Part 25 (2/2)
The Rebels were accustomed to abrupt changes in plans, and in thirty minutes they were ready to go.
”Take the Interstate to El Centro, Coop,”
Ben told him. ”Then north to Brawley and west on 78. Are the Scouts out, Corrie?”
”Should be five miles ahead of us now. West is on his way, pus.h.i.+ng hard.”
”Let's go, Coop.”
They had just over a hundred miles to travel, on roads they were unfamiliar with, and through territory that was unknown but presumed hostile. They could make no more than thirty-five miles an hour, and in many instances, much less than that. Tanks spearheaded the drive and tanks brought up the rear. Scouts reported a barricade at the junction of I-8 and ”Blow it,” Ben ordered. ”Blow any that you find.
We're coming through.”
The column rumbled on through the night.
”Scouts asking if you want them to check out Calexico, General,” Corrie said.
”Ten-fifty. Get us through to our immediate objective.”
”General Ike is on the horn, sir. He wants to know what the h.e.l.l you think you're doing.”
”Tell him to worry about his own sector. If I need a nursemaid I'll pick my own.”
”Yes, sir.” She relayed the message.
Waited. ”There is no way I'm going to tell General Raines that, sir,” she said. ”Fine,” she said hotly. ”The same to you! Eagle out!”
Ben chuckled. He could just imagine what Ike had said. ”Ike get a little profane, Corrie?”
Corrie muttered something under her breath and Jersey burst out laughing.
The column rolled on through the night. ”Right along here is where Hollywood used to film a lot of desert scenes for movies,” Ben told his team.
”Hollywood,” he murmured. ”Gone forever.”
”Hold it up,” Corrie said. ”Scouts reporting an overpa.s.s is blown just west of El Centro. They advise take a county road to Brawley. It's not numbered but they'll mark it for us.”
Cooper nodded his head.
The county road slowed them down to an infuriating crawl.
”Brawley is occupied by thugs, General,”
Corrie told him.
”Tell the Scouts to hold up and wait for us. Wehave no choice in the matter. We'll have to blow our way through. All tanks up front.”
The convoy pulled over to the side of the road, allowing those tanks in the rear to join the spearheading armor.
”Close it up, Coop,” Ben said. ”Stay with them.”
Brawley had been a town of about fifteen thousand when the Great War enveloped the earth more than a decade past. Since it was full dark, and the age of street lamps had come and gone except in towns controlled by the Rebels, there was no telling what condition the town was in now, but Ben knew what condition it was going to be in when the Rebels left it behind: in ruins.
Ben got out of the wagon and walked to a group of Scouts, helping position the tanks. ”Any guesses as to the number of crud in the town?”
”I'd guess a couple of hundred, General.
They've got some big .50's in there too. They opened up on us too soon, though, and we were able to hit the ditch banks. We told them who we were and they told us to kiss their a.s.s.”
”Commence sh.e.l.ling whenever you people are ready” Ben told a tank commander. ”HE and incendiary. We don't have time for politeness. Punch us through.”
The armor opened up with cannon fire and the Gatlings and Vulcans began howling. Mortar crews had set up and began dropping rounds in. Very soon, the entire eastern end of the town was burning.
”Advance,” Ben ordered just as Buddy called out.
”They're bugging out, Father.”
”Take some people, son. Find us a way through.”
”Yes, sir.”
Ben returned to his vehicle and rummaged around until he found a candy bar. He was munching on that when he noticed Smoot's ears perk up and the puppy's eyes s.h.i.+ft to the darkness to Ben's right.
”Stay, Smoot,” Ben said softly, closing the door and dropping to the dewy gra.s.s beside the road.
His M-14 was propped up against the wagon and Ben didn't want to risk exposing an arm reaching for it.
Belly down on the gra.s.s, he pulled his .45, carried c.o.c.ked and locked, from leather and eased the autoloader off safety.
Ben slowly wormed his way deeper into the dry ditch. He had one hostile spotted, and figured there was at least one more, possibly two.
He heard the very faint snick of a pin being pulled from a grenade, and put three .45-caliber hollow-nosed rounds in the direction of the sound.
A scream reached his ears just a couple of seconds before the grenade blew. Ben saw two human shapes lift off the ground and a third shape come charging toward the muzzle blasts.
Still on his belly, Ben triggered off two fast shots, both rounds catching the man in the chest. He stopped abruptly and sat down hard in the gra.s.s.
He cussed once and then toppled over and was still.
Ben ejected the nearly empty clip and slipped in a full one, jacking in a round.His team was running toward him. ”Get down!” Ben yelled. ”Flood this field with light.”
Trucks and Jeeps and Hummers backed up and illuminated the old field just in time to see fifty or sixty men running toward them.
It was a slaughter. The Rebels cut them down to a man, then swept the bodies with more fire to insure there would be no more surprises from that bunch of outlaws.
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