Part 24 (1/2)

Chase pushed through the crowd, took one look at the child, and turned to Ben. ”Finish her, Ben. For the love of G.o.d, put her out of her misery.”

Ben's hand dropped to the b.u.t.t of his .45, carried c.o.c.ked and locked. He hesitated.

”Ben,” Chase said, ”the medics are fifteen minutes behind. The d.a.m.n truck broke down. I don't have anything with me to do the job.”

The girl began screaming, the terrible pain ripping through her ravaged body.

”G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Ben!” Chase yelled. ”Shoot her!”

Ben jerked out his .45, placed the muzzle close to the child's head, and muttered, ”May G.o.d have mercy on my soul.”

He pulled the trigger, ending the child's agony. Ben holstered the weapon and walked outside.

Beth had gone outside to find a clean blanket to cover the ravaged body. She paused at the sight of Ben, kneeling between the buildings, his hands covering his face. He was alone, and crying.

The Rebels avoided Ben the rest of that morning, for they all knew that h.e.l.l on earth was about to break loose. They got a small reminder of how enraged Ben was when he ordered a dozen creepie prisoners into a wooden shed.

”Douse it with gas and set it on fire,” he ordered. ”Any troop who shoots an escaping creepie to put him or her out of their misery will face a court-martial.”

The building went up with a roar. The screaming of the burning creepies could be clearly heard over the howling flames. Several broke out of the inferno, running b.a.l.l.s of fire. They fell on the ground and beat their hands and feet against the earth, howling out their misery.

The Rebels stood in silent lines, watching and listening. No one lifted a weapon to end the screaming. No one really wanted to.

The unmistakable and unforgettable smell of charred human flesh clung dose to the earth. The day had turned out gloomy and overcast, the threat of rain evident.

When the last echoes of the wailing had died out, Ben turned to Corrie. His inner rage was still burning out of control. ”b.u.mp all commanders. I want prisoners from all sectors. I want to know if any outlaws or warlords or whatever those lousy motherf.u.c.kers call themselves have been dealing with the Night P.”.

”Yes, sir!” She got the h.e.l.l gone from that area in a hurry.

The Rebels looked at one another, each man and woman knowing that things were going to get very interesting, very quickly.

Leadfoot whispered to Axehandle. ”The general is p.i.s.sed.” ”No kidding?” Axe returned the whisper. ”I never would have guessed.”

Wanda said, ”I ain't never seen him this mad.

Boy, he looks like the wrath of G.o.d, don't he?”

”That's plumb poetic, Wanda,” Beerbelly said.

”You ought to be the one to say something when we bury that poor little girl.”

”The general's gonna bury her over yonder in the woods,” Lamply said, pointing. ”He asked me to pick out the spot and I found a real pretty place.” He looked around the silent and stinking compound. ”I hate these d.a.m.n creepies, and anybody who does business with them. I figure the general is gonna go on a rampage now. We all think we seen action before. I got a hunch that we ain't seen nothin' yet.”

That remark would soon prove to be a very great understatement.

Planes began landing at the secured airstrip and taking the survivors back to clean zones, most of them heading back to Base Camp One. Nearly all were in bad shape mentally. Some of the women had been held for years, used as breeders. Most of them were near total mental collapse.

Chase walked through a lightly falling mist, over to Ben, who was squatting under the low branches of a tree, sipping at a mug of coffee.

He waited until the sound of a plane taking off died away before speaking. ”With this . . . s.h.i.+pment,” the doctor said with a sigh, ”our facilities at Base One will be strained to overflowing.”

”We'll build more,” Ben said, without looking up.

”We are desperately short of qualified doctors.”

”That is your department. Mine is war.”

”I don't need you to tell me what my job entails!” the doctor snapped. ”I've been doing it for a good many years.

Ben stood up, the weight of command heavy on him.

”Lamar, I can't snap my fingers and produce psychologists and psychiatrists out of the air. On the other hand, I can't just turn these . . .

survivors loose to fend for themselves. They wouldn't last twenty-four hours. All we can do is give them a secure place to live, with adequate food and clothing, and try to mend their minds as we get to them. If we have to jack down the more unruly ones with Thorazine to keep them stable, that's still better than what they had. Our success rate with these types is not good, but it's all we can do with what we have. Ol'

buddy, I know how thin we are, and we're going to get thinner before it starts turning around.” He paused as the last planeload of survivors took off. ”Get your people rounded up, we're pulling out.”

Ben walked away from the doctor and over to the bikers. ”Leadfoot, you spearhead up I-Fifteen. Dusters will be behind you so don't try to break any speed records. I'll be coming up behind the tanks with the people here, while the rest of the battalion takes on Pocatello from the north. Shoot any creepie on sight. No pity, no mercy, no prisoners. Take off and stay in radio contact.”

Ben walked off, hollering for his team to gather around him.

”I told you it was gonna get busy around here,”

Lamply said.

Leadfoot checked his Uzi and the grenades hooked onto his battle harness. ”Let's go, boys and girls. And keep in your mind the picture of that little girl we just buried. That'll make the job a whole lot easier.”

The bikers. .h.i.t a manned roadblock at what was left of a tiny hamlet just off 1-15. The bikers smashed through and destroyed the creepies before the Dusters could even get to the scene. The bikers were piling up the bodies and pouring gasoline on their stinking carca.s.ses just as Ben rolled up and got out.

He stood for a moment, surveying the scene. ”Good work,” he complimented them. ”Take any hits?”

”Sonny took a round through the leg,”

Leadfoot said. ”He's over yonder gettin'

patched up. Wanda got her Hog shot out from under her and busted her a.s.s. Didn't hurt the Hog none.

We killed forty creepies.”

Ben nodded. ”You feel like continuing the spearheading?”

A wicked look sprang into the biker's eyes.

”I wanna be the first one to ride into Pocatello and stick the muzzle of an Uzi up a creepie's a.s.s, General.”

Ben smiled at the Rebel-biker. ”We'll follow you, Leadfoot.”

The light mist was still falling as the bikers roared out, heading north up the Interstate. They hit no more roadblocks and pulled over two miles south of the silent city.

”Our people are in place north of the city,” Corrie informed Ben. ”Gunners have the coordinates and are ready for your orders.”