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  on that right leg—not a tourniquet unless you want him to lose it." Rourke

  pulled his knife, then cut at the noncom's sleeves, first the right, then

  the left, using one sleeve folded over as a bandage, the second to secure

  it to the leg. "Not too tight. Looks like you've got somebody to baby-sit

  with, Major." Rourke stood up.

  The Soviet officer's right hand moved and Rourke started for his rifle,

  but the hand was extending toward him.

  Rourke took it.

  "I should arrest you—or have you shot."

  "That last part"—Rourke smiled—"I was kinda thinkin the same thing

  myself. But I'll pass on it."

  Rourke loosed the Soviet major's hand and turned to walk away. There was a

  chance the man would pull a gun

  and shoot; Rourke decided he wasn't going to count it a possibiiiiy.

  He stepped aboard the Harley, gunning the engine to life, Setting up the

  kick stand.

  The major was looking to his injured sergeant.

  Rourke gunned the Harley ahead. . . .

  He was at the end of the town now. Only the road leading up into the

  mountains and out of the valley was ahead.

  Explosions rocked the ground under and around him, and behind him there

  was a growing fire storm, already edging into the wooded area around the

  town.

  He looked at the town one more time—Bevington, Kentucky. "Sad," he

  murmured, then started the Harley up ahead.

  The road was steep going; rock slides were starting to his right, his

  attention focusing there as he steered the Harley around boulders that had

  already strewn the road.

  Overhead, above the thundering of the explosions and the hissing roar of

  the fire storm behind him, he heard a sound—familiar. He glanced

  skyward—helicopters.

  "That's what I get for being a good Samaritan," he rasped, shaking his

  head. But he didn't blame the major, or the injured sergeant. Like most

  things in life, he thought, gunning the Harley on, the exhaust ripping

  under him and behind him, there was no one to blame.

  The helicopters were clearly after him; he didn't know why. Maybe the KGB,

  he thought—but why had they been in Bevington, Kentucky, to begin with?

  He swung the CAR- around, the safety off. There was a sharp bend in the

  road and Rourke took it at speed, cutting a sharp left onto the shoulder

  because half the

  width of (he road was strewn with boulders. There was a rumbling sound to

  his left and Rourke looked that way— a rock slide, shale and boulders

  skidding down for as far as he could see, a rock slide paralleling the

  roadway.

  "Shit," he rasped, glancing up at the helicopters. There was a chattering

  sound; he didn't have to look again. Machine-gun fire.

  The road dipped, Rourke accelerating into the grade. The rock slide was

  coming inexorably closer, closer. The area to his right was heavily

  wooded; fire swept through it.

  Rourke skidded the bike hard left, then right, avoiding a deer that ran

  from the flaming forest on his right. He accelerated, the rock slide still

  coming.

  Machine-gun fire tore into the road beneath him, bullets ricocheting off

  the rocks to his left.

  The road took a fast cut left and Rourke arced the Harley into it. As he

  hit the straightaway, he twisted in the Harley's saddle, the CAR-—stock

  retracted— pointing skyward at the nearest of the helicopters. He let off

  a fast semiauto burst—six shots in all. The helicopter pilot pulled up.

  Rourke let the rifle drop to his side on the sling, then throttled out the

  Harley, the rim of the valley in sight, perhaps a mile ahead.

  Gravel and smaller rocks were pelting at him, hammer­ing against the road

  surface, their effect almost indis­tinguishable from the machine-gun fire

  from the choppers above. The fire on his right was up to the road­side,

  and the trees flanking the road on his right were torches, columns of

  fire; the heat from them scorched at his skin as he drove his machine

  upward—toward the rim of the valley.

  Massive boulders were falling now. Rourke steered the bike around them as

  they impacted on the road before him. A tree, still a mass of flames,

  fell; Rourke gunned the Harley full throttle, his body low over the

  handle­bars, as he passed under it, burning branches and chips of bark

  spraying his hands, his face, his clothing.

  Rourke squinted back, beyond the burning tree trunk and skyward. The

  helicopters were still coming.

  He cut the Harley sharp left, taking the grade that would take him to the

  rim, boulders rolling across the road before him now, missing him by

  inches, the Harley's exhaust like a cannon, like a trumpet, strident,

  tearing at his eardrums, the wind of the slipstream lashing at him, hot

  from the fire raging to his right.

  More machine-gun fire, the helicopters above him now, one of them ahead of

  him.

  Rourke couldn't free a band to shoot back. The very fabric of the

  mountains was crashing down toward him, dust and smoke in a cloud around

  him as he hit the rim.

  Rourke skidded the bike into a tight turn, breaking, balancing the machine

  with his feet as he stopped it, tele* scoping the stock, then shouldering

  the CAR-. There was no escape from the helicopters, as he had just

  escaped the rock slides and the fire storm.

  He rammed a fresh thirty-round stick into theColt and ripped away the

  scope covers, sighting on the nearest of the bubble domes as the

  helicopter closed with him, machine-gun bullets ripping into the dirt and

  rocks around him.

  "Come in, Colonel! Borozeni calling Colonel Rozhdest-venskiy. Come in.

  Ground to air ... come in!"

  There was no answer, then, "Major Borozeni . . . Lieutenant Tiflis calling

  Major Borozeni!"

  "Come in, Tiflis, over."

  "Comrade Major, we cannot contact Colonel Rozh-destvenskiy. . . . What are

  the orders? Over."

  "Tiflis, bring your helicopters back." Tiflis had commanded the helicopter

  force, not the special gunship fleet that had brought in Rozhdestvenskiy's

  commando team for seizing the factory, but the medivac and cargo

  helicopters. "Tiflis, listen carefully. . . . Use your radio. . . . It's

  stronger. Contact the entire helicopter fleet. ... I am assuming command

  in the apparent absence of Colonel Rozhdestvenskiy. Over."

  "Yes, Comrade Major. Over."

  "Tiflis." Borozeni remembered to work the push-to-talk button on his

  radio. 'Tiflis, contact me on how many ships. . . . We have hundreds of

  wounded. . . . Hurry. Out."

  "Tiflis out, Comrade Major."

  There was only static. Borozeni glanced down to the

  unconscious sergeant beside him. Borozeni's knee ached. He shifted

  position, but could not move his bloodstained right hand lest the bleeding

  increase. He assumed the man on the motorcycle really had been a doctor—or

  at least had known what heM talked about. The shot of morphine had helped

  the sergeant.

  "Tiflis to ground. Tiflis to ground command." "Borozeni here. . . . What

  is it, Tiflis?" 'Tiflis to ground ... All but four—repeat four,
Comrade

  Major—all but four of the helicopters return­ing. . . . Landing will begin

  in two minutes. Tiflis over." "We need them all. . . . What are they

  doing? Over." "In pursuit of man riding motorcycle out of valley, Comrade

  Major . . . May be the American agent Rourke, wanted by KGB. Over."

  Borozeni smiled. A man on a motorcycle. So his name was Rourke. "Tiflis,

  tell the commanders of those four ships to—" 'Tiflis out."

  Borozeni worked the push-to-talk button, then stared skyward at the

  chopper. What had happened? "Tiflis to ground . . . Tiflis to ground . . .

  Over."

  "What was the meaning of that? Borozeni over." "Tiflis to ground . - - The

  suspected American agent just shot at the helicopters, Comrade Major.

  Over."

  "Tell them to pull back ... or I will personally have them on report to

  General Varakov. Borozeni out." Borozeni smiled, murmuring in English,

  "Even."

  Rourke squeezed a single shot toward the dome of the nearest helicopter,

  the ground around him now erupting with the impact of the machine-gun fire

  from the four gunships.

  Squinting through the three-power Colt scope, he could see the glass dome

  take the impact of the slug. Rourke fired again, the recoil hammering at

  his right shoulder, his arms almost too tired to hold up the gun. The

  glass spider-webbed again.

  The four ships were circling him now. Rourke concen­trated on the one he

  could hring down, taking aim for a third shot at the same area where the

  Plexiglass would be weakest.

  Sarah. Michael. Annie. Paul would find them, care for them.

  "Die," Rourke shouted at the helicopter. The machine swerved and his shot

  went wild, all four machines rising rapidly, hovering, and turning into a

  ragged formation, then disappearing back toward the valley.

  Rourke let the rifle sink down.

  He didn't believe in luck—but he didn't argue with it either. He worked

  the safety on for the Colt assault rifle, then gunned the Hariey over the

  lip of the valley and down toward the highway. . . .

  He had washed his body in an icy stream, and now— tired and changed into

  fresh clothes—he sat by his motorcycle, stirring cold water into a pack of

  his freeze-dried food. He tasted a spoonful of it. It would have been

  better hot, but the nutritional value was the same. He had added a hundred

  miles since leaving Bevington and was well inside Tennessee. Paul had

  probably passed him. Perhaps Paul had found them.

  Rourke leaned back, eating his cold food, his muscles still aching, his

  stomach still uneasy. He planned ahead-^always. He hadn't planned on

  Martha Bogen, or on the suicide of an entire town. Or on the Russians

  being there. The sun was setting—red on the horizon, too red, the weather

  warm now.

  He had seen signs of Brigands in the last twenty-five miles—their

  habitually careless camps, litter and broken bottles everywhere.

  To the east, he could see the faint glimmering of some early stars on the

  horizon.

  Tomorrow, he would renew the search, to find Sarah, Michael, and Annie.

  And perhaps Paul really had found them.

  He would stop at the Retreat, he decided.

  He finished the food, then set the empty package aside. Finding a cigar in

  his shirt pocket, he lit it in the blue-yellow flame of his Zippo.

  John Rourke made a last check of the twin Detonics

  .s, then of the CAR-. He had cleaned all three guns, and reloaded the

  spare magazines for them.

  As he watched the last wash of red in the sky where the bun was fast

  vanishing, he closed his eyes. Sarah, Michael, Annie. Paul Rubenstein.

  Another face—her eyes were a brilliant blue.

  THE SURVIVALIST SERIES

  by Jerry Ahern

  #: THE WEB

  (, $.)

  Blizzards rage around Rourke as he picks up the trail of his family and is

  forced to take shelter in a strangely quiet Tennessee valley town. But the

  quiet isn't going to last for long!

  #: THE SAVAGE HORDE (, $.)

  Rourke's search gets sidetracked when he's forced to help a military unit

  locate a cache of eighty megaton warhead missiles hidden on the New West

  Coast—and accessible only by submarine!

  #: THE PROPHET (,

  $.)

  As six nuclear missiles are poised to start the ultimate conflagration,

  Rourke's constant quest becomes a desperate mission to save both his

  family and all humanity from being blasted into extinction!

  #: THE END IS COMING (,

  $.)

  Rourke must smash through Russian patrols and cut to the heart of a KGB

  plot that could spawn a lasting legacy of evil. And when the sky bursts

  into flames, consuming every living being on the planet, it will be the

  ultimate test for THE SURVIVALIST.

  #: EARTH FIRE

  (, $.)

  Rourke, the oniy hope for breaking the Russians' brutal hold over America,

  and the Reds fear the same thing: the imminent combus­tion of the earth's

  atmosphere into global deadly flames!

  #: THE AWAKENING (,

  $.)

  Rourke discovers that others have survived the explosion of the earth's

  atmosphere into flames—and must face humans who live to kill and kill to

  live, eating the flesh of their victims!

  Available wherever paperbacks are sold, or order direct from the

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  Zebra Books, Park Avenue South, New York, N. Y . DO NOT SEND

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