Juvenile Raptors. Three of them. Their bioluminescent stripes flickered in the dark like broken neon signs.
Jack didn’t answer. He lined up Grace’s grille with the train’s engine block, slammed the steering wheel button, and held it down.
Deep in the biosphere tunnels beneath the ruins of old New York, a pre-Upheaval vault supposedly held a treasure: a pristine, functional M61 Vulcan—a 20mm rotary cannon, six barrels of pure, earth-shattering firepower. The man who held it could clear a valley of Runners, hold off a Rex, or carve a path straight through the territory of the feared Motorcycle Pirates. Cadillacs And Dinosaurs 20 Gun For Pc
“Your idiot,” he replied, and pointed Grace toward the coastal highlands, where the dinosaurs were smaller and the gas stations were rumored to still have a few drops left.
Twenty-millimeter high-explosive incendiary rounds spat from the Cadillac at 3,000 rounds per minute. The first rounds sparked off the train’s armor. The second group dented it. The third punched through. Juvenile Raptors
But Jack wasn’t after the gun for conquest. He needed it to save his friend.
The “20 Gun” wasn’t a weapon. It was a legend. Jack didn’t answer
Hannah Dundee, the sharp-eyed engineer who kept Grace alive, had been taken. Her crime? Refusing to repair the Pirate Queen, Grusilda’s, armored land-train. In retaliation, Grusilda had chained Hannah to the front of that very train, a living hood ornament as it thundered through the badlands. The only way to stop that train was to kill its engine block—and the only portable thing that could punch through eight inches of alloy-steel plating was the 20 Gun.
“You’re welcome,” Jack said, lighting a crooked cigarette.
He found the land-train at high noon, crawling through Salt Flats Valley. Grusilda’s war rig was a monstrosity: a diesel locomotive engine welded to semi-truck trailers, bristling with harpoon guns and steel spikes. Chained to its prow, arms stretched wide like a crucified saint, was Hannah.