Vickers (Corp.s.e.)

"Let go the shotgun from your shoulder and step away from it."

Vickers allowed the Churchill to drop and then took two paces sideways. The voice came again.

"Okay, now the machine pistol. Same procedure, nice and easy."

Vickers unhooked the shoulder strap and the Yasha also fell to the ground. This time he took two paces back. Again he raised his arms.

"Do you mind if I turn around and see who I'm talking to?"

"You can turn around but take it very slow. If you do the slightest thing I don't like, I'm going to cut you in half."

Vickers very slowly turned. He wasn't sure what he expected. Some desperate, ragged but armed survivor of the holocaust? Nothing prepared him for what he saw. The sergeant was short, a little overweight. The most apt description was regular army dapper. His olive-green fatigues were spotless and had knife-edge creases. His helmet was polished, completely unscarred by combat. A red scarf was stylishly knotted at his throat and mirrored sunglasses reflected the deep blue of the sky. The tag over his pocket read Slaughter K. His shoulder patch was that of the Eighty-Second Airborne. The M90 that was pointed at Vickers' stomach was maintained army style. It made no sense at all. Vickers spoke without thinking.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?"

The sergeant looked genuinely astonished.

"You're asking me that?"

"I guess I must look a little strange."

"You're not kidding, buddy boy. Where did you come from?" He raised his gun slightly. "You came from out of the bunker, didn't you?"

"I'm not sure I ought to be saying anything."

"Suit yourself. You just stay right where you are. I'm going to call this in."

Holding the M90 in one hand, he undipped the radio from the front of his jacket. He pressed the send button and spoke into it.

"This is Slaughter. I'm on the back side of the hill. You better send a chopper over here on the double. There's something you just have to see."

While he talked, Vickers wondered if there might be a possibility of jumping him while he was distracted. To make sergeant in the Eighty-Second, you had to have plenty on the ball. Vickers figured that he might just make it without the radiation suit but in the bulky garment he didn't have a chance. He remained as he was with his hands in the air.

The chopper came fast. Inside of three minutes, Vickers heard the slap of its rotors. A Cobra light gunship skittered up over the crest of the hill and came at them at nothing feet, whipping up the sand and scrub with its blade wash. The implications in all this came at Vickers as hard and fast as the helicopter. Something in his grasp of recent history was seriously wrong. The Cobra settled. The machine seemed impatient. Its skids eased restlessly up and down, first touching and then not touching the ground. Three men came fast out of the side door while the door gu

"He came out of the bunker?"

"He's not saying anything but where else is there?"

"Did you see where he came from?"

Slaughter shook his head. "I first spotted him going up the slope. He was hard to miss. He was having such a time in that suit I was able to sneak up behind him and get the drop on him." He nodded to where Vickers' weapons were still laying in the dirt. "He was carrying those with him. It looked like he meant some kind of business."

The Contec security man nodded.

"The first thing is to get this faceplate open and see who we've got in here."

He reached for the helmet's release catch but Vickers took a hasty step back and clapped a protective hand over it.

"Just a goddamn minute."

Slaughter jerked his rifle. "Get that damn helmet off! Now!"

"What about the radiation?"

"What radiation?"

"The radiation from the bombs. You may be acclimated or something but…"

The Contec man's eyes narrowed.

"What the fuck have they been telling you in there?"

Vickers was cautious. He was so totally shocked and confused that he didn't want to make any mistake.

"There's no radiation?"

"None. There've been no bombs exploded around here since the 1960s."

"You're sure."

"There's no radiation. Damn it, man, even your own radiation counter's in the green."

Vickers closed his eyes for a moment. One step at a time was all he could manage. He popped the release on his helmet. The faceplate swung open. Despite his situation, the air tasted good. He took off the whole helmet. The Contec man's eyes widened.

"Well, shit."

The captain looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"He definitely came from inside the bunker."

"You know him?"

"I've seen pictures of him. His name is Vickers, Mort Vickers. He was a Contec corpse who went in a while before the place was sealed."

Vickers looked at each of his captors in turn. "I think I ought to talk to someone." The captain nodded. "I think you'd better. You're coming with us."

He took Vickers by the arm and propelled him toward the helicopter. The lieutenant and the Contec man flanked them. Slaughter gathered up Vickers' weapons and brought up the rear. They ducked as they passed under the rotor blades. As they climbed into the Cobra, Vickers glanced at the captain.

"What's my status in all of this?"

"You're under arrest, Jack, until someone tells me different. "

The chopper flipped up before they were even settled. The pilot was a gum-chewing Indian with crazy eyes. Vickers remembered the reputation of army chopper pilots. This sucker probably popped greenies all day. It was cramped inside the Cobra with two extra passengers and the door gu

"What happened here?"

"No questions, Vickers. You're under arrest."

Vickers scowled. "Suit yourself."

The Cobra dropped toward a white-marked landing area. A small crowd had gathered, apparently to stare at Vickers as he emerged from the gunship. No less than four video cameras were pointed at him. He couldn't imagine they were media and assumed that the army wanted a permanent record of the proceedings. The way everyone gawked was u

"You can change out of that suit and into these."

"I can?"

"Right now, please."