home.’ Ripper took deep breaths, as though savouring the dew- laden air. ‘After a start like this, I always found a day was good for hunting.’
‘Let’s hope that doesn’t hold true for the Russians today.’ Libby saw that the American now stood surrounded by mould-speckled shreds of hay and straw. ‘Is there a good reason for you to turn yourself into an animated haystack?’
‘Sure is. While you all been trying to keep your teeth from chattering, I’ve been as snug as a bug in a dung heap ...’
‘Smell like one as well.’
Ripper ignored the rude interruption,’... and you could, with some of this tucked all around you.’ He pulled out stalks from his sleeves and the top of his pants.
‘Kinda tickles down there, especially if you’re not too careful and put a field mouse in as well. There’s other problems too. I used to take my girl to her grandpa’s barn, but after things went wrong a couple of times she didn’t want to know. First time she got herself all smothered in corn husks: I goes in fast like I always does, and it were like screwing glass-paper. Still managed to finish but by then I was sore as hell, real raw.’
‘That’s quite a fund of little stories you’ve got. Are they all that poignant?’ It took Ripper a moment to recover from the shock of seeing the sergeant suddenly loom out of the mist His fire-damaged face took on a spectral quality against the slowly swirling white backdrop.
‘You ain’t heard the half of this one yet. A couple of weeks and two tubes of antiseptic cream later we go back for another go. Maybe I’m the sort who doesn’t learn by his mistakes, anyway I was all worked up and in a hurry again and I got real careless. You know what a head of barley looks like?’
‘Why, you decided to change tack to a lecture on subsistence farming?’
I’ll tell you, it’s hard, real hard, with lots of long sharp whiskery bits.’ Ripper wasn’t about to be deterred from the recounting of the episode. ‘Well, one of them critters got in the way. Damned near speared my foreskin and stabbed poor Barby right where it hurts.’
‘You finished?’
‘No, Sarge, I recovered the full use of it inside of a week...’
‘Just get aboard will you. We’re moving. And get rid of that bloody straw. You look like something out of the Wizard of Oz.’
Libby trailed behind the pair, watching Hyde help the Yank remove his insulation lagging. Now they were on their way again the tiredness wouldn’t bother him, it would still be there, but the pressures and dangers would sublimate it to the need to stay alert.
And there was another reason. They were driving back towards the Zone, would reach it today if luck was with them. The Zone meant refugees, and he would want to see everyone he could. To miss one might be to miss Helga. His war, his part in this war, would end the instant he found her.
The young Russian conscript manning the checkpoint barricade had gone a bleached white, and the clipboard in his hand was shaking visibly.
There had been no chance to avoid it. After rounding a bend in the fog it had loomed up immediately in front of them, and Burke had been forced to brake hard to avoid ramming the big counterweighted ‘H’ beam blocking their path.
From the small guard hut came a bellow of raucous laughter, and an empty bottle arched from the open doorway to smash at the edge of the road.
About two seconds that was how long the conscript had to live if he shouted a warning to his comrades loafing over the half-seen card table in the shack. His eyes flickered from the turret machine gun to the several tips of barrels that poked from various weapon ports. Every one was pointed at him.
Very slowly the fresh-faced youngster backed to the concrete block at the pole’s end and put his weight on it. As it went down, the massive beam beyond the pivot rose from the supporting cradle on the far side of the road, and began to rise. Hunched over the rough-surfaced
‘Let’s hope that doesn’t hold true for the Russians today.’ Libby saw that the American now stood surrounded by mould-speckled shreds of hay and straw. ‘Is there a good reason for you to turn yourself into an animated haystack?’
‘Sure is. While you all been trying to keep your teeth from chattering, I’ve been as snug as a bug in a dung heap ...’
‘Smell like one as well.’
Ripper ignored the rude interruption,’... and you could, with some of this tucked all around you.’ He pulled out stalks from his sleeves and the top of his pants.
‘Kinda tickles down there, especially if you’re not too careful and put a field mouse in as well. There’s other problems too. I used to take my girl to her grandpa’s barn, but after things went wrong a couple of times she didn’t want to know. First time she got herself all smothered in corn husks: I goes in fast like I always does, and it were like screwing glass-paper. Still managed to finish but by then I was sore as hell, real raw.’
‘That’s quite a fund of little stories you’ve got. Are they all that poignant?’ It took Ripper a moment to recover from the shock of seeing the sergeant suddenly loom out of the mist His fire-damaged face took on a spectral quality against the slowly swirling white backdrop.
‘You ain’t heard the half of this one yet. A couple of weeks and two tubes of antiseptic cream later we go back for another go. Maybe I’m the sort who doesn’t learn by his mistakes, anyway I was all worked up and in a hurry again and I got real careless. You know what a head of barley looks like?’
‘Why, you decided to change tack to a lecture on subsistence farming?’
I’ll tell you, it’s hard, real hard, with lots of long sharp whiskery bits.’ Ripper wasn’t about to be deterred from the recounting of the episode. ‘Well, one of them critters got in the way. Damned near speared my foreskin and stabbed poor Barby right where it hurts.’
‘You finished?’
‘No, Sarge, I recovered the full use of it inside of a week...’
‘Just get aboard will you. We’re moving. And get rid of that bloody straw. You look like something out of the Wizard of Oz.’
Libby trailed behind the pair, watching Hyde help the Yank remove his insulation lagging. Now they were on their way again the tiredness wouldn’t bother him, it would still be there, but the pressures and dangers would sublimate it to the need to stay alert.
And there was another reason. They were driving back towards the Zone, would reach it today if luck was with them. The Zone meant refugees, and he would want to see everyone he could. To miss one might be to miss Helga. His war, his part in this war, would end the instant he found her.
The young Russian conscript manning the checkpoint barricade had gone a bleached white, and the clipboard in his hand was shaking visibly.
There had been no chance to avoid it. After rounding a bend in the fog it had loomed up immediately in front of them, and Burke had been forced to brake hard to avoid ramming the big counterweighted ‘H’ beam blocking their path.
From the small guard hut came a bellow of raucous laughter, and an empty bottle arched from the open doorway to smash at the edge of the road.
About two seconds that was how long the conscript had to live if he shouted a warning to his comrades loafing over the half-seen card table in the shack. His eyes flickered from the turret machine gun to the several tips of barrels that poked from various weapon ports. Every one was pointed at him.
Very slowly the fresh-faced youngster backed to the concrete block at the pole’s end and put his weight on it. As it went down, the massive beam beyond the pivot rose from the supporting cradle on the far side of the road, and began to rise. Hunched over the rough-surfaced
Similar Books
