Part 30 (2/2)
”V.”.
”I wish I could go with you. But my country is still very shaky.”
”It's enough that you would even want to go, General. I know that you have committed a large portion of your army up here a.s.sisting me. It's very much appreciated.”
”It's the least I could do. In my country, schools and proper medical facilities are a large concern. I have people working on proper irrigation for any land suitable for farming.” He sighed. ”There is so much to do. So much to do, and so little time. And I am but one man.”
”The people respect you, General. That counts for a great deal. You and I, we'll get people back working, in time. Those who want to work.”
”And those that don't?”
”Will inherit the earth.”
”I beg your pardon?”
”Six feet of it.”
”You can forget about busting out of here,” Brute said, after a day-long patrol to the west of their hiding place. ”Rebels are everywhere. Rolling patrols every time one looks up. Rebel lookouts are on the high ground with binoculars.”
”Where's Bo?” Sally asked.
”Sniper got him. The Rebels are using those big-caliber rifles that can shoot a mile. One nailed Bo right in the center of his chest. We never did figure out where the sniper was hiding.”
”I'm cold!” a punk b.i.t.c.hed.
”I'm hungry!” another complained.
”I'm wet!” yet another whined.
”Oh, shut up!” Bull told them.
”What are we gonna do?” Sally asked.
”I don't know,” Bull admitted. ”We can't go much longer without water.” He let his eyes drift back over the miles, to the valley where they had previously camped. Yesterday they had all seen the buzzards circling, and they knew the carrion birds were now feasting, many of them so bloated with human flesh they could not take off. They just waddled heavily along on the ground, flapping their wings and stuffing their beaks.
”Here come the planes again,” a punk called. He started crying in fear.”How in the h.e.l.l do they know where we are?” another yelled, his voice breaking from his fear.
”Heat-seekers,” Brute said. ”We may as well say good-bye now. Because in five minutes a lot of us won't be alive.”
Fang of the Hill Street Avengers began trembling as he watched the bombs start falling off the wings and out of the bellies of the planes.
After five days, Ben ordered the gunners to stand down. A strange silence settled over the land.
South of his position, the city of San Diego was burning unchecked. From Imperial Beach north to the Soledad Freeway, from the blue waters of the Pacific east to the Sweet.w.a.ter River, nothing could be seen but leaping flames and spiraling smoke.
The Rebels had pumped more than five thousand rounds commost of them incendiary rounds -- into the city.
Even though the men and women of the Rebels bathed daily, sometimes two or three times, in cold water, they all still felt grimy from the smoke that poured out of the huge area of fire.
”Corrie, what is the latest report from the units in Nevada?”
”Ike says there couldn't be more than a couple of hundred left alive, and they've got to be a pretty miserable bunch. No food and not much water, and it's turning cold up there.”
”Keep after them.”
”Yes, sir.”
Chase entered the CP and poured a gla.s.s of water.
He drank it and grimaced. Ben knew what he was thinking. Even the water tasted like smoke.
”Do you want us to enter the city, Lamar?” Ben asked.
The doctor shook his head. ”Not unless you think it's necessary. Any left alive in that inferno won't live long enough to do much damage. The trucks just rolled in from Base Camp One with the rat pellets. I've never seen so many rat pellets in my life. Must be a hundred million of the d.a.m.ned things.”
”That's what you wanted, Lamar. I'll have the planes start dropping them tomorrow. But there is no way we're going to kill all the rats.”
”We'll kill enough of them. I talked with research down at Base. They think they've got a handle on it. It was pure blind luck, an accident. That's very often the way it is. It looks good. If it proves out, we'll have enough vaccine for all of us in about a month. I bet the former bureaucrats in the FDA are twisting in their graves at this hurry-up job. See you, Ben.”
Ben didn't like to use the rat-killing pellets because of the other wildlife they would directly and indirectly affect. But in this case he felt it was justified.
Cecil was mopping up in Los Angeles, andfinding pockets of fairly stiff resistance. As soon as the pellets were dropped, Ben planned to pull out and take his time working up the coast to L.a. Once there, he would start mopping up from the south, with him and Cecil linking up in the center of the city.
”Tell the boys and girls to start packing up, Corrie,” Ben said. ”We'll be pulling out of this stink-hole by mid-morning tomorrow.”
”n.o.body will be unhappy about that,” she said.
”Especially me,” Ben said, smiling at her.
Therm and his forces went north on I-15, carefully checking out every town along the way, while Ben and his people took I-5 north to Los Angeles. They were all glad to leave the stink of the dead city behind them.
General Payon had visited Ben once more, and then pulled his troops back across the border. They did not lift a gla.s.s in a victory toast, for this battle had left an unpleasant taste in the mouths of all.
In Central Nevada, the Rebels continued their waiting game against those punks who had busted out of L.a. Everyone concerned -- especially the punks comknew the standoff could not last much longer. In the high country, early fall had turned into early winter, and the nights were bitter with cold.
One gray morning, with a light dusting of snow on the ground, Brute crawled stiffly out of his ragged blankets and walked away from the camp without saying a word to anyone. No one was surprised when a single pistol shot cut the stillness of morning.
Bull walked over to a small gathering of brush and scrub timber and looked at Brute. He had stuck the barrel of his pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Bull left him where he lay and walked back to the cold camp.
He looked around him. Someone else was missing.
”Lennie,” a punk told him. ”Died in his sleep. Pneumonia, I guess. He's been awful sick. What about Brute?”
”Shot himself in the head.” He picked up his AK-47 and jacked in a round.
”What are you gonna do, Bull?” Sally asked.
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