Buddy pulled up in a Jeep. "The town is clear, Father."

"Fine. Good work, son."

"What do we do with these people?" Ben was asked, the Rebel pointing toward the body-littered field.

"All living things have to eat," Ben said, and got into his vehicle. "Let's go, people."

If there were any more towns along the route occupied by outlaws, their radio network telling each other of the Rebel's brutal treatment, soon cleared them out.

The Rebels encountered no more hostiles on their push westward.

"West took some demolition teams with him when he pulled out," Corrie told Ben. "He's blowing and burning everything behind him."

"What's his twenty?"

"Just south of Riverside."

"We'll have time for a couple of hours' sleep before the punks reach us. If the punks do what I suspect they'll do."

The old highway was in surprisingly good shape for having gone over a decade with no maintenance, and the Rebels made good time. They rolled into their sector just after two in the morning, and Ben ordered Scouts forward into the edge of Santa Ysabel, sentries out, and the rest of them to get some sleep.

"Tired, Ben?" Linda asked.

"No. Too keyed up, I guess. I'll probably grab a catnap just before dawn. You?"

"Not a bit. I dozed off and on in the wagon.

Ben?"

"Umm?"

"Estimates of dead now stand at just over twenty thousand, right?"

"That's right."

"And you estimated approximately fifty thousand in the city initially."

"That's correct."

"If just twenty-five percent of those left alive manage to escape and head for Alaska, that will still be quite a formidable force we'll be facing."

"Alaska might well prove to be the toughest fight we've ever had. Much of the terrain is rugged.

No telling what kind of shape the roads will be in, or how many hostiles we'll be facing."

"General Ike just radioed in," Corrie called. "The street punks finally figured out we were spread real thin all around them in the city. A lot of them are trying bug-outs and Ike estimates about half of them are breaking free."Ben nodded his understanding, then realized that Corrie could not see the minute shake of his head in the darkness. "Thank you, Corrie. h.e.l.l of a time to run out of artillery rounds, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. "Any reply, sir?"

"Just tell the commanders we did the best we could with what we had."

"Yes, sir."

"d.a.m.nit!" Ben muttered. "I thought we had enough equipment all the way around. I'll not make that mistake again."

"You can't predict the future, Ben," Linda said. "You did the best you could."

"It wasn't good enough. And that will be of small consolation to the Rebels who die in Alaska at the hands of punks whose bones, by that time, should have been picked clean in Los Angeles."

"It'll be ten times worse in Europe."

"If I let it be. And I have no intention of doing that. Corrie?"

"Sir?"

"b.u.mp Base Camp One. Tell the munitions people they're going to have to keep on working around the clock, seven days a week. Start stockpiling rounds.

We'll not be caught short again."

"Yes, sir."

"How long can they keep that up, Ben?"

"For as long as it takes, Linda. They won't complain. Most of those people in the factories are ex-combat people who suffered wounds that disabled them, kept them from returning to the field. They understand what it's like out here."

"You'd better get some rest, Ben."

"Later."

She left his side and Ben catnapped, sitting on the ground, his back to a tree. He opened his eyes and came fully awake a few minutes before dawn.

Moving only his eyes, Ben took in his surroundings.

The Rebels had dug in and were carefully camouflaged, stretched out a thousand meters north and south of the intersection. The tanks and other armor had pulled back into the timber and brush; Ben could not see them. But he knew the machines of war were ready to start growling and biting at a second's notice.

"West is in position," Corrie said, slipping out of the darkness and squatting by his side. "No signs of the street punks yet."

"Everybody catch a few minutes' sleep?"

"Yes, sir." She handed him a mug of coffee. "They're ready for the dance to start."

Ben stood up and stretched the cold kinks from his muscles and joints. "Where are we set up?"

"Right over here."

Ben followed her across the road and into the timber.

To his immediate right, Buddy sat behind a .50-caliber machine gun. To his left, Cooper lay behind a bi-podded M-60. Ben nodded his approval of the site; it offered an excellent field of fire.Ben watched as Corrie slipped into a headset.

He did not have to issue orders about noise discipline and no smoking or unnecessary movement. These people were solid professional fighting men and women.

He listened as Corrie spoke softly into the headset, then turned to him.

"West reports the first few punks are straggling through his sector, General. They're following the road that will lead right past us."

"Has West shifted a team over to that road leading to Warner Springs?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell him to hold his fire. Let's get as many in this box as we can. We'll wait all day if we have to."

"Right, sir."

An hour ticked by. The Rebels took turns catnapping and watching and waiting. Corrie sat with her headset on, waiting for some word as to the progress of the street punks.

"General!" she called in a stage whisper.

"Forward recon reports punks are on 78 and heading right for us. They have them in visual. Forward speed is about thirty miles an hour."

Ben smiled. "Bingo! That means they've pa.s.sed the only road that would take them north or south.

They're committed now. They have to pa.s.s right by us.

Tell the recon teams to get the h.e.l.l back here."

"Yes, sir."

When she had done that, Ben said, "Fifteen minutes max, Corrie. Everybody heads up."

The word was pa.s.sed up and down the line. Rebels clicked weapons off safety and laid out rows of clips and grenades. The tanks lowered the elevation of the cannon and waited. The forward recon people came racing back into camp, hid their vehicles, and threw themselves into position. One of them close to Ben.

"How many?" Ben asked.

"Four or five hundred in the first bunch. About the same in a bunch about a mile behind them."

"Buddy. Take a team and cut through the timber. Get behind that second bunch. Take all the ammo you can stagger with. Get going."

"Right." The young man was gone.

"Get behind that .50," Ben told the recon.

"Things are about to get interesting around here."

Grinning, the recon slipped behind the big .50 and waited.

Stan of the Flat Rocks and Carmine of the Women stopped their vehicles and got out to stand on the winding, hilly road.

"What are you thinkin?"' was Stan asked.

"That's it's awful quiet. The city ain't never quiet. But this is scary. Maybe it's always like this.

I don't know. I ain't never been out of the city."

"You gonna go straight, Carmine?"

She sneered at him. "Straight? Me? h.e.l.l, no! There ain't no percentages in goin"

straight. Scratchin' out a garden and cannin' s.h.i.t.

Not me, Stan. Me and my girls'll hit the firsttown we come to, grab us some long-d.i.c.ked ol'

boys to keep around when we need them, some broads for cookin' and cleanin' and such, and set up somewheres. You goin' straight?"

"Naw. Stealin' is too easy a life for me to give up. I'll get clear of Ben Raines and his Rebels, and find me a little settlement and take it over. Kill all the old f.u.c.kers that can't work, use the fat ugly women for cleanin' and such, and the younger one for f.u.c.kin'. Then it'll be business as usual, Carmine."

"Now you're talkin." was She looked at him.

"You an" me, Stan, we always got along pretty good. You wanna link up?"

"Why not? Let's do it."

She reached down and squeezed his crotch, grinning at him. "We'll seal the bargain tonight."

They got back in their vehicles and headed out.

A few miles ahead, the Rebels silently waited.

A few miles back, Ruth of the Macys and Hal of the Fifth Street Lords were making a similar pact, as were several other gang leaders. Their confidence was growing with each pa.s.sing mile. The countryside was not as bad as they had thought it would be comno huge grizzly bears or mountain lions had attacked them comand they had not seen a sign of the Rebels. However, they all felt, to a person, that they would much rather see a grizzly than come in contact with Ben Raines and his Rebels.

"Let's go," Ruth yelled to those behind her.

In the city, the bug-out of the street punks had halted at first light. And getting through the Rebel lines had been very easy. Bull had put it all together and guessed accurately that the Rebels were out of artillery rounds. About twenty-five hundred punks had slipped through during the night, making their way north, on foot. But to a street punk, finding a vehicle once clear of L.a. was a very minor problem. They'd all been stealing cars for years before the Great War, and getting a stern lecture and a slap on the wrist from a judge when they were caught.

But the Rebels caught on quickly, and at first light went to work laying out mines and b.o.o.by-trapping possible escape routes. But they were too late to catch Bull and Rich and Junkyard and Ishmal and their gangs. They had jumped the gun on the other gangs and cleared the city and were rolling toward the rendezvous point in Nevada.

There were still thousands of punks and creepies hiding within the battered city and in the suburbs. And they would be trying to escape come the darkness.

East of the city, Ben pulled out a battered map of the region and looked at it.

"Planning a trip?" Linda whispered.

"Yeah. Just as soon as we finish here. I want to go over to Mount Palomar and see if the telescope is still there; see if anything is left of the museum."Linda shook her head and wiped her sweaty palms on her fatigue pants and got a fresh grip on her shotgun.

"Here they are," Corrie said, after receiving the report from a Scout hidden on high ground above the highway.

"Buddy in place?" Ben asked.

"Just got there, sir."