The Amtrack Wars - Earth Thunder Part 90

On his own two feet, that's how. C'mon, move, Brick-man!

He rolled over onto his belly and hauled himself up onto his hands and knees. Looking down he saw his knuckles were scuffed and bleeding. He had definitely done something to his left shoulder, any pressure on it soon became unbearable. Well, he was going to have to bear it. He put the weight on his right arm and tried to get his left knee up and under him, but his left ankle didn't seem to be working properly.

It was in that position, with his head hanging down, that he heard the sound of a vehicle. He looked over his left shoulder and saw a camouflaged Bobcat b.u.mping across the railway line in his direction.

It stopped nearby and the two occupants jumped down and ran over to him.

Both of them were dressed in red, black and brown camouflage fatigues and field caps, with shoulder badges that showed they were with an overground Mines and Mills Unit based at Eisenhower/San Antonio. Their breast tags named them as Coombs and Murchison.

Coombs squatted down beside him. 'You okay, good buddy? Jeezuss! You must be the luckiest man alive!" Murchison surveyed the litter of broken bodies. 'Looks like he's the only man alive! Shee-itt! This is something, ain't it?"

'Could you help me up?" gasped Steve.

'Sure!" said Coombs. 'Let's get you over to the 'Cat.

We got a first aid kit in there."

'Looks like you need it,' added Murchison. He sat Steve up against one of the wheels while Coombs climbed into the vehicle to get the kit and some water.

'How did you get here?" asked Steve.

Murchison shrugged. 'Saw the'explosion, reckoned something' was wrongdrove straight through the G.o.ddam fence."

'I'm glad you did."

Coombs knelt on the platform that ran alongside the cabin section of the amphib and cleaned Steve's headwound. 'uhh, that's not too deep, but you might need some st.i.tches." He applied some antibiotic gel then gave Steve the wet cotton swab. 'Clean off your hands, they look like they could use some gel too."

Murchison hunkered down in front of him. 'How's the ankle? D'you want it splinted up?"

'No. I think I just twisted it. It'll come right."

Murchison eyed the grey leather boots and the rest of Steve's torn and dirt-covered Confederate uniform as he straightened up. 'Pretty fancy rig you got there - what's left of it." 'Yeah,' said Steve. He loosened some b.u.t.tons on his tunic, reached inside and produced his silver ID card.

'Family... can you run me to San Antone?"

Murchison saluted. 'Yessirr, Captain?

Steve gestured towards the scattered wreckage of the train. 'Have you called this in?"

'No, sir. We just saw it happen and steamed over. Who would you like us to call? We can do it right now."

'That won't be necessary. I'll make the calls when I reach your divisional base. This is the work of subversives - I'm going to have to speak with the State Provost Marshal and the White House. But I shall need you to come back here and guard that breach in the fence until our people get here." He masked the pain that wracked his body.

'Okay, let's. .h.i.t the road!" Murchison pulled out the retractable step ladder between the second and third portside wheels. As Steve turned towards the vehicle, he saw a crumpled swathe of yellow material pinned underneath the rear tyre of the Bobcat. It was part of the dress Fran had been wearing.

The one she had hung up before lying down to take the nap she would never wake up from ....

He climbed onto the hull, entered the four-seat cabin through the side door and settled down in the back row.

Coombs, the smaller of the two, got in behind the wheel.

Murchison took the seat on his right.

Steve saw the two carbines racked on the side walls of the cabin and glanced at his watch. 16.24 . . . the afternoon was almost gone.

'Can you make the base by 17.007' 'We can try, but it's gonna rattle your bones,' said Coombs.

'That's the least of my worries,' said Steve. 'Go for it."

The duty crew watching the screens in the observation tower atop the huge concrete bunker that formed the interface between the overground and the subterranean world below, saw the camouflaged Bobcat approach at speed, then slew round and stop facing the other way as it neared the main entrance ramp. An onscreen check of the code letters painted on its roof identified it as belonging to the Mines and Mills detachment which had been booked out that morning to PFC.Coombs and Murchison.

A voice through the speaker tuned to the open channel. 'Tower, this is 8753 Coombs, Cat H-94. We're dropping off someone from Grand Central who's been involved in a traffic accident. He's able to walk in, but requests a.s.sistance at the ramp. We're heading back out to complete our a.s.signment. Over."

One of the duty Comm-Techs responded. 'Roger, H94.

Over and out."

He looked at the screen relaying pictures from the tv cameras monitoring the ramp. A guy with blond crewcut hair, dressed in camouflage fatigues emerged from the driver's side of the Bobcat, waved to the people inside, then closed the door and jumped down as the vehicle moved off and headed across country.

The Comm-Tech who had taken the call keyed himself through to Main Ramp Security and told them they had an incoming who might need medical a.s.sistance.

Steve pulled the field cap firmly down over his scalp wound and limped through what was known as the single access door onto Level Ten-10 of Eisenhower/San Antone. Two Provos, anonymous behind the mirrored half-visors of their red and white helmets, and a medic, stepped forward to meet him.

'Where's your name-tag, soldier?"

Steve pushed his silver ID card towards their faces. 'I'm not required to wear one, Sergeant!" The realisation that they were dealing with a member of the First Family brought a radical change of att.i.tude.

'uhh, no SIRR, Captain? barked his first interrogator.

'How can we be of a.s.sistance, sir?!" barked the second Meat-Loaf.

'Help me over to the Ramp Office. I need some information, and while you're getting it, I'd be grateful if the medic could bandage my left ankle."

'Yes, SIR! This way, SIR!" Brown-nosing b.a.s.t.a.r.ds...

The medic and the first Meat-Loaf a.s.sisted Steve to the Ramp Office, while the second cleared the way ahead.

Steve slumped down gratefully into the offered chair and fought off the pain generated by the bone-shaking ride, and his leap off the moving Bobcat. He looked down at the kneeling medic. 'Just bind it up as tight as you can.

And if you've got a couple of Cloud Nines, I'll personally arrange a Cla.s.s One Citation."

The medic pa.s.sed them over to him, tested the swelling on his ankle, ,sprayed on some Novocaine and began to bandage it. Steve swallowed haft of one of the strong pain killers, pocketed the rest for later and caught the eye of the desk clerk. 'Could you check the time of the next shuttle to Monroe/Wichita?"

'Rightaway, sir!" She called up the information on the nearest video screen. 'That'll be the 17:15, sir, stopping at Fort Worth and Tulsa... arriving Wichita 23:00." She looked at the wall clock. The time was 17:11. 'Looks like you're going to miss than one, sir. The next is at ' 'Call the Platform Master. Tell him to hold the train.

'But, sin ' 'Just DO it!" yelled Steve. He flashed his silver card.

The clerk looked uncertainly at the two Provos. They gave her the nod. She switched her video to communications mode and keyed in the required number.