CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ike thought he had it figured. Each afternoon, precisely at five p.m., a robed and hooded figure came to the door and knocked once. Ike replied. He was then ordered to stand away from the door, his back to the far wall. The door would open, a tray of food would be shoved in, on the floor, and the door would close. Ike looked at the makeshift manlike figure he had constructed from pillow and blanket and wood from the chair. He had placed it in a shadowy corner of the large room. It would have to do. It might fool the guard for a few seconds. That was all the time Ike would need. He hoped.
Although painful while occurring, his torture had left no serious physical problems. Had they continued, however, that would have been another story. Ike hefted the chair leg, quietly smacking the heavy end against his open palm. “Come on, you son of a bitch,” he muttered softly. “Just stick your hooded head inside that door.”
He heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. One set of footsteps. They halted in front of his door. Ike smiled grimly. The smile of the hunter. “Disbeliever!” the voice called.
That was Ike’s cue. “Yeah.”
“Step away from the door.”
“All right, all right. Hurry it up, partner, I’m hungry.”
“Stand back.”
“Done.”
The key rattled in the lock. The doorknob turned. The door swung slowly open. A tray of food was placed on the floor. The hooded man looked at the dim outline of the makeshift bundle of blanket and pillow and sticks. He grunted and placed the tray of food on the floor. Just as he once more lifted his eyes, eyes that now held suspicion, Ike stepped from behind the door, the club raised over his head.
“Overpass out just up ahead, General,” the lead scout radioed back to the main column. “Three miles from your location.” Late afternoon in Georgia, the fall air cooling.
Ben pulled up behind the Jeep. The support columns had been blown under the east side of the bridge, collapsing it.
“Now why would anyone want to do that?” Ben asked. He took a closer look. He could see weeds and brush growing amid the jumble of concrete and steel. “It wasn’t done recently.”
“Doesn’t make any sense to me, General,” a Rebel replied. “Another patrol went north to see if the access road to Highway 80 is clear. She’ll be reporting back in a minute.”
“Well,” Ben said, “this might have been an accident. We’ll see.”
The radio crackled. “319/441 is blocked, Jerry. None of this is making any sense. “Fore the general makes any moves, send a patrol to backtrack and check out this old Highway 257 into Dublin. I got an edgy feeling about all this.”
James pointed at two Rebels in a Jeep. “Go,” he told them. “Maintain radio contact and stay alert for trouble.”
“Susie?” James spoke into the mic. “Stay loose and heads up.”
“Ten-four, Sarge,” she responded. “Rolling.”
The Rebels waited in the cooling wind that blew from the north. Winter was not far away. Five minutes passed. The last recon team sent out called in. “Sarge? Highway 257 is blocked just off the interstate.”
Ben took the mic. “This is General Raines. Backtrack to the interstate and head west until you intersect with Highway 338. That’ll lead you into a small town named Dudley. Check it out and be careful doing it.”
“Ten-four.”
“Susie?”
“Sir?”
“You getting hinky about this?”
“Yes, sir. All senses tell me something is bad wrong.”
“Back off about a mile and sit it out. Keep your head up, now.”
“Yes, sir. Rolling.”
“James? Have a Jeep jump the median and cut across that field. Swing back to the interstate then cut north on Highway 19. See if it’s blocked. This downed overpass may have given someone a grim idea. All this is getting just a little weird to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The minutes ticked slowly past. Ben tuned up the collar on his field jacket. He checked his weapons. The Scouts began calling in.
“Dudley is a ghost town, sir. Highway 338 is blocked on the east side.”
“Hold your positions and stay alert for trouble,” Ben ordered.
“Highway 19 is blocked, sir. Just off the interstate.”
“Come on back. Susie? Come back in.”
Gale looked at Ben. “Let me guess, Ben. We’re going to visit Dublin, right?”
“Right on the money, honey,” Ben replied with a grin.
She walked back to the pickup, muttering as she walked. “Man just can’t mind his own business.”
The Scouts who had jumped the interstate rolled back in. “Let’s move it,” Ben ordered. “Load those .50’s and stay alert. We’re probably heading into trouble up ahead. I hope not, but let’s be ready for anything.”
“You hope not!” Gale said as Ben dropped the pickup into gear. “Ben, you thrive on trouble.”
“And if you didn’t like it, you would have split a long time ago.” He grinned at her.
“Just think,” she replied. “I used to belong to the Youth for Peace movement.”
“Did you have a little banner you waved about?” Ben asked.
“Very funny, Raines.”
“Did you?”
“Yes!”
They backtracked the ten miles and cut north on 338. The small town was deserted and in ruin. It had been picked clean by looters. The Rebels rolled through what remained of the town and stopped several hundred yards from the barricade that stretched across Highway 80.
Ben got out of the truck and looked at the barricade through binoculars. “It wasn’t put up to last any length of time,” he said. “All right, knock it down.”
Explosives were set in place. Sixty seconds later, the barricade erupted in a smoky mass of wood and brick and concrete blocks.
“Scouts take the point,” Ben ordered.
Susie wheeled her Jeep through the smoking ruins, an armed Rebel riding shotgun, his M-16 ready. Another Rebel stood in the rear of the Jeep, ready with a mounted M-60 light machine gun.
“Roll it slow,” Ben said.
The column moved out, all weapons held at the ready.
“What do you think is up ahead, Ben?” Gale asked. “And before you get smart-mouthed, I realize that is a stupid question.”
“Several possibilities. One: a group of people-much like us-who have bunkered themselves in for personal safety. Two: a gang of thugs who have taken over the town for whatever reason. Three: the complete unknown.”
“Mutants?”
“I doubt it. No mutant I’ve seen has the intelligence to build a barricade that well. Tony
Silver’s name keeps popping up in my mind. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to deal with Silver.”
“So it’s the unknown thus far?” she said.
“Right. We’ll know in about half a minute, I’m thinking.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“Your adventurous spirit is overwhelming, Ms. Roth.”
“Just drive the damn truck, Raines.” She looked at the 1987 roadmap. “Sixteen thousand people in Dublin. Back before the bombs, that is.”
“Maybe one-tenth survived that. I doubt it was that high. The plague? I don’t know. That may have finished the town. We’ll soon see.”
Susie’s Jeep was stopped in the middle of the highway as Ben slowed and pulled up beside her, on the north
