Adventure of Dallas Fontaine 2

Dallas hits the dirt-hard crawlspace, revolver steady. Ahead, the second saboteur claws toward the joists, dragging a tool bag that scrapes sparks from the nails.

Murderbone drops through the hatch behind Dallas, a black-and-tan blur in the dust. His growl closes the gap, pinning the runner's route to the foundation beam.

Dallas fires once. The shot punches splinters from the joist and cuts the saboteur off from the beam, driving him sideways into the tight wall of dirt and pipe.

From deeper in the crawlspace, another set of boots answers, slow and deliberate. A man steps into the dim spill of dust, coat dark, face hard, Alder March at last, blocking the path to the foundation.

Dallas snaps his shot through the dust. The round tears the detonator free from Alder March’s hand, and it skitters into the dirt with its wiring ripped loose.

March jerks back, staring at his empty palm. The sabotage runner flinches, suddenly unsure which way is out.

Murderbone launches low and hard, slamming into the saboteur’s legs before he can crawl past the broken timber gap.

The man hits the dirt, tool bag bursting open beside the chalk arrows. Above them, the foundation stays intact, but March is no longer holding the device.

Dallas stays on March, revolver unwavering, while the loose detonator lies dead in the dirt between them.

His next shot clips the second saboteur across the shoulder and knocks the tool bag from his grip.

Metal skitters through the chalk arrows. The man folds flat, stunned and unable to crawl.

Murderbone plants himself over the runner, teeth bared, blocking the broken timber gap completely.

For the first time, the crawlspace goes still except for March breathing hard at the tunnel mouth.

Dallas shifts his aim and empties the revolver into March at point-blank range.

March jerks under the impact, stumbles backward, and drops hard into the dirt at the tunnel mouth.

The chalk arrows vanish beneath his boots, then under his body.

Murderbone keeps his weight over the gap, still and brutal, making the route impossible to use.

The second saboteur stays down, one shoulder soaked and his tool bag spilled open beside him.

For a beat, the crawlspace only holds smoke, dirt, and Dallas's gun still pointed where March was standing.

Then a faint scrape comes from deeper in the tunnel, beyond the dead body and the blocked gap.