War Weapons Read Free Page B

future generations.
    He heard a sudden commotion behind him and turned to see the pitbull sighting down on an immense rat that scurried past them
     with a piece of what looked like human flesh in its sharklike black jaws. The English bullterrier shot forward with all the
     strength of its pistonlike legs. Excaliber snatched the foot-long rodent up right around the central portion of its body.
     He snapped down once hard before the creature had time to struggle. The rat’s backbone and ribs cracked loudly into splintering
     pieces like a turkey wing at Thanksgiving dinner. Then the rodent’s body was ripped into two parts, and Excaliber opened his
     mouth and tossed his head hard, flinging the two blood-spewing parts out into the air.
    Stone had to jump back to avoid the leaking corpse, but still a piece of it landed on his boot, which totally revolted him,
     so he bent down, grabbed a broken piece of wallboard, and wiped the siime of rat flesh from his boot. As his eyes came up,
     his heart nearly fell down to his feet, for a trapdoor had opened in the ground just yards ahead of him, and nine terrified
     and ash-coated faces were staring straight at him, each man with a pistol in his hand—all aimed straight for Stone’s heart.
    The dog started to growl, but Stone, without moving a muscle, commanded it sharply to shut up and stay still. Excaliber whimpered
     and then lay on his paws just behind him, but with his eyes cocked on the men ahead like a lion on a gazelle, ready to move
     at the slightest threat to his master. Stone scanned the faces back and forth in a single fluid sweep, still keeping his body
     absolutely still, his gun motionless at his side. It was hard to tell who they were, they were all so filthy, but they looked
     familiar. Suddenly he realized it was the raw recruits, the men who had just been inducted into the NAA a few days before.
     Stone had joined the army and gone through the super-intensive New American Army boot camp with them.
    “Kill him,” one of the men snapped out, starting to raise his pistol. It was Bull. Stone knew the bastard had always hated
     him since he kicked his ass in a hand-to-hand practice.
    “Now listen fellows,” Stone started, not having the slightest idea of what he was going to say next.
    “You’re a traitor,” another voice hissed. “Just before General Patton drove off, he said you had brought in the slime. You
     had betrayed all of us.” It was Bo, a trooper Stone had saved from drowning in quicksand. He knew they weren’t dying to shoot
     him or they would have done it already. But he’d have to convince them. All he had to do was convince nine hicks from the
     sticks who had been inducted into the New American Army that the NAA no longer existed because it had been a fascist force
     that had to be destroyed. And do it in three seconds.
    “Listen, fellows,” Stone began again with a weary sigh, wondering just how long he could keep talking his way out of being
     killed, just how long he could bullshit death itself each time it came to argue with him about why it was time to die.
    “No listening, asshole.” Bull sneered, raising his .45 toward Stone. “Time to die.”
    “No,” Bo suddenly yelled out, whipping his .45 around toward Bull. “Let him talk,” Bo said in a trembling voice. He was obviously
     terrified of the larger and tougher Bull. “He saved my life. He helped a lot of us in the boot camp. At least he deserves
     to speak.” Bull grumbled and eyed the pistol with a simmering anger, but the others spoke out as well that Stone should have
     his chance, and the barrel-chested Bull let the big handgun fall away at his side.
    “Thanks,” Stone said, exhaling a long breath. Excaliber relaxed slightly as Stone did too. The pitbull was linked to his master
     by an almost telepathic bond. It had been that way from the start. They just knew each other. “Look, I’m not going to lie
     to you and say I didn’t bring down an attack on Fort