"Ahern, Jerry - Survivalist 009 - Earth Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ahern Jerry)

Chapter Sixteen.

The radio was designed to automatically change frequencies and despite the fact that Soviet monitoring equipment existed which could still pick up such a set-up easily enough, it was a far better arrangement than a single frequency system.
"I cannot summon a large force, Dr. Rourke. But Varakov is right. I of course knew the post holocaust scenario possibilities and I was never certain the Eden Project got away in time before Kennedy Space Center was destroyed. I don't doubt that he has the data to support the scenario. I can send you a dozen volunteers. No others to be spared. KGB forces and Army units under KGB command have our backs to the wall here, boxing us in. Our only chance is volunteers from Texas. Reed here is telling me I'm stupid to be saying this en clare, but what's the difference now. We're going to fight. I should have known a set-up for a slaughter like this wasn't General Varakov's doing. They've been making strafing runs on hospitals, bombing civilian encampments, the whole thing. The largest troop commitment they've made since invading the continent. I've got a volunteer, your old friend Colonel Reed. Where do I send him and the man he'll take with him?"
Chambers' radio procedure left a great deal to be desired, Rourke thought. "I saw Reed with a western novel once. I recall reading the author was particularly interested in a certain location. For four reasons. See if he understands , Rourke over."
It was Reed's voice, half laughing. "Rourke, I'd love to meet you there, love it."
Rourke nodded unnecessarily to the voice so far away, then said, "As quick as you can and bring whatever you can carry. Rourke over."
"Reed, over."
Rourke handed the table microphone to Marty Stanonik whom he stood beside.
He walked away from the radio set as Marty closed the transmission.
"I do not understand," Natalia began, looking puzzled.
"The most famous western writer in history. I've got a lot of his books at the Retreat, you should read them. His name is French for love. The Four Corners, where Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico's state boundaries all meet. I read about his interest in the area some years back. Reed, I figured he'd know, too. Lucky for me he did. And lucky for me you didn't, "
"Why?"
"A Russian wasn't supposed to be able to understand it," and he winked at her.





Chapter Seventeen.

Reed stood in the darkness on the steps of the church, looking out across the wooded area beyond the parking lot. "The men are ready, sir," Sergeant Dressler's voice came from behind him.
"Very good, Sergeant," and he turned and started through the open doorway, Dressier stepping aside to let him pass.
Military courtesy sometimes amused Reed, sometimes affronted him. Sergeant Dressier had seen active duty during the closing days of World War II as a tanker, served the country during the Korean conflict, been retired during the Viet Nam conflict and now , in his sixties , was once again in uniform. That a man of Dressler's age and experience should step aside for him , Reed , seemed somehow wrong.
But it was too late to change any of that, Reed thought, walking up the aisle toward the front of the church. "Ten-hut!" Dressier snapped.
Reed shook his head, "As you were, take your seats, gentlemen." Ten other men sat in the first pews on each side of the aisle. Reed stepped up the three low steps leading to the pulpit, just short of entering it. Reed stood beside it instead, feeling odd wearing a pistol on his hip. "All of you were told before volunteering that this was likely a suicide mission. Rourke couldn't get too specific on the radio, but I've talked with him often enough. Apparently the Russians have some move afoot to destroy what was called the Eden Project. Our earth, well, we told you that, too. In six days at the most, perhaps at dawn tomorrow, the sky will catch fire, the atmosphere will all but completely burn away and the earth itself will burn. We'll all die then anyway. But apparently the Russians have some system for surviving it somewhere. My guess is the old Norad headquarters at Cheyenne Mountain but we won't know that until we rendezvous with Rourke and his force. It's our job to knock out the Russian base, so they can't survive the holocaust. Otherwise, when the 138 people of the Eden Project return to earth, the KGB'll be waiting for them, to shoot down the space shuttles before they land. And the Russians will have won it all, Communism will have the ultimate triumph. We owe it to the future, if there is one, and to every man and woman alive today or whoever lived, whoever sacrificed life or security or pleasure to defend the ideal of freedom, we owe it to all of them not to let Communism win, not to let the KGB be the masters of earth. And dying fighting for that is a hell of a lot better, " and he felt sorry for the word, remembering suddenly he stood in a church, "a lot better than being incinerated when the end comes. Are there any questions?"
A young face at the far end of the right hand pew, "What is it, Corporal?"
The man stood. "Sir, I mean, I know what you say is right, but what can twelve of us do, well, "
"Against the might of the Soviet Union? Well, not just twelve, Rourke has some volunteers , he didn't specify. Maybe a Resistance group or something. Say maybe there'll be a couple dozen of us. And what can we do? Everything. Anything. Die if that's the only way. But we'll do what we can, soldier, that's what we're here for, isn't it? I don't mean just here, in this church, at this briefing. I mean here on earth for. To do what we can. And now we have a chance unique in all of history. Sometimes people have accused me of being a little too far to the right, a little too anti-Communist. Maybe I was. Maybe I am. But we have a chance to rid the world of an evil, an evil that contemplates shooting the only survivors of the civilized world, of the democracies , shooting the only survivors out of the sky. I don't know how, again, Dr. Rourke couldn't be too specific. Maybe particle beam weapons like supposedly they used to zap some of our missiles on The Night of The War. But whatever it is, whatever it takes, I don't want a single man with me who isn't ready to give it his best shot. Maybe we've got the chance here to eradicate all the pent-up evil in the world all at once, to give mankind a fresh start five hundred years from now. And maybe we don't, but as Americans, well, we gotta try it." Reed cleared his throat. He looked at the Timex on his wrist. "We should be moving out. Any man who wants not to go, well, stay in the church here a while and pray for those of us who do. I won't think any the less of you."
"I think we all wanna go, sir," Sergeant Dressier said, standing. "But could you maybe lead us in a moment's prayer, sir?"
"I'd rather you would, Sergeant. I'm not too experienced at praying."
"Colonel, sir, I think the men'd rather that you did, sir."
Reed nodded, closing his eyes, bowing his head. "Heavenly Father, help us to see your will and to do it. And bless us all for trying. Amen."
He looked up. "Like I said, Sergeant, I'm an amateur at it."
"It sounded pretty good to me, Colonel."
Reed nodded, starting down the aisle of the church, hearing, feeling the men of his detachment fall in behind him. And then a voice, the young corporal who had questioned him. He began singing, "Onward Christian soldiers , "
The sergeant's voice joined him, "Marching as to war, "
Reed didn't know the words perfectly, and he felt almost silly, and his voice had always been bad. Before his wife had died during the bombing on The Night of The War, she had always joked with him that he couldn't carry a tune with both hands and a bucket. But he joined his men anyway.
"...leads against the foe; Forward into battle, see his banners go."
Outside, the Sikorsky UH-60A Black Hawk Chopper was already waiting and Reed picked up his rifle.





Chapter Eighteen.