressively painful bullshit of life as it was.
    “I don’t speak Spanish ,” Steph said, sitting down in the empty rolling chair.
    “Then how did you know what I was saying?”
    “I think sometimes you think you’re still fifteen,” Steph said, looking intently at the large monitor in front of Dalhover. Her face still showed the fragile smile, though.
    “Agreed,” Dalhover rasped.
    Steph concluded, “It sounds too much like heifer. I’ll stick with boss if that’s what you want.”
    I laid a hand on Steph’s shoulder. “You’re the boss. What about you, Dalhover?”
    “You don’t want to call me anything but Dalhover or First Sergeant.” Dalhover’s tone gave no hint of allowing compromise.
    “Top?” I asked.
    Dalhover looked at me, and I understood that for some reason, that title was off limits to me.
    “Whatever.” I looked back to Steph. “Back on topic, Boss?”
    Dalhover withdrew a nearly empty pack of cigarettes from his pocket and put on e in his mouth.
    “In here?” I asked, a little offended.
    “Secondhand smoke isn’t going to be what kills you, Zane,” Dalhover told me.
    Steph came to his defense. “He can’t very well go outside and smoke.”
    Of course he could. He’d be safe on the roof. Nevertheless, I dropped it.
    The White on the rock cocked her head in the other direction.
    Steph asked, “Sergeant, will that gate hold?”
    Dalhover gave that some thought as he took a long drag on his cigarette and bl ew the smoke back out. “Hard to say.”
    “Your best guess?” Steph asked.
    “I think it’ll take a whole lot more of ‘em before they have any hope. Even then, the gate might not break. It might bend. If that happens, we won’t be able to open it.”
    I said, “We need to start keeping a count of how deep the crowd is that’s pushing on the gate.”
    Steph and Dalhover both turned with the same blank “What the fuck are you talking about?” stare. It didn’t bother me. I’d seen the expression too many times in my life to be bothered by it.
    “Let’s say the gate does break down,” I lectured. “If we know how many people deep the crowd is at that moment, then we learn something very important.”
    “That is?” Dalhover asked in his flat tone.
    “The interior gate is on the right hand side of that driveway. The width of the driveway between the walls limits how deep they can stack up in front of it,” I explained. “For instance, if they have to be thirty deep to exert enough force to break the outside gate, the driveway between the walls may be too narrow for thirty people deep. If that’s the case, then they won’t be able to break the second gate and we’ll be safe.”
    Steph was nodding when I finished. “That makes sense. Sergeant?”
    “Makes sense,” Dalhover agreed. “I’ll set up a log and instruct the watch to track the mob depth every fifteen minutes.”
    “ I think you earned a Pop Tart, Zed.” Steph gave me a real smile.
    I smiled back.
    “Dammit,” Dalhover groused, and reached down to open a drawer of a file cabinet. From within, he pulled out a foil-packaged pair and handed them to me.
    I accepted . “Thank you, hoarders. I love these things.”
    Dalhover turned back to the monitors.
    “I think we stay for now,” Steph announced. “When they breach