39 Five

“What’s going to happen to those residents back there?” Jersey asked, as Cooper pulled into place in the column.

“I don’t know, Jersey. The land around the city isn’t worth a damn for farming. But the country did have a hell of a fishing industry before the Great War. You saw the fishing fleet, rusting and rotting dockside. They’re either going to have to cope, adapt, or move.”

“Or starve,” Cooper added.

“That is certainly an option for those who decide to stay,” Ben agreed.

“Not much demand for exotic carpets in the world right now,” Beth said.

“We didn’t get to do much sightseeing,” Cooper said.

“Personally, I didn’t want to,” Anna spoke up. “And neidier did very many of the troops I spoke widi.”

“You didn’t do much wandering around either, boss,” Jersey stated.

“No, I didn’t,” Ben admitted. “I guess I didn’t care to view what I consider to be a hopeless situation. Not any more than I had to, that is.”

“What’s the next major city?” Cooper asked, turning his head and directing the question at Beth.

“Rabat. Ribat al-Fath, originally. It used to be some

40

sort of religious retreat, according to this visitor’s guide.”

“Big city?” Corrie asked.

“Over half a million before the Great War.”

“Wonder how many now?” Anna asked.

“Maybe a hundred thousand,” Ben answered her. “And flyovers report the population is in bad shape. Then it’s Casablanca.”

“I saw that movie one time back at Base Camp One,” Anna said. “I enjoyed it.”

“I think everybody loves that movie, Anna,” Ben told her.

Beth opened a map. “Then we go to Safi and then cut across to Marrakech. Right, boss?”

“That’s the way I’ve got it figured, Beth. Then we’ll backtrack and see what’s happening in Essaouira and then down to Agadir. We’ll follow the coastline highway all the way down to Laayoune and then cut across the Western Sahara to Bir Meghrein, in Mauritania.”

“Faraway places with strange-sounding names,” Jersey said in a quiet voice.

“That’s a line from an old song, Jersey,” Ben smiled the reply. “Hadn’t thought of it in years. But you’re right.”

“They’re not going to make it, are they, boss?” Corrie asked. “The people, I mean.”

“The strong will. The weak will die. If they’re left alone, and they probably will be, the strong will soon revert back to many of the old ways. They lived for hundreds of years in that fashion. The younger, smarter ones will leave, go to Europe or America.” Ben waved a hand. “But hell, I could be way off base in my thinking.”

“Scouts are reporting there’s been one hell of a slaughter in the towns and villages along the way to Rabat,” Corrie said abruptly. “The gangs of punks and

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thugs and insurgents and what have you took the women and young girls and then killed everybody in sight before pulling out. Scouts think it started late yesterday. It’s pretty grim along the way. The carrion birds are having a feast.”

“We’ve all seen it before,” Ben said quietly. “I’ve been expecting it. Corrie, get the flatbeds with the earth moving equipment up here. We’re going to have to scoop out some mass graves.”

“Again,” Cooper said.

“Yes. And I’m afraid it won’t be the last time we do it.”

Asilah and Larache had been spared the slaughter, but the next town down the coast, Ksar el Kebir, took the full force of the outlaws’ savagery.

“The Great Fortress,” Ben said, speaking through the mic in his gas mask. Ben and team stood just inside the first houses and shops of the old city. “That’s what this city used to be called.”

“Didn’t help them much,” Anna said.

Bodies lay everywhere in the twisted and grotesque final throes of death. Black carrion birds were busy ripping out dead flesh and pulling out yards of intestines. Huge bloated flies hummed all around the Rebels.

“The fleeing gangs couldn’t have killed everyone,” Ben said. “Bump the Scouts and find out where the survivors are.”

“They’re hiding in little pockets all over the city,” Corrie informed him. “They want us to move on and leave them alone.”

Ben didn’t change expressions. “Do they want us to bury the dead before we go?”

Dr. Chase had driven up from his position in the center of the column and was looking strangely at Ben.

“They want us to go,” Corrie repeated.

“Mount up,” Ben said. “Let’s go.”

42

“Ben …” Chase said.

“Mount up!” Ben ordered. “I’m not going to nursemaid these people. If they don’t want our help, that’s fine with me.”

“Not everyone feels that way, General,” the voice came from behind Ben.

Ben turned around. A man and a woman stood looking at him. A nun and a priest.

“The survivors are frightened,” the nun said. “They don’t know who you are. They’ve just been through a terrible ordeal.”

“Won’t you stay and help us, General?” the priest asked.

“Get these people some protective gear,” Ben ordered. “Have your doctors check them out and bring them up to date on everything, Lamar. We’ll start burying the bodies.”

Father Joseph and Sister Mary had been checked out and brought up to date on their shots. They both had taken hot baths and were dressed in clean clothes when they met with Ben about two hours later. The sounds of earth-moving equipment gouging out pits in the ground grumbled throughout the edge of the city. Rebels were working in the city, gathering up the bodies and trucking them to the mass grave sites. The chaplains that traveled with each battalion were offering up prayers for the dead.

“You’re Americans, aren’t you?” Ben asked, waving the man and woman to chairs in the makeshift CP.

“Yes. We’ve been here since before the Great War,” the priest replied.

“Are there more Americans in this area?” “Several hundred, at least. At last count.” “You’re both educated people,” Ben said. “There

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must be shortwave equipment in this city. Why didn’t you start transmitting, sending out trouble calls. Somebody would have rescued you. We would have if we’d received a signal.”

“This is where our work is,” the sister replied. “We have people who depend on us.”

“If there are Americans here, why didn’t they make an appearance in Tangiers?”

“They’re mostly concentrated in Casablanca,” the priest said. “About two dozen or so are in this immediate area.”

“Religious people?”

“Only a few. Most are business men and women who were trapped here when the Great War erupted around the world. During the past couple of years, nearly a hundred have fled the southern part of the continent, getting away from Bruno Bottger and his Nazis.”

“We assume that is why you’ve come to Africa,” the sister said. “To fight the Nazis?”

“That is correct, sister,” Ben replied. Ben looked at the priest and the nun. Both had told Dr. Chase they were in their mid-fifties, but time had not treated them well. Chase had told Ben the pair were not in good health. “And to do what we can for the people on the way down to the fight.”

“It’s a noble gesture, General,” the sister said. “God will surely reward you for your efforts.”

“For saving lives or for killing as many criminals and Nazis as I can?”

Both the priest and nun frowned, the priest opening his mouth to speak, then thinking better of it.

“Do you feel up to leading a patrol to where the Americans are hiding?”

“Oh, yes!” the sister said. “We can do that now.”

Ben motioned to a Rebel and die soldier led the pair

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away. Ben stood up and looked at Corrie. “This bunch should be a sight to see, Corrie.”

“What do you mean, boss?”

“Isolated for a decade and never made the first effort to communicate with the world outside of this area.”

“That does seem strange, doesn’t it?”

“Very. Hell, they could have thrown a bottle with a note in it into the ocean and it would have reached us years ago.” Ben walked to the open window and sniffed. “The stench of death is fading. Our people are working fast.” Ben didn’t ask what the tally of the dead was. He just knew it was high.

“I guess punks are the same all over the world,” Jersey said, walking into the room. “I’ve talked with some of the survivors. Their stories are pretty damn grim.”

“Any idea where they’ve taken the women and kids?”

“To sell to slavers,” Jersey said, a sour expression on her face. It’s a booming business.”

“History repeating itself, I suppose,” Ben said.

“Who are they selling the people to, boss?” Cooper asked.

“I don’t know, Coop. People of very low moral fiber, to be sure.” He glanced at Corrie. “Have there been any reports of our people being fired on here?”

“Negative, boss. The city is clear of any resistance. At least so far,” she added.

“I have a strong hunch the gangs have gone,” Ben mused aloud. “But they should have reached Casablanca by now and done their dirty work. Yet our flyovers show the city has not been touched. So where the hell did they go?”

“Maybe hidden along the highway setting up an ambush for us?” Cooper suggested.

Ben opened a map. “That would be an incredibly stupid move on their part. Yet,” he muttered, “you never know. You just never know …”