Warren Murphy: Unite and Conquer

The man looked so pitiful that Zaragoza decided to ignore him. Glancing over his shoulder, he fixed the orbiting helicopter camera ships and positioned himself so they would pick up his good side. Then, elevating his H ed fire on the monstrosity of baroque segmented steel plates.

The bullets spanged and dented the armor. But they might as well have been but hard candy. Nothing happened. The monster did not fall over. Zaragoza had hoped the monster would fall over. The sight would appear spectacular on TV Azteca.

"Soldados! Come! We must fire in unison if we are to topple this behemoth," Zaragoza cried, giving up on the hope of going down in history as Zaragoza the Giant Killer.

His soldados were not eager to leave the safety of their armored vehicles, but they did so. They stood around in awe of the silent golem.

"We will spray her breast with bullets so that she topples on her back, forever defeated," Zaragoza told them.

They formed a firing squad and began firing. It was haphazard fire, but it had an effect.

A section of armor cracked and dropped away. It struck sparks when it hit the road.

" Viva Zaragoza!" Zaragoza yelled, hoping his men would pick up the cry and it would carry to the helicopter microphones.

Whether that happened or not, was not to be known by Efrain Zaragoza. Or anyone else.

As if they had fractured a weak spot, the armor began cracking and falling away in large, dangerous pieces.

The pieces fell thudding, and it was all they could do to retreat before being crushed by the clanging plates.

They backed up sufficiently that the truth of their situation at once became clear. The armor was not breaking under the stress of so many bullet strikes.

It was breaking because the monster Coatlicue was shedding her hide as a snake sheds its skin.

She was casting off the heavy confining shell as she resumed her lumbering walk toward her unknown destination.

"Disparen!" Zaragoza ordered.

And his men emptied their weapons into the newly exposed brown stone that chipped and gave off puffs of rock dust in some places and actually bled in soft spots, but otherwise showed no sign of flinching or surrender.

Men made the sign of the cross as they backed away in mute awe.

"She is Coatlicue," Zaragoza muttered.

That was when sanity reasserted itself. They piled into their APCs and sent them scurrying south to Yucatan.

Perhaps the cameras had picked up nothing through the drumming black rain after all. It no longer mattered. Efrain Zaragoza had learned an important lesson. Glory was nothing. Life was all. And he was not being paid to fight walking stones that bled like men.

Chapter 51

"I was just thinking," Winston Smith said over the combined noise of rotor wash and rain.

"Si?"

"We lead dangerous lives. Danger is our beans and rice. We could be snuffed out at any moment."

"Yes, this is very true," Assumpta admitted.

"Once we join up with Verapaz, nothing is guaranteed. Not tomorrow. Not even tonight. Surviving the next hour is strictly fifty-fifty."

"This is so, chilito mio. "

Winston blinked. "What's that mean?"

"My little chili pepper." Assumpta smiled shyly.

"Look, why don't we just land this eggbeater and do it now? That way, if we're killed or separated or anything bad happens, at least we can say we knew true love before the end came."

"The gas is low ...."

"Yeah, I was gonna mention it, but I didn't want it to sound like a line."

"We will refuel and make passionate love as guerrilleros do."

"Great," said Winston. "That clearing up ahead looks soft."

The chopper skimmed lower and angled toward a landing.

At the last possible moment the ship seemed to lighten, as if dropping a load of fuel. Maybe the engine needed an overhaul, Winston thought.

After he shut it down, Winston Smith turned to Assumpta. "Well, here we are."

Her face was a cameo against the backdrop of the rain-washed Plexiglas bubble beyond which the raindistorted green landscape seemed to waver and run.

He leaned in to kiss her. Their arms bumped the controls. Assumpta laughed. Then her lips were pressed against his, and Winston wondered if he should stick his tongue in her mouth or wait until later. First kisses were logistical nightmares ....

Somewhere the sound of knocking intruded on their silent interlude. He ignored it.

It came again. Very loud this time.

Assumpta drew away in fear. "What is that?"

"Search me."

He saw the shape behind her. A face. It swam behind the swimming Plexiglas.

"Get down!" he cried, reaching for his Hellfire.

Before he could reach his weapon, the cockpit door at his back opened, letting in driving rain and an irresistible hand.

Smith was yanked out and dropped on his back. A foot stamped his gun into the mud. He looked up, his face furious.

The face of his alleged father looked down. It was not a happy face.

"Where the hell did you come from!" Winston raged.

"A magician never tells," Remo told him.

"Nice move. Your timing is fucking excellent."

"Forget it, chilito. It's curfew time. We heard every word."

"How's that possible?"

Remo pulled him to his feet. Winston noticed the old Korean standing behind him, also unhappy.

Assumpta shouted, "Let him go, jou-jou CIA yanquis! He has told me all about you. You will never defeat Lord Verapaz!"

"Right now we have a bigger problem."

"What's that?" Winston growled.

"The monster. I need you to fly us to him."

"Monster? Don't be stupid. The Extinguisher doesn't fight monsters. Try Raymond Burr."

"He's dead, so you're elected." And Winston found himself placed in the chopper pilot seat like a baby dropped into his high chair.

The old Korean climbed into the cockpit and, crossing his legs, sat on his steamer trunk.

Winston looked to Remo standing in the rain. "What about you?"

"Just take off. I'll hitch a ride on the skid."

"That's how you did it!"

"And people say you're slow on the draw."

"I resent that!"

But he took off anyway.

Behind him the old Korean named Chiun prodded him on the right course with a pointing fingernail that Winston sometimes felt in the small of his back. It felt like a white-hot needle.

WHEN HE SAW the monster, Winston Smith changed his mind.

"Holy shit! Look at the size of that mother. Let's blow it up!"

"No," said Chiun. "I forbid it."

"But we've got antitank rockets and a Gatling gun. We can pulverize it in its tracks."

"No," Chiun repeated.

"Give me one reason why not."

"I will give you two."

"Yeah?"

"The first reason is that the monster cannot be defeated unless his brain is discovered and destroyed. Otherwise, the part of him that can assume other forms will take a new form. We must find the brain first."

"What's the other reason?"

"The other reason is that the lightning may do the work we cannot."

And as they flew closer, a sizzling bolt of eyesearing light slammed the monster in his tracks. It wavered, started to take a step, and a second bolt transfixed it. Green and gold sparks jumped.

When the noise dissipated, the monster was immobile.

"Now what?" Winston asked.

"Land this contraption near the monster," Chiun said. "At Once! Our time may be short."

"Sure you don't want me to strafe it first?"

As if in answer, a thick-wristed hand reached up from under the cockpit, grasped the side-mounted Gatling gun and, expending no obvious effort, twisted it off its mount, then flung it away.

Chapter 52

It was like marching into the face of cannon fire.

The detonations came again and again. They split the dull morning, making it bright. They rattled the sky. Their fury was very great. Fear showed on the faces of the Juarezistas who marched behind Alirio Antonio Arcila, their AKs and AR-15s trembling in their rain-wet hands.