Hunter was tempted to slap the man awake. It was the continent's most critical hour and here he was, dealing with a konked-out, drooling idiot.
He turned to Tracy. "What exactly did he tell you about Ghost Rider?"
She thought a moment. "He was always claiming that he was on this big deal secret mission. We were secretaries at the Eureka base, but we didn't know what was going on, of course. He says his commander told him to hide four black boxes and bring the fifth one here. He was flying all over the place when the war broke out. Hawaii, Wyoming, somewhere. New York City."
"Did he ever say where in New York City?"
She nodded. "He sold it to some guy named Calypso."
Hunter was shocked. "Sold it?"
"I'm afraid so," the pretty redhead replied. "He used the money to buy all the drugs you see around here."
Calypso. Well, thought Hunter, at least he had some kind of clue to go into New York City with.
"How about the box in New Mexico?" Hunter asked. "Did he ever say where that one went?"
"I'm not sure," she answered. "Some little dinky town in New Mexico."
"Pecos?" Hunter asked.
"That's the place," Tracy confirmed. "That's the last place he landed before coming here. Said it was really scary. That he had to — get this — fight a huge monster to hide the box. That's also where he picked up all the dope.
"When the New Order came down, he had already told us about this place. Things looked hairy, so we bribed a chopper pilot to drop us here. By that time, the CIA boys were long gone. And they left the place unlocked! Travis landed in the Lear a few days later, stoned on his ass. Cracked up the airplane for good. Told us we were all under orders to protect the box until the right someone came for it. I guess that someone is you…"
"Can you get it for me?" Hunter asked, an element of charm sneaking into his voice.
She looked him straight in the eye. He realized she was very pretty and no more than 21. Her body was in great shape; her breasts being nicely out of proportion. "You do me a favor, Major," she cooed. "And I'll do you a favor."
She took his hand and led him to another chamber, away from the marijuana smoke and sitar music. This room too was lit only by candles, but it was neatly kept. A large mattress covered with pink blankets took up half the space.
She turned and cupped her breasts again. "I haven't had a real man in two years," she said in all frankness. "Not since that fool out there told us the Russians were about to bomb the West Coast and tricked us into following him here."
She came closer to Hunter. Now he could feel the full impact of her large breasts on his chest.
"Take me," she said softly. "Take me and I'll give you the box."
Hunter looked at her. The candles were highlighting her fiery red hair. She had movie star looks and beautiful green eyes.
"Please?" she asked, pressing against him.
Hunter had little choice. He had to retrieve the box and this appeared to be the easiest way.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. "Duty calls," he said smiling.
The next morning he was attached to the catapult waiting to bring his F-16's engine up to trim. The fuel leak only took an hour to patch and the base was stocked with leftover barrels of JP-8 jet fuel, which he used.
It had been quite a night. He got to know Tracy very well. Also Lacey and Stacy, who joined them later on. They hadn't been with a drug-free male in many months either. Hunter did everything he could to make them happy. He felt sorry for them. They were stranded just like thousands of other Americans were when the war broke out. But in a way, they'd been lucky. Sure, they were stuck with the drug-soaked Travis, but they also had plenty of food, water and booze. In fact the secret base was stocked with enough food and libation for 100 people for 10 years. The Colorado River provided the fresh water.
And, at least at first, Travis had provided the entertainment. Tracy had told Hunter that the officer had used his New York City money to buy 200 pounds of marijuana in Pecos, along with several pounds of opium. The canyon hideout was to be his own little harem, under the guise of some crazy religion. A dream world of nude women, smoking dope and serving his every whim. It worked for a while. At one time all of the girls were smoking opium and Travis was firmly in command. But gradually he sank into his weirdness. Tracy, Lacey and Stacy knew there was life beyond endless drugs and orgies, so they gave up the dope and had been living straight for the past year.
They asked Hunter to get them out, but he couldn't. Not right now anyway. The Lear jet was beyond repair, even for him, and the F-16 was strictly a one-man ship. With all-out war imminent to the east, he could think of no better place to be safe than in the impregnable bunkers. He told them to sit tight for the time being.
As promised, they gave him the black box. Then while Tracy cooked him a meal, Stacy and Lacey turned the dials and pushed the buttons that activated the catapult system. Three hours of boiling water and there was enough steam for a launch.
Now, as he gave them.the thumbs up signal, the three were waving to him sadly. Travis and the others would continue their druggie ways, he knew. But these girls were smart. And pretty. And — for reasons he still couldn't figure out — still bare-breasted. They'd make it, barring unforseen circumstances.
He felt the steam pressure build up under the F-16.
A massive cloud of steam rose up underneath him. He took one last look at the girls as the catapult activated. "Stay safe, girls," he said as the F-16 rocketed forward.
Then he was gone…
Chapter Twenty
Time was running out…
General Dave Jones sat alone at the enormous lighted table in the War Room at PAAC-Oregon. Before him were stacks of intelligence reports and more than five hundred recon photos including all of the pictures Hunter had taken of the Badlands SAM sites. Other photos were high altitude jobs, shot at great risk by the Texans, on the very edges of the Badlands where the perpetual haze that hung over the placed thinned out enough to take an occasional photo.
The officer had spent most of the past day and night correlating the information with previous intelligence reports — all of which were indicated on a lighted map of the continent that stood in the center of the room. Green cubes represented the Circle Forces, red blocks represented the Russians. The Pacific American armies — the newly dubbed Western Forces — were coded blue with their various volunteer allies colored white. At the moment, the green and red blocks outnumbered the blue and white by a 2-to-1 margin. The wizened officer looked at the photos on the table, then at the map stretched out before him and felt a chill go up his spine.
War was fast approaching. He knew it. True soldiers sensed when the real thing was coming, and Jones' body hadn't stopped buzzing since Hunter returned from his one-man mission into the Bads. Now the combatants were making their final preparations. Two great armies — one marching east and the other marching west, were getting ready to collide head on. Soon enough, the land would be covered with the blood of its own. It seemed like such a waste…
Just about all the intelligence reports he had were bad news. The Circle armies had solidified their occupation of The Aerodrome and Football City and in doing so, now controlled all the free territories east of the Badlands. The Texans were really feeling the heat. There had been no less than a dozen raids along their border the night before. Once again the Mongols selected isolated townships as their targets, overwhelming their defenders at first, then counting on the air cover by their Russian cohorts for the second fist of a one-two punch. This time the Texas Air Force tangled briefly with the Soviet Yaks over the Red River before driving them away. But 12 more Texas towns lay in ruins, causing the Texans to speed up their full-scale evacuation of their border area.