A state of disobedience

Western Currency Facility, Fort Worth, Texas

The damage from the first fight had mostly been cleared; cleared, that is, to the extent it hadn't been added to in the interests of defense.

From one of the twin rectangular projections atop the main building, Major Williams gazed through binoculars eastward to Interstate 35.

"That's the First Cav passing through," he told Pendergast, standing next to him. "I think it is anyway. None of the tracks are flying Cav guidons. You suppose they are ashamed?"

"Dunno, sir. Might be."

Overhead another of the seemingly endless flights of Army helicopters passed by, bringing in another load of PGSS.

Williams looked upward. "How many is that now?" he asked.

Pendergast answered, "How many troops? About seven thousand would be my guess. I didn't know Rottenmuncher had that many in her private army."

"There's a lotta things about her people didn't know when she was running, Sergeant Major. Maybe more things she kept secret after she won."

Pendergast shrugged. Well, too late to do anything about that now.

A single shot rang out. To Pendergast it sounded like a .50 caliber. To a Guardsman standing just to Pendergast's left it didn't sound like anything at all . . . for it killed him instantaneously.

"Down! Goddammit, down!"

And so it begins again, Pendergast thought, as a steady spattering of rifle fire began to pelt the facility.

* * *