officers.
'There were television security monitors inside— that was before the pulse. We watched the missiles falling— thought we were all— but then people just started dying. You could watch
'em— just dying. Sick— just, ahh—' Teal stopped, stubbing out his cigarette— a Marlboro—
and taking another cigarette— a Winston. 'See, I try all the different brands— so do the rest of the guys. So when one brand runs out, it won't be that— hard to take,' and Teal sank his face into his hands. Rourke thought he heard a sob, covered up with a cough, then Teal looked up, his eyes wet.
'Thought maybe— well— we were the only Americans left at all— anywhere.'
Rourke inhaled hard on his cigar— it had gone out. He took the Zippo and relit it.
'Couldn't bury the guys when we got out,' Teal continued. 'Just too many of them— thirty-four hundred and twenty-eight. Thirty-four hundred and twenty-eight. Not just guys, women, too. Some wives and kids— my wife —'
Teal stood up, his chair falling backward, slamming and echoing against the concrete floor. He walked away from the table, Rourke watching him, knowing everyone else was watching him, too.
There was nothing to say...
They sat now outside the bunker, the sun strong at nearly midday, Rourke eating a Milky Way from the BX, Natalia smoking from a fresh carton of cigarettes. 'This is my brand— my favorite one. I always liked your American cigarettes,' she said suddenly.
'We hauled all the bodies,' Teal began again suddenly. 'Hauled 'em— over there,' and Rourke followed with his eyes where Teal gestured— a burnt-out hangar across the field. 'Took us—
well— a long time. And the bodies— well. By that time— but we couldn't use a wooden structure— afraid the fire would spread. Had plenty of aircraft fuel though. So we doused all the bodies with it. One of the airmen used to live in Kentucky— worked at a fireworks factory for a while. Said he knew how to blow things up. We let him do it after I— I prayed—'
Natalia dragged hard on the cigarette— a Pall Mall.
Rubenstein visibly swallowed. 'We did something like that— John and I did— we were on a plane— the Night of The War— some guys came along. We call 'em Brigands— men and women. They, ahh—'
'A massacre,' Rourke finished for him. 'What about your position here— I didn't see eighteen men. The wildmen? That why the sniper post?'
'Yeah— that and the Russians if we ever see 'em— guess we aren't important.'
Cole laughed.
Rourke looked at him.
'Wildmen— good a name as any,' Teal laughed. 'See— I'm the only qualified pilot. And I couldn't leave the base— give up my command— maybe there would be something we could do, you know? So I sent out four men— just to get the lay of the land. They had decontamination suits— everything. Should have come back. But they never came back— not at all.' Teal lit a cigarette, Rourke watching as he took another bite of the Milky Way. With a medical kit, Natalia had cleaned and bandaged his left ear. He'd taken a painkiller— a mild one— but it had somehow made him hungry.
'See,' Teal continued. 'We didn't have any idea about the outside world— figured the only way I could tell what to do, if there were anything to do— anything— well, we needed intelligence. Pretty much all we had left here. Intelligence men. I decided to risk three more men— if I could get volunteers. Well,' and Teal threw down the cigarette, stubbing it out under the heel of his combat boot. 'I got 'em,' he sighed. 'Only one of 'em returned. But he died right away afterward. He talked about these crazy guys— half-civilized, almost half-animal— like somethin' out of some el cheapo sci-fi movie, ya know?'
Rourke nodded, that he knew.
'Anyway— they killed their victims by burning em on crosses—'
'How did this man escape?' Natalia asked, putting out her cigarette against the concrete steps on which she sat, her M-16 across her knees.
'Cut to pieces with some kind of spear— least that's what he said it was. Thought he was dead and stripped him, then rolled him down a hillside. Came to— freezing, bleeding. Crawled along the bottom of the hill. He could see the crosses burning, hear the other men screaming. He was a tough guy— had the survival training course. Found a stray wildman— killed him with a rock. Took some of his clothes, used the guy's spear like a cane or a staff— he hobbled in, almost dead already.' Teal paused, lighting another cigarette, looking up at Rourke standing beside him.
'Fletch's age, John— just a kid. Died in my arms.'
Rourke ran his tongue over his lips, nodding.
'That gave me eleven men,' Teal said, his voice low. 'I wasn't gonna risk anybody else. Figured to wait and see. That was three weeks ago. One of the guys— an officer. He went insane, I guess— shot himself in the mouth with a 45. Another guy— Airman Cummins. Got what we all figured was appendicitis— boy, we could have used you, John. We don't have a doctor. I tried—
got the medical books out— tried. He died.'
'If it ruptures and you don't know what to do— the poison spreads pretty quick,' Rourke said soberly.
'Yeah— it was kinda quick— I guess. So I got nine men and myself. I got five sleeping right now, one man guarding 'em. Three others— sentry posts around the base with the best excuses for sniper rifles we could come up with. Lotta guys had personal weapons we had logged in and locked up. Picked the best we could find outa those. These aren't so good for long distance stuff,' and he tapped the butt stock of the M-16 on Natalia's lap.
'We held the base though,' Teal concluded, then fell silent.
'The wildmen,' Natalia said, half to herself. 'They must think there is still radiation here. That must be why they haven't attacked.'
'But with us coming in— they'll probably figure it's safe,' Rubenstein added.
'To attack,' Rourke almost whispered.
'To attack,' Teal nodded.
Cole spoke then. 'I came for the missiles you store here— and wildmen crazies or not, I've gotta have 'em, colonel. I've gotta.'
Rourke studied Cole. For the first time— 'I've gotta have 'em'—he thought Cole had spoken the truth.
Chapter Five
'Russians all over the road,' Bill Mulliner whispered hoarsely, sliding down into the rocks beside her.
Sarah looked at him, saying nothing for a moment, then, 'What started this?'
'Maybe the supply convoy we hit— bunch of junk. Like they was hoardin' stuff, Mrs. Rourke.'
Sarah looked at him. 'Like what?' she asked at last.
'Everythin'— M-16s, even old .45s. Pharmaceutical stuff. Medical gear. You name it, they had it— even golf carts.'
'Golf carts?'
'Yeah— the battery-operated kind. Don't know why they'd want themselves golf carts. I used to tinker with one of 'em when I was a kid. Never could get the damn thing to run— 'scuse my language, ma'am.'
Sarah only nodded, looking away from Bill Mulliner and down below the rocks where the children stayed with Mary, Bill's mother. 'Golf carts,' she nodded, incredulous. 'Guns, drugs, golf carts— that's crazy.'
'Yes, ma'am— but they had themselves a ton of guys round 'em. The trucks, I mean. Big fight—
we beat hell out of 'em— there I go again with my language.'
'Never mind,' and she smiled at him, patting his right hand with her left.
'Had 'em on the run we did— set fire to some of the trucks— carted off some stuff— then more Russians came. Helicopters— shot us all to— well. You know, ma'am.'
'Mmm,' she nodded, thinking.
'Maybe we can hole up here in the mountains.'
'Sure,' Sarah laughed. 'No food except what you had on you in your pack. Some stuff I had. Enough ammunition maybe for one good ten minute fight. Two children, a sixty-two-year-old woman, you and me— I don't think so,' she told him, smiling again, not knowing why she was smiling.
'There's Russians all over like flies on a horse tur—' He looked at her, shook his head at himself as he cut himself off, then looked away. 'Ya hang around men all the time— no womenfolk around,' he said. 'Well— you know,
