Warren Murphy Destroyer 102 Unite and Conquer

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"Don't count on living that long," said Remo.
"I've been writing it all along. Check out my rucksack."
Dropping back, Remo did. He pulled out a black school notebook. On the cover
was the stenciled outline of a fire extinguisher spitting bullets through its
nozzle.
Remo opened it.
"Looks like a diary."
"It's my war journal."
"You write everything down?"
"Sure!"
"What if you're captured?"
"I get captured all the freaking time. Nothing bad ever happens."
Remo tossed the notebook into the jungle.
"Hey! You can't do that! That's private property."
"Rule number one-don't write anything down. If you're captured, they'll hang
you with your own words."
"The rope hasn't been woven that-"
"You're a menace to yourself," said Remo, noticing something drop from a
frayed popcorn pocket of Smith's black uniform. He picked it up.
It was tiny plastic fire extinguisher.
"What's this thing?"
"Icons. I wax a kill, I leave it in his hand. Sometimes in his mouth. Strikes
fear like crazy into the guys who find him."
Seeing another one drop onto the trail, Remo said, "You might as well leave a
trail of bread crumbs behind for the enemy to follow."
"Listen, you just don't understand my profession."
"Tell it to the Marines, squid."
"Jarhead."
"You are all related?" asked Assumpta.
"Distantly," Chiun said. "The blood is very diluted."
"And what is your name, old one?"
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"I am called Chiun. More than that I will not say."
"You are maya?"
"Pah!"
"There is a word in our language. Chuen. "
Chiun looked interested. "Yes?"
"It means monkey."
"Pah," said the Master of Sinanju.
"You ask me-" Winston Smith laughed "-you looked kinda like a chuen when you
were up in that tree."
That was enough for Remo and Chiun. They decided right then and there that
Winston Smith needed an emergency bath. Smith was apprised of their decision
when they picked him up bodily and tossed him into a scummy jungle pond,
rucksack and all.
When he emerged, Smith stood trembling and dripping while he bestowed several
colorful but uncomplimentary new titles upon their persons.
The Master of Sinanju decided he wasn't as thoroughly clean as they thought
and took it upon himself to wash Smith's Mouth out with a bar of Lava soap
taken from the rucksack.
After that, Winston Smith became a much more agreeable traveling companion.
Chapter 42
En route to Oaxaca, Comandante Efrain Zaragoza encountered a sight that filled
his patriotic soul with rage and fear.
Refugees. Mexican refugees. They were a mix of city chilangos like him and
rural mestizos.
"The monster!" they cried, weeping. "He has taken Oaxaca."
"Then the monster is doomed to die," Zaragoza returned.
The refugees dribbled down in colectivos, mopeds and taxis. The thin trickle
became a river and soon a flood. The road became impassable.
Zaragoza rode in the turret of a light armored vehicle. It ran on six huge
tires like an APC but sported a formidable 25 mm Bushmaster autocannon. It was
very nimble.
"Leave the road to the refugees. Take to the ground," he radioed to the column
at his back.
The column left the road and moved on.
The ground was open, growing increasingly hilly, then mountainous. But they
would make it. They would retake Oaxaca and end the madness that had been
unleashed on a perfectly civilized nation.
Farther along they encountered the straggling remains of Montezuma Barracks.
They limped down in blistered Humvees and APCs.
Linking up with his counterpart, Zaragoza demanded, "Why do you flee?"
From out of his turret the commander of Montezuma Barracks lifted a portable
television set. It was on, and on the screen was the incredible sight of the
demon Coatlicue herself, surrounded by circle upon circle of indio warriors
and adherents.
"We were outnumbered," the commander said.
"You have modern guns. I see only sticks in the indios' hands."
"I am not speaking of the accursed indios. La Ponderosa herself outnumbers us
in her sheer enormidad. She crushes tanks under her stone tread. She smites
helicopters from the very sky, after first shrugging off their rockets. There
was no stopping her."
"I have orders to vanquish her."
"Prepare to be vanquished. Adios. "
The APC's engine roared anew. It lurched forward.
"Where do you go?" Zaragoza demanded.
"Chiapas. Perhaps Yucatan. It may be safe in Yucatan."
"This is desertion, Commander."
"The capital is a shambles, and Oaxaca is ruled by demons and indios. There is
nothing to desert unless a miracle also springs out of the wounded earth."
As he watched the armored column with its demoralized crewmen rumble south to
the relative safety of guerrilla-held Chiapas, Comandante Zaragoza gave
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fleeting thought to joining the parade of survivors.
But he was a soldier true and loyal to his nation, and he had visions of
making general one day.
"Onward! " he cried. "We drive on Oaxaca. "
The column moved on, trembling because the aftershocks continued at irregular
intervals.
It seemed as if the whole world had gone mad with fear and panic. It was no [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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