Part 16 (1/2)
Bizarre would be too tame a word.
Their headgear ranged from n.a.z.i helmets to berets. Some wore combat boots, others cowboy boots. Some had chains looped and wound around their chests and waists. Some wore only vests with no s.h.i.+rt. Others were dressed in leather from ankle to neck.
To a man, they were dirty, lice-infested, ugly, and vicious. Hartline had promised them a free hand to deal with the enemy in any way they saw fit, ”The enemy” being anyone opposed to General Georgi Striganov.
But they had been getting bored. Life in the Northwest was getting too tame.
Until now.
This particular bunch of outlaws rodemotorcycles exclusively. This was Sonny Boy's bunch.
Skinhead's bunch rode motorcycles, drove souped-up dune buggies and chopper bikes.
Grizzly's bunch rode motorcycles and drove souped-up pickup trucks.
Popeye's gang rode motorcycles.
About five hundred strong in all, they were, to a person, a very odious crew. In more ways than one.
Sonny Boy walked up and down in front of the captured Rebels. When he grinned his mouth was filled with rotten and blackened teeth. His breath would fell an ox.
He stopped in front of a woman Rebel.
”Lookie here, boys. This here is prime p.u.s.s.y.”
The woman spat in his face.
Sonny Boy reached out, grabbed a breast, and twisted harshly.
She screamed as pain bent her almost double.
Sonny Boy brought his open palm around and slapped the woman, knocking her sprawling. Reaching down, he jerked the field pants from her and shredded her panties. He jerked her to her feet and threw her to his men. Several caught her, their hands roaming her body.
”Take turns with ”er,” Sonny Boy said.
”I wonder if it's possible for a woman to be f.u.c.ked to death?”
In less than a minute, Reba began screaming as the rape began.
Sonny grinned as he stared at the only other woman in the Rebel team. ”My, my, ain't you the pretty one. You gonna be my woman, b.i.t.c.h.”
The woman stared at him, her face impa.s.sive.
”Think you're tough, don't you?” Sonny Boy asked.
She shrugged.
Sonny Boy's men laughed, their laughter bringing a flush to his face. ”You'll be beggin” me to quit ”fore it's all over, b.i.t.c.h,” he said.
She stared at him in silence.
”You got a name, b.i.t.c.h?”
”Sally.”
”Ain't that pretty? You be nice to me, now Sally, and I'll be nice to you. You f.u.c.k up with me, and I'll stick a grenade up your a.s.s, you understand? And don't nod your G.o.dd.a.m.n head, speak!”
”I understand.”
”Good. Hope for you yet.” He waved toward his people. ”Take them men prisoners. Hartline wants to torture them; see if he can get anything out of them.”
Reba screamed as two men took her at once, front and back.
Striganov was silent, deep in savage thoughts, as he rode back to his command post by the raging sea.
He should have known better, he kept thinking. He should have known better than to try and second-guessBen Raines. For every time he did ... he failed.
And Georgi Striganov did not like to fail.
But what galled him more than Ben Raines destroying two full battalions of his people ... was Sam Hartline sending those cretins in to seize the outpost at Youreka.
Sam had suspected Ben Raines was going to pull something. But if so, why hadn't he voiced stronger objections?
Unless? ...
No, that was unthinkable!
Or was it?
Striganov tried to clear his head of those thoughts.
But they persisted.
Was Sam trying to pull something? If so, what could it be? For he lost men in the battle with Raines, too. Although not nearly as many as Georgi did.
Georgi would have to give this some thought. A lot of thought. But he could not believe Sam Hartline would be stupid enough to try some sort of coup. They needed each other to continue the fight against the common enemy: Ben Raines.
”Outpost at Youreka on the horn, General,”
Ben was informed.
”It's pretty bad. They're raping Reba.”
”They call us?”
”Yes, sir.”