Part 28 (1/2)
”Yeah! Very G.o.dd.a.m.n funny.””Corrie,” Ben said. ”Contact General Payon. Advise him of this ... disease. Tell him that he has my permission to cross over the border and sweep the zone. Advise him to be very careful.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Buddy, bring in a prisoner, please.”
The man was a burly specimen, but his color was bad, and he had a racking cough. The normally white of his eyes was a muddy color. He stared defiantly at Ben.
”My name is Ben Raines. What's yours?”
”I'm known as Eightball.”
”Do you have a proper name?”
”Why? You gonna carve it on my headstone?”
”Probably not, since we usually shoot the prisoners and burn the bodies.”
That shook Eightball, right down to his shoes.
”Ah ... well, I might be able to help you, General. What is it you want to know?”
”What are we going to find in San Diego?”
Eightball chuckled, but it held no humor.
”Pimps, wh.o.r.es, dopers, warlords, outlaws, street gangs, cannibals. You name it, and you'll find it in the city.”
”You must like that kind of life.”
Eightball shrugged. ”Beats the h.e.l.l outta jo*' up with you people and havin' to work.”
”That's all there is in the city?” Ben asked.
”That's it. You done run everybody outta the zone and the no-man's-land. I ”spect them G.o.dd.a.m.n greasers south of the border will be comin” up to join you ”fore long.”
”You're a very sick man, Eightball. Are you aware of that?”
”I knew somethin” was wrong with me. Cain't find no medicine to help me neither. Lots of sickness in the city. Folks dyin' ever' time you turn around.”
”How do you dispose of the bodies?”
”Haul ”em out to the dump. Rats eat them. I seen rats out there big as dogs.”
Ben closed his eyes and silently cursed. He opened his eyes and pointed to the wall map. ”Where is this dump?”
”South of Spring Valley. Just north of the old reservoir.”
”Do you still get water from that reservoir?”
”Sure.”
”Get the planes up,” Ben ordered. ”Napalm that entire area. Blanket it with fire. Advise General Payon of this.”
Ben was silent for a moment. ”When you've done that, Corrie, advise Doctor Chase of this development.” He turned his attentions to Eightball. ”How well are the people armed, Eightball?”
The man sighed. What the h.e.l.l, he thought, making up his mind. I ain't got nothin” to lose now no ways, and I sure don't owe n.o.body nothin' inthe city. ”Rifles, pistols, shotguns, grenades. Machine guns. No artillery of any kind. They's some there, but don't n.o.body know how to work the d.a.m.n things. Got plenty of rounds for them on all the old military bases, though.”
They all smiled at that news.
”Slaves?” Ben asked. ”Prisoners?”
”Not many. Most of them was turned loose out in the zone as the folks was comin' into the city. They just was more trouble than they was worth.”
”You're a middle-aged man, Eightball. What did you do before the Great War?”
Eightball shrugged. ”Whatever I wanted to.
Spent about half my life in prison.” He lifted his eyes to stare at Ben. ”And I don't need no G.o.dd.a.m.n sermon. I wouldn't change much.”
”What would you change?”
The man grinned, exposing blackened and yellowing stumps of rotting teeth. ”I'd kill them people I robbed so's they couldn't testify agin me in court and put me in the bucket.”
”Get him out of here,” Ben ordered.
The street punks in the rubble of Los Angeles tried to break through just after dark. The Rebels had placed sound-sensors in those areas that seemed the most likely escape routes and when the alarm was triggered, flares went up, catching the punks trying to bust out.
Heavy machine-gun fire raked the harshly lighted night and mortar crews pounded the smoking ashes with HE rounds. b.o.o.by traps ripped the night, the Claymores turning flesh and bone into b.l.o.o.d.y rags. The punks. .h.i.t dark trip-wires and had about two seconds to contemplate where they had gone wrong and perhaps say a silent prayer for forgiveness. Then their world went dark. About a third of the punks make it past Rebel-held territory and headed north. About ten percent of those who broke free silently vowed to change their ways and go straight. They did not want to ever again incur the wrath of the Rebels.
The slithering shapes of the Believers were the easier for the Rebels to spot, and they were the most hated. Rebel snipers, their high-powered rifles equipped with night scopes, relentlessly and savagely picked them off as the cannibals tried to break free of their smoking prison that had once been known as the City of the Angels.
”He's a-comin' right up alongside 405,” a very scared punk told Cecil. ”Leroy knows you and him is brothers, so he's countin' on you to let him pa.s.s.”
Cecil looked startled.
”Brothers!”
he said. ”That misbegotten, ignorant bag of s.h.i.+t actually thinks that because we are of the same race I would let him go?””Yes, sir. I reckon he made a mistake, din he?”
”Yes,” Cecil replied. ”I reckon he did.” He turned to his XO. ”Let him come on. Ill be down by 405.”
”Sir,” the XO said. ”That's ...”
”... all,” Cecil finished with a frosty look.
”Take command here.”
”Yes, sir!”
Cecil picked up his M-16 and walked out of the room and to a waiting vehicle. He could not help but notice as a full company of Rebels, in deuce-and-a-halfs and armor, fell in behind him. Like Ben, he had grown used to it.