He couldn’t do this alone. He needed help, and that could only mean one thing. He grimly thumbed the button on his radio.
‘You need to get over here,’ he barked into the metal grille. There was a burst of static, then a reply.
‘Will do,’ said a voice. ‘I’ll be there in five. Sit tight.’ He dropped the radio and glanced outside. Bombs were still falling thick and fast from the pixellated sky.
‘Still raining,’ he muttered. The ranks of invaders dropped lower with a jolt and the shower of bombs intensified. He would have to do something. Just the bottom row, he told himself.
As soon as he was out from under the bunker roof, he knew it had been a mistake. There were just too many and they were too close. Every move he made to dodge a bomb threw off his targeting. It was only a matter of time before they advanced again. He cursed under his breath. Where was she?
‘Someone call for backup?’ said a voice behind him. He whirled round. There she was, crinoline dress spattered with mud and a shotgun in each hand.
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Janey,’ he said. Her eyes glinted in the electric light.
‘That’s Miss Eyre to you,’ she said.