He took her hand. “I don’t know, Gale. I do know the human race quite literally raped this earth-and for no other reason than our own greed. I am not a
religious man, Gale. I have never professed to be something I am not. But I do believe very strongly in God. I do not believe all this-was again he waved his hand-“just happened. I do believe we evolved-because I don’t know, and neither does anyone else, how many times God tried to create the human race and failed. I have no difficulty accepting both creation and evolution. At least to my satisfaction. If people choose to disagree-fine. That is their right.” He looked at Gale and smiled ruefully. “And once again, Professor Raines mounts his soapbox.”
She laughed. “When I get tired of it, Ben, I’ll let you know.”
“Right!” Ben cut his eyes and lunged at Gale, grabbing her up and tossing her to one side of the room just as a spear came through the broken window of the old house. The point of the spear imbedded in the wall. Ben jerked his .45 from leather and the room rocked with gunfire. A painted face, looking savagely at them through the window suddenly exploded as the heavy slugs hit the jaw, the nose and the forehead.
Gale screamed from her position in the corner as Ben’s .45 roared again.
The tiny town roared and rocked with gunfire, as arrows and rocks and spears quivered and sang through the air. The Rebels reacted with lead and grenades.
The old front door to the house shattered open. A man dressed in animal skins stood in the doorway, a huge, spiked club in his right hand. He yelled at Ben and charged him, the club raised over his head.
Ben leveled his .45 and squeezed the trigger. The
slug struck the savage in the center of the stomach and doubled him over, dropping him to his bare knees.
The .45 was empty.
Ben grabbed his Thompson, clicked it off safety, and put two rounds in the savage’s back for insurance. The half naked man jerked and howled as the slugs tore life from him.
Ben stepped to the door just as several painted-up men were climbing over the railing to the porch. Ben gave them a burst from the Thompson, blowing the men off the porch. They landed on the littered ground in a mass of torn flesh and gushing blood.
Ben heard a woman screaming. He ran to the corner of the porch. A painted man had a woman Rebel spread-eagled on the ground, her field pants off, her arms held by another painted and feathered savage. One man knelt between the woman’s legs, trying to force his erection into her. She jerked her hips from side to side, frustrating penetration.
Sergeant Greene ran around the back of the house, picked up a spear from the ground and drove the point through die man’s neck, the sharp head almost decapitating the man as blood sprayed from his mouth.
The near-naked man holding the woman’s arms jumped to his sandaled feet. Ben’s Thompson barked, a line of crimson holes appearing on the man’s chest as he was flung backward.
Painted shapes ran from the tiny village, disappearing into the ever-growing forest and brush that had almost completely overgrown the town and the sidewalks.
The village grew quiet after the noise of battle. Only the moaning and occasional screaming of the wounded could be heard.
“Report!” Ben yelled.
Two Rebels dead. Five wounded. One of the wounded not expected to make it.
Thirty savages lay dead, scattered about on the streets. A dozen more twisted and moaned in pain.
“Just about wiped them out, General,” James said.
“I hope,” Ben replied. “Finish them, James.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gale walked to the safety of an old service station. Two Rebels accompanied her at a nod from Ben. Gale did not like this side of Ben, although she recognized Ben’s order as being very necessary. The Rebels had taken prisoners from the gangs of thugs and misfits that had the misfortune to attack them from time to time. It had never worked out. Many had diseases that baffled Doctor Chase’s medical people. The “viruses,” as Chase referred to them-holocaust or not, anything that baffled doctors was still called a virus-did not respond to any known medication. Several Rebels had died from the strange illnesses.
Ben had been forced to send down the order, “No prisoners.”
It also appeared that a form of insanity was cropping up among many of the survivorstvictims of the aftermath of germ and nuclear warfare that had hit the world back in the late eighties. Chase’s medical teams had performed numerous autopsies on the dead. Pockets of highly infectious pus were found in the brain of many.
“I don’t know what is causing it, Ben,” Doctor
Chase admitted. “I just don’t. I don’t understand it. But I can tell you this: this-was he grinned-“virus is very dangerous.” He lost his grin and became very serious. “Ben, what makes it so dangerous is the fact-and it is a fact- that I don’t know how to treat it. I can’t find anything that will even arrest it, much less kill it. No prisoners, Ben. We can’t risk it. It’s for our own safety. Give my people time. They’ll find something that’ll work.”
Single gunshots slammed the late afternoon as Rebels went to each downed man and put a bullet through the head.
“Face masks and gloves on when you handle them,” Ben shouted. “Drag them into that building.” He pointed to a shack on the edge of town. “We’ll have a controlled burn. The rest of you get your gear together. When the burn is over, we’re pulling out of here.”
When the dead were stacked in the old building and fires were set, Gale walked to Ben’s side.
He met her eyes. “I tried to question one of them, Gale. I couldn’t get any sense out of him. He babbled first about the Bible, then about Satan, then about me being Satan’s child. Only one thing he said made any sense.”
She looked at him.
“He’d seen a man who called himself The Prophet.”
Gale sighed. The old man she’d seen personally had come to haunt her.* “You think these people are insane?”
“No. I think they’re losers and savages. People who have given up and who are trying to justify what they’ve become by twisting the word of God all out of proportion. Hell with them.”
James walked up. “We must have wasted one or more of the leaders,” he said. “Some of the wounded screamed out that they’d be back, in force this time.”
“We won’t be here,” Ben said. He looked toward the shack. The fire was almost out. The sweet smell of what certain cannibalistic tribes used to refer to as “Long Pig” filled the air. “Mount “em up, James. Let’s roll.”
The small convoy rolled out on Highway 11. They connected with 129 and rolled south. About ten miles north of Macon, Ben pulled them off the road and they made a cold camp for the night. During the night, two of the wounded Rebels died. They were wrapped in blankets and at dawn were buried in a wooded area off the highway, with Ben speaking a few words over the unmarked graves. He then read from Ecclesiastes and from the Psalms.
Leaving the small gathering, Ben walked to the communications truck and called in to Cecil. He told him of the strange savage people who attacked them, and the loss of four Rebels. He concluded with, “What’s the situation up there, Cec?”
“Stable, Ben. But we’re unable to do much in the way of setting up shop, so to speak. I can’t take the chance of spreading our people out too thin. Willette and his bunch have between five hundred and seven hundred followers ready to move. I don’t
believe they’ll try anything violent; but I can’t be sure of that. And I can’t risk moving many of our regulars into the countryside to set up permanent bases. Not yet. And-was he sighed-“I’ve got teams out looking for Ike. No luck as yet, I’m sorry to report.”
“I’m just about ready to come back and start kicking ass, Cec.”
“Not yet, Ben,” Cecil cautioned him. “I didn’t realize just how slick Willette and his people were until yesterday. He’s quick and he’s smart. There is nothing I can pin directly on him. Not one damn thing. And Ben? I am afraid for you to return. I mean, physically afraid. Accidents happen, if you get my drift.”
Ben got the drift. Hot anger filled him, rushing through his veins. “Yeah, Cec, I get the drift, all right. It was sure to happen someday. Well, that day is here. OK, ol” buddy. After we take a look at Savannah-if there is anything left of that city-I’m going to take my contingent and swing around to the east. I want you to quietly, and quietly is the word, assign me another full platoon. Have them link up with us at …” He scanned a map. “Well, just west of
