Part 36 (2/2)

Sam Hartline looked at the sobbing girl on the bed, the rumpled sheets stained with sweat and blood.

He had beaten her practically unconscious but still she would not voluntarily submit to him.

He had to fight her every step of the way. Not that that was very difficult-it wasn't. It was just becomingannoying.

Sam Hartline could never-even back when the world was whole, understand why women thought so much of their p.u.s.s.y.

h.e.l.l, it was there for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g; what was the big deal?

He looked at the sobbing girl. ”I've about had you, b.i.t.c.h,” he snarled at Lisa.

”Couple more days, if you don't shape up, I'm gonna toss you out that G.o.dd.a.m.n door and let my boys have you. Can't you understand that I like you?”

Lisa lifted her tear-stained face.

”Like me? If you liked me, you wouldn't hurt me. Can't you be tender sometimes?”

Hartline's great booming laughter filled the room.

”You hurt me!”

”What the h.e.l.l's that got to do with the price of eggs, baby?” He stood naked before her. ”h.e.l.l, if I hadn't liked fighting so much, I could have been a p.o.r.n star. Made millions.”

”What's a p.o.r.n star?” she asked.

Hartline looked at her in disgust. ”Aw, s.h.i.+t!” He turned and dressed, then slammed the door on his way out.

Lisa painfully rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom, running a tub of hot water. Easing her way into the soothing and calming liquid, she heard the door open and close. That would be Rich. He would sit on the commode seat and smirk at her.

But she could put up with Rich. She didn't hate him; she just felt sorry for him.

Ben slipped out of his blankets and looked at the horizon. Just breaking dawn. For the first time, he allowed his thoughts to return to Sylvia.

Of all the things in this world-or what was left of this world, he amended that-he could not abide a traitor.

He could tolerate many things, but never that.

Ben's radio people had heard from one recon team sent east to Khamsin's borders. Sylvia's betrayal had cost one team their lives.

One entire squad gone. Loyal lives snuffed out; people who were willing to lay down their lives for freedom.

Gone. Because of a traitor.

He pushed the woman from his thoughts. He would not think of her again.

He hoped.

James River son came to his side.

”Recon reports finding a band of outlaws about ten miles from here, Ben.”

”Get the people up, James. Let's go to work.”

Chapter Thirty-two.

The small band of outlaws knew what hit them, of course. There was little doubt in their 'rids about that.But they didn't have much time to think about it.

Ben hit them with a fury he had not experienced in years. And he knew what had brought it on. He had finally reached the limit of his understanding. He was weary of people who wanted something for nothing. Tired of ignorance and people who wore that un-enlightenment as a badge of honor. He was fed up with those who demanded a life of terrorism and barbarism. Insisted upon it. Ben was reaching back to the days of the Tri-States; bringing it the forefront.

And he knew, now, the Tri-States”

philosophy would rise again. He realized that his days of wandering, alone, throughout the ashes of what had been, were over. Here was where he was needed, and so here was where he would have to stay.

Leading the fight as long as there was breath left in his body.

A dirty, unshaven, wild-eyed outlaw made the mistake of trying to escape by overrunning Ben's position surrounding the camp.

Ben rose from his concealment and laid his Thompson on the ground. Ben felt the years leave him, a new youthfulness fill him. A man who for years had done hard exercise after he realized he could no longer take his body for granted, Ben smiled as the outlaw slid to a halt.

Ben smiled at the unarmed outlaw. He lifted his fists. He knew then how he was going to take out Sam Hartline.

With his bare hands.

”I'll kill you!” the outlaw panted.

”So come on, then,” Ben challenged him.

The outlaw lunged at Ben, both fists swinging.

Ben tripped him, sending the outlaw sprawling on the dirt. Ben kicked him in the side and the outlaw yelped in pain. Ben's training would have had him kick the outlaw in the head, shattering the skull and ending it, but Ben wanted this fight to last a while longer.

Ben stepped back, his hands open in the martial arts fas.h.i.+on. ”Is that the best you can do?”

The outlaw roared off the ground, attempting to b.u.t.t Ben in the stomach with his head and grab him in a bear hug. Ben sidestepped and kicked the outlaw on the knee with his boot. The outlaw, dressed in leather and chains, screamed in pain and fell to the earth, both hands holding his knee.

Ben kicked him in the mouth. The outlaw's head snapped back as he slumped to the ground, almost unconscious.

Ben walked to him and took out his canteen, emptying the contents on the outlaw's head. ”Get up, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!”

The outlaw grabbed Ben's leg and jerked, putting Ben on the ground. Ben rolled over and over, coming up some ten yards from the outlaw, who was still trying to get to his feet and shake the feathers out of his foggy, pain-racked brain.

Screaming his hate and rage, the outlaw charged Ben. Balling his hands into fists, Ben met him head-on and toe-to-toe. Ben staggered the heavysetman with a chopping right to the jaw then followed that with a short left hook-that glazed the outlaw's eyes.

Ben hit the man in the center of his face with a vicious right that flattened the outlaw's nose and sent blood flying.

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