Armageddon Crazy

"Carlisle."

"I asked you a question, boy."

An unpleasant smile spread over Winters' scrubbed, unctuous face. He was out of breath and clearly ru

They both ducked as a bottle smashed against the wall behind them. An angry mob had started to ring the gate, and the deacons were pulling back into a protective formation in the gateway. The crowd did not seem willing to force the confrontation yet. The firepower that the deacons had between them was more than enough to keep them sullenly at bay. They contented themselves with throwing things from the back rows and yelling abuse. Carlisle knew that it was a situation that would not continue indefinitely. It had to deteriorate. Either the mob would work itself up until it was irrational enough to charge the deacons, or else the deacons would lose control and start shooting. In either scenario, people would die. He knew that he really had to get himself out of there. He could not do anything, and he was damned if he would let himself be caught in the crossfire.

He was still holding on to Winters. They were in a kind of no man's land.

Winters glanced down at the ten caliber in his hand. "You realize that I could shoot you out of hand and nobody would do a thing."

Carlisle's own gun was in his free hand. The moment's angry impulse that had caused him to grab Winters was creating a ridiculous and dangerous standoff. It was time to take the initiative. He smiled back. "You could, at that."

Winters' eyes flickered. It was obviously not the response that he had expected.

Carlisle laughed. "For all your bullshit, you deacons really don't have it, do you?"

Without warning, he kicked Winters hard in the crotch and turned to run. Three steps, and he was in among the crowd. They parted to let him through.

Winters

His eyes were watering and he wanted to vomit. He lay on his side, doubled up, his body curled around the throbbing agony between his legs. Only rage stopped him from crying out. That bastard Carlisle. He would kill him. The next time he saw him, he would kill him. Through the pain and the violent fantasies of what he would do to Carlisle, he heard shouts in among the mob.

"Get his gun! Quick, get his gun!"

He realized in horror that when Carlisle had kicked him, he had dropped his weapon. He opened his eyes and saw the brand-new Krupp lying some six feet away on the sidewalk. He had only been issued it half an hour earlier. He tried to move, but the pain redoubled. There were footsteps coming toward him. He tried dragging himself. Hands reached for the gun. He stretched for it, too, but his arm was kicked aside. Then, right on top of him, there was a thunderous explosion of gunfire. Rogers was standing, straddling him, firing over the heads of the crowd. They were backing away, and some had turned tail and run. Rogers' first burst had been aimed at the scum who had been trying to get the HV. Four of them lay sprawled on the sidewalk. There was a lot of blood.

Rogers moved quickly forward, picked up the fallen gun, then stepped back to Winters. "Can you walk?"

"I don't know."

"You'd better."

Meredith, the team leader, was yelling to them. "Everyone move back inside the gates! Move back!"

Rogers slung Winters' machine pistol over his shoulder and put a hand under his armpit. "Come on, I'll help you."

Winters found that his legs were working again. With Rogers holding him up, he hobbled back to where the other deacons were slowly retreating to the vehicle entrance. That withdrawal made the crowd a good deal bolder. They were closing in again. Meredith had found himself a bullhorn somewhere. He faced the mob. He cut a heroic figure, the ramrod-straight embodiment of authority facing the milling forces of darkness and disorder.

"There will be no more warnings. If you don't disperse, I will order my men to open fire."

Winters dropped to one knee. He took his Krupp back from Rogers. The ring of angry faces stopped coming on, but the crowd showed no inclination to disperse.

Meredith looked grimly at the other deacons. "They've had their chance. Fire at will."

The muzzle flashes spat into the night. Winters' gun vibrated in his hand. The Krupp HVs made an angry, high-pitched sound. Winters was surprised at how easy it was. They went down like mown corn. Bodies kicked and contorted on the street and sidewalk. The ones who were not hit in the first withering fire took to their heels, scrambling for their lives. They immediately ran into the crowds behind them who were still pressing forward. All of Thirty-third Street was choked by terrified, struggling humanity. On the far sidewalk, the front window of Toots Shor's bar exploded.

"Hold your fire. Back through the gate, right now."

As he moved back with the others, Winters had almost forgotten about his pain. He felt breathless and light-headed. That'll show the bastards. That'll show them who gives the orders. That'll show those inferior scum what kind of God we worship.

Kline

There had been a chorus of protests when they had been told that they could not leave the VIP lounge. Everyone had something to do or someplace to be. They had parties and di

"What the hell is going on?"

During the lengthy pause that followed, Longstreet's face had grown increasingly disbelieving.

"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Has the world gone completely insane?"

There was a shorter pause.

"Why, in God's name, weren't we told about it? Was it supposed to be a surprise?"

Pause.

"What do mean you just got it from NBC? Do you realize how that makes us look? Who authorized this?"

Pause.

"What is Dreisler's office doing authorizing sky spectacles? I'm getting a little tired of the assumption that he can do exactly as he pleases. In the meantime, I'm bottled up in here with a party of extremely miffed bigshots. If this Four Horsemen thing is happening, they might as well see the damn thing. I want you to get on to somebody at the Garden and have a video picture piped in here. In the meantime, I'll do my best to smooth the feathers."

He hung up and turned to the circle of impatiently waiting guests.

"Well, we may not be going anywhere for a while but at least we'll be able to see what's happening."

His words were not greeted with any degree of enthusiasm. The detainees did not want to see what was happening – -they wanted to get on with their pla

After about five minutes, the monitor screens came to life. Some, apparently being fed from a camera mounted on the roof of the big post office building on the other side of Eighth Avenue, showed an upward-angled shot of the Four Horsemen. A second view was provided by a camera crew in a helicopter hoveling over the Hudson. A third set of images came from a mobile unit down in the crowd. The video hookup, far from calming the protesters in the VIP lounge, actually started a new round of complaints.