CHAPTER 15

Ben grabbed up the M-60. “Get that ammo, Cooper, and follow me.”

He ran from the room, the others grabbing up cases of ammo and running to catch up with him.

Ben ran to the other end of the building and kicked in a door. He bi-podded the M-60 by a window and then smashed the glass with the butt of his Thompson. Lead started coming at him from the building across the street.

Ben sat down behind the M-60 and let it rock and roll. “Help me feed, Jersey. Keep it coming.”

Ben knocked down a few creepies and put the rest of them on the floor as he raked the second floor of the building with machine-gun fire.

One bogie lifted his head at the other end of the firestorm of lead, and Cooper drilled him between the eyes. Beth had tucked her radio in a closet and was doing a more than respectable job of dusting black-robed figures on the ground-level floor of a building across the street.

The sounds of many boots on the steps turned them all around, their heads kept down below windowsill level. Dan rolled into the room and wriggled on his belly to Ben’s position.

“Come to join the party, Dan?”

Dan gazed at him, a reproachful look in the man’s eyes. “You’re a naughty boy, General.

You had us worried for a time.”

A hard burst of gunfire from across the street tore into the wall behind the Rebels, knocking loose hunks of paneling and sending debris flying all over the room.

With a low curse, Ben again positioned himself behind the M-60 and let it bang.

“Two windows over from your left, General!”

Jersey called. “That’s the machine gun.”

Dan twisted on the floor. “Oh, Jimmy! Be a good lad and run up to the roof with your rocket launcher and kindly direct a few rounds into that building across the street. It would be ever so much appreciated. Thanks.”

“Right, Boss!” the Scout called.

The black-robed spooks from across the street were really letting the lead fly in the Rebels’

position, forcing Ben and his people on the second floor to keep their heads down.

“So much for thinking they were giving up,” Ben muttered, facedown on the dirty floor.

“Quite,” Dan replied.

The Rebels were content to lie belly-down in safety until Jimmy and his people got into position.

Several moments passed before the front of the creepie-held building erupted in a shower of stone and broken glass and shattered bodies. Several more rockets were hurled into the building. The unfriendly firing ceased.

“Out,” Ben ordered, crawling backward, pulling the M-60 with him. “Cooper, don’t forget that ammo. We might need it before this day is over.”

In the hall, Dan commented, “The Night People are certainly well armed, General. And seem to be well trained, too.”

“I noticed. Listen.” He held up his hand.

“Fighting has all but stopped nearby,” Dan observed. He motioned his Scouts ahead of him.

“Secure the alleyway.”

Ben led the way down the dark and rat-dropping littered hall. His Thompson was slung; he carried the M-60, bipod swinging loose.

“Alley secure,” a scout called.

“Let’s check out the block, Dan. I want the federal building secured from top

to basement. I have a pretty good idea where the night crawlers got a large part of their electronic gear.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I forgot what floor it’s on, but that was one of the Bureau’s command centers. I did some research on it one time. It was filled with sophisticated computers and radio gear. Get a team, Dan. We’re going in.”

“We’re going to be pushing ahead of the others, General, ranging out pretty far.”

If Ben heard Dan’s remark, he did not acknowledge it. “Send your Scouts on ahead, Dan. Clear us

a route. Go behind City Hall Park. We’ll come out behind the federal building.”

The Rebels darted across the street over to Barclay and came out behind the Woolworth Building. “Got to get in there and clear that,” Ben noted. “It used to be a beautiful place. We’ll take it next, Dan.”

“Yes, sir.” The park was making him nervous.

“Spookies in the park, you suppose?”

“Probably, Dan. Even though I don’t think they like open spaces very much. We’ll go in heads-up.”

The Rebels walked along the promenade, Ben pointing out, “City Hall. That’ll have to be cleared, as well.”

“Right, sir.”

Beth called, “Sir? Ike and Cecil want to know your twenty?”

“Tell them we’re taking a rather enjoyable stroll along the promenade, coming up on Park Row.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very pleasant along here, isn’t it, Dan?” Ben asked, still toting the M-60 with a long belt of cartridges slung over one shoulder.

“Oh, just lovely, sir!” The sarcasm in the Englishman’s voice did not escape Ben.

“Especially when one takes into consideration that none of this area has been cleared.”

“Sir?” Beth called. “I’m not about to repeat what both generals Ike and Cecil just told me to tell you.”

“Clean it up and tell me.”

“They said to get your butt outta here!”

“Tell them to relax. Jesus Christ! I got fifty people surrounding me.”

Just as they were leaving Park Row, making the dogleg to Foley Square and Centre, the two point Scouts hit the sidewalk and rolled behind cover. The others quickly followed suit just as automatic-weapon fire raked the air.

Ben, Jersey, Beth, and Cooper went into the small park and down into a ditch. Ben bi-podded the M-60 as Jersey lay beside him, ready to feed.

Cooper and Beth had grabbed a couple of fallen branches to re-enforce their position.

“Behind us, I guess,” Ben said, studying a tourist’s guide to New York City. “I can’t make heads or tails out of this damn thing.

Dumbest maps I have ever seen.”

“What’s behind us?” Cooper asked, while Beth thought it was a damn strange time to be reading a tourist guide. Jersey was used to it.

“Pace University. I’m thinking that would be a good place to set up an HQ.”

The gunfire had ceased. Somewhere in the park, a bird was singing. The lilting sound made everything seem almost normal. Almost, if one stretched one’s imagination just a bit.

Ben put the little book in his pocket as a faint rustling came to their ears.

“Just to the left of that old bicycle or motorbike,” Jersey told him. “Something dark moving through all that brush.”

“Beth, find out if we have any units at all in this park,” Ben whispered. “No! Scrap that order.

Some of our people may be out head hunting. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Then the breeze changed, and with that wind shift, the Rebels no longer had to worry about wasting any of their own people.

“Phew!” Jersey screwed up her face.

Ben put the M-60 stock to his shoulder and lined up the sights. The movement in the brush had stopped, but Ben had caught a glimpse of non-color that didn’t seem to fit with the terrain. He gave the slash of black a good squirt from the M-60. The black robe became dotted with crimson as it was turned around and flung backward, the 7.62 rounds taking the creepie directly in the belly. The cannibal lay on the cold ground in the bushes, kicking and squalling and howling its miserable life away.

A half-dozen night crawlers, with more guts than sense, charged Ben’s position. The air became ripped with .223’s and 7.62’s. None of them even got close to Ben’s position. The slugs stopped them and brought a few up on their toes, dancing in that peculiar manner of the standing-up dying with bellies and chests filled with bone-smashing and organ-ripping lead.

Hard bursts of gunfire erupted from behind Ben’s field of fire, forcing them to change positions. Ben and Jersey faced the park, Beth and Cooper spread out, facing the Municipal Building … which appeared to be filled with Night P.

Dan’s bunch was holding their own, containing at least the front of the building. Ben pulled a sandwich out of his jacket pocket and unwrapped it. “Want to share, Jersey?”

“Thanks.” She took her half of the sandwich and they chewed, washing the food down with sips of water from their canteens.

The firing intensified until it was clear to Ben that his people were badly outnumbered and outgunned. He washed down the last bite of sandwich. “Beth? Call in and tell them we need some Abrams or Bradleys up here pronto. Tell them to come straight up Broadway and cut off at Park Row. They’ll see us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then tell Dan to be on the lookout for them and to keep his people on this side of the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

It wasn’t long before three big 55-ton Abrams, each pushed by a 1500-horsepower Avco Lycoming turbine, came roaring around the dogleg, their gunners already adjusting for fire. The Abrams is equipped with one 105mm rifled gun, one 12.7mm anti-aircraft, and two 7.62 machine guns. The tanks roared up to the building, slid into position, and then proceeded to blow the place into burning chunks of rock and brick and shattered bodies.

Two smaller tanks, M-42 Dusters, had swung around to the back. The Dusters were armed with 40mm cannons and .50-caliber machine guns.

The Municipal Building would never quite be the same after this onslaught, but then, neither would those crawlers trapped inside.

Ben gave the orders to cease fire. The area fell silent-eerily quiet after the booming and rattle and screaming of battle.

Ben walked out of the park and surveyed the devastation his people had wrought. Rebels had entered the building to mop up and to put out the small fires caused by the shelling. Some of his people had been working on half a dozen fire engines found within the area they now controlled, but any raging out-of-control fire was something they all feared until they could get firefighting equipment running and ready for on-the-line use.

“Find out how West is doing, Beth.”

She relayed the request and waited for the translators to get to work; then she turned to Ben.

“West is steadily clearing his sector, General.

The South Street Seaport area is cleared, and he’s pushing in toward us.”

“Very good. My compliments to him …”

Ike and Cecil came roaring around the dogleg in a Hummer, both of them with angry looks on their faces. Ben put an end to any comments from them before they had a chance to open their mouths.

“Ike, take your people over to Independence Plaza and get to work. Start pushing in toward us. Cecil, spread your people out with mine and take over here. Start clearing east and west toward Ike and West. I want everything clean from this area south.”

He turned to Jersey before either man could comment. “Come on, Jersey, let’s go take a look at our new CP.”

“And where in the hell might that be?”

Cecil asked, exasperation on his face.

“Tweed Courthouse.”

“But the damn thing hasn’t been cleared!” Ike exploded, jumping up and down and waving his arms.

“I know,” Ben replied calmly. “I’m going to do that little thing-right now.”

Ben and his team walked through the park. They passed the dead creepies.

“Get them out of here,” Ben said, and Beth relayed the orders. “I want this park nice and clean. Have this crud stacked with the others for dumping at sea.”

He had given his M-60 to a startled Ike and now carried his Thompson with a full drum.

“What the hell do you want me to do with this heavy bastard?” Ike had yelled.

“Use it,” Ben had smiled. “It served me very well.” He walked away, leaving Ike

sputtering.

“Dan,” Ben called. “I don’t think we’re going to meet any resistance up here. I think the bogies have had it for this day. But if it’ll make you feel better, send some of your people in to check out the courthouse.”

“Already done, General,” Dan replied blandly.

“I figured as much.”

The courthouse loomed in front of them. “Well stop here,” Dan said quietly. “We’ve heard no gunfire, so I think your assumption was correct, General.” He lifted his

walkie-talkie and spoke quietly, then listened.

He turned back to Ben. “My people are sweeping the place for booby traps. Give us an hour and it’ll be ready for you.”

Ben nodded. “Good enough. Beth, get out of that backbreaker radio and take a rest. Rest of you people take a break.” He walked off a short distance and stood staring toward the direction of New Jersey.

He wondered how Tina was getting along. And Jerre.