Thunder in the East (4 page)

"So what you are saying," Yaz said, "is that you broke into prison?"

"Yeah, we did," Hunter told him. "But believe me, it's a lot easier breaking out of prison than breaking

in. . .

"But now there's still a hundred things to do. The bottom line is that we have to get as many POWs out as possible. Every last one of them will be needed to continue the war."

"What war?"

"The war to regain control of the whole country," Hunter answered with no small amount of determination. "we've got a plan to knock The Circle right back into the Atlantic."

Yaz shook his head. "Jesus, Hawk, that will be a 41

tall order. I hear The Circle has about fifty thousand men in this area alone.

And more of them the further east you go."

"We know all that," Hunter said. "But we have no choice but to carry the battle to them. And do it now. . ."

"But why?" Yaz asked. "I can see trying take over this city, but why the whole eastern half? Wouldn't it make more sense to do it a piece at a tune?"

"Yes, it would," Hunter answered. "But there's & problem ..." He then told Yaz about the Soviet-sponsored seaborne invasion force that was heading for the American east coast.

The Navy man listened with open-mouthed amazement. "So the plan is to recover the territory as quickly as possible and hope they don't land?" he asked.

"Sort of," Hunter replied. "Actually we've targeted some key areas that we'll have to win back-important cities mostly-that will give the illusion that we're in control. It's our only hope of preventing that army from landing."

"And I thought lugging an aircraft carrier across the Med was a chore!" Yaz said.

That was a piece of cake, compared to this," Hunter replied, his tone taking on a somber pitch.

They talked for ten more minutes, then Yaz bid him goodbye and hung up. He turned and said to Elvis: "Hawk says to give me the tour."

Elvis nodded and told him to follow. The pilot walked over to the group of men studying the map, then led Yaz to a huge metal door on the far side of the pump chamber. This led to another pipe-tunnel, one large enough to walk upright in. Yaz stepped through this passageway, and less than a minute later, 42

he was in the catacombs.

"Jesus, where are we?" he asked Elvis, looking at the moss-covered but somewhat elaborate walls and tunnels.

"We're right below the center of the city," the pilot replied. "You know the guy who's in charge here? The Viceroy? We're right under his headquarters right now."

They walked even deeper into the catacombs, occasionally passing an armed guard or two.

Finally they reached a junction in the catacombs that opened up to a wide tunnel.

"Here's where our plan will either go good or bust," Elvis said. "When I saw you today, checking out the truck filled with inner tubes, I knew we'd have to get in touch with you before the breakout."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Yaz said. "But what's with all these inner tubes.

How do they fit in?"

"Sounds nuts," Elvis said. "But that's how we're going to get a lot of the wounded guys out of the city."

He pointed toward one end of the tunnel. "There's a water lock up there about a quarter mile holding back a couple million gallons of Mississippi," he said.

"Once it's opened, the water flows down here, around to selected tunnels and back out to the river. These tunnels will fill up to about the three foot level. That's shallow enough for healthy people to move in, but too deep for wounded ones.

"So, with the help of some civvies who are in on all this-the Football City Underground-we've been gathering inner tubes from all over the city. When the time comes, we're going to flood the right tunnels, inflate all the inner tubes, bring the wounded down here, and float 'em out to the river, where we hope to

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have barges waiting."

"Wow. . ." was Yaz's first reaction to the outlandish plan. "But what's to prevent The Circle from waiting for the people at the end of the tunnel?"

"They should be busy," Elvis replied. "As it stands now, the night we break out will be the same night that the Western Forces attack the city."

Colonel Muss was shown into the Viceroy's chambers, after waiting nearly ten hours in an adjacent office.

Muss had gotten used to putting up with lengthy delays in seeing the Viceroy, but never one that lasted from early afternoon until almost midnight. One would think the man who was in charge of the Circle's last city on the western side of the Mississippi would be spending all that time trying to defend it.

But it soon became obvious that the Viceroy was more concerned about other things. . . .

Muss was led in and was instantly shocked by what he saw. The Viceroy-a young, thin man who had perfected a kind of Sir Walter Raleigh look-was stretched out on an aircraft carrier-sized, elevated water bed. The man was surrounded by a half dozen naked girls-none any older than sixteen. A brass bowl nearby was filled

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with a powdery substance that Muss knew was cocaine. More than a dozen straws were protruding from it. Loud, irritating music was blaring from four large quadraphonic speakers.

"Colonel Muss!" the Viceroy called out as the officer walked in. "You're just in time for the oil wrestling."

"We have some disturbing news, sir," Muss said, holding up the photographs given to him by the RF-4 pilot. "Can I talk openly here?"

The Viceroy looked around at the bevy of young girls. "Why yes, Colonel," he replied. "I doubt if there are any spies in amongst these rather edible wenches."

Muss walked over to the side of the bed which was suspended about waist-high off the floor. He handed the photos to the Viceroy.

The man, clad only in a skimpy pair of designer underwear, sat up and studied the photos.

"Tanks," he said calmly. "And SAMs . . . Where in hell are they getting all this equipment? They suffered just as we did during The Circle War. They have to deal with the same arms dealers that we do-and ours are better. Yet they seem to be building a land army twice the size of ours here in the city. This is all a mystery to me . . ."

As he was saying this, the Viceroy was nonchalantly fondling one girl's breast with his toes.

"Their strength has been growing every day for the past two weeks," Muss said, trying to avert his eyes. "The recon pilot has a movie film that shows these new additions. We estimate the Westerners now have nearly two hundred ten thousand

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men under arms. That's four times more than we ever thought possible. And they're no more than thirty miles from here."

The Viceroy shook his head, routinely leaned over to the coke bowl and took a long, noisy sniff.

"Don't sweat it, Muss," he said. "Just continue the recon flights, and stay cool."

Muss took note of the sketchy orders, shaking his head as he did so.

"Problems with that, Colonel?" the Viceroy asked.

/

Muss immediately straightened up. "No, sir ... It's just that it seems we should be doing more to counter the Westerners," he told him. "They have us practically surrounded."

The Viceroy retrieved a bottle of champagne from above his bed and quickly opened it.

"Colonel, I'm afraid to say, you are beginning to sound like the rest of my officers," Viceroy Dick replied, taking a swig from the bottle and passing it to the young girl nearest to him. "What we are engaged in here is called

'Tactical Defense.' Those cowboys aren't going to invade any tune soon. Even if they do have us by four-to-one, they know we'll kill their prisoners in a minute if they make a move. What do you think we have them digging those holes for? We've got plenty of time, Muss. And suffice to say that when the time comes, and the Westerners do try to attack in force, we'll be ready."

"If you say so, sir," Muss mumbled.

The Viceroy reached over and snuggled the cute

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little blonde nearest him, his hand roughly fondling her budding breasts.

"But let me ask you an important question, Colonel," he said as he continued to rub the young girl's body. "When will your men be finished rebuilding the bridges?"

Muss closed his eyes in thought, then answered. "Two of the spans can carry traffic right now," he said. "Three more will be open within the week. The further two, maybe two or three weeks from now."

The Viceroy thought this over and took another long sniff of cocaine.

"All right, Colonel," he said. "Here are some further orders:

"First, take all your workers on the sixth and seventh bridges and put them to work on bridges three, four and five. By your calculations, will this mean those bridges will be open in a matter of days?"

"Possibly," Muss answered.

"Very good," the Viceroy said. "Remember, in a tactical defense, efficiency is the key . . ."

Muss shrugged. He even imagined that he was beginning to get the Viceroy's drift. . .

"Now, Colonel," he said as the bottle of champagne made its way back to him.

"Sit down and relax and enjoy the oil wrestling."

Muss did as he was told. Viceroy Dick clapped his hands once and instantly four more young girls were led in by a squad of tough-looking women guards.

"They're all dykes," the Viceroy leaned over and 48

whispered to Muss, pointing to the women guards. "I find they prime the ladies for me . . ."

A bucket of oil-scented cooking oil-was brought in.

"Colonel, you can have the first honors," the Viceroy said.

Muss wasn't quite sure what the man wanted him to do.

"You're supposed to rub the first one down, Colonel," the Viceroy told him, realizing the man's plight.

The bucket was brought up to Muss as was the" first young girl. Like the other three girls, she was dressed in a tuxedo-negligee combination, all-black, wearing a low-cut silk blouse, with black stockings and short black boots.

Muss noticed that each girl, like the naked ones frolicking on the Viceroy's huge bed, was blond, either natural or dyed, and wearing her hair in the same long, shaggy cut.

The girl who stood before him was a beauty. Muss swallowed and hoped, for his own soul, that the girl was at least seventeen. But he knew that was unlikely

. . .

"OK, Colonel," Viceroy Dick said. "Take her clothes off."

Muss hesitated at first. But unwilling to balk at the order, he started to undo the buttons on the girl's tuxedo jacket.

"For Christ's sake, Colonel," the leader laughed as he saw the man's timid approach. "Well be here all night . . ."

The Viceroy signaled for two of the women

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guards to step forward and help Muss, a duty which they gladly accepted. The women came up behind the girl and proceeded to rip the clothes from her back.

The girl, who appeared to be heavily drugged, didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she simply stood there while the older women stripped her, their hands roaming freely over her privates as they did so.

Now completely naked, the girl looked at Muss, waiting for him to make the next move. He put his hands into the bowl of slightly heated oil, then slowly began rubbing the lubricant on the girl's chest and stomach, then her thighs and backside. She giggled as he did this; he felt the bulge rise between his legs.

The women guards took care of the three other girls, delightfully stripping them and covering them in oil.

Meanwhile Viceroy Dick was having his way with two naked girls on the bed.

"OK, let the festivities begin!" he announced, sitting up and taking another long snort of cocaine.

The women guards spread a large rubber mat down in front of the bed and covered it too with oil. Then the girls were placed at each corner and told to go at it.

Muss found his pants bursting at the in-seam as he watched the teens grapple with each other, their lovely young bodies glistening in the slippery hot oil.

"What are the stakes, sir?" he asked, not being able to take his eyes off the wrestling match.

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"The two winners get to sleep here with me," the Viceroy told him. "The two losers go with the dykes. If they survive forty-eight hours with those girls and their modalities, they get a chance to come back in here and try it again."

Muss could only numbly nod his head. The story of Sodom and Gomorra came to him.

"You know we used to sacrifice them," the Viceroy said. "We were up to a virgin a night. Mabel, the big blond guard over there, used to love to do them in.

"But, just like everything else, there's a shortage/ of young attractive girls in this city. So, we have to conserve our supply. Again, efficiency is the key..."

Muss felt the urges in his body reach a breaking point. But just as he was about to ask the Viceroy to let him have one of the girls, Dick turned to him and said: "You're dismissed, Colonel. . ."

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Three hours later, Viceroy Dick knew he had had enough.

The oil wrestling match had lasted an hour-the two victors were now curled up unconscious at the foot of the huge bed. He had tired of them quickly, snapped on his TV screen instead to watch, via closed circuit, as Mabel and the other female guards took their measure of the two losers. This had amused him for another hour, after which he fell asleep.

Now, awake after his brief nap, he took a half dozen long snorts from his bowl of cocaine, then arose to go back upstairs to his private living quarters, where he knew another pair of young beauties waited. They would rub him down with warm towels then simply massage him back to sleep.

He rode the elevator alone, arriving at his 23rd story suite to be greeted by his major of the guard.

The man looked very nervous . . .

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"You have visitors, sir," the major told him. "They've been waiting for some time . . ."

Viceroy Dick checked his watch. "It's nearly four in the morning," he grumbled. "Who the hell has the balls to be here disturbing me at this hour?"

The major shifted uneasily. "They're Soviet officers, sir," he said. "Two of them, with two bodyguards."

The Viceroy immediately stiffened up. "Did they say what their business was?"