hundred

miles?”

“Yes, sir. And many of them large enough for a man to walk in.”

“More problems,” Ben said glumly.

“Yes, sir. There is no way Buddy and the others are going to be able to effectively seal off escape routes. They’ll be wasting their time and risking their lives unnecessarily.”

“We can’t let up on the pressure against the creepies, Dan. I think the only reason Khamsin hasn’t shelled us is because the Night People have been forced above ground. But we can’t go on pumping tear gas underground indefinitely.” Ben was thoughtful for a moment. He turned to Beth. “Have the crews stop pumping, Beth. Let’s get out of these damn masks for a time.” To Dan: “Let’s work out a plan to pump tear gas in a couple of times a day, at staggered intervals. Double the pump stations for more effective coverage. As long as we can keep the creepies guessing, they won’t reenter the tunnels. And move the pumps around to different locations every day.”

“Good idea, sir. I’ll get on it immediately.”

Dan wheeled about and took off at a run.

“You still want teams under the city, General?”

Beth asked.

“Yes. Make certain all teams have plans showing which manhole covers have not been welded closed.”

Ben took off his mask for a moment. The air was still bitter, but not unbearable.

“Katzman, sir,” Beth touched Ben’s arm.

Ben took the handset. “G.”

“My people have broken the Libyan’s code, General.

We can relax some; there won’t be any shelling from Khamsin.”

“That’s good news. I never did like artillery coming in on me.” He grinned.

“Butthatdoesn’tmeanwecan’tshell them, does it?”

Katzman laughed. “Damn sure doesn’t, General. You want me to give the orders?”

“Yes. Shell for a few minutes, then have the tanks shift positions. We can make things damned uncomfortable for the Hot Wind and his mini-farts.”

“Done, sir.” Katzman broke off.

“Get the boys and girls on scramble, Beth.”

She took off her backpack and changed frequencies. She would broadcast to Katzman, who would bounce the signal out to all locations. Beth handed the mike to Ben.

“All tank commanders on the west side with range capabilities commence shelling when ready. Let’s make it unpleasant for the Hot Fart. All other units continue search and destroy. Let’s kill as many crud as we can before the Libyan invades us.

Tunnel Rats move out as quickly as possible.

Good luck.”

Ben checked his Thompson. “Let’s go to work, people.”

Buddy and his team entered a strange and eerie and almost totally silent world under the city. They entered through the hole found by Dan’s Scouts. They passed the spot where the prisoners had been found, dead, and moved on into the dark unknown.

They found an elaborate system of lights throughout, leading one Rebel to comment, “They bled off the city’s power. These people have been down here for no telling how many years.”

“The filth is unbelievable,” Buddy said, scratching at a flea bite. “I am certainly glad Chase gave us booster shots. God alone knows what kind of diseases are leaping all around us.”

“Why didn’t it kill the creepies?”

“Probably grew immune to it after two or three generations.”

The teams placed charges as they went, some to be electronically detonated when they were once more above ground, but most of them booby traps. The charges were large enough to effectively seal off the tunnels, but not large enough to do any structural damage above ground.

They hoped.

They found communal living quarters, and the stench and filth was appalling; the stink rising above the sharp odor of tear gas.

And they found more bodies of naked and mutilated innocents.

“What do we do with them, Buddy?”

Buddy shook his head. “We’re too deep to carry them out. Let’s stack them close to the explosion points. The debris will cover them. I think that is about the best we can do.”

The team moved fardier and deeper under the city, finding a makeshift hospital where the creepies had treated their wounded-and then eaten those that died.

“Nice people,” Buddy said, disgust in his voice.

They moved on through the stinking dankness, seeing no creepies and planting their charges at what they felt would be stress points.

They followed a dozen or more tunnels leading away from the main tunnel; they all led to a rabbit hole up to the city, usually coming out in some deserted building or basement. At each tunnel offshoot they laid a charge.

Some of the offshoots led to gratings and ventilation openings on subway tubes; others led into sewer systems. It was very plain to Buddy and the others that the Night People had been around a long, long time.

The team lost all track of time in the gloom, broken only by the beams from their flashlights; batteries had to be replaced often. Finally, with only a few batteries left, Buddy started looking for a way out. They pushed open a manhole cover and were startled to find it was almost night, and they were at 172nd Street.

Buddy lifted his mike. “Tunnel Rat One to Eagle.”

“Eagle. Where the hell have you been, boy?”

“Exploring. Scramble, Eagle.”

On the scramble frequency, Buddy asked, “Do we have any supplies cached around One Seventy-second Street?”

“Ten-four, Rat. Amsterdam and One

Seventy-third. It’s an oudoor swimming pool.

Look around, you’ll find something to eat. Have you planted your charges?”

“Yes, sir. I believe they’ll be effective in closing off everything north of our location.”

“Other teams report good progress, but they’re on the

far end of the island. We’re going to start pumping in gas now, so clear out.”

“I’ll bump you when we’ve settled in for the night.”

“Ten-four, Rat. Job well done.”

Above ground, Buddy and his team could hear the booming of 155’s and 105’s as they pounded Khamsin’s position in New Jersey.

“When they hit us,” Buddy said, jerking his thumb toward New Jersey, “the fun is really going to begin.”

“Spookies,” a team member said softly.

“Downl”

The Rebels hit the sidewalk and belly-crawled behind a line of abandoned cars, many of them parked haphazardly on the sidewalk.

“I make it about twenty of them,” Buddy whispered.

“Question is, do we give away our position or let them pass?”

That question was answered for him as the creepies began angling across the street, heading straight for the Rebels’ position.

“Spread out and let them get closer,” Buddy ordered.

The five-person team of Rebels lay on the cold and still-patchy snow-covered sidewalk and waited. Diane lifted her Ml6 after receiving a minute nod from Buddy. She knew without being told she was to take the first four or five spookies to her left. Harold lifted his M14, set on full rock and roll; he would neutralize those creepies to his right.

“Now!” Buddy whispered, and pulled the trigger back, holding it.

The near-empty street hammered with the sounds of gunfire. The Night People, caught by surprise, for no Rebels were supposed to be in this area, went down like shattered bowling pins.

The Rebels were up and running toward the bloody scene before the sounds of gunfire had died away.

They swiftly and brutally finished the wounded and took their weapons and ammo belts, then were running toward the cache of supplies, slipping away into the night just as other creepies began popping out of their hiding places,

surprised looks on their hood-shrouded faces.

It was obvious that their kind had been ambushed; but where were the hated Rebels?

The bloody street lay silent before them. The Night People did not approach their dead comrades, not being in any hurry to join them in that long sleep.

Those few moments of hesitation and indecision gave Buddy and his team the time to reach their cache of supplies and settle in quietly.

Pete dug in the food packages and began handing out sealed packets of food.

“What is this stuff?” Judy asked, smelling the contents.

“Be thankful that it’s dark and we can’t see it,”

Buddy said, spooning some into his mouth and grimacing.

“Now if Chase and his people could only come up with a pill to momentarily kill the taste buds!”

The tanks spat out their lethal messages all through the cold night, sending out a few rounds and then shifting positions, confusing the gunners of the Hot Wind, preventing them from getting any accurate fix.

And through the night, Ben’s Rebels dug in deeper amid the buildings of the great city, cold in winter’s harsh grip. It gave them more time to fortify their positions; snipers moved up several stories and set up their silent, lethal positions, waiting.

And the Night People found many of their hidey-holes and escape tunnels. But they only used them once.

The first to enter were splattered all over the tunnel walls as the booby traps blew, not only killing those creepies who triggered them, but blocking the entrances and exits under tons of rubble. This was something the crawlers did not expect and were not prepared for.

It sent many of them screaming and running for the surface of the city. For generation after generation, the Night People had had almost complete control of the underground; it was their kingdom. Now, all that was changing. They were being forced upward.

And their food supply was running short.

They turned to eating their own dead and any Rebel dead they might find. But those were very few.

For the first time in anyone’s memory, the Night People began to sense that they might be defeated.

“Tell the tank crews to cease firing and to stand down,” Ben ordered.

All along the Hudson River, the thunder ceased and the cannon smoke faded.

The first gray fingers of dawn had been replaced with bright sunlight, slowly spreading over the great city, and bringing with it an unexpected but very welcome warming. The snow began to melt, and the Rebels could peel out of some of their layers of clothing.

“Spotters stay alert,” Ben told Beth. “And give me initial reports of damage

to Khamsin’s positions.”

“Spotters report several enemy tanks burning and several hundred dead along the waterfront.”

Beth relayed the reports as they came in.

“Khamsin can spare them,” Ben said grimly. “We can’t.”

“You want spotter planes up, sir?”

“No. We want to keep them as our ace in the hole for as long as possible. When they start across the river, we’ll bring in the Puffs. But only then.”

“General Ike on the horn, sir.”

“Go, Shark.”

“We sustained no hits during the night, Eagle.

Hawk reports the same. West has not been in contact as yet.”

“West here,” the mercenary’s voice crackled.

“All quiet in midtown. Too quiet for me.

Something’s in the works, I’m thinking.”

“I’m thinking the same thing. Khamsin’s too good a soldier to try to cross the river in daylight. So he’s probably leaving any strikes to the creepies. Our underground sensors have reported a lot of big booms down there. The creepies have found their tunnels and holes have been booby-trapped. It’s probably put mem in a state of panic. I’m hoping we’ll have a few hours’ respite before they can rally their people for any type of strike. This night is

probably going to be a real lulu, though.

Advise your people.”

“Hawk, here, Eagle.”

“Go, Cec.”

“Everything is too quiet. But I think I know why. I think the creepies are scared, now. For the first time. We’ve invaded their underground world and they don’t know what to do. We’ve cut off their rabbit holes and destroyed a lot of tunnels. They’re not geared to fighting above ground. But that doesn’t mean they won’t pull themselves together damn quick.”

“You’re probably right. We’ll use this time to dig in deeper. Hang tough, brother.”

“You, too, Ben.”

Ben turned to Beth. “Have you been in contact with Buddy?”

“Yes, sir. He and his team are back in the tunnels. Went back in at dawn. They know when we’re going to start pumping in gas and to get out at noon.”

Ben walked outside to squat down on the sidewalk. His personal escort and several of Dan’s Scouts went with him. This time, Dan was making sure the general did not slip off by himself.

Jerre was with the group, but she hung back, staying away from Ben. She felt his eyes on her and turned her head, meeting the steady gaze.

“What are you thinking, General?”

Ben’s jaws clenched, but that was the only sign of his temper. He had told her a hundred times since she walked back into his life to call him Ben.

But she would do that only when they were alone-something that Ben tried to avoid whenever possible.

“I’m thinking about destroying this city,” Ben said flatly.

All eyes turned toward him.

They stared at each other. Neither Ben nor Jerre would blink. “I thought you were opposed to that?” she finally said.

“I am. It would be only as a last resort, and only when

Khamsin and his men get on the island.”

“How would we get off?”

“I don’t know.”

She blinked. “Do keep me informed.”

Ben stood up. “You’ll know no earlier than when the rest of the troops are informed.” He walked away.

“One for the general,” Jersey muttered, and hurried to join him.

“The soap operas must have been fun,” Beth said, picking up and slinging her backpack radio. “I just remember them. But they couldn’t have been any more fun than this.”

“I never cared for them,” Jerre said tightly.

“How much time do we have?” Judy asked, her voice metallic through the built-in gas-mask speaker.

“What happened to your watch?” Buddy asked. “You had it last night.”

“I don’t know. When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t find it. But I’d swear I didn’t take it off my wrist.”

Buddy held up the patrol. The last time he’d checked they were at 164th Street, and that had not been long ago. “Those small footprints we saw this morning. The ones we dismissed as not being human but nature-made. Do you think … ?”

“They’d have to be very small kids, Buddy,” Pete said. “And where would they come from?”

“Runaways from the breeding farms, probably,”

Diane answered.

“How would they survive?” Harold asked. “The canned foods here in the city have lost any nutritional value. And there are no cats or dogs in this city.”

“Trapping rats,” Buddy replied. “Stealing from the gardens of those around the Central Park area.”

“Eating

rats!”

Diane was horrified.

“Very high in protein, so I’m told,” Buddy said.

“Gross!” Judy said.

“Let’s plant our charges and get the hell out of here,”

Buddy said, after thinking for a moment. “I want to go back and more closely inspect those tracks we found this morning.”

“And then?” Pete asked.

“We notify the general.”

They stayed in the tunnels, working their way back north beneath the city, in this strange, silent, extremely odious world that was once the kingdom of the Night P. They surfaced just as the pumps once more began pouring in the gas, seeing daylight at 169th Street, coming out through a hole in the lower part of a building.

They made their way cautiously up to 173rd, and entered into the area where they had slept the night before.

The tracks were still there, and looking around, they found more.

At first glance, they did not look like tracks, rather more like smudges on the concrete and floors.

Buddy got down on his hands and knees and slowly and carefully inspected the trails, finally finding what he’d been seeking: tiny pieces of cloth and thread.

He stood up. “Many of them have no shoes,” he announced. “They’re wrapping their feet in rags against the cold.”

“Dear God!” Diane muttered.

“Yes. Assuming that they have several layers on their feet, this one,” he pointed to a small track, “would be no more than three or four years old.”

He held out his hand to Pete. “Give me your radio.” He changed frequencies and lifted the handset. “Tunnel Rat to Eagle on scramble.”

“Give me a second to round him up,

Rat. He’s out on the street. I’ll patch you through.”

“Go, Rat,” Ben said.

Buddy brought him up to date. He could hear Ben’s sigh very clearly. “You’re going to need some help searching that area for the kids.”

“Send the hippie, Father.”

” ‘Thermopolis?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I think the children might come to someone like him before they’d come to us. Ask him if he’d dress as he did when he first joined us.”

“Ten-four, boy. They’ll be on their way in a few minutes.”

Emil Hite, the con artist who had become almost a fixture in Ben’s life over the years, had left Louisiana with his flock of followers to aid Ben in his New York fight. Along the way, they had run into a commune of hippies, headed by a man called Thermopolis. The hippies had agreed that it was better to join Ben and the Rebels than spend the rest of their lives running from the cannibalistic Night P. Slowly, and reluctantly,

Thermopolis had found himself liking Ben Raines, personally, if not entirely what he stood for.

“Of course, we’ll go,” Thermopolis told Ben. “And Buddy is right: the kids will probably come to us much quicker if we’re not dressed in uniforms.

I’ll take a few of my own people with me to aid in the search.”

“Take as many as you need.”

Dan walked to Ben’s side. “If there are children running wild in this city, General, that casts a very different light on the matter.”

“Doesn’t it, though?”

The city was strangely silent as the small convoy made its way to Buddy’s location. “They’ll hit us hard tonight,” the Rebel driver said. “We’ve got just about four and a half hours of daylight left.

We’ve got to be back in position by nightfall.

General’s orders, people.”

Thermopolis muttered under his breath and grimaced.

His wife, Rosebud, caught the look and laughed at him. Her husband managed a very thin smile.

Sort of like a razor blade’s edge.

“They lead off in that direction,” Buddy told him, pointing. “We have not tried to follow them.”

Thermopolis hesitated for a moment, then laid his M16 aside. Rosebud, Santo,

Wenceslaus, and the others in his group did the same.

“We’ll carry sidearms only,” he told them.

“We won’t appear so menacing to the children. Let’s go.”

They moved out cautiously, leaving the swimming-pool area and following the hard-to-spot footprints of the kids in the fast-disappearing spots of snow.

Thermopolis led the group, moving swiftly but warily. The footprints appeared again in an alley opening up on Audubon. Thermopolis waved the group down at the mouth of the alley and with them crouched behind him, studied the seemingly empty buildings across the street.

“The footprints lead straight into that building,”

Rosebud pointed out.

“Yes. But crossing that street is going to be dangerous. We might be watched by creepies right this minute.”

Rosebud gave him a look guaranteed to curl his toenails, which it came very close to doing.

Thermopolis knew it very well. “And those children over there are cold and hungry and frightened. Either you lead us over there, or I will.”

“Now, Rosebud.”

“Get out of the damn way!”

Thermopolis stood up. “Shall we go find the children, dear?”

“That’s the general idea … dear.”

Muttering under his breath, Thermopolis darted across the street, the others close behind him, and entered a building, noticing that the front door had been used recently. The imprint of a very small and very dirty hand was on the lock stile.

“My heart goes out to these children,” Swallow said, looking at her husband.

“My heart is thumping so hard I can hear it!”

Santo told her.

“Be quiet,” Thermopolis told them. “We have nothing to fear from small children.” I hope, he silently added. He moved toward a closed door and slowly pushed it open and stepped inside, noticing the cold ashes of a dead fire in one corner of the barren room.

Thermopolis paused as his eyes picked up on the skeleton of a rat. It had been picked clean.

After being cooked he hoped. He pointed it out to the others.

Rosebud shook her head in disgust and sorrow.

“We’ll take the children to raise as our own, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Thermopolis said dryly.

“That’s what I had in mind, too.”

His wife’s eyes spoke silent volumes, directed at him.

Overheard, on the second level, a small scurrying sound was heard.

“Too big for rats,” Wenceslaus said, looking at his old lady.

“You hope,” Zelotes told him.

Thermopolis led the way up the old stairs. Now the footprints were very clear in the dust. He pushed open the first door he came to.

A small girl, no more than six or seven, sat on the floor, looking at him. She also had a very large pistol pointing at him, the hammer cocked back. She held the pistol in both hands.

“Hello, dear.” Thermopolis smiled at her.

“I’ll blow your fuckin” head off!” she told him.

Buddy heard the approaching vehicles pull up and stop and was only mildly surprised to see his father stroll nonchalantly up to his position.

“You just will not stay in a secure zone, will you, Father?”

“Of course not. The troops would be

disappointed if I did. Thermopolis?”

“The last I saw of them they were entering that alley.”

Buddy pointed.

Ben squatted down and rolled a cigarette while his son looked on, a very disapproving look in his eyes. “I read a very good pamphlet about smoking, Father. Written by a man called Koop. Whoever he is, or was. You should cease the use of those things.”

“Right.” Ben licked the tube closed and fired up.

“Humor me. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“That, too, is a misnomer. I once read a report on dog training. It stated that…”

“Boy … to was Ben warned.

Buddy shut up and watched his father smoke his cigarette.

Ben scratched at the uncomfortable body armor under his shirt and waited.

The girl had lowered the hammer, but kept the muzzle pointed dead at Thermopolis.

“My name is Thermopolis.”

“That’s a stupid name,” the child told him.

Rosebud had counted a dozen kids in the room, none of them older than seven or eight, and all of them dressed in rags. None of them wore shoes; only dirty strips of cloth wrapped around their feet.

“Well, I suppose so … if you’re not used to hearing it,” Thermopolis conceded. “What’s your name?”

“Kate. Are you with the army that is fighting the human-eaters?”

“Yes.”

“Is the god, Ben Raines, really here in the city?”

Thermopolis started to tell the child that Ben Raines was not a god. He bit back the words.

“Did you send all that pukey-smelling stuff into the air?”

“I helped, yes.” He slowly squatted down on the dirty floor, facing the child. “You can put the gun away. I won’t harm you.”

“You say. But you might lie.”

“That’s true. But there comes a time when you have to trust somebody. I tell you what. . dis8And it hurt him to say it, but he knew that just the name carried a lot of weight. “dis . . I’ll take you to meet Ben Raines.”

“You lie!”

“No, child,” Thermopolis said gently. “I speak the truth.”

Santo’s walkie-talkie crackled. He

lifted the radio and spoke briefly, then looked at Thermopolis. “General Raines is coming over here.”

The kids stirred uneasily.

“Just take it easy,” Thermopolis told them.

“Pretty soon you’ll all have clean clothes and hot food and shoes for your feet. And you’ll be safe.”

“We’ll believe that when Ben Raines says it,”

Kate told him.

Boots sounded on the ground-level floor, then slowly climbed the steps. The kids drew back, huddling together in fear.

Ben stood in the doorway, tall, his face hawklike, his

eyes unreadable. He watched as Kate laid the big pistol on the floor. Ben held out his hand.

“Come, children. Let’s go where it’s safe and warm and get you something to eat.” He smiled and his whole face changed. The kids went to him, crowding around.

“You children ride with Thermopolis and Rosebud.

I’ll meet with you later on today and you can tell me your stories.”

“You won’t be far away, will you?” Kate asked.

“No. I won’t be far away,” Ben assured her.

After the children had gone, Thermopolis paused in the room; only he and Ben remained. “Is it always that way with you and kids?”

“Usually.”

“Why? You’re armed to the teeth and half the time you look like you could bite the heads off nails.”

“Perhaps it’s because I represent something they have never known but always wanted. Or knew some of it and yearn for more.”

“Safety?”

“That’s part of it.”

“And so you and your people will take them to raise, and they’ll grow up with the Rebel dogma burned into their brains and be good little soldiers?”

“Most of them, yes. Is that so wrong?”

Thermopolis sighed. “I don’t know. I suppose not. What is it with you, Ben Raines?

What is this compulsion with law and order and rules and regulations?”

“I didn’t ask for this job, Thermopolis. I think destiny forced it on me.”

“Disgusting!” Chase came out of the examining room, ripping off his rubber gloves and dropping them into a waste can. He walked up to Ben, leaning against a wall. “Those children have all been sexually molested.

Most of them by the men under the command of this Monte person.”

Ben waited, knowing the doctor was not yet through.

Chase ranted and waved his arms and cussed and kicked the waste can before he wound down.

Ben began rolling a cigarette.

“No smoking in my damn hospital, Raines!”

Ben tossed the makings into the waste can. “Venereal diseases?”

“Some of them. But they’re the treatable kind.”

“AIDS?”

“We’re testing them. But I don’t think so. If this … catastrophe did any good at all, it seems to be the halt of AIDS. I’ve seen very few cases of it over the past ten years.”

“Why?”

“Why did it stop? Hell, I don’t know! I don’t even know why it began. The kids are in a surprisingly good mental state, however-considering what they’ve been through. And what they’re going to have to go through before, or if, we get out of this mess.”

“We’ll get out.” Once again the plan he had discussed with no one entered Ben’s head. He did not want to even think about it, much less put it into play, but it might be the only way out for them.

Ben became conscious of Chase talking to him.

“… the hell is wrong with you, Ben? You have Jerre on the brain again?”

Ben smiled. “No. For once, no. Can I see the kids?”

“Some of them. Sure. In case you wondered, and I’m sure you did, why, in a city with several million pairs of shoes for the taking, the kids chose to wrap their feet in rags, they seldom got out of that two-or three-block area. They said the Night People never seemed to come in there.”

“I wonder why?”

“I don’t know, and neither did the kids. They did say it was a place where they had to be very careful with fire.”

“Now that is interesting,” Ben said softly. “That is very interesting.”

Ben met with the kids, joked with them, and managed to coax some smiles from them. By the time he left the hospital, he had gained some valuable knowledge about certain areas of the city. He checked the sky.