Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [279]
The fugitives staggered uphill, to Harvey's men and trucks and past them. They breathed like terminal pneumonia cases. They held no weapons, and their eyes were blind with terror.
"Stop!" Harvey shouted. "Stand and fight! Help us!" They staggered on without seeming to hear. One of Harvey's boys stood up, looked back at the grimly advancing skirmish line below, then ran to join the fugitives. Harvey screamed at him, but the boy kept running.
"Lucky the others stayed," Jacob Vinge said. "I … hell, I'd like to run, too."
"So would I." This wasn't going according to plan. The New Brotherhood wasn't coming up the ridge to clear the road. Instead they were fanning out to each side, and Harvey didn't have nearly enough troops to hold the ridgeline. He'd hoped to delay them longer, but there was no chance. If they didn't get out fast they'd be cut off. "And we're going to." He lifted his whistle and blew loudly. The advance below broke into a run even as he did.
Harvey waved his command into their truck and the TravelAll. Jacob Vinge took Bill's place. Harvey sent the truck out, then hesitated. "We ought to try. Come on, a few rounds … "
"It won't do any good," Marie Vance said. "There's too much cover and they aren't showing themselves enough. We'd be trapped and we wouldn't have hurt any of them."
"How do you know so much about strategy?" Harvey demanded.
"I watch war movies. Let's get out of here!"
"All right." Harvey turned the TravelAll and drove away, down off the ridge and into the next valley. The truck stopped and let the running men get aboard.
"Poor bastards," Marie said.
"We fought them for a day," Vinge said, "but we couldn't hold them. Like the ridge back there. They spread out and get around you, behind you, and then you're dead. So you have to keep running. After awhile it can get to be a habit."
"Sure." Habit or not, Harvey thought, they had run like rabbits, not like men.
The road led down to a stream swollen with the rain of Hammerfall. The low parts of the valley were deep mud. Harvey stopped at the far side of the small bridge, and got out to light dynamite sticks already in place.
"There they are!" one of the boys shouted.
Harvey looked up on the ridge. A hundred and more armed enemies boiled over the top and came down the hill at a dead run. There was a staccato chatter, and a rustle in the grass not far from Harvey.
"Get it done!" Jacob Vinge shouted. "They're shooting at us!"
It was nearly a mile up to the ridge, but that sound was familiar from Vietnam: a heavy machine gun. It wouldn't take long to walk its fire over to Harvey and the TravelAll and then they'd be finished. He flicked his Zippo and blessed it when it caught the first time, even though it was filled with gasoline rather than regular lighter fluid. The fuse sputtered, and Harvey ran for the TravelAll. Marie had slid over into the driver's seat and was already rolling. Harvey caught on and hands grabbed him and pulled him inside. There was more of the chatter, brup-brup-brup, and something roared past his ear.
"Holy shit!" he yelled.
"They shoot pretty good," Vinge said.
The dynamite went off, and the bridge was in ruins. But not completely, Harvey saw. There was still a full span, wide enough to walk across. It wasn't going to take long to repair, but he sure wasn't going back. They drove up to the top of the next ridge, and got out, looking for more trees to drop, boulders to dynamite into the road, anything.
The New Brotherhood troops came on into the valley, some on foot, a dozen on motorcycles. They reached the ruined bridge and stopped, then a few swam and waded across and came on. Others spread along the banks and found new crossings. In five minutes a hundred had crossed and they walked on steadily toward Harvey's work crews.
"Jesus, it's like watching the tide come in," Harvey said.
Jacob Vinge didn't say anything. He kept on digging under