The roar of compressed nitrogen shook the front stanchions of Coach #404.
Thump-whoosh!
“Mortar launched!” Lin Mei screamed from Catwalk #09. “Red ink canister incoming!”
“It’s tumbling end-over-end!” Mac yelled from the cab. “Eighty pounds of pressure in that glass!”
“Eighty miles an hour!” Lin called down. “Impact vector is locked on the front doors!”
“It’s heading straight for the wheelchair bay!” Harlan Reed cried out in terror.
“Elena! Jump clear!” Mac roared.
“It’s aimed directly at Clara’s dome!” Mac bellowed.
