Vault of Shadows by Jonathan Maberry Read Free Book Online

fireball. The leaves ignited and flew like embers into the air, raining down on the surrounding trees and instantly setting them ablaze. The force and intense heat split the trunk of the tree that had been hit, and it fell apart in two halves.
    Killer leaped from Shark’s arms, barking in alarm, as the two boys rolled out of the way to avoid flaming debris.
    â€œUp there!” cried Shark, pointing.
    But Milo didn’t need help spotting their danger.
    High in the air was a Dissosterin drop-ship. It was thirty feet across, shaped like a flying saucer seen in old books, with a spherical pilot’s compartment in the center. Shocktroopers crouched on small detachable platforms called sky-boards, guns in their armored fists. Milo knew that the ’troopers could either disconnect their sky-boards and swoop down like predatory birds, or rappel to the ground on steel lines.
    The air split with the sound of a deep, furious voice amplified to an unnatural bellow.
    â€œI want what you stole!”
    It was the voice of the Huntsman. The colossal sound smashed through the air. It was strange, too, as if the Huntsman were shouting through a dozen mouths at once. Then Milo realized that the Huntsman’s voice, repeating and repeating those five words, was booming at them from speakers mounted on the sides of each sky-board.
    â€œI want what you stole!”
    The shocktroopers all clung to the drop-ship, each of them firing blue pulse blasts downward, setting the forest ablaze.
    Milo and Shark shot to their feet and began running for cover, screaming warnings to the other survivors even though everyone would already know that danger had found them.
    â€œShark, get the li’l kids down to the bayou,” bellowed Barnaby, who had appeared from the swirling smoke as if by magic. He pointed to where a knot of scared little ones cowered on the red ship’s entry ramp. “Make for the bolt-hole, you.”
    â€œOn it!” Shark yelled, then emitted an ear-splitting whistle. The kids turned toward him, spotted him through the smoke, and ran from the attacking Bugs. Shark pushed them into the brush, with Killer herding them like a frantic sheepdog. They vanished into the densewoods. The camp was within a mile’s hard run of one of the EA’s many reinforced bunkers. The bolt-holes were small, cramped, but well concealed and stocked with provisions. Ten people could hide in one for a week.
    Barnaby pivoted, aimed his bow, and loosed an arrow. It struck the heavy armor of a shocktrooper and bounced off. The ’trooper fired a pulse blast at them, and Milo pulled the Cajun out of the way just in time. The blast exploded a young pine into sawdust.
    â€œI want what you stole!”
    â€œThey seem pretty mad, them,” said Barnaby, fitting another arrow.
    â€œDidn’t think they came because they like your cooking,” snapped Milo.
    He looked back wildly at the damaged red craft. More than twenty people were in there, most of them old and wounded. The shocktroopers hovered directly above the ship, and though they were not firing at it, it was clear that they’d somehow finally managed to track the stolen craft.
    He grabbed Barnaby’s sleeve. “We have to get everyone out.”
    The Cajun’s face was filled with equal parts fear and anger. “I’ll go. You get Lizabeth and the others out of here, you. I’ll hold these gros cafards off, me.”
    The big cockroaches, as Barnaby called them, were firing at everything that moved.
    â€œWith a bow and arrows?” demanded Shark. “You’re nuts.”
    Milo whipped his satchel open, pulled out the two pulse pistols, and shoved one into Barnaby’s hands.
    â€œHow you get these—?”
    â€œChristmas present. Go!”
    Barnaby slung his bow, snatched the pistol, and immediately swung the barrel toward the drop-ship. “Eat this!”
    He began firing the pistol, sending blue force blasts up