The Savage Horde

Chapter 57

She was tired. "Paul—you asked to take my pack—take my pack—please," she said.

Rubenstein turned toward her. She stopped walking, feeling herself sway a little.

Rourke asked her. "You all right?"

"Of course she isn't all right—takin' a damn Commie woman with us was fuckin'

stupid, Rourke!"

She watched Rourke—he closed his eyes. He opened them—he bit down hard on the stump of cigar in the left corner of his mouth—despite the cigars, his teeth were white, even, "No, John—I can—"

"I know you can," he said through his teeth.

He turned around. She could see Cole's face past his back. Rourke was shifting out of his pack.

"You want me to take your pack, too," Rubenstein asked, trying to make a joke, she thought. It wasn't funny.

Rourke dropped the pack. "No," he said quietly.

"We havin' a damn rest break here—should I tell everybody the smokin' lamp is lit?"

She watched Rourke, the muscles in the sides of his neck.

"Cole—I make it we've got a day's march left to Filmore Air Force Base and Armand Teal—but I just can't take another day of your mouth."

She looked at Cole—he didn't move. Then, "Yeah— well, too fuckin' bad, Rourke."

Rourke shifted his shoulders. She could hear the zipper in the front of his bomber jacket opening. "I thought you'd say that," she heard Rourke's voice murmur.

"What?"

"Thought you'd say something like that," Rourke said again, louder this time.

"John," she whispered. "Leave it alone."

Like he'd told Rubenstein with the back pack—"No."

"You lookin' for a fight, Rourke?" Cole shouted, laughing.

Natalia watched Rourke's head—it nodded once, slightly. She heard him say, his voice barely audible, "Yeah."

"Well," Cole smiled. "Well—you gonna take off your coat and your guns?"

"Won't need my guns—and no sense taking off my jacket for something that won't take much time."

"Wise ass, huh?"

Rourke said nothing. He started walking, slowly.

"John!" It was Rubenstein.

"I know," Rourke answered slowly, still walking, toward Cole. "But it can be your turn next time."

He stopped in front of Cole. Natalia saw movement at the corner of her right eye—Rubenstein setting down her pack, halving the distance between them. She rested her right forearm across the M-she carried slung cross body, her forearm just ahead of the carrying handle.

"Now look, Rourke—we got a job to—"

"Shut up," she heard Rourke say.

"The hell—" She saw Cole move, his right fist drawing back. Rourke sidestepped, turning half away from Cole, Cole's left hammering forward, Rourke's left foot snapping out—a double kick into Cole's midsection and chest. Cole stumbled back, Rourke bringing his left foot down, wheeling, his right foot snapping out, catching Cole in the chest and the left side of the face.

Rourke didn't turn around—he started walking. Back toward her.

She smiled—Lieutenant O'Neal was trying to stifle a laugh. He wasn't doing a good job of it.