The Fire-Frag, probably the most lethal grenade ever manufactured, made a great big mess inside the room. One creepie was flung out into the hall, his face hanging out, all mixed up with brains and other assorted ick.
Jersey shot him just to make sure.
Cooper swung his M-16 around at the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs. The entranceway filled with night crawlers. Four automatic weapons yammered, filling the narrow hallway with brass and noise and gunsmoke. Ben jumped over the piled-up bodies and ran up the stairs, Jersey right behind him and Beth and Cooper bringing up the rear.
Ben paused at an open door, then rolled in; Jersey stepped into the open doorway, covering him with a practiced movement.
The room was void of Night People.
But by an open window was a M-60 machine gun, with several cases of ammo by its side.
Ben turned to Beth. “Radio Ike, Dan, Cecil, somebody, and tell then where we are.”
Beth gave him a disgusted look. “Well, hell, General! Where are we?”
Ben laughed and took the handset from Beth. “This is the Eagle. You listening, Shark?”
A few seconds passed. Ike came on. “Roger, Eagle.”
“What’s your twenty?”
“In a church. St. Peter’s, I think it is.”
“All right, Shark. That’s gonna be right across the street, catty-cornered, sort of. I’m on the second floor with a captured M-60. I’m gonna start letting the lead fly. Pass the word that I’m friendly.”
“Now, damn it, Ben! I . . .”
Ben hooked the phone and grinned at Beth. “Now let’s have some fun!”
FIFTEEN
Ben grabbed up the M-60. “Get that ammo, Cooper, and follow me.”
He ran from the room, the others grabbing up cases of ammo and running to catch up with him.
Ben ran to the other end of the building and kicked in a door. He bipodded the M-60 by a window and then smashed the glass with the butt of his Thompson. Lead started coming at him from the building across the street. Ben sat down behind the M-60 and let it rock and roll. “Help me feed, Jersey. Keep it coming.”
Ben knocked down a few creepies and put the rest of them on the floor as he raked the second floor of the building with machine-gun fire.
One bogie lifted his head at the other end of the firestorm of lead, and Cooper drilled him between the eyes. Beth had tucked her radio in a closet and was doing a more than respectable job of dusting black-robed figures on the ground-level floor of a building across the street.
The sounds of many boots on the steps turned them all around, their heads kept down below windowsill level. Dan rolled into the room and wriggled on his belly to Ben’s position.
“Come to join the party, Dan?”
Dan gazed at him, a reproachful look in the man’s eyes. “You’re a naughty boy, General. You had us worried for a time.”
A hard burst of gunfire from across the street tore into the wall behind the Rebels, knocking loose hunks of paneling and sending debris flying all over the room.
With a low curse, Ben again positioned himself behind the M-60 and let it bang.
“Two windows over from your left, General!” Jersey called. “That’s the machine gun.”
Dan twisted on the floor. “Oh, Jimmy! Be a good lad and run up to the roof with your rocket launcher and kindly direct a few rounds into that building across the street. It would be ever so much appreciated. Thanks.”
“Right, Boss!” the Scout called.
The black-robed spooks from across the street were really letting the lead fly in the Rebels’ position, forcing Ben and his people on the second floor to keep their heads down.
“So much for thinking they were giving up,” Ben muttered, facedown on the dirty floor.
“Quite,” Dan replied.
The Rebels were content to lie belly-down in safety until Jimmy and his people got into position. Several moments passed before the front of the creepie-held building erupted in a shower of stone and broken glass and shattered bodies. Several more rockets were hurled into the building. The unfriendly firing ceased.
“Out,” Ben ordered, crawling backward, pulling the M-60 with him. “Cooper, don’t forget that ammo. We might need it before this day is over.”
In the hall, Dan commented, “The Night People are certainly well armed, General. And seem to be well trained, too.”
“I noticed. Listen.” He held up his hand.
“Fighting has all but stopped nearby,” Dan observed. He motioned his Scouts ahead of him. “Secure the alleyway.”
Ben led the way down the dark and rat-dropping littered hall. His Thompson was slung; he carried the M-60, bipod swinging loose.
“Alley secure,” a scout called.
“Let’s check out the block, Dan. I want the federal building secured from top to basement. I have a pretty good idea where the night crawlers got a large part of their electronic gear.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I forgot what floor it’s on, but that was one of the Bureau’s command centers. I did some research on it one time. It was filled with sophisticated computers and radio gear. Get a team, Dan. We’re going in.”
“We’re going to be pushing ahead of the others, General, ranging out pretty far.”
If Ben heard Dan’s remark, he did not acknowledge it. “Send your Scouts on ahead, Dan. Clear us a route. Go behind City Hall Park. We’ll come out behind the federal building.”
The Rebels darted across the street over to Barclay and came out behind the Woolworth Building. “Got to get in there and clear that,” Ben noted. “It used to be a beautiful place. We’ll take it next, Dan.”
“Yes, sir.” The park was making him nervous. “Spookies in the park, you suppose?”
“Probably, Dan. Even though I don’t think they like open spaces very much. We’ll go in heads-up.” The Rebels walked along the promenade, Ben pointing out, “City Hall. That’ll have to be cleared, as well.”
“Right, sir.”
Beth called, “Sir? Ike and Cecil want to know your twenty?”
“Tell them we’re taking a rather enjoyable stroll along the promenade, coming up on Park Row.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very pleasant along here, isn’t it, Dan?” Ben asked, still toting the M-60 with a long belt of cartridges slung over one shoulder.
“Oh, just lovely, sir!” The sarcasm in the Englishman’s voice did not escape Ben. “Especially when one takes into consideration that none of this area has been cleared.”
“Sir?” Beth called. “I’m not about to repeat what both generals Ike and Cecil just told me to tell you.”
“Clean it up and tell me.”
“They said to get your butt outta here!”
“Tell them to relax. Jesus Christ! I got fifty people surrounding me.”
Just as they were leaving Park Row, making the dogleg to Foley Square and Centre, the two point Scouts hit the sidewalk and rolled behind cover. The others quickly followed suit just as automatic-weapon fire raked the air.
Ben, Jersey, Beth, and Cooper went into the small park and down into a ditch. Ben bipodded the M-60 as Jersey lay beside him, ready to feed. Cooper and Beth had grabbed a couple of fallen branches to reenforce their position.
“Behind us, I guess” Ben said, studying a tourist’s guide to New York City. “I can’t make heads or tails out of this damn thing. Dumbest maps I have ever seen.”
“What’s behind us?” Cooper asked, while Beth thought it was a damn strange time to be reading a tourist guide. Jersey was used to it.
“Pace University. I’m thinking that would be a good place to set up an HQ.”
The gunfire had ceased. Somewhere in the park, a bird was singing. The lilting sound made everything seem almost normal. Almost, if one stretched one’s imagination just a bit.
Ben put the little book in his pocket as a faint rustling came to their ears.
“Just to the left of that old bicycle or motorbike
,” Jersey told him. “Something dark moving through all that brush.”
“Beth, find out if we have any units at all in this park,” Ben whispered. “No! Scrap that order. Some of our people may be out head hunting. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Then the breeze changed, and with that wind shift, the Rebels no longer had to worry about wasting any of their own people.
“Phew!” Jersey screwed up her face.
Ben put the M-60 stock to his shoulder and lined up the sights. The movement in the brush had stopped, but Ben had caught a glimpse of non-color that didn’t seem to fit with the terrain. He gave the slash of black a good squirt from the M-60. The black robe became dotted with crimson as it was turned around and flung backward, the 7.62 rounds taking the creepie directly in the belly. The cannibal lay on the cold ground in the bushes, kicking and squalling and howling its miserable life away.
A half-dozen night crawlers, with more guts than sense, charged Ben’s position. The air became ripped with .223’s and 7.62’s. None of them even got close to Ben’s position. The slugs stopped them and brought a few up on their toes, dancing in that peculiar manner of the standing-up dying with bellies and chests filled with bone-smashing and organ-ripping lead.
Hard bursts of gunfire erupted from behind Ben’s field of fire, forcing them to change positions. Ben and Jersey faced the park, Beth and Cooper spread out, facing the Municipal Building . . . which appeared to be filled with Night People.
Dan’s bunch was holding their own, containing at least the front of the building. Ben pulled a sandwich out of his jacket pocket and unwrapped it. “Want to share, Jersey?”
“Thanks.” She took her half of the sandwich and they chewed, washing the food down with sips of water from their canteens.
The firing intensified until it was clear to Ben that his people were badly outnumbered and outgunned. He washed down the last bite of sandwich. “Beth? Call in and tell them we need some Abrams or Bradleys up here pronto. Tell them to come straight up Broadway and cut off at Park Row. They’ll see us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then tell Dan to be on the lookout for them and to keep his people on this side of the street.”
“Yes, sir.”
It wasn’t long before three big 55-ton Abrams, each pushed by a 1500-horsepower Avco Lycoming turbine, came roaring around the dogleg, their gunners already adjusting for fire. The Abrams is equipped with one 105mm rifled gun, one 12.7mm anti-aircraft, and two 7.62 machine guns. The tanks roared up to the building, slid into position, and then proceeded to blow the place into burning chunks of rock and brick and shattered bodies.
Two smaller tanks, M-42 Dusters, had swung around to the back. The Dusters were armed with 40mm cannons and .50-caliber machine guns. The Municipal Building would never quite be the same after this onslaught, but then, neither would those crawlers trapped inside.
Ben gave the orders to cease fire. The area fell silent — eerily quiet after the booming and rattle and screaming of battle.
Ben walked out of the park and surveyed the devastation his people had wrought. Rebels had entered the building to mop up and to put out the small fires caused by the shelling. Some of his people had been working on half a dozen fire engines found within the area they now controlled, but any raging out-of-control fire was something they all feared until they could get fire-fighting equipment running and ready for on-the-line use.
“Find out how West is doing, Beth.”
She relayed the request and waited for the translators to get to work; then she turned to Ben. “West is steadily clearing his sector, General. The South Street Seaport area is cleared, and he’s pushing in toward us.”
“Very good. My compliments to him . . .”
Ike and Cecil came roaring around the dogleg in a Hummer, both of them with angry looks on their faces. Ben put an end to any comments from them before they had a chance to open their mouths.
“Ike, take your people over to Independence Plaza and get to work. Start pushing in toward us. Cecil, spread your people out with mine and take over here. Start clearing east and west toward Ike and West. I want everything clean from this area south.”
He turned to Jersey before either man could comment. “Come on, Jersey let’s go take a look at our new CP.”
“And where in the hell might that be?” Cecil asked, exasperation on his face.
“Tweed Courthouse.”
“But the damn thing hasn’t been cleared!” Ike exploded, jumping up and down and waving his arms.
“I know,” Ben replied calmly. “I’m going to do that little thing — right now.”
Ben and his team walked through the park. They passed the dead creepies.
“Get them out of here,” Ben said, and Beth relayed the orders. “I want this park nice and clean. Have this crud stacked with the others for dumping at sea.”
He had given his M-60 to a startled Ike and now carried his Thompson with a full drum.
“What the hell do you want me to do with this heavy bastard?” Ike had yelled.
“Use it,” Ben had smiled. “It served me very well.” He walked away, leaving Ike sputtering.
“Dan,” Ben called. “I don’t think we’re going to meet any resistance up here. I think the bogies have had it for this day. But if it’ll make you feel better, send some of your people in to check out the courthouse.”
“Already done, General,” Dan replied blandly.
“I figured as much.”
The courthouse loomed in front of them. “We’ll stop here,” Dan said quietly. “We’ve heard no gunfire, so I think your assumption was correct, General.” He lifted his walkie-talkie and spoke quietly, then listened. He turned back to Ben. “My people are sweeping the place for booby traps. Give us an hour and it’ll be ready for you.”
Ben nodded. “Good enough. Beth, get out of that backbreaker radio and take a rest. Rest of you people take a break.” He walked off a short distance and stood staring toward the direction of New Jersey. He wondered how Tina was getting along. And Jerre.
SIXTEEN
Paterson was a barren shell, seemingly a ghost town. Tina and her Scouts had cautiously entered the city — once with a population of a hundred and fifty thousand — only to find no sign of life, and with the wind echoing hollowly through the broken windows and moaning up the empty streets, it made each member of the team resist an urge to look over his or her shoulder.
“We’ve been in a lot of towns, Ham,” Tina said, her voice low, “but this takes the cake. If you know what I mean.”
“Boy, do I,” her XO agreed. “This place is giving me the jumping willies.”
“Bones over here!” Jerre called. “Several skeletons. I make it out to be a family. Male, female, and small child.”
The Rebels gathered around and peered inside at what at one time had been a sporting goods store. It had been looted.
All wore grim expressions on their faces at the sight of the bones. All three skulls had been caved in by a club or a rifle butt.
“Jesus,” Sharon summed it up. “That kid couldn’t have been more than three or four years old.”
“Yeah,” Pam said grimly. She had lost a child a couple of years back. She turned away from the sight and walked back to her vehicle.
Doctor Ling entered the building and knelt down beside the bones for a moment. When he stepped outside, he said, “Not too old. I’d guess they were killed a year, maybe eighteen months ago. No flesh left on the bones. What wasn’t eaten by the Night People, the rats probably got.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Tina ordered. She spread a map out on the hood of her Jeep. “We’ll take the Interstate out of here and pick up Forty-six there.” She punched the map. “That’ll take us right to the airport. Let’s get the hell gone from this town.”
No one needed to be told twice. The short column moved out, driving around abandoned cars and trucks, twisting and turning in the littered streets. They saw no one and nothing that even cam
e close to life. Not a dog. Not a cat. Nothing.
All breathed a little easier when they hit the Interstate and rolled on.
Sharon, Tina’s driver, broke the silence. “The creepies have been here a long time, Tina. They’ve been raiding the surrounding towns and eating these people.”
“That’s the way I see it,” Tina said with a sigh. “And I have this hunch, Sharon, that Dad is going to order us to stay at the airport and clean it up and then guard it once that’s done.”
Sharon grinned. “That’s what you get for getting up in your dad’s face, girl.”
Tina grinned at the memory. “Yeah. But it was worth it just for the expression on his face.”
“Well, anyway we got some APC’s and two Dusters out of the deal.”
“That does make me feel some better.”
It was a short run to the airport, and the Scouts hit no resistance along the way. The advance Scouts radioed in.
“Airport under visual and no signs of life. It looks pretty good except for the mess.”
“We’ll be with you in five.”
“Christ, what a mess!” was Tina’s first reaction after viewing the airport through binoculars.
They had linked up with the advance team and stood on the north end of the field. Tina lowered her binoculars. “Load ’em up, gang. Let’s go in and see what we can scare up.”
For once, Ike, Cecil, and Dan were all pleased and satisfied with Ben’s choice of a CP.
“Easily defensible,” Cecil smiled.
“A place befitting a man of your importance,” Dan beamed.
“Place is just right,” Ike said.
“I don’t like it,” Ben bitched.
Three faces mirrored disbelief. Ike was the first to speak. “What the hell’s wrong with it?”
“Too damn pompous. I just remembered that I never did like courthouses.”
Cecil threw his hands up in the air and began walking around the office. Ike started cussing. Dan was the first to put it together.
Valor in the Ashes Page 12
