The LAV kept rocking. Outside, something shattered. It sounded like glass. More glass shattered. And suddenly it seemed as if every mirror in the universe was breaking all at once.
One soldier screamed out a word. "iTemblor!"
"What?"
"Temblor de tierra!"
The other soldier screamed, "Terremoto! Terremoto!"
"Say it in English, will you?"
"Terremoto!"
The rocking grew more violent. The Extinguisher's head collided with the LAV roof.
"Ow!"
And the two soldados jumped from their seats, throwing open the doors and evacuating the LAV.
"Wait! What's going on?"
The LAV was literally bouncing on its tires now.
The cacophony of Mexico City took on a new ferocious quality. Men screamed. Woman wailed. Glass shattered. Something like stone cracking turned into a protracted splintery rumble.
As if a blind giant were pushing it around, the LAV started swinging on its braked tires. Visible through the open back door, a city falling into chaos was revealed.
"Holy shit! The mother of all earthquakes!"
The Extinguisher sprang into action. He dived for the ground. It shook hard enough to rattle his teeth. Flat on his stomach, he looked around, sizing up the situation.
Almost at once, he decided to get back into the LAV. It looked like the safest thing for miles around.
Outside, as the city shook itself, a thunderous roar came from due southeast. He got down on the cold floor and recovered his weapon by feel. Fingering a thin steel pick from its butt receptacle, he inserted it into the handcuff lock and tried to pick the lock.
The lock aperture kept shaking.
"Damn it! Hold still a minute," he snapped.
The lock refused to cooperate.
The earth was still shaking when he sprung the cuffs. Taking up his Hellfire supermachine pistol, he stowed it into his rucksack, along with the rest of his gear.
When the earth finally stopped shaking, there was a long, terrible silence.
Blaize Fury stepped out.
The great city had been brought to its knees. To the north a building face had fallen to the pavement, exposing the cubbyholes of a multifloored office tower. People shrieked up there looking out at the city that had been whelmed by a force greater than any city ever built.
"Man, this place looks like Oklahoma City in quadraphonic stereo!"
But in the context of his mission, the Extinguisher had drawn a trump card.
Climbing into the driver's seat, he found the keys had been left in the ignition. The engine was still idling. He threw the emergency brake and got moving.
The ashpalt had buckled directly ahead. It was impassable. Traffic lay stopped all around. People were out of their cars, looking up and around and all around again, their varicolored faces slack and dazed, as their eyes tried to take in the enormity of what had transpired.
"Gotta get out of this hellhole," the Extinguisher muttered.
Spotting a stretch of empty sidewalk, he ran the LAV up on it, honking the horn impatiently.
People got out of the way. Not as fast as they should. They were too stunned for that. But a path was cleared.
When he found a stretch of clear road, he jumped for it.
Traffic was stopped everywhere. Life was stopped everywhere. As he muscled the LAV over buckled crevices, around obstacles and through the city, a dirty rain began to fall.
It only looked like rain at first. When the grayish black precipitation touched the windshield, it stuck like snow. But it wasn't snow. For one thing, it smoked.
The Extinguisher threw out a hand to collect a sample. He snapped it back instantly.
"Ouch! Damn it! Motherfucker."
Sucking on his burned hand, he drove one-handed.
Near the broad paved square called the Zocalo, he began to understand. Visible past the forlorn Mexican national flag that was already drooping at half staff was one of the many mountains that ring the Mexican capital city.
It was throwing up a great column of excrement-brown smoke like vaporizing compost.
"Don't look now, but I think that's one upset volcano," the Extinguisher muttered to himself.
Rolling up the window, he drove grimly, as people, covering their heads with newspapers and anything else at hand, fled the burning volcanic ash.
For once the Extinguisher understood he was outmatched. For once his warrior skills meant next to nothing. For once he was no better than any gunless mortal.
"Man, if she really blows her top my cojones are guacamole!"
Chapter 9
The Azteca Airlines flight left the Boston gate on time and, thanks to a brisk tail wind, arrived on the ground in Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport more than an hour early.
"Attention, all passengers," the captain said. "We have landed in Texas in order to refuel. The stewardess will be coming through the cabin to collect the fuel tax."
"Fuel tax?" Remo said.
"I will pay no tax," said the Master of Sinanju at his window seat. He always took the window seat in case the wing showed signs of falling off. He wore an emerald green kimono now, trimmed in ocher.