Part 11 (1/2)

Buddy had called back the locations of the hidden pockets of creepies behind machine guns. The 90mm cannon of the Piranhas and the 105's of the MBT'S left the machine-gun nests tangles of smoking metal and bits of torn flesh.

”General!” the driver of the Piranha yelled over his shoulder. ”Your radio operator says that Buddyis on the tarmac and meeting heavy resistance.”

”Pour on the juice” Ben yelled. ”Get us there.”

The spearheaders reached the airport and Ben bailed out, M-14 in hand, waving for Cooper to follow him as he ran on the edge of the tarmac, heading for the protection of a group of buildings. Unfriendly fire began kicking up dirt at his heels as he ran.

A 90mm gunner got the range of the machine gun tracking the general at the same time another Piranha, equipped with a Bushmaster 25mm cannon, did. Between the two of them, not only was the machine gun silenced, but the whole front of the building was torn with cannon fire.

Ben ran in through the back entrance of an old building, the M-14 set on full auto.

Creeps spun around, firing automatic weapons, and Ben hit the deck as the lead howled over his head and punctured the wall behind him.

He rolled quickly and grabbed a grenade from his battle harness, pulling the pin with his fingers -- he'd seen men lose teeth attempting to Hollywood-it-up by jerking the pin out with their teeth-and chunked the Fire-Frag in the direction of the Believers.

The mini-Claymore blew, and seconds after the explosion sent shrapnel flying, Ben was on his knees, the old Thunder Lizard bucking in his hands.

Creepies were knocked back, b.l.o.o.d.y, smoking holes in their chests, the dust popping from their garments as the slugs impacted.

”Comin' in, General!” Jersey called. ”From the rear!”

”Come on in!” Ben called, ejecting the empty clip and filling the belly of the M-14 with a full one.

His team set up positions near the center of the building and began clearing the place of creeps.

”Corrie,” Ben called. ”Tell the tank and APC commanders to set up left and right of this building. There is a heavy concentration of fire coming from directly across the tarmac.”

The front of the building cleared of all living creepies, Ben ran forward, Linda by his side.

They plopped to the floor and Ben bi-podded the M-14 and looked at the woman. ”Do you wish for the tranquility of your little valley, Linda?” He grinned at her.

”I'd be lying if I said I didn't.”

”Someday, Linda. Someday future generations will be able to live without wars, without fear of thugs and punks. But it won't be in our generation, I'm afraid.”

There was that sudden, silent, and usually nerve-tightening lull in the battle that almost always meant a counterattack was in the works.

”But it will be because of what you and the Rebels have done, won't it, Ben?”

”I pray so, Linda. When I pray, and I do pray, I pray for guidance and -- hisLong bursts of automatic weapons fire cut Ben's statement short and sent them both hugging the dirty floor, belly and face down. The slugs kicked up bits of splintered wood and punched holes in the walls.

Ben raised his head and spat out dust from the dirty floor. ”G.o.dd.a.m.nit! I guess I haven't prayed enough lately.”

That statement and the expression on Ben's face caught Linda just right and she burst out laughing. It was infectious, and Ben started laughing as what he had just said came home to him.

Jersey, crouched behind an overturned and battered old desk, looked over at where the pair lay.

She smiled and shook her head in amazement.

Corrie and Beth and Cooper laughed and grinned at each other and winked.

It had been a long, long time since Ben Raines had really laughed.

Ben had finally buried Jerre in his mind.

Ben looked at Linda and said, ”That remark was rather stupid, wasn't it?”

”Let's just say I needed a good laugh.”

”Me too, Linda. Me too.”

Tanks on either side of the building opened up with cannon and machine-gun fire, and that made conversation impossible as the rounds began creaming the building across the expanse of the body-littered tarmac.

Other Rebels began arriving at the airport and setting up, filling the air with lead.

Corrie was studying the other side through binoculars.

”The creepies are bugging out, General!” she called.

Neither Ben nor Linda heard her. They were too busy kissing each other while the battle raged all around them.

Chapter Eight.

The San Carlos airport was secure and Ben had set up a CP in another building, after Rebels had scooped out the debris and fumigated the place.

The Believers did not take the practice of personal hygiene very seriously. If they bathed at all, it was no more than once a year. Any building previously occupied by the creeps smelled like an overflowing cesspool.

Because of the knowledge that attempts on Ben's life would certainly be made, security around him had tightened. The area around the airport had been cleared for two thousand yards in all directions, all buildings burned to the ground and bulldozed level.

Ben halted the ground advance for that day, but the old prop-job planes continued their relentless drops on the city throughout the night. The thunder of bombs impacting rumbled almost constantly. The city was burning out of control and the Believers trapped inside could do little except die.

The creepies cursed G.o.d, cursed the fates, cursed each other, and most of all, cursed BenRaines ... then died. But they weren't dying in large enough numbers to suit Doctor Chase and his medical people.

Tanker trucks carrying water rolled in and the troops took a bath comalbeit a cold one comforthe first time in several days. It had reached that point -- well known to any combat veteran -- where the Rebels could smell themselves. It was past being merely odious comx was downright rank.

Hot food was brought in (heated MRE'S, but that was better than nothing), and the Rebels relaxed for a time.

Cecil and Ike were mopping up in San Jose and putting the city to the torch. The winds had s.h.i.+fted, now blowing from west to east, and that gave the Rebels on the ocean side of the battle some relief from the smoke.

Lamar Chase had joined Ben in a drive-through of the secured area, and later over dinner, he voiced his approval of the Rebels' method of disposing of the bodies by fire.

Chase took a bite of his own lab people's concoction, grimaced, and grabbed for the hot-sauce bottle.

”What's the matter, Lamar?” Ben asked. ”I thought you told me this slop was good.”

”I never said it was good. I said it was nutritious.