Part 26 (1/2)
Buddy pulled up in a Jeep. ”The town is clear, Father.”
”Fine. Good work, son.”
”What do we do with these people?” Ben was asked, the Rebel pointing toward the body-littered field.
”All living things have to eat,” Ben said, and got into his vehicle. ”Let's go, people.”
If there were any more towns along the route occupied by outlaws, their radio network telling each other of the Rebel's brutal treatment, soon cleared them out.
The Rebels encountered no more hostiles on their push westward.
”West took some demolition teams with him when he pulled out,” Corrie told Ben. ”He's blowing and burning everything behind him.”
”What's his twenty?”
”Just south of Riverside.”
”We'll have time for a couple of hours' sleep before the punks reach us. If the punks do what I suspect they'll do.”
The old highway was in surprisingly good shape for having gone over a decade with no maintenance, and the Rebels made good time. They rolled into their sector just after two in the morning, and Ben ordered Scouts forward into the edge of Santa Ysabel, sentries out, and the rest of them to get some sleep.
”Tired, Ben?” Linda asked.
”No. Too keyed up, I guess. I'll probably grab a catnap just before dawn. You?”
”Not a bit. I dozed off and on in the wagon.
Ben?”
”Umm?”
”Estimates of dead now stand at just over twenty thousand, right?”
”That's right.”
”And you estimated approximately fifty thousand in the city initially.”
”That's correct.”
”If just twenty-five percent of those left alive manage to escape and head for Alaska, that will still be quite a formidable force we'll be facing.”
”Alaska might well prove to be the toughest fight we've ever had. Much of the terrain is rugged.
No telling what kind of shape the roads will be in, or how many hostiles we'll be facing.”
”General Ike just radioed in,” Corrie called. ”The street punks finally figured out we were spread real thin all around them in the city. A lot of them are trying bug-outs and Ike estimates about half of them are breaking free.”Ben nodded his understanding, then realized that Corrie could not see the minute shake of his head in the darkness. ”Thank you, Corrie. h.e.l.l of a time to run out of artillery rounds, wasn't it?”
”Yes, sir,” she replied. ”Any reply, sir?”
”Just tell the commanders we did the best we could with what we had.”
”Yes, sir.”
”d.a.m.nit!” Ben muttered. ”I thought we had enough equipment all the way around. I'll not make that mistake again.”
”You can't predict the future, Ben,” Linda said. ”You did the best you could.”
”It wasn't good enough. And that will be of small consolation to the Rebels who die in Alaska at the hands of punks whose bones, by that time, should have been picked clean in Los Angeles.”
”It'll be ten times worse in Europe.”
”If I let it be. And I have no intention of doing that. Corrie?”
”Sir?”
”b.u.mp Base Camp One. Tell the munitions people they're going to have to keep on working around the clock, seven days a week. Start stockpiling rounds.
We'll not be caught short again.”
”Yes, sir.”
”How long can they keep that up, Ben?”
”For as long as it takes, Linda. They won't complain. Most of those people in the factories are ex-combat people who suffered wounds that disabled them, kept them from returning to the field. They understand what it's like out here.”
”You'd better get some rest, Ben.”
”Later.”
She left his side and Ben catnapped, sitting on the ground, his back to a tree. He opened his eyes and came fully awake a few minutes before dawn.
Moving only his eyes, Ben took in his surroundings.
The Rebels had dug in and were carefully camouflaged, stretched out a thousand meters north and south of the intersection. The tanks and other armor had pulled back into the timber and brush; Ben could not see them. But he knew the machines of war were ready to start growling and biting at a second's notice.
”West is in position,” Corrie said, slipping out of the darkness and squatting by his side. ”No signs of the street punks yet.”
”Everybody catch a few minutes' sleep?”
”Yes, sir.” She handed him a mug of coffee. ”They're ready for the dance to start.”
Ben stood up and stretched the cold kinks from his muscles and joints. ”Where are we set up?”
”Right over here.”
Ben followed her across the road and into the timber.
To his immediate right, Buddy sat behind a .50-caliber machine gun. To his left, Cooper lay behind a bi-podded M-60. Ben nodded his approval of the site; it offered an excellent field of fire.Ben watched as Corrie slipped into a headset.
He did not have to issue orders about noise discipline and no smoking or unnecessary movement. These people were solid professional fighting men and women.