"Won't do to alarm the ladies but we're expecting a bit of trouble. Some guerrillas have been working south from the Sebungwe. Hope to cut the railway, I suppose. They killed four soldiers a few miles upcountry from Lubimbi. Might be a good idea to go back to Main Camp for now."
"Thanks " Nick answered. "I didn't know the rebels were penetrating this far. Last I heard your boys and the South Africans helping them had things under control. Killed a hundred of them, I understand."
The man finished filling the tank and shook his head. "We've got problems we don't talk about. We've had four thousand men south of the Zambesi for six months. They're finding underground camps and all that. We don't have enough petrol for constant air patrols." He patted the Volvo. "We still pump to these for tourist business but I don't know for how long they'll keep it up. Yank, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"You know. You have your own actions going in Mississippi and — let's see — Georgia, isn't it?" He winked, a sad intimacy. "You make a lot of em good ones but where does it lead?"
Nick paid him. "Where, indeed. Which is the shortest way to Main Camp?"
"Six miles along there to the highway. Turn right. Forty miles or so by following the signs. Then two more rights at signs. Can't miss it."
The girls came back and Nick followed the man's instructions.
Their refueling stop had taken perhaps eight minutes. He had not seen any sign of the big truck for an hour. If it was still following them, it was far behind. He wondered why the helicopter did not return to scout them out They covered the six miles and reached the broad, hard-surfaced road. They traveled about two miles when they began to pass an army convoy headed west. Nick estimated it at battalion size with heavy equipment left at home. It was honed for jungle warfare. He thought. Good luck, you'll need it.
Booty said, "Why don't you stop an officer and tell him what happened to us?"
Nick explained his reasons, not adding that he hoped Judas had removed "John Blake's" remains. A long and sticky explanation of what had happened would be inconvenient.
"It feels good to have the soldiers going by," Janet said. "It's hard to remember that some of them may be against us."
"Not actually against us," Nick corrected. "Just not with us."
"She's really looking at those handsome men," Ruth said. "Some of them are soothy. Look — there's one just the image of Charlton Heston."
Nick didn't look. He was busy watching a speck in the sky that followed the little column. Sure enough — as soon as the last personnel carrier went by, the speck grew in size. A few minutes later it came close enough to be recognized. Their old friend, the two-man helicopter that had left them at the valley.
"It's them again," Ruth said almost happily. "Isn't this exciting?"
"Oh — real groovy, man," Booty agreed, but you knew she didn't mean it.
Nick said, "They're just too cute up there. Shall we shake 'em up?"
"Let's " Ruth said.
"Give'em hell!" Janet snapped.
"How'll you shake 'em?" Booty asked.
"You'll see," Nick promised. "If they ask for it."
They asked for it. As the Volvo rolled through an open, deserted section of scrubby dry bundu, the whirly came down on the driver's side of the car. They wanted a close look or a close shot. Nick let the spintop settle, then hit the brakes yelling, "Out and down flat on the right-hand side!"
The girls were getting used to it. They scrambled and hit the dirt like a combat team. Nick wrenched open the rear door, grabbed a burp gun, cut the safety, and hosed a nicely leading stream of lead after the eggbeater, which angled away under full power. The range was long but you could get lucky. He didn't.
"Back in," he yelped. "Let's go, team!"
"Teach me to use one of those things," Ruth said.
"If we have a chance," Nick agreed.
The helicopter flew ahead of them, lazing over the hot road like a waiting vulture. Nick drove about twenty miles, ready to stop and fire at the aircraft if it made another approach. It didn't They passed several side roads but he didn't dare take one. A dead end with the truck guided in behind them would be fatal. Far ahead he saw a black blotch on the side of the road and his spirits sank. When he could see it more clearly he swore silently to himself. A parked car, a big one. He stopped, sawed around in the reverse direction, and halted. A man jumped into the parked car and it started toward them. Boxed! He gunned the Volvo. Two miles back, with the strange car racing behind them, he reached a side road he had noted and whipped into it The car followed.
Booty said, "They're gaining."
"Watch them," Nick ordered.
The chase covered six or seven miles. The big sedan was in no hurry to close. That worried him. They were herding them into a dead end or into the bush. The country became more hilly, with narrow bridges across dry watercourses. He picked one carefully, stopped on a single-lane bridge when their pursuers were not in sight.
"Out and down into the creek bed," he said. They were very good at it now. He balanced a burp gun and waited, down in the gully, using it as a trench. The sedan's driver saw the stopped Volvo and halted, out of range, then drifted forward very slowly. Nick waited, peering through bunch grass.
Now! He fired short, low bursts, saw a tire flatten. Three men spilled out of the car, two carrying long guns. They hit the ground. Well-aimed slugs hit the Volvo. It was enough identification for Nick. He raised the muzzle and dripped short bursts onto the men at the longish range.
They found his position. A heavy-caliber slug ripped across the gravel five feet to his right Good shots, tool He dropped out of sight and changed magazines. Lead chopped and rattled on the ridge above his head. The girls were crouched just below him. He scooted twenty feet to his left and looked over the rim again. Lovely, they were exposed from this angle. The chopper rattled in six-shot bursts, skittering sand over car and men. It wasn't his day. Glass shattered but all three men ran back up the road out of range.
"C'mon," he said. "Follow me."
He led the girls along the dry watercourse at a fast walk If the men ran true to form, they would spread out, crawl up on the flanks of the Volvo. They would waste a half-hour.
When his little patrol was far from the bridge, Nick led them up out of the ravine and into the bush, parallel to the road.
He was thankful that all the girls were wearing sensible shoes. They would need them. He had Wilhelmina with thirteen shells. Was that unlucky? One burp gun and an extra magazine, a compass, some odds and ends, and hope.
The hope was smaller as the sun settled in the west, but he didn't let the girls know that They were hungry and thirsty, he knew. He saved their strength by frequent rests and cheerful comments, but the air was hot-dry and the going rough. They came to a deep crevice and he had to follow it back to the road. It was empty. He said, "On we go. If anyone hears a car or a plane, speak up."
"Where are we going?" Janet asked. She sounded scared and tired.
"According to my map, if I remember it, this road takes us to Bingee. A good-size town." He didn't add that Bingee was perhaps eighty miles away in the jungle valley.
They passed a shallow, murky pool. Ruth said, If only that was drinkable."
"We can't risk it." Nick said. "I'll bet even money you drink it you're dead. Or ruined for life with bilharzja.
Just before dark he led them off the road, swept clear a rough section of ground, and said, "Make yourselves comfortable. Get some sleep if you can. We can't travel at night."
They talked in weary tones, but there were no complaints. He was proud of them.
"Let's set up watches," Booty said. "You've got to get some sleep, Andy."
Not far away an animal made a strange, rumbling roar. Nick said, "Gather round. You're going to get your wish, Ruth."