He pointed over his shoulder. “There you have millions of square miles of land that may never support mammalian life again.”
Ben shook his head. “More and more for Bottger to answer for. The man must be a maniac to unleash something like that, which he must know can’t be controlled, on this land.”
Chase shrugged. “What does he care? The only inhabitants are black people, and we know how he feels about anyone who isn’t up to his elitist standards.”
Ben got on the intercom and told the captain he could resume his previous altitude. Then he turned to Corrie. “Bump Michaels and make sure his scout planes have checked out our landing sites just south of the Angolan desert, and that there is no sign of the anthrax infection there.”
“Sure thing, Boss. But why worry? We’ve all been inoculated.”
Doctor Chase waggled his finger at her. “Corrie, my dear. One must never assume that what killed all those people and animals down there is the same strain we’ve been vaccinated against.” He shook his head. “I, for one, sure wouldn’t want to take it on faith that’s the same bug Bottger used in Cameroon, not without running a lot of tests first. In fact, given a choice, I wouldn’t set foot in Angola unless I was wearing a Racal biohazard suit.”
Corrie nodded. “In that case, neither would I, Doc Lamar.”
She bent over her radio, shielding the mouthpiece with her hands to try to block out some of the noise from the four big engines of the C130 as she spoke to Michaels.
Chase turned to Ben. “Any word of Cooper or Jersey yet?”
Ben’s lips were pressed tight. “No, but I don’t expect to hear for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours, at least.”
Chase nodded. “I feel sure they’re all right, Ben. Jersey wouldn’t let anything happen to Cooper, nor he her. For two people who fight all the time, there is a real deep affection between them.”
Ben lips curved in a slight smile. “I’d give anything I own to hear them going at each other again. I miss it.”
Looking at his watch, Ben said, “OK, team. We’ve got another four hours of flying time, so break open your rations and try to get some food and water down. We may not have much time to eat and drink after we unload.”
Anna looked at him. “Why? Are you expecting trouble?”
“We’re gonna be close to the border of Namibia, and I have a sneaking suspicion that’s where Bottger is going to draw a line in the sand. He can’t pull his troops much farther back and still keep us out of flying range of his base in South Africa.”
“So you feel that the action is going to heat up as soon as we near the border?”
He nodded. “If not before. Remember, we’re not exactly dealing with a man who has both oars in the water. It’s hard to predict how an insane man will react. But it’s certainly what I’d do if I were in his situation.”
Anna lay back on the bench. “In that case, I’m going to try and get some shut-eye. I don’t want to miss any of the action later.”
Chase pointed a finger at her. “First, young lady, do as Ben says and put some protein and fluids into your system. Remember, here in the tropics you can become dehydrated very rapidly, and you can’t very well fight if you’re suffering from heat exhaustion.”
Anna gave him a mock salute. “Yes sir, Doctor.” Then she grinned and popped open a MRE packet. “Talk about false advertising,” she said, reading the label. “This says Meals Ready to Eat—Pork and Beans.”
She turned up her nose. “I doubt if there’s enough pork in this package to register on a microscope.”
Beth held up her packet. “I think MRE stands for Monkey Rations, Extraordinare.”
Mike Post, getting into the spirit of the game, showed his bag of spaghetti and meatballs, saying, “Mine is Morgue Remains, Entrails.”
Ben shook his head, laughing. “Okay, gang, enough is enough. When they said an army travels on its stomach, they definitely weren’t referring to MREs. Just eat ’em and shut up about it.”
It was just under three hours later, thanks to favorable tailwinds, when the big birds landed in southern Angola, just beyond a large expanse of sand dunes and desert scrubland. They hadn’t seen any bodies for over a hundred miles, so Doctor Chase said he thought it was safe to put down.
As the C130s were being unloaded of men and materiel, Ben met with John Michaels to discuss their plan of action. They went into the CP tent and spread a map of Africa on a table, then bent over it together.
“John, I think we should just mount the troops in an offensive line and drive straight south, curving a little to the west toward the area around Johannesburg and Pretoria. If Bottger has a command post in South Africa it’ll probably be in one of those two areas.”
Michaels nodded. “I agree. I’ve heard from Ike and the 502, and he’s moving south fast, just inside Zambia near the Angolan border. The only resistance he’s faced so far are renegades and punk gangs, no real army or organized forces at all.”
Ben looked up. “Did you warn him to stay out of Angola?”
“Yeah. He says there’re quite a few dead bodies in eastern Zambia too, probably due to crosswind contamination of some of the anthrax bacteria from Angola to the east.”
“Either that or sick animals traveling across the border before they die, and infecting others.”
Corrie stuck her head in the tent. “Excuse me, Boss. Colonel Marsh is on the horn, and wants to speak to you.”
Ben took the radio and said, “Hey, Colonel. How are things going for you and the strike force?”
“Pretty well, General. We’ve totally destroyed General Mabota and his so-called army. They tried to take us as we crossed the Zambezi, just like you and I discussed.”
“Did you suffer many casualties?”
“We lost an Abrams and an Apache.”
“Damn! We can’t afford to lose many of those.”
“Tell me about it! One of my men is now spending most of his time walking, since he can’t sit down after I chewed his ass off about it.”
Ben chuckled, feeling sorry for anyone who got on Marsh’s bad side. “OK, Colonel. I know you’ll be careful. Where are you now?”
“Just across the Zambezi, on the south side in northeastern Zimbabwe. We heard some strange stuff from a prisoner we interrogated yesterday. He said Bottger told Mabota’s men not to go across the river into Zambia after they killed us. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?”
“Yeah. Bottger bombed Angola with bacteriological warfare bombs. The bastard killed just about every living thing in Angola. Evidently, if Mabota had eliminated your battalion Bottger was going to follow up with an air strike against Zambia, and do the same thing there.”
“Jesus! There must he seven or eight million natives in Zambia, General.”
“Not to mention the wildlife in the rain forest. If he spreads much more anthrax around, he could upset the ecology of the entire world by essentially killing the rain forests here,” Ben answered. “I guess he didn’t dare try, since your air support was still intact. Guess he didn’t want to risk losing what few long range aircraft he has to you. You may have saved the world, Marsh.”
“Well, General, right now I’d settle for a shower, and some sleep.”
“You doing all right, Marsh? You need any reinforcements, or matèriel?”
“No thanks, General. Like I said, we haven’t lost that many troops, so I’ll keep pushing my men hard south through Zimbabwe. I hope I get to that son of a bitch Bottger before you do. I want to have a few words with him!”
Ben laughed again. “I sincerely hope for his sake he never gets to meet you, Marsh. But you be careful. I have a feeling Bottger’s going to make a stand soon, and that means you may be up against some of his New World troops in Zimbabwe, instead of the African troops you’ve faced so far.”
“We’ll kick their asses too, General.”
“Don’t underestimate his troops, Colonel. They won’t be near as easy as the Africans, and they’ll have air
support and maybe even heavy tanks and artillery, too.”
“Yes, sir. I’m not overconfident, but I know my men, and nobody—especially jerk off, self-styled Nazis—can stand against our troops. I guarantee it, General.”
“OK, Marsh. You take care, now. Our entire force is moving together in one large pincer movement, so try to keep in touch with Mike Post. He’s in charge of coordinating the movement of all the battalions so nobody gets their toes stepped on.”
“You got it, General. Marsh out.”
Ben handed the radio back to Corrie. “See if you can raise Cecil Jefferys, Corrie. I need to check with him and see what the situation is in SUSA.”
While Corrie made the connection, Ben and Michaels spent a few minutes discussing their upcoming tactics with the other brigade commanders who were fighting their way south toward Bottger’s command post, somewhere in South Africa.
After a few minutes she handed Ben the microphone. “President Jefferys is on the horn, General Ben.”
“Cecil, how are things going stateside?”
Jefferys’s voice sounded tired and stressed, as if he hadn’t been getting much sleep. “Not good, Ben. My Intelligence tells me a major coup is possible outside our borders.”
Ben nodded. “I warned you something like that was inevitable, Cece. There is just too much jealousy among the other states about The SUSA. They can’t stand our brand of freedom. It becomes like an infection, and if left alone will spread through their areas and undermine their leadership. Once people see how well true freedom and independence from government bureaucracy and interference work, they’re gonna want some for themselves.”
“Well, you were right, Ben. Some of that seems to be happening as we speak. There are reports of near riots in some of the cities of NUS and EUS, and of people revolting by not paying the high taxes and fees the governments there are imposing to pay for their welfare programs. Just as in the old USA, the number of people working to support those who elect to live on the dole is getting smaller and smaller, and taxes are getting higher and higher. The workers are getting fed up, and quite a few are migrating south to join us.”
“They won’t stand for that very long, Cece. Has your Intelligence picked up any indication of buildup of the armies of your neighbors?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t be surprised to come under attack within the next few months. What have you found out over there?”
“There is evidence some of the people in America are supporting Bottger with mercenaries and materiel.” Ben gave a low chuckle. “I guess they want us tied up over here so we can’t be of any assistance to you if they decide to confront you head on.”
Ben could hear Jefferys sigh over the radio. “Well, try to wrap it up as soon as you can and get back here, Ben. I have a feeling the kettle is going to boil over sooner rather than later.”
“You take care, Cece. Remember, the easiest way to kill a snake is to cut off its head. Keep your security tight against assassination attempts.”
“Will do, Ben. See you soon, I hope.”
“Raines out,” Ben said and handed the radio back to Corrie. He spoke to Michaels. “John, let’s mount up and get going. You heard Cece. We need to finish Bottger and go back home as soon as we can.”
FIFTEEN
Jersey lay next to Cooper, her arms wrapped around his shivering, sweating body. She had treated the wound on his left shoulder as well as she could, boiling river water to wash it and sprinkling antiseptic powder on it from their small first aid kits.
It hadn’t helped. His entire left shoulder and arm were swollen and inflamed with infection now, and pus was forming in the hole in his shoulder.
Last night he had started having chills and high fever, so she took his clothes off once again and lay next to him, trying to keep him warm in the chilly night air.
He mumbled and moaned in his sleep, almost delirious at times, rambling on in a disjointed speech about her and the other team members. At one point he rolled over and began to try to kiss her, his arms around her, his body reacting with evident lust.
Ordinarily, she would have decked him, but from his words it was obvious he was incoherent, thinking her someone from his past. She gently disengaged his hand from her breast and made him roll back over, speaking softly to him, trying to soothe him back to sleep.
As they lay there she began to have real doubts they would make it back to the team. By her reckoning they still had almost ten klicks, about eight miles, to go to reach the Congo River, then no telling how far from the coast they had wandered.
When morning came Cooper’s fever finally broke, and he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Jersey gently untangled herself, covered him with his clothes, and went searching for food. In case there were hostiles in the area she left her rifle and took only her K-Bar combat knife, not wanting to make any sounds which might give away their position.
Next to a small water hole she found a family of feral hogs wallowing in the mud. She managed to catch and kill one of the smaller pigs. She took it back to their camp, built a fire, and soon she and Cooper were eating roast pork on a stick.
He sliced a generous hunk off the steaming meat, and as he gnawed on it, looked at Jersey. “I was pretty bad last night, huh?”
She smirked. “No more incoherent than you always are, Coop. Hell, most of the time you talk nonsense, even when you’re not sick.”
He looked sheepish. “Uh . . . did I say anything . . . incriminating?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, is there something I should know? Some deep, dark secret you’re afraid you might have blabbed about in your delirium?”
He smiled, “Yeah, I’m a sissy boy. I don’t like girls.”
Jersey, thinking of the night before and his naked body, blushed scarlet red and quickly looked down at her meat.
Cooper caught the look and became worried. “Uh-oh. What’s that mean?”
“What?”
“That look. I saw you blush. What’s going on? Did I say something last night?”
She shook her head. “It’s not what you said, it’s what you did. While I was lying there, trying to keep you warm and stop your shivering, you . . . uh . . . you made it quite obvious that you do like girls.”
He turned pale, then he blushed as red as her. “Oh no. I didn’t—”
She looked up quickly, a disgusted expression on her face. “Of course not. You were the one who was delusional. I wasn’t, so that couldn’t happen.”
He looked relieved. “Thank God.”
She smirked, “But there was something said about a lady, if I may use the term loosely, named Candy, I believe.”
“Oh shit. I didn’t . . . go into any details did I?”
Jersey went back to eating her meat, “No, not much. Just something about whipped cream and strawberries, and putting them in non-traditional places.”
Cooper blushed again and looked away. “Uh, Jersey, I was out of my mind. You got to promise me not to mention this to the team when we get back.”
“I’ll see,” she said, looking smug. “It depends on you, Coop. If you treat me with the proper respect—”
“Forget it, it’s not worth that.” He stuck out his lower lip in a pout and went back to gnawing on his pork. “Just tell the whole world, see if I care.”
Before she could reply they heard a branch snap fifty yards off to their right, and a flock of parrots flew screaming from a nearby tree.
Jersey and Cooper froze. Then both slowly moved so that their weapons were within easy reach.
Cooper spoke low, still eating his pork. “I think we have company.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Now what are we going to do about it?”
“On three, I’ll grab the SAW and roll to my right into the brush. You take the M-16 and roll to my left. If we separate, there’s less chance they’ll get both of us.”
She took a quick look at his swollen arm, and the trickle of blood running down his skin.
“No dea
l. We’re not separating. You can’t handle the SAW, not with your shoulder like that. When we get behind cover, give it to me and you take the 16.”
“No—”
Her voice became firm. “Don’t argue with me, Coop.”
After a moment, he nodded, reluctantly.
Jersey glanced right and left, then whispered, “Now, one . . . two . . . three!”
On her command they dove into the heavy brush next to their camp, grabbing their weapons as they rolled to the side.
Cooper grunted in pain as he fell on his wounded arm, dragging the heavy SAW with him.
As they scrambled behind a thick tree their campsite erupted with machine gun fire. Bullets sprayed the fire and the places where they had been sitting, sending showers of sparks and flames in the air.
Jersey handed Cooper the M-16 and picked up the SAW, straining under its weight. In one quick motion she jacked the ejector lever back, stuck the barrel around the tree trunk, and pulled the trigger.
The gun exploded in her hands, rocking her back on her haunches, spraying molten lead into the area where the shots had come from earlier.
Two men screamed and fell from the bushes, bodies riddled with bullets, blood pumping to soak into the humus and soil of the jungle.
Firing one-handed, Cooper began to pepper the adjacent bushes and trees with bullets, sweat running down his face as the CAR kicked back against his shoulder and caused blood to begin to ooze from his left arm.
Another scream from the distance, and a black man ran from cover, firing his AK47 from the hip, shouting and yelling in some dialect neither Cooper nor Jersey could understand.
Jersey took aim and cut him almost in two with a burst from the SAW, blowing him backward out of sight among the bushes.
Triumph in the Ashes Page 11