"Don't give me 'what difference,"' Bolan growled. "Just talk."
The man shrugged. "Well, they're probably pretty freaked out right now."
"Why?"
"Simple. This whole system, this whole...scenario, is based upon the concept that what people are doing down here is surviving a nuclear war. The place was built to keep out radiation and to be self-sufficient for a long time. But it wasn't built..."
"To defend itself against ground forces," Bolan finished.
"Right."
"That's what I thought." Bolan began to pace, his mind working furiously. "When we came in, I saw no real defenses except the SAM site."
"Right. Death from the air was a fear, but the entire point of my scenario was that ground forces would never be a problem."
"This place is a hell of a killing ground, too. Once in here, you've got nowhere to fall back to."
"That's why the scenario was so centered," Robbie replied. "Once someone breaches the elevator shaft, you're done for. They can come right down the pulley ropes if they want to, and the force here, just right for the scenario, is far too small to defend itself well against outside aggression."
"That's why they haven't killed us yet," Bolan said, and a plan was forming in his mind. "They're going to want exact information on troop strengths and weapons so they'll know what they're up against."
"Well, what are they waiting for?" Julie asked.
"The computer," Robbie answered. "They've got a real problem with that. They don't want to purge the program because it provides necessary control for the secondary stages of the laser operation, the target-spotting after the first stage. But they don't want it to fall into our hands, either. My guess is that they're rigging charges on the computer so they can blow it if they need to and the satellites will work on automatic timing."
"And remember," Ito said, "we still don't have the password even if we could save the computer."
"One thing at a time," Bolan advised. "The first thing we've got to do is get out of here."
"Impossible," Robbie said.
Bolan swung around, fire in his eyes. He'd had enough. "No!" he shouted. "Now you're going to hear my scenario, and it's real simple: we're not going to sit here and let those bastards destroy the world."
Julie took a step forward, her face set hard. "What do you want us to do?"
"Just listen to me," Bolan said, angered, so fired up that he felt he could tear through the rocks with his bare hands.
"Commitment is the key to the fighting man... commitment to action. The world is full of people trained, as you were, to behave in a civilized manner toward others of your kind. It's what makes you stop, hesitate before you give yourself over to hurting someone. It's what enables lone gunmen to commit mass murder with no one to stop them. It's what allows terrorism free rein in many societies. It's what holds civilization together. You have to forget about that. Every person in this installation is prepared to end civilization as we know it.
"They must be killed — immediately and without mercy, in order for life to continue. You must understand, there can be no hesitation, no human feelings attached to your actions.
"Very soon some men are going to come for us, and they'll kill us. We'll have to take the initiative and kill them. It's our only hope."
"But how can we do it?" Julie asked. "We're hurt...and they have the guns."
"And if you get to them quick enough," Bolan said, "they're your guns, your advantage. They won't be expecting anything because they've got everything going for them. If we move together as a unit, we have an excellent chance of taking them."
He walked over to Julie and positioned her hand out in front of her like a gun. "You know what I'm going to do," he said, moving five feet away. "I'm going to try and take that gun away. When I go for it, you yell pow! It's a simple as that."
"Okay. I'm ready."
He lunged.
"Pow!" she said, and he'd already sided her hand, the shot from the imaginary gun drilling into the wall.
"And follow through." Bolan brought an elbow up to her face, stopping just before smashing into her nose. "Commitment to action. When they come through that door, on my signal, we all go for them at once, for the closest one to us. They won't have a lot of men to spare for us. They're trying to organize their defenses."
"B-Bolan," Largent called weakly from the bunk. "I... think I can h-help you."
"How?" Bolan asked.
"M-move me over near the...door. I'll...yell to get...attention...."
"Okay. When they turn to the sound, we take them."
"But he's hurt so bad," Julie objected.
"It won't matter in a few minutes," Bolan said with intensity. "They are taking us out to kill us. All of us. Remember...commitment to action. We have to take them first. We can have them before they even know it. These aren't seasoned troops. We can take them. We will take them."
All at once warning horns began to blare, and the lights in the hallway started to flash.
"The convoy," Bolan said. "It's started."
Chapter Twenty-Five
"They'll be coming for us any minute," Bolan said, watching the flashing lights play on the grim faces of his companions. "When the time comes, do whatever it takes. Go for eyes...go for the nose. With enough force the palm of the hand shoved straight up against the nose can jam the cartilage right into the brain. Do what you must to survive, then get to the computer and somehow secure it. There's a cart station just down the hall. Use the carts. This is our only chance... the world's only chance. It all comes down to us, right here, right now."
He looked at Robbie. "Can I depend on you?"
"The logic is irrefutable. I'm with you."
"Bob?"
Ito nodded grimly, his eyes dark pools, his jaw muscles tensed, the pain in his arm consigned to the back of his brain.
Bolan looked at Julie, but didn't ask for support. Her face was set in rock-solid determination. Her fate, should they fail, was perhaps worse than the death that awaited the others.
"Robbie," Bolan said. "Help me with Oscar."
They helped the broken man to his feet. "We're depending on you," Bolan said as they moved him into the shadows near the bars.
"C-count on it," the man rasped, groaning loudly as they helped him to the floor.
Bolan moved back to the others. "We will succeed. Bob, your arm's screwed, but a knee to the groin is still the best stopper around. Those with watches, move them to your knuckles or palm for a fist load. Use any advantage."
"I hear something," Ito said. "Carts."
"They're coming. This will happen fast."
He turned to Julie, took her in his arms, their eyes meeting in the flashing darkness. "Julie, I…"
"Shh," she murmured, putting fingertips to his lips.
Two carts skidded to a stop outside the cell, Reilly jumping out of his just as soon as it stopped. He walked up to the bars, waiting for the man with the key.
"Well, here we all are," he said. "Isn't this cozy?"
Bolan gazed surreptitiously at the others. They were staring, trying to maintain the reality he had created for them. They were, at least for the moment, warriors.
The E-3 with the key unlocked the sliding bars.
"We don't have any time," Reilly announced. "I need troop strengths and ordnance counts quickly. We're going to take a little ride, and you're going to tell me the truth." He held up the knife. He smiled. "I'll start with your eyes."
The door slid open, Bolan tensing, wanting at least one of the airmen plus Reilly. The men lined up just outside the bars, their weapons held loosely at the ready.
Reilly swept his arm toward the carts in a broad gesture. "All aboard," he called in a conductor's voice.
The captives moved out in a line, Bolan last, positioning himself for a shot at Reilly. They were all close, within two feet of their captors. The tension was almost at the breaking point.
"Aaahh!" Oscar groaned loudly, just enough to make all heads t
urn, just for a second, in his direction.
The prisoners jumped.
It happened in flashes. Bolan came around with an incredible right, bone cracking on Reilly's jaw as he solidly connected, grabbed his harness and ripped it from the man as he fell. He completed the gesture, swinging out with the harness to smash the guard beside Reilly full in the face, the AutoMag, still holstered, snapping the man's head nearly around in a circle.
Ito had used his body to push his man back against a cart, then came up with his knee, catching the man's groin between his knee and the metal side of the cart. Robbie struggled with his man for the automatic.
Julie had pushed her airman's gun aside and jumped him, her legs wrapping around his waist as her Fingernails clawed viciously at his face.
Bolan ran his man up against the bars, smashing his head hard, cracking his skull. He swung around to see Reilly struggling to his feet and staggering toward one of the carts. He was about to pursue him, when he saw that Julie's man had dislodged her and dropped her to the floor, his face streaming blood as he brought up the M-16 to finish her.
Bolan jumped for the airman, his flying tackle driving the guy backward into the bed of the cart. His back broke with a resounding crack.
Without a word, Bolan pulled the man's body off the cart and jumped into the driver's seat to go after Reilly, who'd taken advantage of the warrior's distraction to flee down the hall in the other cart.
Bolan hit reverse. His cart bounced over a body, then picked up speed. Reilly was going for the computer.
The man had a fifty-foot head start on Bolan. The vehicle had raced backward until it reached the cart station, where Reilly pulled a three-point turn and continued on.
Bolan pulled the same maneuver, both of them now charging full tilt toward the main chamber.
Reilly, still well ahead, screeched right as the corridor branched. Bolan gained the juncture within seconds, taking the turn too fast. He slid into the wall and bounced hard back on the track on two wheels, then jolted back to all four.
He put his foot to the floor. As both carts screamed through the hall, Bolan slipped the harness back on, then nearly lost everything on the next turn.
Smoke trickled through the corridor as soldiers ran in both directions. In the next hallway the smoke was thicker. Bolan figured that the attacking force aboveground was taking the shafts, covering their entry with smoke and patterned fire. He could hear explosions rumbling in the distance.
Suddenly the hallway widened to a huge open chamber, and the warrior could see the glassed-in booth across the room. Thick smoke poured through the elevator opening, followed by occasional explosions, making it impossible for Cronin's men to defend the shaft or get close to it. They were setting up defensive positions behind hastily erected barricades of office furniture and tables a good fifty feet from the shaft, giving the advantage to the intruders.
Reilly was already out of his cart and running for the door of the booth. Bolan sped toward him, pulling Big Thunder from its webbing as he closed in. But Reilly pulled a MAC-10 from a sling under his suit coat, sent a hail of stingers at Bolan.
The Executioner jumped from the speeding cart as 9 mm parabellums tore the front fender to shreds. He hit the ground hard, not ten feet from Reilly, and came up firing. A bullet ripped through the traitor's chest and knocked him backward.
Reilly reached for the door and squeezed through the opening, then through another. Bolan jumped to his feet in pursuit.
Jets of air hit Bolan as he erupted through the next door to find Reilly, bleeding profusely, trying to get to the C-4 charges that were stuck conspicuously to the side of a computer.
Bolan launched himself at the man, and he hit hard, both of them grunting as Reilly fell away from the machine. The charge ripped off in his hand and tumbled with him. Bolan heard the scream and rolled away, covering his head as the plastique went off beneath Reilly. The whole booth rocked violently with the force of the explosion.
The body of Mark Reilly had taken the brunt of the explosion. What was left of him was streaked in red on the walls and splattered all over the windows. A four-foot hole gaped in the floor. Bolan turned to the computer. It was still intact, still operational.
A huge explosion shook the booth. Bolan turned to see the elevator shaft one hundred feet away blown to shreds. The invading troops were swarming into the complex, using furniture they had dropped from the levels above as their cover.
Then he saw Julie, Robbie and Bob pull up.
He charged to the door. "Come on! Hurry!"
She raced across the smooth concrete floor, while a full-scale battle went on within the chamber, and skidded to a halt in front of the booth, all of them hurrying out.
"Bolan!" Robbie yelled. "I've got an idea about the password…"
He was cut off, a line of M-16 fire tearing through his torso to throw him violently against the outside of the booth.
Bolan had a second to look up and see Givan, Bartello and Cronin bearing down on them in a cart.
Julie and Ito dived behind their vehicle; Bolan was caught out in the open in the glass booth. Givan's face was frozen into a grin as he opened fire. The bullets hit the window, deep gouges of frosty white splintering across the surface. But the thick glass didn't break.
Julie came up firing an M-16 as Bolan darted around the doorframe, Big Thunder booming in his hand.
As the cart skidded by for another pass, he held it in his sight and squeezed once. Bartello grabbed at his throat and tumbled out of the vehicle. Cronin and Givan dived out as the cart veered, then rolled violently across the smooth floor.
"Take them alive!" Bolan yelled, as Givan, shaken up, crawled across the floor, blood dripping from his face. "We still need that password!"
Cronin had rolled to safety behind the wreck of Bolan's cart and was trying to make his way around the edge to come up on Julie's unprotected flank.
Just then Bolan saw Oscar Largent. Barely alive, he was behind the wheel of the cart on full throttle, bearing down on Cronin from across the chamber.
As Cronin stood to draw down on Julie, Largent rammed him, spinning him away. Cronin's M-16 flew across the floor.
Julie jumped up and ran for Givan, who was still dazed.
Largent stopped the cart and eased himself out, falling atop Cronin, who was broken and bloody, his hand still clawing for the .45 strapped to his side.
The two men fought for the gun, Largent winning. He straddled Cronin and jammed the barrel of the .45 into his mouth.
"P-password," he demanded, his body weaving.
Cronin's eyes were glazed, glassy nonhuman orbs staring up at Largent.
"Password!" Largent shouted. Cronin simply jerked his head up, pushing on the barrel. The gun went off by reflex and splattered his face all over the floor.
Julie had reached Givan, the toe of her foot kicking him over onto his back. Her brain was cold fire, her mission all encompassing.
Givan shook his head, a smile trying to find its way to his lips. "Should have got you on that Mississippi road."
"Keep your hands away from your body," she ordered.
"Hey...no problem," he said, wiping blood off his face and struggling to his knees. "I know when I'm licked. I don't want to die any more than the next fella."
"What's the password?" she demanded.
"I don't know."
"Password," she repeated.
"My orders always came down from Leland's office," he said. "Honest to God, I don't know the password."
"Then this is for Harry," she said coldly, "and God knows how many others."
She pulled the trigger, tearing out the man's chest, his body deadweight before it hit the ground. For crimes against humanity, she had executed him. She felt no excitement or remorse. She had simply done a necessary job.
The defending troops had been broken by the convoy personnel and were being chased through the building. Bolan stood looking around at the death that littered the area. His gaze stopped on
Robbie.
Bob Ito was bent over the man, and it looked as if he were still alive. Bolan hurried to him. Ito was holding Robbie's head up, while blood streamed from the injured man's nose and mouth.
"Let me," Bolan said, taking Robbie's head. "You go in and fire up the computer. Go as far as you can."
"Right."
As Ito disappeared into the chamber, Bolan looked down at the maker of realities who had dreamed up this entire nightmare.
"I'm dead," he said to Bolan.
The big man nodded. "Before, you..."
"Yes-s-s," Robbie hissed. "Listen to me, it's a good story." The man coughed, his body nearly rising from the floor with the waves of pain. "Gift of God," he said. "Think about it as an acronym... the first letters... GOG. GOG has no modern synonyms." He smiled. "It had to stand alone."
He stopped speaking again. Bolan waited for him to continue. But that was it. There were no more words, no more stories.
He laid Hampton down and stood to walk into the booth. He looked at his watch. Only ten more minutes until project start-up.
"Seasonal," he said. "Seasonal GOG."
"I need the password now," Ito said, his hand flying across the computer keyboard. "I must have..."
"Seasonal...seasons..."
"What?" Julie said.
"Seasons," Bolan repeated. "Summer, autumn, winter, spring, March, April, May... May!"
"What?"
"May-GOG."
"Magog!" Julie said. "From the Bible. The land of Gog!"
Bolan pointed to Ito. "Try it."
"But..."
"Do it now!"
The man shrugged, his hand working the keys. He looked up, his eyes wide in astonishment. "I'm in!" he yelled. "I'm in! I'm trying the self-destruct. Watch those radar screens."
Bolan looked to a radar bay set cater-corner to the computer. There were four screens, one for each of the missiles, the fourth dead because of the Challenger flight.
A blip moved across each of the screens.
"Here we go," Ito said, a shaking Finger reaching out to push Enter.
For a few seconds there was nothing, then one of the blips expanded on the screen, then disappeared, followed quickly by the other two.
Fire in the Sky Page 32