by Ahern, Jerry
Natalia laughed as she turned her back to him. “Would you be ready, Michael?” He started to bind her hands behind her with a piece of rope. Td like to see you do this?”
“Got your knife?”
“Up the crack of my rear end under my dress.” “Remember to tie a square knot,” Paul remarked. “Right,” Michael said.
Tighter, Michael,” Natalia said. “If it’s too loose, they’ll notice it.”
“Let me know if Fm hurting you.”
“It’s bad enough I wont have bruises. A little rope burn won’t hurt for added authenticity* Natalia told him. Her hands bound tightly behind ber-bat, if her circulation didn’t go, she could still reach her knife with her fingertips - Michael turned her around. “Promise me you wort get to hike this, but kiss me.”
Michael took her tnto his arms, his mouth coming down on hers and she let herself go limp against him as he held her.
After a long moment, she was looking into his eyes and they smiled down at her. Tf you get hurt, Fll be upset.”
T wotddrt want to upset you. Finish me.”
He turned her around, men gagged her with a handkerchief between her teen, k was dry and, even though she knew it was clean, dirty-feehng against her tongue. Then be tied another handkerchief over her eyes as a hfindfokL
Nataha fck Michaels hps touch her forehead, and then he started leading her toward dr track.
Annie wootd be bound and gagged and blindfolded in the same way, she knew: » the two of them would look the part of captured women about t> be nid roto slavery.
And Nataha told herself to start making herself appear helpless, fed hdpkss. to sake their charade that much easier, more believable. She tripped on the hem of her dress as Michael helped her into the back of die track. Michael’s arms catching her before she fell. Then a biaaket was thrown over ber. She felt hands-Michael’s hands she assonrd-bmding her ankles together
Under the uruaiBUnces, feeling helpless wouldn’t be that difficult.
Ten
Paul Rubenstein stopped the track on the Missouri side of the bridge.
About two hundred yards away from him, six men with AKM-96 rifles stood behind a barricade of logs and barbed wire. Barbed wire was produced in Eden factories. The wire was shiny enough to be relatively new. Trade goods? He wondered.
“Hey!” Paul shouted to the armed guards, as disreputable looking a bunch of men as he’d seen, since the old days when he and John fought the Brigands in Texas. T wanna talk with this guy Boris. I got some shit in the back of the truck I wanna trade him!”
The six men did nothing for a moment, then two of them moved off to the right side of the bridge and began to confer. After a minute or more, one of these two shouted back, “What kinda shit you got?”
“Pussy shit, that’s what, man.” Paul Rubenstein had come from a good home, and if his father-not to mention his mother-had heard him now, especially considering one of the women in question was his wife, he would never have seen the sunrise.
“We got plenty o’ pussy, man. So take the fucks with ya’ and get out.”
“Not like this, you ain’t. You pass this up and this Boris guy finds out what he missed, your ass is grass, pal! I ain’t talkin’ tradin’ goods for him to pass off to somebody. Tm talkin’ fine stuff, he’s gonna wanna jump himself!”
Paul Rubenstein was trying to remember the dialogue from every third rate movie he’d every seen; so far, at least, he figured he was doing okay.
But he was walking a narrow line, because if he made the captive women sound too exciting, he might wind up facing the six men here at the bridge, inciting them to want to kill him to get their hands on the women for themselves or to make points with their boss.
Under his coat, he had the battered old Browning High Power, chamber loaded of course, and his right hand near it. The second High Power was in the same condition, but tucked into his waistband at the small of his back.
Three of the six men clambered over the barricade, ducking the barbed wire with practiced expertise it seemed, then started to approach the truck …
It was at once hot and cold under the blanket. The first time she’d moved, her legs starting to cramp, her skirt was up to her crotch. By now, it felt like it was up to her waist.
She could faintly hear Paul as he shouted, presumably to some of the men who worked for Boris.
And the words he said, even though she knew they weren’t his words, would have frightened her if she had anything less than total faith in her husband. She didn’t like being talked about as though the only thing she was good for was what was between her legs. Like Natalia, she had a knife, accessible to her when she needed it if her fingers, already a little stiff, didn’t get too stiff.
The gags they both wore, were a wise idea, she realized, because a real outlaw would have gagged them to shut them up and, if they hadn’t been gagged, she would probably have tried talking to Natalia. But as it was, all she was capable of were unintelligible grunts.
She heard new voices now, several of them, and it sounded as if there was an argument going on …
Michael Rourke smiled at the thought. He was, literally almost, following in his father’s footsteps.
The river bank was very narrow here and, if he didul place his
feet in essentially the same spots his father did, he’d M av.
They were nearly to where the support columns for die bridge could be reached. So far, they evidently went undetected from the bridge above. Michael Rourke had never seen Dan or Margie shoot, so he took little comfort from the fact that they were waiting on the roof on an abandoned building, about one hundred and fifty yards away with sniper rifles. Equipment, no matter how sophisticated, was no better than the man or woman who operated it.
His father reached the pylon, swinging back beneath the bridge on the gravel and dirt, Michael joining him in the next instant
They both set to opening their packs. As they worked, Michael, his voice a low whisper, said to his father, “I felt like I was doing something behind your back, you know, but I told myself I shouldn’t feel that way.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Still-“
“Is that why you and Natalia decided to take the Sleep again? So you could tell me together?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the only reason,” Michael told his lather.
“Well, fine, consider me told. It was an insoluble situation, Michael. Natalia and I loved each other, and I don’t think that will ever change. No offense.”
“None taken” Michael nodded, checking the power for the charge that was in his hands.
T was the fool to let it go as far as I did, and the longer it went on, the worse both of us felt, because it was hopeless. I loved your Mother and Natalia, and Fm married to your mother. You , actually did me a favor. I could never figure out what to do about ; the situation the three of us were in.” And Michael’s father ex- ! tended his gloved right hand. “Pardon the glove, okay?” ]
“Okay.” j
“You just remember one thing; treat Natalia the best that you j can. And not only will both of you be happy, but youll be makmg I me happy, too. But, if she ever starts calling me ‘Dad’, you and I j duke it out, right?” And he grinned “Right,” Michael nodded j
smiling.
He’d never expected anything less of his father, but now that everything was in the open, it was better, somehow.
“So? You guys going to get married?”
“Yeah, sooner or later. Neither one of us has anything against the idea, but neither one of us sees any reason why having some words said over us will make us any more married than we are.”
“I agree,” his father said “But, Fm old fashioned enough to think it’s a good idea, anyway.”
“We kind of figured, well, we’d wait until maybe Mom wasHis father put his hand on his shoulder. “She’d like that. Thank you. But you know that she might never-“
“Yeah,” Michael said, swallowing hard. �
�But I’m like you that way, too damn stubborn to give up.”
His father started to speak, inhaled, then nodded and looked away. And he realized his father was holding back tears.
Between them, in the packs they’d brought, there were six powerful charges of the latest German plastique. The bridge pylons were old enough that, as Michael Rourke rubbed his gloved hand over the one nearest to him, some of the concrete on the surface flaked away. They would be reinforced, of course, but the explosives would take care of the structural steel as well.
They began setting the charges, moving through the girderwork below the bridge, placing the charges on the insides of the pylons, so the pylons would blow outward into the river, and the bridge section would entirely collapse.
They hoped …
The long skirts of her dress were twisted around her legs, binding her almost as much as the rope on her ankles. And when the blanket was pulled off, aside from a sensation of light at the upper and lower edges of her blindfold, she was also instantly chilled.
“What color’s this bitch’s eyes you said?” “Blue. Prettiest damned blue you ever saw. The other one-look at those legs, hull-she’s got brown eyes.”
“Boris likes broads with blue eyes. Let’s see ‘em.” “Fine, but thafs all you see.”
“Look at that one. Her dress is all the way up. Let’s check out her-“
There was the click of pistol’s hammer being drawn back to full stand. “Keep your fuckirf hands off her panties, man; I came here with two virgins and your boss gets to see ‘em first.”
“Shit, asshole, they’s six o’ us and one o’ you!”
“You wanna die first?”
“Take her damn blindfold, off and let me see her eyes.”
Natalia felt herself being manhandled into a sitting position, her back aching with the sudden movement. Under different circumstances, she would have found being called a virgin mildly amusing. Not now.
Then the blindfold was pushed down, and she squinted against the light. She felt hands at the back of her head and as the blindfold was ripped away, she lost a few hairs in the process. Her hair was longer than she’d ever worn it since she was a litde girl, well past her shoulder’s now and unbound, more than she could say for the rest of her.
When, at last, she opened her eyes, she sucked in her breath almost in a scream. It wasn’t acting. The light hurt her eyes, but it was the sight of the men standing beside Paul, who nearly precipitated the scream. Dressed in rags and new clothes combined, but nothing fitting properly, long dirty hair, scraggly beards, each of them armed to the teeth, they looked like barbarians.
Beside her, Paul was sitting up Annie, taking the blindfold from over Annie’s eyes “Good lookin, huh. This one’s my personal favorite. Look at those legs, so long they could wrap around you twice, I bet.”
Annie’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Except for her panties, she looked naked from the waist down, her stockings shredded (intentionally).
“The truck stays here,” one of the men growled. He was taller than Michael or John, and easily one and one-half times the size of either of them. As he reached toward Natalia, the smell of his body was overpoweringly strong. TU grab this one.”
Theyll walk. And we ain’t goin past the middle of the bridge. Now back the fuck off,” Paul threatened. Paul produced a knife, put it in his teeth, grabbed at Natalia’s dress and pushed it up to her knees, then cut the ropes at her ankles “On your feet, bitch,” Paul rasped.
If she made it out of this alive, Natalia thought, she wasn’t certain whether she would congratulate Paul on his hitherto concealed acting talents, or feel like slapping him in the face.
As he pushed her out of the truck bed, her feet were too numb to support her and she dropped to her knees.
Annie was beside her in the next instant, flat on her face in the snow.
Paul dragged first Natalia to her feet, then Annie. Natalia swayed, still not certain that her feet and legs would support her.
But she was flexing her ringers. The man with the body odor twisted her around roughly and she almost fell, narrowly keeping her balance. His skin felt like leather as he grabbed at her wrists. “Tied tight enough.” And then his face was near hers, his mouth odor so bad she nearly vomited in his face. “Girlies like you don’t be real good, we take some of that barbed wire and tie ‘em up in it. Then we kick ‘em around for a while. Feels real good!”
She cast her eyes down, for two reasons: it was probably what he expected her to do and, if she looked at him much longer, she would throw up.
“Boris ain’t gonna like ccmin’ down to the bridge. He’s got shit to do.”
“Yeah, and I go walkin’ in there with these,” Paul laughed evily, “and I don’t come walkin’ out again. You tell this Boris that I want plenty of antibiotics, some nose candy and six AKM-96 rifles.
“Six! For pussy?”
“Six for each one; tell him. Or I pack up the truck. He hears what he missed with these two, hell, I wouldn’t wanna be you guys. Probably get six or eight kids outa each one of ‘em before he’d throw ‘em away.”
She watched the two with whom Paul bargained.
They walked some distance away, Paul keeping his old Browning High Power on them while they conferred.
The key to the plan’s having any chance of success at all was that they didn’t go into East St. Louis, never got off the bridge, that Boris came to them.
And, although she didn’t like it, she realized that Paul was making a last gambit. He shouted to the two men, saying, “Look at this, man!” And his fist closed over the front of Natalia’s dress and ripped it open almost to her waist.
She wore a bra underneath and that was all. He went to Annie and did the same thing.
Natalia stood there, watching the men as they watched her, watched Annie, their eyes going farther than Paul had ripped. “All right. Get ‘em up to the barricade. Boris ain’t gonna like it. I tell ya that, man.”
Paul only nodded…
All of the charges, three on each side of the bridge, were in position, set to detonate when the radio signal was made.
John Rourke looked across to the other side of the bridge. Clinging to one of the girders there, as he did on this side, his son, Michael, was ready.
John Rourke looked at the black-faced Rolex Submariner on his left wrist.
All they needed was Paul’s signal.
His eyes drifted back to the face of his watch.
This was taking too long, and the longer it took, the more chance there was it would go wrong.
Eleven
Natalia’s fingers had full flexibility now, if not full reeling, the tips still tingling as she moved them. As soon as the two men had retreated toward the barricade, Paul walking on with them for a moment; she turned her back toward the truck and caught up her skirts, pulling them up until she could slide her right hand inside the waistband of her underpants. When she pulled on the Bali-Song that was taped between the cheeks of her rear end, the tape took a little skin with it. She was grateful for the gag to bite down on to keep her from making any sort of sound in the instant of pain. She let her dress fall back.
But she had the knife, the lock off, the handle in her right hand, shielded by her left. She desperately wanted to cut the bonds from her wrists, but to do so now might be premature. From a distance, if the ropes were seen not to be connected, the deception might be blown. Instead, she let one handle half drop, sawing with the Bali-Song’s primary edge against the ropes but not cutting all the way through. The rope was old, so it would be dry and cut away more easily, and only twisted around her wrists three times. Once one turn of the rope was cut through, she could pull her wrists free. Michael tying her, they had experimented with it several times to make sure that it would work.
Natalia looked at Annie, Annie nodding that she had her knife as well.
Paul, his voice gruff sounding, shouted, “Move your asses, girls! On the double!” Bowing her head slightly, Annie b
eside her, Natalia started moving off slowly toward him. “Hurry it
up, damnit!” She quickened her pace.
When they neared Paul, he grabbed them both and pushed them forward roughly. “Move it!”
The blanket that had been wrapped around her against the cold fell from her shoulders. When she looked back toward it, Paul gave her another shove, saying through his teeth, “Sorry.” Then he shouted at her, “Stupid! Don’t want the damn blanket? Then freeze your ass!”
They were nearing the barricade, Paul grabbing Annie and then her, pulling them together back to back. This was so they could help each other with the ropes on their wrists, if need be.
She looked toward the barricade. The two men who had accompanied Paul and then gone back ahead of him were gone, presumably to get Boris. She lowered her eyes, sawing through the turn of rope all the way.
Twelve
She was cold and stiff from standing there in the cold. And she really didn’t know just how long it had been, but her wrists were free and she could tell by feeling behind her, that Annie’s wrists were free as well.
A truck, from intelligence data she had seen, almost a brand new Eden Army issue, was pulling up on the far side of the barricade.
The two men she’d seen with Paul jumped down from the back, the truck parked at an angle across the bridge. She could see quite clearly.
Then a man climbed down out of the passenger side of the cab.
He was big, fat, and dirty looking. He wore a heavy coat that looked to made of sheepskin, cinched at his enormous waist with a wide belt, a pistol holster on either side in front, the pistols set for crossdraw. Cartridge belts were crisscrossed over his chest.
He wore a black beard, so long, it was nearly to the center of his chest. As he started forward, toward the barricade, she could properly assess his height as well over six feet. She guessed his weight at close to three hundred pounds.
“And who the hell are you to order me to come and see two damn pieces o’ ass? Yeah, you, damnit!”
