BUREAU 13: Judgment Night

"Scat!" I commanded, and they ran for the imagined safety of the living room. Soon as they were clear, I crouched behind the upturned table and hit George on the leg. In a stuttering roar, the M60 cut loose, tracing a line of holes through the sofa, the door and the cans beyond.

For almost a full second I thought the trick wouldn't work. Then the world exploded in flame as those twin ten-gallon Molotov cocktails outside did their favorite thing. The sofa, door and table offered us some protection from the blast, but the heat flash bellowed into the kitchen to cook the air from our lungs and we fell to our knees coughing. Lord, I would never be mean to a French fry again.

Above the noise of the detonation, we could hear a hideous screaming that wassailed and wailed. Violently, the cabin shook to its foundation, a roof beam cracked, the fireplace collapsed and then everything went terribly still.

Smoke was pouring into the kitchen, making it impossible to breathe. But that was no problem. We simply scampered through the gaping ruin of the porch and onto the lawn. The sight of the giant thing flapping into the horizon was more beautiful than any sunset I could remember.

"Well look at that," Richard muttered, crossing his arms. "I wonder why the kerosene is sticking to it so well?"

Sword in hand, Mindy smiled. "I added a tube of epoxy glue to the Molotovs as an added bonus."

Shifting position, George shouldered his ungainly machine gun to rest the stock on a hip. "Where the heck did you get epoxy from?"

"My purse," she replied, "Its perfect for repairing broken fingernails."

"Its secret girl stuff," Jessica explained.

We had a shaky laugh at that, and started slapping shoulders in triumphant. But the victory celebration was unexpectedly cut short when our Bureau wristwatches began beeping the emergency recall signal.