Cry Wolf

"Oh Jake,

we must hurry." Vicky shook his arm. "They'll cut us off."

"Right," snapped Gareth. "We'll have to get back into the gorge and

rally them on the first line of defence in the gorge itself otherwise

they'll run straight back to Addis Ababa." He swung around to

Gregorius. "If we try and take these men, and he indicated the

hundreds of halfnaked, unarmed Harad who were now straggling out of the

dunes, "if we try to take them back through the mouth of the gorge,

they'll be shot to pieces by the Italian guns. Can they find their own

way on foot up the mountain slopes?"

"They are mountain men,

Gregorius answered simply.

"Good. Tell them to work their way back and assemble at the first

waterfall in the gorge. That's the rallying point the first

waterfall." He turned back to the others. "On the other hand, we'll

have to use the gorge the only way to save the cars. We'll rush the

mouth in a tight formation and pray that the Eyeties haven't had a

chance to bring up their artillery yet. Let's go!" He grabbed Ras

Golam by the shoulder and dragged him, at an awkward run, back towards

where they had left their armoured car parked on the crest of the first

dune.

"Get back in the car," Jake instructed Vicky. "Keep the engine

ru

of the line, then go like hell. Don't stop for anything until we are

into the gorge. Do you hear me?" Vicky nodded grimly.

"Good girl he said, and would have turned away, but Vicky held his arm

and pressed herself to him. She reached up and kissed him full on the

lips, her mouth open and wet and soft and sweet.

"I love you, "she whispered huskily.

"Oh my darling, what a hell of a time you picked to tell me."

"I

only just found out," she explained, and he crushed her fiercely to his

chest.

"Oh, that's lovely," cried Sara from the turret above them.

"That's beautiful." She clapped her hands delightedly.

"Until later," whispered Jake. "Now get out of here!" and he turned

her away and pushed her towards the car. He turned himself and ran

lightly back into the dunes, with his heart singing.

"Oh, Miss Camberwell, I am so pleased for you." Sara reached down to

help Vicky up on to the hull. "I knew it was going to be Mr. Barton.

I picked him for you long ago, but I wanted you to find out for

yourself."

"Sara, my dear. Please don't say any more." Vicky hugged her briefly

before dropping into the driver's hatch. "Or the whole thing will turn

upside down again." Ras Golam was so tired and drained that he could

move only at a creaking walk up the dune, even though

Gareth tried to prod him into a trot. He plodded on up the dune

dragging the sword behind him.

Suddenly there was a sound in the sky above them, as though the heavens

had been split by all the winds of hell.

A rising, rattling shriek that passed and then erupted in a towering

column of sand and yellow swirling fumes against the side of the dune

ahead of them, fifty paces below the car that was silhouetted upon the

crest.

"Guns,"said Gareth u

have prodded the Ras again, but there was no need. The sound of

gunfire had rejuvenated the Ras instantly; he leaped high in the air,

uttering that dreadful screech of a challenge and hunting frantically

for his teeth in the folds of his sham ma

"Oh no, you don't." Grimly, Gareth forestalled the next wild suicidal

charge by grabbing the Ras and dragging him protestingly towards the

car. The Ras had tasted blood now, and he wanted to go in on foot with

the sword the way a real warrior fights and he was frantically

searching the open horizons for the enemy, as Gareth towed him away

backwards.

The next shell burst beyond the crest, out of sight in the trough.

"The first one under, and the second over," muttered Gareth,

struggling to control the Ras's wild lunges. "Where does the next one

go?" They had almost reached the car when it came in, arcing across

the wide lioncoloured plain, through the low grey cloud, howling and

rattling the heavens; it plunged down at an acute angle, going in

through the thin plating behind the turret of the car, and it burst

against the steel floor of the cab.

The car burst like a paper bag. The entire turret was lifted from its

seating and went high in the air in a flash of crimson flame and sooty

smoke.

Gareth dragged the Ras down on to the sand and held him there while

scraps of flying steel and other debris splattered around them.

It lasted only seconds and the Ras tried to rise again, but Gareth held

him down while the shattered hull of the car brewed up into a fiery

explosion of burning gasoline and the Vickers ammunition in the bins

began popping and flying like fireworks.

It lasted a long time, and when at last the crackle of ammunition died

away, Gareth lifted his head cautiously; immediately another belt

caught and rattled away with white tracer flying and spluttering,

forcing them flat again.

"Come on, Rassey," sighed Gareth at last. "Let's see if we can beg a

ride home." At that moment, the ugly, well beloved shape of

Priscilla the Pig roared abruptly over the crest of the dune and slewed

to a halt above them.

"God," Jake shouted from the driver's hatch. "I thought you were in it

when she blew. I came to pick up the pieces." Dragging the Ras,

Gareth climbed up the side of the tall hull.

"This is becoming a habit," Gareth grunted. "That's two I owe you.

"I'll send you an account," Jake promised, and then ducked

instinctively as the next shell came shrieking in to burst so close

that dust and smoke blew into their faces.

"I get this strange feeling we should move on now," suggested

Gareth mildly. "That is, if you have no other plans." Jake sent the

car plunging steeply down the face of the dune, turning hard as he hit

the firmer earth of the plain and setting a ru

the mouth of the gorge was hidden by the smoky writhing curtains of

cloud and rain.

Vicky Camberwell saw them coming and swung Miss Wobbly and gu

on to a parallel course. Wheel to wheel, the two elderly machines

bounded across the flat land, and the rain began to crackle against the

steel hulls in minute white bursts that blurred their outlines as the

next Italian shell burst fifty feet ahead of them,

forcing them to swerve to avoid the fuming crater.

"Can you see where the battery is?" yelled Jake, and Gareth answered

him, clinging to one of the welded brackets above the hatch,

rain streaming down his face and soaking the front of his white

shirt.

"They are in the ground that the Gallas deserted, they've probably

taken over the trenches I dug with such loving care."

"Could we have a go at them? "Jake suggested.

"No we can't, old son. I sited those positions myself.

They're tight. You just keep going for the gorge. Our only hope is to

get into the second line of positions that I have prepared at the first

waterfall." Then he shook his head sorrowfully, screwing up his eyes