Part 16 (1/2)
”Can you comprehend and speak English?” Ben asked one young man. Like the others, he wore a denim jacket, with one sleeve shorter than the other.
”Yeah, I can talk, Pops,” the punk popped off. ”You got your hearin' aid plugged in?”
Ben gave him the b.u.t.t of his M-14 to the mouth.
A short, brutal stroking. Rotten teeth shattered and lips were pulped. The punk lay on the street and looked up at Ben, this time with real undisguised fear in his eyes.
”You would perhaps like to try this conversation one more time, a.s.shole?” Ben asked.
”Yes, sir.” The punk had managed to push the words past swollen and b.l.o.o.d.y lips.
”That's good. Much better. You will have to learn to respect people of my advanced age. We get testy at times. Now then, the name of this misbegotten bunch of d.i.c.kheads is?”
”The Bandits, sir. My mouth sure hurts somethin' awful ... sir.”
”That is one of life's little tragedies, boy. How many in your gang?”
”Couple of hundred. Was. Sir. I guess you cut us down some.”
”I guess we did at that. Do you know who I am?”
”I reckon you must be General Ben Raines. Can I get a rag from my pocket and wipe my mouth?”
”Why, sure you can!” Ben said, knowing d.a.m.n well the punk was going to try for a gun.
The c.r.a.phead came out with a derringer and Ben shot him in the belly with the M-14.”How ... did you know?” the punk gasped, both hands clutching his shattered stomach.
”Magic,” Ben told him. He kicked the derringer away and turned to a medic. ”Get a blood sample. Let's see what he's carrying, other than the obvious fleas and head lice. Be careful with these c.r.a.pheds.”
Ben walked over to stand staring at another Bandit. This one was not nearly so smart-mouthed and defiant after watching what had happened to his fellow Bandit.
He had p.i.s.sed his dirty jeans. ”My name's Jimmy, sir. Whatever you want to know, you just ax me. I'll tell you.”
”That's very good, boy.” Ben pointed. ”Five blocks that way-what are we going to run into?”
”The Rats, sir.”
”The Rats?”
”Yes, sir. You see, to get to be a Rat, you got to eat a dead rat.”
”Why would anybody want to be a Rat?”
was ”Cause they bad, sir.”
”So is their breath, I'm sure,” Ben muttered.
He winked at Jersey. ”How'd you like to kiss one of those guys, Jersey?”
She grimaced. ”Barf City, General!”
”And the Rats control how much territory?” Ben asked.
”The rest of the town till you get to the barricades.
They run east and west. Then the d.i.n.ks take over.”
”The d.i.n.ks?”
””Yes, sir. They're worser than the Rats.
You'll be able to smell their territory a long time afore you ever get to it.”
”And why is that? I'm quite sure they don't bathe regularly, but it must be more than that. You don't bathe either, but fifty feet away and I couldn't smell you.”
Jimmy's smile was very thin. He knew there was no way on G.o.d's green earth that he was going to leave this area alive. Everything he'd ever heard about the Rebels was true. ”The d.i.n.ks drags their kills back to their home turf and hang them up so's they can rot. It kinda lets people know they's about to enter an area where they ain't welcome.”
”I would certainly get that impression,” Ben said.
”I've hanged a few outlaws up myself to let them swing and rot.”
”Did you torture them a long time before you swung them?” Jimmy asked with a sneer.
”No,” Ben said softly.
”You a real candy-a.s.s, ain't you, General?
Torturin” is fun. I like to hear people scream and beg for you to kill them.”
”Yes, I bet you do,” Ben agreed.
”Jesus Christ!” Lamar said. ”Lawlessness is one thing. But this is a total breakdown of values, morality, decency ... everything!”
”You think it's bad here, wait until you getinto Los Angeles,” Jimmy warned them. ”You people ain't seen a d.a.m.n thing yet. Dead bodies left to rot in the streets and be et by dogs and cats and rats. Screamin' of them bein' tortured all the time. Some chick has a kid she don't want, she just tosses it out in the gutter and lets it die.
You'll see. This is paradise compared to what's further down south. And they gonna kill all you candy-a.s.s soldier boys and girls.” He cleared his throat to spit on Ben and Ben knocked the punk to the ground.
Ben looked at his son. ”Get rid of them all, Buddy.”
”Yes, sir.”
Ben walked back to his vehicle and got his kit.
He poured a cup of water and brushed his teeth and rinsed out his mouth. He had developed a very bad taste in his mouth while listening to Jimmy.
”I knew it was going to be bad,” Jersey said.
”But nothing like this.” Her stomach rumbled. ”I got to get me something to settle my stomach after listening to all that garbage.”
Ben rummaged around in his kit and handed her a pill.