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just as the fight broke out. The new prisoners spotted what was
happening and broke away from their guards and ran to join in the!
fracas. The Rebels guarding them couldn't shoot for fear of hitting
other Rebels.
"Aw, shit!" one Rebel sergeant yelled, and tossed down his weapon and
jumped right in the middle of the fight, landing on a man's back. They
rolled on the ground, cussing and punching each other.
Anna squared off, briefly, with one stocky man. He made the mistake of
calling her a whore and she kicked him between the legs, the toe of her
boot connecting solidly with his nuts. He turned chalk-white, howled in
pain, and hit the ground and stayed there, both hands between his legs.
Ben found himself face to face with a man with a red face and a wild
glint in his eyes. "Satan himself!" the man yelled. "I'm facing the devil."
"Oh, screw you," Ben said, and popped the man on the nose with a hard
right fist. The blood spurted and the man yelped, putting both hands to
his busted and bleeding beak. Ben set both feet and slugged the man on
the jaw. The prisoner's eyes glazed over and he hit the ground, not
unconscious, but definitely out of the fight for a few minutes.
The fight ended abruptly whert a Rebel officer lifted his M-16 and let
go with a full magazine. He didn't hit anything but air, but he did stop
the fight.
Ben had a fistful of a man's shirt and his right fist drawn back, ready
to pop the brawler on the snoot with a hard left. He turned the man
loose and the man sank to his knees, his mouth bloody from Ben's fists.
A dozen Rebels ran into the mob, pushing and shoving prisoners back.
Lieutenant Hardin came rushing up to Ben.
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He looked at Ben's face. Ben had a cut over one eye, a bruise on the
side of his face, and his mouth was bloody.
"My God, General!" the young lieutenant blurted. "Are you all right, sir?"
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"Just ducky," Ben said, then grinned. "Damn, but that was fun!" he
shouted the words.
Lieutenant Hardin stared at Ben for a moment, then slowly shook his head
in disbelief. He didn't think he would ever understand the general.
"So you people thought you could sucker us into an ambush?" Ben asked
the older man, who wore the insignia of a bird colonel.
"It almost worked," the prisoner said, a very smug smile on his lips.
"It never came close to working," Ben verbally shot him down.
The smile on the man's face slowly faded and a look of discouragement
and resignation took its place, He stared at Ben for a moment. Ben's
face was bruised in a couple of places, but other than that, he seemed
fine. As a matter of fact, the general seemed almost happy, and the
prisoner really didn't understand why he should. "God is on our side,
sir," he finally stated.
"Oh, bullshit, Colonel!" Ben lashed out. "All you religious fanatics
spout the same line of dogma. Can't you at least come up with something
more original?"
"It's the truth, sir."
"Sorry, but I don't buy it. I think God has turned away from this fight
for a moment or so. And His moments just might be a couple of millennia
in length. Colonel, don't you know what Simon Border is, or has turned
into?"
"Rumors, sir. Just vicious lies, probably spread by your own people. I'm
sure of that."
Ben sighed patiently. The counter-rumor mill was work-
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ing from the other side. Well, hell, he had expected that. His people
would have done the same thing if conditions had been reversed.
Propaganda warfare was just a part of the game called war. He asked the
man more questions, received either noncommittal grunts or cold stares
for his efforts, then finally called for a guard to take the man back to
the holding area.
Ben leaned back in his chair. So far, it had not been much of a war . .
. which suited him just fine. The enemy had taken some hard losses, and
the Rebels practically none.
But Ben had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that all that
was about to change. Simon Border, nuts or not, was not the type of
individual to keep on taking heavy losses. Besides, Ben knew only too
well how fickle the gods of war could be.
He had a hunch that the Rebel advance was about to hit a snag. Whether
they would merely stub their toe or break a leg was something he could
not predict, but he had learned never to discount his hunches.
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Corrie walked in, a grim look dn her face, and Ben knew his hunch had
been correct. "A Rebel patrol sent out by Georgi just got ambushed,
boss. Wiped out to the last person. Georgi is roaring like an angry
grizzly. It was a group of civilian women and young teenagers, boss.
They suck-ered our people in like bees to honey."
"It had to happen," Ben replied, a sick feeling washing over him. "Simon
is pulling out all the stops. Now it's going to get down and dirty. What
kind of pitch did they use to pull our people in?"
"Sick kids. They begged for Rebel help. You know we've never turned down
a request for medical aid from civilians."
"We're about to start, Corrie."
"This war is getting dirty, boss."
"And it's going to get dirtier. We can throw the rule book out the
window now."
"What do I tell Georgi?"
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William W. Johnstone
"Tell him to keep his dick in his pants.'' A faint smile crossed
Corrie's lips. "Or words to that effect," Ben added.
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"Scouts report the enemy has laid down mines," Corrie said to Ben. The
column had just pulled out and had been on the road no more than thirty
minutes before the radio transmission came in.
"What type of mine?" Ben asked.
"All types, boss. From claymores to homemade. Looks like Mike was right
on the mark again."
Mike Richards had reported that Simon was mass-producing mines in
factories all over his territory. And the factories were heavily
guarded, with little chance of a guerrilla raid being successful. Many
of them were deep in the mountains, underground, thus preventing any
type of air attack.
"Simon's been planning this for a long time," Ben replied. "Perhaps even
before the Great War. This is not something that was spur of the moment.
I'll give the man credit for that."
"Exactly what was this nut before the Great War?" Cooper asked, stopping
the big wagon in the center of the road.
Ben opened the door to step out, then paused. "At first, Coop, most
people tended to dismiss him as a fanatic. But his popularity continued
to grow. By the time it was discovered that he was actually a dangerous
advocate of the ultra-religious right, the war came and he was soon
forgotten."
Standing on the road, Ben turned to Corrie. "Bump all
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William W. Johnstone
battalions. Tell them to halt where they are and start checking for mines." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]