Ahern, Jerry - The Savage Horde

The mule's hide smelled as she took Annie into her arms and helped her to the ground.

Michael held the mule's halter. Sarah helped Millie down.

"You kids get under some shelter—got a shelter half goin' up," Bill Mulliner ordered.

Michael looked at him, saying nothing, then nodded and took the two girls in tow.

Sarah shifted the weight of her knapsack, tossing it to the ground near the rocks and then unslinging the M-from her right shoulder.

"Mrs. Rourke—there's shelter for you, too," Pete Critchfield said, passing her.

He was always moving, always doing something—never standing still.

"I'm all right here, Mr. Critchfield," she called after him, not knowing if he'd heard or not.

She sat on the rock nearest her, feeling the cold and dampness as it worked through her blue jeans to her panties and then to her skin.

"Here, ma'am," and Bill Mulliner handed her a blanket. "Sit on this."

She smiled up at him, took the blanket and placed it under her. The blanket was damp feeling, but at least not so cold as the rock, "The weather's crazy, isn't it?" she said, just for conversation.

Bill Mulliner sat down beside her and she rearranged the blanket which brought him quite close to her, but at least made the young man more comfortable. "Them sunsets— so red. The thunder all the time in the sky—spooky to me," he nodded, lighting his pipe. He looked silly smoking it, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"Maybe it's the end—for all of us," she said after a moment.

"Way I see it—well, folks used to talk in the magazines and books and on the television how's a nuclear war would kill ever'body. But everybody ain't dead,"

and he looked at her.

"Maybe you're right," she answered, her voice Jow.

She shifted the pistol belt she now wore—inherited from one of the dead brigands at the Mulliner farm. The ., her husband's gun—was on the belt in a flap covered black leather holster with "US" stamped into the flap. She had canvas magazine holders on the belt as well—six extra magazines for the .. The smaller gun—the Trapper Scorpion .—was in a homemade belt holster— same holster Bill Mulliner's father had used, on a belt threaded through the belt loops of her jeans under her coat. It was a good way to carry a gun, she decided—it was always on her, except when she slept, and beside her then when she did.

She unlatched the web material pistol belt, wrapped the belt around the flap holster and set the big . on the ground beside her—she was tired.

"Things'Il be fine once you and your family reach the refugee camp—people there'll help ya out—and people there for you to help too, ma'am. Lots a sick people. Lots of people who lost their families and all. But it's a good place—church service twice a week—Wednesday nights and Sunday mornin's—preacher'd do more, but he keeps up goin' out the rest of the time lookin' for more sick people to bring in. Good man, the preacher. Methodist— me, I'm Baptist, but that's all right."

"I guess we were Presbyterian before the War—didn't go much to church," she told him.

"Me—heck, ma'am—I miss church. We had a youth group—I woulda been out of it the next year anyways— And the Scouts—my Scout troop was through the church—Pastor was my scout leader from the time I first got out of my Cub pack 'til I made Eagle Scout."

"Your parents must have been very proud of you—I know your mother still is,"

Sarah whispered.

"I liked that life—don't spose we'll ever have that life again."

"Did you have a girl?" she asked him, then felt sorry

for asking as she watched his eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered after a moment, sighing hard and loud. "Yes, ma'am—I had a girl. Pretty hair like yours—long like yours is."

Sarah felt he wanted her to ask—so she did. "What happened to your girl, Bill?"

The boy licked his lips, looked at her and then looked away, knocking out the pipe against the heel of his work-boot. "Dead, ma'am. What got me in the Resistance. She lived in town, ya know—some of them brigand trash came through right after it all happened. I—ahh—I found her— they'd, ahh—" He didn't finish it.

Sarah reached out to him, putting her left arm across his shoulders, her left hand touching his neck as he leaned forward, not looking at her.

"They'd—they'd raped her—real bad—real—it was— the stuff—all over her legs and her belly and her face— it—it was all beat up. She just died I guess—right in the middle of it all—her name was Mary—like my mom's—" He started to cry and Sarah leaned close to him. There wasn't anything she could say.

Chapter 28

"I need Doctor Rourke with me—Rubenstein can stay here. And no guns for Rourke, ' Cole said flatly.

Gundersen wove the fingers of his hands together. "I anticipated that, Captain Cole. I've talked briefly here with Doctor Rourke. Sending a man out unarmed into what might be out there would be like committing murder. Doctor Rouke gets his guns—"

"I object to that, sir!"

"I'll note that objection in my log," Gundersen went on placidly. Rourke watched his eyes. "And as to Mr. Rubenstein—if he chooses to accompany his friend, he certainly may. If you like, Lieutenant O'Neal—he's my missile officer and hasn't had much to do since we fired all our missiles you know—well, he's coming along as well as are a few of my men—a landing party. Lieutenant O'Neal can be responsible for Mr. Rubenstein if that suits you better. And as to Major Tiemerovna—there's no policy decision to be made there. She's not strong enough yet to travel. So she doesn't need her guns. Questions about that, captain?"

"I still protest, sir—once we're on land, this mission is mine."

"But this mission involves my submarine, mister—and getting those missile warheads safely on board this boat directly affects the safety of my crew. So some of my people go along, like it or not."

"I want to send out a recon patrol right away—before the shore party."

"A wise move—I'll let you handle that. If you'd like any of my men to ace—"

"No—no, sir. My men can handle that. That's what they're trained for."

"Can I say something?" Rourke asked.

"Certainly, Doctor Rourke," Gundersen nodded.

Rourke saw Natalia, Paul—even Cole staring at him. "That recon party could be a mistake—we can recon as we go. We have to go from here anyway, regardless of what's out there. Only way to reach Filmore Air Force Base. Sending out a patrol from here will only serve to alert any potentially hostile force to our intentions of going inland. I say we move out under cover of darkness—get ourselves well inland before dawn and go from there."

"Bullshit, Rourke!"

"There's a lady present, mister," Gundersen snapped. "And I agree with Doctor Rourke."

"The land portion of the mission is mine—I intend to send a recon patrol out now—I've got men geared up and ready."

Rourke shrugged.

Rubenstein cleared his throat, Rourke watching as the younger man pushed his glasses up off the bridge of his nose. "John's right—we let anybody out there know what we're up to, all they're going to do is set a trap for us."

"If this meeting is about over, commander—I've got a final briefing for my men."

Rourke lit one of his cigars, looking at Cole, studying him. "You leading it—the recon patrol, I mean?"

"Corporal Henderson—"

"Ohh—well, I don't care much if he ever comes back anyway. How's his face doing?" Henderson was the man Rourke had put away for shooting Natalia.

Cole glared at Rourke, saying, "One of these days, Doctor Rourke—after we contact Colonel Teal, after we secure those warheads—it's you and me."

Rourke nodded. "It scares me just to think about it," and he exhaled the gray smoke from his lungs.