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There was no sign of the other flatbed and its crew so they were still following the convoy up ahead.
Toward morning Jo
Somebody had hacked some vines and made a sign on the road. It was an arrow. From the clean cuts it appeared to have been done with a claymore or a bayonet. Psychlos would have shot the vines in two. So it was their own people. They'd left them a sign.
It was pointing to a roadside rest hut.
There was a clatter of weapons in the back as his crew made ready in case they dismounted. Jo
The rain drizzled down his neck as he got out.
The only thing different about the mine hut was evidence of recent foot traffic in front of it and a door slightly ajar. Jo
There was a scurry of something in there. Jo
The Scot was behind him with an assault rifle. Two Russians were coming up.
Jo
He turned the mine lamp fully on the object. He went closer. It was hard to tell what it was beyond a mangle of shredded flesh. Then he saw a piece of cloth. Part of a...kilt!
It was Allison.
The Scot and the Russians stood petrified.
A closer examination showed that every artery and major vein had been left unsevered. Careful Psychlo claws had ripped away the flesh around them, slice by slice. The whole body had been shredded in such a fashion.
It must have taken hours for him to die.
They had left the throat and jaws until last and much of them still remained. Interrogation, Psychlo-style!
There was something in the remains of the hand. A sharp-edged tool Psychlos often carried in their pockets to clean motor points. A major artery on the inside of the leg was parted.
Allison had effected his own death. He must have seized the tool from an unguarded pocket and finished himself.
Could they have rescued him? Not in this forest and on this road, Jo
Allison had not even known of their own expedition. Ah, but Allison possibly could have told them the numbers and disposition of bases the humans now had. And Allison had probably talked, for there are limits to human endurance.
No, the remaining teeth were chipped with grinding, the jaws seemed to be frozen shut. Possibly Allison had not talked.
But it didn't matter whether he had talked or not. The convoy was doomed. It was doomed in the narrowed eyes of the Russians. It was doomed in the angry clench of the Scot's fist on a claymore.
After a little, the Scot went out and got a tarp and laid it gently over the mess that had been Allison. The Scot said, “We'll be back for ye, laddie. With blood on our blades, never fear!”
Jo
The Psychlos? He was not too sure he wanted them alive now, and he had to make himself be very rational about it.
Chapter 5
In the midmorning twilight of the forest, they caught up with the other flatbed. It was the small begi
Ru
The crew was sitting there now on the flying mine platform, back in under the trees. They had flown it and the mortar off and put themselves in a posture of defense. They were very happy to see Jo
Jo
They left the half-submerged flatbed where it lay, and double-loaded with two platforms and two mortars, they crossed the river and continued their pursuit.
Shortly after, the road got better, due possibly to a change of soil. They picked up speed. They had had about a twelve– to fifteen-hour travel gap between the tail and themselves. But a convoy tends to be slower than a single vehicle, particularly in such rough terrain.
They were traveling so fast by early afternoon that they did not see that it was getting lighter ahead. Abruptly they burst out of the forest and onto a wide sava
Three miles ahead, there was the convoy tail!
With a prayer they had not been seen, they did a U-turn and got back in the trees.
Jo
The sava
Jo
Mountains! Up to the northeast, their crowns above the clouds, reared two peaks, enormously tall. Was that ice and snow?
There was something else strange. Then Jo
The Russians were buzzing, looking at the convoy. It was impressive. Over fifty vehicles, most of them flatbeds loaded to the last pound with ammunition, fuel, and breathe-gas, were crawling along like some enormous black snake. Three, no five, tanks! The one in the lead was a Basher “Bash Our Way to Glory.” A nearly impregnable armored vehicle. There was another tank in the middle and three tanks at the end. Now that their own motor was off, the roar of that convoy even at this distance was like thunder.
If the ambush were in place, the ball would open when that whole convoy was in the defile and the mortar up front closed the road in front of them.
Jo
fact. If one of the flying platforms could just get behind that knoll and wait until all those vehicles were in the ravine, it could lob mortar shells into this end of the cliff and start an avalanche that would close the back door.