“ROAST IN HELL, RIKKI.”

“Who are you, Rikki?” whispered the Colonel.

Rakkim didn’t have an answer.

Eagle Two, this is Woodpecker Five, we’re good to go here, said Gravenholtz.

The Colonel looked confused. “What’s Lester doing calling Royce?”

Alpha Company reporting for duty, Tiger Six. Cheers over the com link.

“Zebra Five?” The Colonel stood up. “How did you get here so fast?”

Locals ferried us across the river in every boat, barge, and skiff they had. We didn’t even have to ask them. We’re here, Tiger Six, and we’ve got them on the run.

The helicopter lifted off with a rush, flew low over the camp, hovered quietly overhead.

“Good job, Eagle Two,” the Colonel said to Royce. “Light up the woods. Just be careful you don’t hit Alpha Company.”

The chopper banked gently, then zoomed back across the camp. Rakkim watched, saw where it was headed.

“Eagle Two! Where are you going?” the Colonel shouted into his throat mike. “Eagle Two! Get back here.”

That’s a hearty fuck you, Tiger Six, said Royce.

Rakkim was already gone, racing full out toward the Colonel’s house.

Chapter 43

Eight of Gravenholtz’s raiders ringed the Colonel’s dimly lit house, lean, capable men with cigarettes bobbing in their mouths and rifles at the ready. The same hard core that had attacked the Tigards’ farmhouse. The chopper idled nearby, whisper quiet, blades slowly turning, landing struts grazing the ground. Red and yellow landing lights spun erratically from the sides of the chopper, the colors sliding back and forth across the raiders as they waited. It reminded Rakkim of the dance floor of the Blue Moon back home, dancers swaying under the kaleidoscope. No music here, though, just the sound of distant gunfire and shouted commands as the Colonel’s men continued to force back Crews’s End-Times Army.

Rakkim approached obliquely, unhurried, keeping to the shadows. To anyone watching, the house never seemed to be his destination, yet he kept getting closer and closer. The raiders kept glancing at the helicopter, eager to escape. Regular troops occasionally raced past the house on the way to the front, looked over, and were waved on by the raiders. Rakkim never drew attention.

He spotted two uniformed bodies stuffed under the front porch, Baby’s guards, who hadn’t yielded their posts, or perhaps had been suspicious of the raiders’ suddenly taking over. He wondered what the inside of the house looked like, if Moseby and Leo were piled in a corner or stuffed in the crawl space. Baby would be fine for now-Gravenholtz would keep her as insurance, in case the Colonel was tempted to mount a full-scale assault. It was obvious what had happened. The Colonel trusted Gravenholtz too much. The redhead knew about the black-ice weapon. Knew what it was worth. The Colonel had forgotten that for a good Christian to survive in this world, he needed to be able to think like a devil.

Woodpecker Five! What’s going on at my house? said the Colonel.

Just taking care of business, drawled Gravenholtz.

I want Eagle Two put under arrest for insubordination and failure to obey, said the Colonel.

Rakkim heard laughter as Gravenholtz broke off his com link.

A team of soldiers approached the house, serious fuckers too, the Colonel’s best, full-auto and fresh from the line, faces dirty, body armor scored with numerous hits. The lieutenant told the raiders to stand down and surrender their weapons, now, said the Colonel had ordered him to take control of the house and the chopper and the raiders too. The lieutenant’s men squinted in the flashing lights from the chopper, looked like they just wanted Gravenholtz’s team to give them an excuse to let loose.

A beefy raider leaned against the front porch, staring up at the stars, barely listening. Rakkim remembered him…had seen the man tear the wedding ring off Florence Tigard’s finger that night. Nelson, that was his name. Gravenholtz had yelled at him, said, Come on, Nelson, get your ass in the bird. “Okay, Lieutenant, sir.” Nelson insolently set his assault rifle down, waved at the other raiders to do the same. He smiled at the lieutenant, flicked his cigarette at him, but it landed short, scattered sparks across the officer’s boots.

The chopper rose a few feet into the air, its spotlight pinning the lieutenant and his men. Then its Gatling machine guns opened up, and the soldiers looked like marionettes dancing on invisible strings, hit so hard and so fast they couldn’t even fall over until the guns finally stopped firing.

Rakkim put three shots from the sniper rifle into the windscreen of the chopper, but it was armored acrylic, bulletproof. The spotlight wasn’t.

Blind in the sudden darkness, Nelson and the other raiders stumbled around, tripping over the dead. The helicopter moved higher, its motion erratic as Royce, surprised by the attack, overcompensated.

Taking fire! shouted Royce.

Rakkim put his next bullet through Nelson’s left eye. Shot four more men before the last three tumbled through the front door of the house. Rakkim raced to the porch, squatted beside Nelson’s body. The chopper’s thermal imaging system would be confused by the double image. For a few moments anyway.

Royce, what’s going on out there? said Gravenholtz, using the man’s name now, abandoning all com discipline.

Rakkim darted around the side, shot out the electrical relay, and the lights inside went out. As he rolled under the house, the chopper’s guns blasted away, tearing up the ground and the siding, shattering a window.

Motherfuck, Royce, you trying to kill us all?

Somebody’s making a move on your position, but I can’t see for shit, said Royce. You got some kind of radiation inside that’s fucking up my sensors.

I’ll handle it, said Gravenholtz. You just be ready to get us out of here.

Rakkim heard footsteps approaching overhead, the floorboards creaking. A chair was knocked over in the darkness, and Gravenholtz cursed. He heard Baby’s voice and others too, but not Leo or Moseby. Rakkim scooted farther under the house, the crawl space littered with mouse droppings, cobwebs veiling his face.

No visuals yet, said Royce. He might be under the-

Bullets tore through the floorboards, the raiders inside emptying their automatic weapons, then reloading and firing again and again. A couple of near misses but the only blood drawn was where a shard of wood cut his arm. He smelled gunpowder and heard coughing from inside the house, voices complaining they couldn’t breathe and couldn’t see, while Gravenholtz told them to shut the fuck up. Rakkim waited. Flashlight beams filtered through some of the gunshot holes in the floor, dust motes dancing in beams of golden light.

A boot stomped on a section of floor that had been chewed up and weakened by gunfire. Kept on stomping until the boot crashed through and was quickly withdrawn.

Rakkim bellied over toward the opening. He had left his sniper rifle outside-no room to use it under the house-but his knife was in his hand.

“Do it,” said Gravenholtz.

Mumbles from above. A flashlight beam flickered across the broken floor. Another round of gunfire tore chunks out of the floorboards.

“Fucking do it,” said Gravenholtz.

Rakkim lay in the darkness beside the hole, ears ringing, waiting. A spider crawled over his hand and continued on its way.

A flashlight jiggled in the opening, then a pistol. A man’s head and shoulders followed.

“See anybody?” said Gravenholtz.

The flashlight swept under the house, its beam reflected back by sheets of cobwebs hanging from the old wooden supports. “No…not yet.”

“Keep looking,” said Gravenholtz.

Rakkim lunged out of the dusty shadows, jammed the knife into the side of the man’s neck, and pushed forward. The man died in silence, any last words lost in a gush of blood. Rakkim took the flashlight from his hand, tossed it toward the front of the house. He tucked the pistol into his belt, even though it wouldn’t be of any use against Gravenholtz, and he preferred the silent killing of a blade anyway. The personal touch it offered.