“Which means you keep sucking air,” the sergeant retorted hotly. “So watch your mouth about the boss. It’s Baron Sheffield, shitface, and don’t you forget again.”
“Yeah, sure,” the private replied calmly. “Anything you say, noble sir.”
As smooth and silent as a snake, Campbell lowered the binocs and started to draw his blaster.
“Hey, look over there!” the driver shouted, pointed to the north. “It’s a dish!”
Eagerly the men crowded the ob slits, so Campbell stepped outside and walked to the edge of the cliff.
Sure enough, there smack dab on top of one of the crumbling skyscrapers was a nest of dish antennas, each no more than a yard wide.
“I found it, Sarge!” the driver boasted proudly, joining him on the edge of the rill.
Campbell slapped the man on the back side of the head. “You’re dumber than a crap sandwich,” he snapped. “Those little things are much too small. We need a dish big as the one back home.”
“Like that monster over there,” a private said, prone in the dirt and looking to the west, cupped hands shading his vision from the sun’s glare.
Without much hope, Campbell trained his binocs on the indicated area and saw only jungle, heavy infestations of leafy vines crisscrossing the whitewater river in a dense canopy of greenery. Only the occasional silvery flash indicated water was underneath the covering.
Dropping to the ground, the sergeant could now see under the vines and spotted an intact blockhouse sitting on a small island in the middle of the flowing water. The struts and columns were completely engulfed with leafy vines, past the tops of the trees. Then the dish erupted into view, even larger than the one back in Tennessee.
Holding his breath, Campbell watched as a bird landed on the dish, then launched itself into the sky once more. “Solid as a rock,” he announced happily, unconsciously wiggling his boots. “Hot damn, we really found one, boys. And no mistakes this time!”
“That river’s going be a bitch to cross,” a sec man said. “Probably need to build a bridge to run the power cables and shit.”
Standing, Campbell dusted himself off and tucked away the binocs. “Not our problem. We found the fucker and a rich ville right alongside. Time to go back.”
“Sure hope we beat Alpha team,” a sec man stated, thinking of the lush reward waiting for them. “Can’t wait to start guarding all that pussy!”
“And I hope Brandon got eaten alive,” Campbell retorted hotly. “Never did like that butt licker. Sam, how long for us to get back?”
The driver cocked his head in thought. “Be there by dawn tomorrow. If the juice holds, that is. We’re pretty low.”
“Then strip the wag,” Campbell ordered. “Leave everything but one meal of food and half the ammo. We’ll make a tent of tree branches to hide the stuff for when we return. That’ll cut our weight and give us enough juice to reach Shiloh.”
“What are we going to do about Front Royal?” a private asked. “It’s only a hundred miles to the north. Damn big, too. Three, mebbe four hundred folks. Plus, sec men.”
“Mutie shit,” a private replied. “Ain’t never been a ville that big in history of the world.”
“Baron Sheffield will melt that down to bedrock first thing,” the driver stated.
“Not going to do that here, is he?” another sec man asked nervous, glancing at the sky.
Campbell snorted a laugh. “Hell no,” the sergeant replied. “Sheffield is going to do a lot worse to Front Royal than just chill them all. A hell of a lot worse.”
AS THE TWINKLING LIGHTS inside the swirling mists faded, the door to the chamber was thrown open and the rest of the companions rushed inside.
“You okay?” Krysty asked hurriedly, bolstering the Colt.
“No damage,” J.B. said, fingering a hole in his shirt where a bullet had come within a hair of blowing off his arm. “Nothing serious, that is.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Mildred gasped, staring at the piles of supplies and ammunition. “Looks like you hit the jackpot.”
“And Sheffield, too,” Ryan said. “Doc, don’t let that door close! The blues could be right behind us.”