Part 35 (1/2)

James was reading a worn paperback he'd found back in a nameless town the convoy had rumbled through.

The outlaw's boots grated on rock. James froze.

”Easy,” Ben whispered. ”I've been watching him for a couple of minutes.”

”How's he armed?” James whispered.

”Pistol in his hand. How's the book?”

”Good. You want him?”

”Yeah. I'll let him get a little closer.”

”d.a.m.n, Ben! I'm supposed to be guarding you, remember?”

”Read your book.”

”Somehow I seem to have lost my concentration.”

Ben chuckled softly. ”Here he comes. He's about to make his play.” i The outlaw inched closer. Ben's fingers tightened on the Thompson.

”Taking his sweet time,” James muttered.

”And he hasn't got much of that left him,” Ben replied.

James smiled.

The outlaw brought his pistol up and jacked backthe hammer. Ben lifted the powerful old Thompson submachine gun, leveled it, and pulled the trigger, holding it back.

The .45 caliber slugs took the outlaw in the chest, raking him from left to right, making little b.l.o.o.d.y dust puffs as the slugs impacted. He was flung backward, arms outstretched, his pistol dropping from suddenly lifeless fingers.

Ben and James rose and looked around them, listening. The battle appeared to be over.

”Call in our people,” Ben said. ”Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here.”

High up in the still-dusty air of the slope, the outlaw Flash lay unnoticed and very, very still. And he wasn't about to move until these crazy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and b.i.t.c.hes got long gone outta there.

Flash was so frightened he had both p.i.s.sed and s.h.i.+t his jeans. He wore no underwear.

Dust, dirt, and small rocks covered him. As long as he didn't move around, he'd be safe.

High above him, he could see the buzzards circling.

Flash suppressed a shudder. He hated buzzards. He had seen how the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds tore at dead flesh, and he knew they always went for the eyes and kidneys first.

Flash just wanted to cry.

And Flash hadn't done that in more than twenty years. Not since he'd stood before that judge in juvenile court. After Flash had killed his sister.

Flash had put on quite an act that day. Flash had blubbered and snorted and wiped snot away with the handkerchief the judge had ordered given him. Stupid old b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Since he was a juvenile, Flash had spent three years in a country-club prison and then walked out, a free man.

Thanks to the almost-total asininity of juvenile laws ... back then. Before.

Only thing Flash had ever regretted about the whole mess was that his sister had died before he could f.u.c.k her again.

Stupid c.u.n.t.

Flash heard the Rebel trucks crank up and begin moving out, backtracking around the now-blocked highway. But Flash wasn't about to move-not just yet. Ben Raines was such a sneaky son of a b.i.t.c.h he probably left people behind to shoot any outlaw who might have survived.

One of the few times in his life Flash was right.

Flash lay very still for more than thirty minutes after the battle. He counted seven shots that shattered the dusty stillness, and knew that seven of his buddies had bought it.

G.o.dd.a.m.n these Rebels! Flash thought. They just don't, by G.o.d, play fair.

”Let's go!” Flash heard a man shout.

Flash heard two vehicles crank up and drive off. Still, he lay quietly for another hour. Only then did he move. Three hours later, after jerking a pair of jeans off a dead outlaw and changing out of his own s.h.i.+tty jeans, Flash stumbled into the outlaw's base camp.

He was worn out, almost hysterical with fear. He babbled out his story.

”Everybody is dead?” Piano shouted at the nearly exhausted Flash.

”Ever'body,” Flash confirmed it.

”We gotta change out psyco ... psycol...

way of doin' things,” Long Tongue said.

”I agree with whatever it was he said,” Utah Jack looked at Long Tongue.

”Don't panic!” Booger shouted down the sudden babble of voices. ”Now, G.o.ddammit, just ever'body hold it down for a minute.”

The gaggle of human filth quieted down.

Another outlaw leader, nicknamed p.i.s.ser, said, ”You got a plan, Booger, I'd sure like to hear it. ”Cause I'm about a minute away from pullin” my boys out and gettin' the h.e.l.l away from that area.”

Other leaders, including Utah Jack, Stud, Big Luke, agreed with p.i.s.ser. Loudly and profanely.

”Now, boys,” Grizzly said, calming the group, or at the very least, quieting them. ”Okay, we took a lickin'. No doubt about that. But since ol' Flash come staggerin' in, I been thinkin'. And I'm thinkin' our big mistake is that we don't act like Ben Raines.”

”What do you mean?” Piano asked.

”I mean the mainest thing is, we got to think like Ben Raines. We can't just say ”okay” to the first plan we come up with. We got to really study a bunch of them.”

”I think I know what you mean,” Utah Jack said. ”We're screwin' up by each of us actin' on our own. Is that part of it?”