Part 43 (1/2)
By late afternoon, it was apparent to all that Sam Hartline's mercenaries were no more. Those remaining were running in wild-eyed panic from the troops of Ben Raines. Panic because they knew they could not surrender; fear because they knew there was no place to run; terror because they each knew death was all that awaited them.
They engaged the Rebels in spotty combat, and died. Even though the mercenaries and the Rebels were just about equal in numbers, the Rebels were fighting for a just cause, with a definite goal in mind; the mercenaries fought only for booty and rape and torture and joy in killing.
And they died for it.
Ben left the camp and walked the battleground, his usual complement of Rebels surrounding him. He could still find grim amus.e.m.e.nt in all the attention paid him.
Better get used to it, Ben, he thought. This is the way it's going to be-from now on.
The rain had put out most of the fire; some trees still smoldered and smoked. And the Rebels were soon filthy from the soot and ash.
Ben removed his camo headband, poured water on it from his canteen, and washed his face and neck, retying the camo bandana around his forehead. His Thompson was on sling.
Broken bodies littered the forest. Some had died from gunshot wounds, others from the heavy sh.e.l.ling of the night before, still others had no marks on them. Either smoke got them or they died of fright.
Ben's walkie-talkie crackled. ”Go,” he spoke into the mouthpiece.
”Ike made it back across the border, General.
Nina is okay. Reports are that Khamsin got shot in the a.s.s.”
”Good,” Ben laughed the reply.
They walked on, their boots making little noise in the ashes of fire and war. A slight noise turned Ben's head. He waved the patrol quiet and down. Ben walked toward the source of the small noise. Crouching down near the mouth of a hole in the ground, Ben could hear the sounds of someone climbing up, clawing at the rock and dirt beneath the surface of the earth.
Ben signaled for his patrol to remain where they were. He squatted and waited.
Sam Hartline's head popped out of the hole, his eyes darting left and right.
Like a large rat.
Sam turned in the hole, and Ben placed the muzzle of his Thompson between the man's eyes, the metal pressing against flesh.
”h.e.l.lo, Sam,” Ben said. ”I can't tell you how I've looked forward to this day.”
”Wish I could say the same, Ben.”
”Very slowly, Sam-very slowly, pull yourself out of that hole. And there better not be anything in your hands except skin.” ”I'm not a fool, Ben.” Hartline pulled himself out of the hole to stand before Ben. ”You going to give me a fighting chance, Ben Raines?”
Ben laid his Thompson aside and smiled.
”Oddly enough, Hartline, I am.”
”You're a fool, Raines! You can't take me with your hands.”
”We're about to find out, Sam.”
”Mind if I limber up a bit, Ben? It's been sort of cold and cramped sleeping on rock.”
”Help yourself, Sam. I'm feeling rather magnanimous this morning.”
Neither man noticed when a Rebel lifted his walkie-talkie and spoke very quietly. Since neither man took his eyes off the other, they did not notice the woods filling with Rebels until several hundred had gathered silently.
Sam stretched and did several deep knee bends, flexed his arms, and shadowboxed for several seconds.
”How's it going to be, Raines?” Hartline asked.
”Rough-and-tumble-anything goes, barehanded.”
”And if I win?”
”You won't,” Ben said flatly.
”Let's a.s.sume.”
”One of those Rebels will shoot you dead.”
”Well, G.o.dd.a.m.n, Raines! You're giving me a h.e.l.l of an option, aren't you?”
”I've giving you a last chance to do something you've never been able to do before.”
”What?”
”Best me in anything.”
That stung Hartline. He flushed, then grinned.
”Rani had some good gash, Raines. You should have heard her scream when I took her like a dog.”
Ben did not change expression.
”I heard another of your women turned on you, Raines. Made a deal with the Libyan. What'd you do with her, slap her on the wrist and tell her she's been bad?”
”I shot her between the eyes-personally.”
Hartline narrowed his eyes.
”You shot her, Ben? You killed a broad? I thought you were the last of the great romantics ... women on a pedestal and all that s.h.i.+t.”
”You pays your money you takes your chances, Sam.”
Hartline grinned. ”Yeah, I guess you're right, Ben.” He studied Ben for a moment. ”You'll never beat Khamsin, Raines. I know him from years back. He was Abu's right hand. Until the world blew up.”
”I'll beat him, Sam.”
Hartline nodded his handsome head. ”Maybe. We gonna talk all the d.a.m.n day, Raines?”