the

Underground People, Paul, that it was highly unlikely that Savie and his group could have survived in the city without making some sort of deal with the Night P.

But the Judges were gone, and the back had been broken of those creepies remaining in the city. Knowing that, why, then, would they be so seemingly unwilling to help in the fight against Khamsin? Itjustdidn’tmake any sense to Ben.

He shrugged it off and went back inside his CP.

He’d turn in early this night. There was that old guerrilla fighter’s adage: eat when you can, drink when you can, and sleep when you can. For you never knew when you might get the chance to do any of the three again.

Ben was up several hours before dawn, drinking coffee and once more going over maps of the city. The question paramount in his mind:

Have I missed anything?

He could not think of a thing.

Now it was in the hands of God and the guns in the hands of Rebels.

Beth walked in, yawning. “I saw your light, General. Anything I can get you?”

“How about a miracle?” Ben grinned at her.

“Traid I’m fresh out of those, General. But”-she returned the grin-“we found a food warehouse late yesterday. Lots of it in good shape.

How about some cinnamon toast for breakfast?”

“Cinnamon toast. I haven’t had that in years.”

“Then you better come on. Thermopolis is down in the kitchen and he’s already eaten half a loaf of bread and a pound of butter.”

After having to practically arm-wrestle Thermopolis for the cinnamon can, Ben ate the rest of the fresh-baked bread, covered liberally with butter and sugar and cinnamon.

Jerre entered the kitchen and said, “Doctor Chase would disapprove of all that sugar.”

“You want some?” Ben asked, his mouth full.

“Naturally.” She sat down and took what was left on Ben’s plate and grinned at him as she chomped away.

“I’m not fixin’ any more of this damn bread!”

Jersey bitched.

“I’ve had plenty,” Thermopolis said.

“Yeah. Me, too,” Ben echoed, then looked at Thermopolis. “Where is your wife?”

“I left her sleeping. I got up when I heard Emil pacing the floor and muttering to himself about tiny arrows piercing his heart.”

“He certainly has been smitten, that’s for sure.” Ben looked up as Beth entered the room.

“Khamsin’s started his offensive, General. And he’s hitting hard.”

“Let’s go to work, gang. If our people can keep on sucking them in, at dawn tomorrow, we blow the bridges.” He stood up and sighed. “And God have mercy on our souls if I’ve made a

mistake.”

“We voted to stay, General,” Jersey reminded him.

“We’re all in this together.”

Ben nodded, smiled, and stepped outside into the abnormally warm morning. He looked up at the sky. “Hold on for just one more morning,” he muttered. “Then You can send the damnedest blizzard this city has ever known.”

Khamsin was a bit more adventurous that day, moving a little faster and taking a few more chances. The Rebels held on for what they hoped was a respectable length of time, then pulled back, drawing the Libyan ever deeper into the city.

“All his troops across?” Ben asked a spotter pilot.

“Ten-four, General. They’re in.”

Ben’s smile was tight. “It won’t be

long now. Any more movement over in New Jersey?”

“Those that didn’t accompany Khamsin are staying put, General.”

“Ten-four. Do a couple of flybys a day and keep me posted.” Ben turned to Cooper. “Pull the Blazer around. We’re going to take a ride.”

In the Blazer, Cooper asked, “Where to, General?”

“North.”

Beth radioed the instructions to the lead vehicles as Ben was studying a city map. She didn’t have to tell them where they were going; they all knew. Right up to the front lines.

“We’ll let him advance down to Hillside today,”

Ben said. “He’s going to slow up and be very goosy clearing the area around the Cloisters, suspecting ambushes. Come the night, he’ll probably spread his troops out just north of One Hundred Ninety-third Street. Tomorrow morning, we’ll give him One Hundred Ninety-second and One Hundred Ninety-first. As soon as he passes One Hundred Ninety-first, we’ll blow the bridges. That will stop him cold for a few hours while he assesses the situation.” He looked up. “Get this convoy moving, Beth. You know where we’re going.”

“Yes, sir.” She lifted her mike.

The convoy drove over to Fifth Avenue and turned north. At the edge of Central Park, Ben ordered a halt and got out.

“You people stay in the truck,” he told them, just as Ike came walking up.

“You monitoring the front?” Ben asked him.

“Yeah. Khamsin’s got some confidence back this morning. Our people have given him a two blocks already.

They say he’s really punching hard.”

“We don’t want him to think it’s a cakewalk.

Get on the horn and tell our people to draw some blood and then pull back. I don’t want Khamsin past One Hundred Ninety-third Street this day.”

“You figurin’ on bringin’ the bridges down by about this time tomorrow, Ben?”

“Right. So get your explosives people in position.

I’m heading on up the line.”

“Watch your ass up there, partner.” Ike grinned.

Ben leaned to one side and took a look at Ike’s more than ample south gate. “You should talk!”

Rolling north on Fifth Avenue, those in the small convoy had the time to study the seemingly dead city.

“Used to be millions of people in these streets,” Ben said aloud, looking at the empty shops and office buildings. “The greatest city in the world. All it needs now is for someone to kick a little dirt over it.”

“And that’s what we’re going to do, General?”

Jersey asked.

“That’s what we’re going to do. In a manner of speaking.”

They rolled on in silence for a few blocks.

“What happened to the Night People, Ben?” Jerre asked.

“I think they gave up once they discovered the Judges had abandoned them. I think they burrowed deep and intend to keep their heads down for the duration.

They don’t know it, but they just voluntarily crawled into their own graves.”

As they approached Frawley Circle, Ben said, “Tell

the lead vehicles to hang a left here, Beth.

Then pick up Nicholas Avenue. We’ll stay with that all the way up to our lines.”

As they passed Lennox, Ben caught a glimpse of black movement as the figure scurried back into the gloom of a building. “They’re not all in their holes,” he said, pointing out the furtive movement.

“But they don’t want to mix it up with us, either.”

A gunner in a Duster swung his twin-mount .50’s and gave the inside of the ground floor a hard burst in passing. The big slugs chopped away at the murky interior, kicking up dust and knocking down plaster and paneling.

The column rolled on, swinging onto Nicholas.

They saw no more Night People as they made their way dirough the littered streets of the city.

Ben reached over and opened the front air vents, allowing some ventilation to circulate through the Blazer.

He guessed the outside temperature was in the 60’s. Far too warm for this time of year. Except for spots in the alleys where the sun never touched, the city was almost entirely free of snow.

“Much too warm,” he muttered. “The storm is going to be a bad one, and it could hit anytime.”

“Sir?” Cooper asked.

“You have the chains with you, Cooper?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Beth, tell the lead vehicles to angle off at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street.

Go on over to the waterfront. I want to take a full look at the sky. I think this storm is just about on us.”

“Done, sir.”

Ben twisted in the seat, looking at the cargo space behind the rear seat. All their arctic gear was there, along with cases of ammo, food, camp stoves, grenades, and water. Cooper was a natural-born clown, but when it came to survival, he was all business, keeping the Blazer stocked with everything he felt they might need to stay alive.

“Did you remember toilet paper, Cooper?”

Ben asked him with a smile.

“I got a box full of hundred-dollar bills, General. About a million dollars’ worth, I reckon.”

“That should do it,” Ben said, looking out the window, trying to get a glimpse of the sky. He finally gave up on that.

At the waterfront, Ben stood by the Blazer, waiting until his teams had secured the area; then he walked up to the parkway and took a look around.

He had mixed emotions about what he was seeing.

The sky held a very flat, almost ominous look, stretching from north to west. This weather system was coming straight out of Canada and was coming at them with a vengeance.

“It’ll hit us this afternoon,” Ben predicted. “And it’s going to be a bitch-kitty.”

“Do we head back for the CP, General?” Jersey asked, a hopeful note in her voice.

“What do you think, Jersey?” Ben grinned at her.

“Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

Ben waved the Rebels around him. “All you people have arctic gear with you?”

Most did, stored in the trunks and tanks.

“Those that don’t, double up in a vehicle and head on back,” Ben ordered. He knew his forward teams were supplied with foul-weather gear; he had personally seen to that. “Let’s head on up the line, gang.”

They backtracked, picked up Broadway, and headed north.

“Are we going to get stuck up here, Ben?” Jerre asked.

“I hope not. But there is always that possibility.

Doesn’t make any difference. We’ve got the supplies so we can sit it out. I’ve got to see firsthand what Khamsin has to throw at us.”

But his eyes kept sliding toward the sky as they drove toward his Rebels’ northernmost positions.

At the front, Ben joined one group of Rebels, startling them by his presence, and viewed the battleground through binoculars. A tank leaped into view through the powerful lenses. Ben lowered the glasses and again looked

up at the sky.

“Is it getting colder or is it just my imagination?”

“It’s dropped a few degrees, General. The sky sure has a funky look to it.”

Ben made up his mind. “Fall back, people. Give them some territory and see if they’ll take the new bait. Beth, get me Ike on the horn.

Scramble and translator, please.”

“General Ike, sir,” Beth said.

“Ask him if his explosives people have left yet?”

“He says ten-four, sir.”

“Tell him to get them into position to blow the bridges as soon as possible. Wait for my orders to do so.”

“Message acknowledged, sir. General Ike wants to know what’s up.”

“One hell of a fast-moving winter storm, of the major type. That’s what’s up. Now I have to come up with some way of getting the Hot Fart and his turds down a few more blocks. Bump me when your people are in position. Eagle out. Let’s back up, people.”

The Rebels fell back a full two blocks, leaving it wide open for Khamsin. And this time the troops of Khamsin poured across, moving fast and with very little resistance from the Rebels.

At 191st Street, Ben ordered a line thrown up and told his people to hold for a few minutes and draw some blood. To Beth: “Get me the forward units east and west of our position.” With them on the horn, he asked, “This is Eagle. Any signs of infiltrators?”

“Negative, sir. We have them in sight, but they’re maintaining east and west positions in line with the central force.”

“Ten-four. Get ready to fall back further with Sonny.” He turned to the forward team leader.

“Drop some mortar rounds in on them, Sonny. Just as many HE’S as you drop in a couple of minutes and then grab your ass and make a run for it.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Get me Ike, Beth.”

“On the horn, General.”

“Ike. When I give the word, blow them all, all the way down to the footbridge. You ten-four that?”

“I copy it, Eagle. Man, it’s gettin’

cold!”

“I can ten-four that, Shark. I look for snow in about an hour. Must have dropped twenty degrees in that many minutes. That’s why I’ve got to keep Khamsin on the move, so he won’t notice it so much. Eagle out.”

The flutter and crash of mortars put an end to any conversation level below a shout.

“Let’s go!” Ben shouted at his team. “Get to your vehicles. Move, move! Sonny! One more minute and you get your asses out of here. All the way down to a Hundred Eighty-first Street.

That’s an order!”

“Yes, sir.”

In the Blazer, Ben said, “Beth, tell Dan and Buddy and Tina to get up here. Meet us at the High Bridge Park. We’ll link up at the swimming pool. That’s on One Seventy-third.

Tell them to bring five days’ rations, full arctic gear, and all the ammo they can stagger with. I want plenty of fifties and Big Thumpers.

Tell them to shake a leg.”

To Cooper, “Get us down to a Hundred Eighty-first Street, Coop. Then over to the Harlem River Drive. I’m the cause of it, so I want to witness history being shattered. Move.

Beth, stay in contact with Sonny and his forward teams.”

“Yes, sir.”

As they drove, all could tell it was turning colder very quickly. “Mind if I turn the heater on, sir?” Cooper asked.

“Be my guest, Coop.”

“General?” Beth spoke from the backseat.

“Ourspotters in the skyscrapers have reported in.

They’ve been investigating as much of the buildings as possible, and each team has found dozens of creepie bodies. The creepies killed themselves en masse.”

Ben nodded his head. “Tell them to bust some windows and toss the bodies out. Then have some teams shovel up what’s left and truck it to the barges.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Probably in every building in the city,” Ben said, gazing out the window and seeing the streets grow darker as the massive storm approached, the winds churning and howling high above the earth, the clouds beginning to block the sunlight.

“It’s going to be a bad one, Ben,” Jerre said.

“I’ve seen them out on the plains. It won’t be as bad here because of the buildings, but if you get caught in one out there, you’re dead.”

“Yes. I’m sure that Khamsin and his people have winter gear, but not like ours.” He suddenly smiled, and Jersey caught it.

“Oh, hell! I’ve seen that smile before. What are you thinking, General?”

“Head-hunting, Short Stuff. Cutting some throats in the night.”

“Coming up on the bridges, sir,” Cooper said, pulling onto Harlem Drive.

At the High Bridge, Cooper stopped and Ben and the others got out. Ben had left his Thompson in the Blazer, electing to carry the M14, with longer range and just as much punch. He squatted down, staring at the three bridges.

“What are you thinking, Ben?” Jerre asked.

“What I’m about to destroy, and I don’t think history is going to treat me very kindly for doing it.”

“Sonny reporting the fighting is very heavy, General,” Beth related. “He’s

steadily falling back, and Khamsin is right on his heels.”

“When he gets to One Hundred Eighty-first Street, let me know. Once there, Khamsin is going to find the going will not be so easy.”

“Trucks coming, Ben,” Jerre said.

Ben nodded, again making a battlefront decision.

“Beth, tell my tank commanders to get the monsters cranked and up here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Looks like Colonel Gray brought an extra company up with him, sir.”

“I’d have been disappointed if he hadn’t.” He turned to face Dan and Buddy and Tina. He quickly explained what was happening. “Buddy, you and your team unpack your snow gear. Emergency food packets and fuel tabs; the whole nine yards.

If it snows this afternoon, you’re going head-hunting tonight.”

“Sonny and his people have formed a line at a Hundred Eighty-first Street, General,” Beth reported.

“They have linked up with the other companies and are holding.”

Ben held out his hand as he leaned up against a concrete barrier. “Give me the mike, Beth. This is Eagle to Shark …” He sighed heavily, almost painfully. “Shark, blow the bridges.” He slowly handed the mike back to Beth.

It really wasn’t a spectacular sight-just a dull crumping sort of sound as sections of the bridges collapsed and fell into the river. The tons of debris sent up cascades of water from the Harlem River.

All up and down the line, from the northernmost tip of the island down to the footbridge on FDR

Drive, the bridges that once were vital links to Manhattan were crippled. It took less than one minute to destroy thirteen bridges.

“General,” Beth said, “Sonny says all fighting from Khamsin’s side has stopped.”

“I’ll just bet it has,” Ben said grimly.

“Khamsin probably went into a state of shock when his recon teams gave him the news about the bridges. Give me the mike, Beth. This is Eagle. Hit them, Sonny. Hit them hard.

Tanks, mortars, rockets, everything you’ve got, use it!”

The thundering boom of 105’s and 90mm cannon rolled toward the men and women standing in the now downright cold winds alongside the river.

Something very soft touched Ben’s face. He brushed it away.

“Ben?” Jerre touched his arm. “It’s starting to snow.”

In less than an hour, the snow was coming down so thick and so hard it had dropped visibility to near zero. Ben had led the new companies north to beef up the three companies stretched out west to east along 181st Street, from Lafayette Plaza over to the now impassable Washington Bridge.

But the near-blizzardlike conditions had brought Khamsin and his people to a dead halt; they had never seen anything like this in South Carolina, and while they had winter clothing, it was not enough to cope with what was yet to come at them from Mother Nature.

And Mother Nature wasn’t going to be alone in sending surprises at the Libyan.

“All the bridges have been blown in our sector, General,” Khamsin was told. “And we suspect that all the bridges on the east side have also been destroyed, or at least crippled.”

“Not all the bridges,” Khamsin found his voice.

“Ben Raines has left himself a hole. Wager on that.”

The field commander did not think this to be a proper time to remind the Hot Wind that Sister Voleta had warned him not to cross over into Manhattan. Not a good time at all.

The field commander waited for orders.

“We cannot fight a war in this miserable weather,”

Khamsin said after a long sigh. “And as skillful as Ben Raines is …” And it pained the terrorist to compliment Ben Raines in any manner. “… I doubt that he can, either. Make certain our loyal troops are well fed and housed adequately.

We’ll wait out the storm.”

“Yes, sir.” The man waited, knowing that his general was not yet finished.

“Ben Raines is worse than any filthy dog who ever wandered the earth!” Khamsin spat out the words.

“He must be destroyed, Akim. Whatever the cost, we must kill Ben Raines.”