Joel hit him in the temple with a sledge-hammer fist. He didn't wait to see the effect of his blow, but darted into an open doorway.
There was an entrance hall and it was crowded with men. Joel put his head down, charged straight through them.
He hit the steps four at a time. Yellow flame lapped at his heels. Then he was around a curve. A whistle blew someplace below, shrill, threatening. He leaped up two more flights of steps, came out on the roof.
More guards were lying on their bellies behind a coping. They stared at him curiously.
"Ray that damn fool down!" a voice roared from the street.
Joel plunged straight for the recumbent soldiers. They clawed at their paralyzers, trying to twist around.
He leaped to the coping, hung there a second silhouetted against the murky sky. Then he jumped spasmodically for the adjoining roof.
He didn't look at the ground three stories below, but he was aware of it. His feet struck the edge of the next roof and he sprawled forward, gasping for breath.
Two roofs in front of him, he could see a row of shaggy heads raised above another coping. They were watching him curiously.
Then they began to yell and beckon, lifting projectors into sight. Pale green fingers probed all around him, but none of the deadly blood-destroying rays touched him.