Ahern, Jerry - The Savage Horde

"What will I do then?" he murmured.

"Comrade general?"

The voice was soft, uncertain. He turned. "Yes, Catherine."

"Comrade general," the girl began. "These papers— they require your signature."

"Hmmph," he said, turning away, studying the figures of the mastodons which dominated the center of the great hall. "Soon, Catherine—we shall be like them."

"Comrade general," she began again, a long silence ending. "Comrade general—what is it—might I ask, Comrade general—what is it which seems to—to trouble you?"

He did not look at her—she was pretty, however plain she made herself appear intentionally.

"Catherine. More scientific data which greatly disturbs me, which shall profoundly influence us all. That is one report. And a second report. The KGB, which is stockpiling raw materials, equipment—everything you might imagine and many things, child, which you could not—one of their convoys was attacked by the American resistance near some city called Nashville. There is a resistance stronghold which Rozhdestvenskiy has committed Army forces to destroying —against my policies because there are women and children there. And without even asking my permission. He does not need it anymore, child."

He looked away from the mastodons, studying her face—the gentleness of her eyes.

"Catherine—I have never before stared death so closely in the face. Go and prepare for me coffee, child."

He started away from the railing, listening to the clicking of her heels, noting her skirt was still too long. He tried no! to look at the mastodons—there would be little but bones to look at soon enough.

Chapter 53

Jacob Steel, she thought, was perhaps a talented minister. He was not so talented as a doctor.

"Here—I'll tie that," she told him.

Steel looked up from the dressing he had attempted twice to secure, his gray hair falling across his forehead, his glasses smudged on the lenses. He smiled.

"You've realized I'm a klutz, Mrs. Rourke. The only reason I learned anything about medicine in the first place was because when I was drafted, I was a conscientious objector. Had to find something to do with me—I couldn't type. I was starting to worry about you. Most people who've worked as my nurse have discovered my ineptitudes far sooner."

She felt herself smile as she secured the dressing. "I was just too polite, I guess, Reverend."

"Hmm—but I see you can do that quite well. Your husband's a doctor, is he?"

She looked up, but Steel hadn't waited for an answer. He had already moved to the next patient. She arranged the covers of the man on the ground by her feet, then stood, following Steel.

"Yes," she answered belatedly.

"Yes, what?"

"He's a doctor," she said.

Steel looked away, then back to the patient. The woman's burns were not healing.

"Are those sheets sterile?"

Steel looked up at her.

She smiled. "That was a silly question, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Mrs. Rourke—it was a silly question. Nothing here is sterile. Except me—I caught the mumps from my daughter five years ago," and he laughed.

"How old is she—" She caught herself.

"Now? She's dead. My wife's dead. My two sons are dead. Our house is gone—wasn't really our house. Belonged to the church. Church is gone, too. I was away.

Chattanooga was neutron bombed."

"I know," she answered quietly.

"Realize how many fires start in a given day—just your regular ordinary fires? I don't know how many myself, but I bet plenty. Fire started in the garage of the house across the street from the church—don't know why, but it looked like it started there. Spread across the street somehow—must've been the wind. Burned the church, the house. My wife and the children—woulda been dead by then anyway."

"I'm—"

"You're sorry," he interrupted. "I know you are. Pretty soon we're gonna run out of enough sorry to go around."

Reverend Steel pulled the blanket up over the woman's face. "So much for sterile sheets, huh?"

Sarah Rourke pulled the blanket down, closing the eyelids with her thumbs.

Chapter 54

Rourke heard the knock, looked up as he called, "Come in."

The door opened.

"Mind if we talk, Doctor Rourke?" Gunderson asked.

"Not a bit," Rourke told him. "You don't mind if I finished getting dressed?"

Rourke stood up, walking stocking footed across the cabin, getting his combat boots and sitting down again, stuffing first his right foot, then his left foot into the leather. He began to lace the right one. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Couple things. Major Tiemerovna for openers. She wants to go along."

"She's too weak," Rourke told him, looking up. "Too dangerous anyway."

"I'm letting her go—"

"Bullshit," Rourke told him.

"See, it doesn't matter to me that she's a Russian—she's not going to do anything to jeopardize you. So I can worry about her sense of duty to mother Russia after you find the warheads. She wouldn't take you on—she'd wait and take me on for them. You're going to need all the backup you can get."

"Your Lieutenant O'Neal—pretty good man. I'll have Paul—Paul Rubenstein."

"Yeah," Gundersen smiled. Rourke began tying his left boot. "But you'll also have Cole and three of his men. He wants to kill you as soon as you get to the missiles, maybe

before then. Everybody talks about you as a smart man—seems like it'd be kinda dumb for you to have missed that."

"I haven't missed it," Rourke smiled, looking up, then looking back to his boots. He stuffed the ends of the bootlaces into the tops of his boots, then stood up.

Rourke walked back to the bunk, taking a clean blue chambray shirt from where he'd set it earlier, pulling it on. "Rubenstein and Major Tiemerovna—been talking with both of them a lot. Seems like there's nobody better with a gun or knife or in any kinda fight than you—"

"They exaggerate a lot," Rourke told him.

"Understand the three of you fought a lot as a team."

"We've done a few things," Rourke nodded.

"She's going. So, you walk a little slower, put on a few less miles per day. The warheads have waited this long, they can wait a little longer. She's got every reason in the world to kill Cole—can't say I blame her. What started it between them?"

"He told her he was going to put her under arrest. She told him to go to hell.

He went to slap her—she flipped him. She could take on half your crew at once.

She's one of the best martial arts people I've ever seen. Most women who are good in martial arts couldn't compete with a man nearly as good—the strength factor. She's the exception. She can move faster, think faster—"

"And then one of Cole's men shot her?"

"Yeah," Rourke said through his teeth.

"I gave her her guns back—you don't want her to go, you try takin' 'em away from her. Funny thing," and Gundersen looked down at the floor a moment, then Rourke watched his eyes as he looked up. "That Captain Cole—got orders signed by President Chambers, and she's admittedly a KGB agent. We're at war with Russia.

Thing that's funny—asked myself why I trust her more than him."

"One of his men," Rourke began, his voice low. He

stood up, stuffing his shirt into his pants, then closing his pants and his belt. "Before he died." Rourke picked up the double Alessi rig, the holsters empty. He raised his arms, letting the shoulder holsters fall into place. He picked up one of the Detonics pistols, working the slide, chambering the top round off the magazine. Slowly, carefully, he lowered the hammer, beginning to insert the gun in the holster under his left armpit. "One of his men told me before he died—Cole isn't who he says he is, whatever the hell that means."