Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [280]
There were motors in the valley ahead. Two motorcycles gingerly drove across the narrow remains of the bridge. Extra riders got on and the bikes gunned forward toward Harvey's position.
Marie Vance unslung her rifle and worked the sling around her left arm. "Go on digging," she called. She took a sitting position and rested the rifle on a large rock, then squinted through the telescopic sights. She waited until the bikes were about a quarter of a mile away before she fired. Nothing happened. She worked the bolt and aimed again, fired. At the third shot the lead motorcycle wobbled and swerved into the ditch at the side of the road. One of the riders got up. Marie aimed again, but the other bike moved off the road and the riders scrambled for cover. They waited for the advancing skirmish line. That came steadily closer, and Marie changed her aim point, firing to slow the advance.
Again the center of the line slowed, while more attackers spread to each side, fanning out well beyond any point Harvey could defend. "Get finished," Harvey shouted. "We have to get out of here!"
No one argued with that. Vinge put two sticks of dynamite into the hole beneath the boulder and tamped mud in on top of it.
"Look!" Barbara Ann, Tommy Tallifsen's partner, shouted in horror. She pointed at the opposite ridge, where they'd spent the dawn hours putting barriers on the road.
A truck appeared at the top of the ridge. It went over and came down the road, and another followed, then another. When the trucks reached the downed bridge, men jumped out with timbers and steel plates. More trucks came over the ridge.
Harvey looked at his watch. They had delayed the enemy trucks by precisely thirty-eight minutes.
Valley of Death
Lordy, Lordy, won't you listen to me,
The Colonel said "Stand!"
But it ain't gonna be,
'Cause we're buggin' out,
Yes, we're moving on …
"The Bugout Boogie," a forbidden ballad of the US Army
The pattern was always the same. No matter what obstructions Harvey's group put into the road, the New Brotherhood Army was delayed for no longer than it took to put them up. If Task Force Randall could have actively defended its roadblocks, they might have stopped the advancing enemy for much longer, but there was no chance of that. The New Brotherhood used its trucks to bring troops as far forward as possible; their skirmishers then spread out to both flanks and advanced, threatening to cut Harvey off; and once again Harvey had to retreat.
The enemy developed a new tactic as well: They mounted heavy machine guns in one of their trucks, and brought that forward to fire on Harvey's workers from well out of rifle range. It kept Harvey from doing a proper job of ruining the road, and he couldn't even shoot back. The enemy were faceless ghosts who couldn't be harmed, and Harvey couldn't stop them. Their infantry continued to advance, avoiding Harvey's defenders, trying always to get around and behind. It was battle at long range, with few casualties; but the New Brotherhood's advance was relentless. By midafternoon they had come a dozen miles toward the Stronghold.
Work and run; and running was becoming a habit. A dozen times Harvey wanted to keep going, to drive for the Stronghold, and the devil with the roadblocks. His mind found a dozen excuses for running.
"It's like nothing can stop them," Tommy Tallifsen screamed. They had halted at another ridgeline. The maps said the valley below—where the New Brotherhood was busily removing trees, filling in holes, repairing the road quicker than Harvey had been able to destroy it—was called "Hungry Hollow." The name seemed appropriate.
"We've got to try," said Harvey.
Tallifsen looked doubtful. Harvey knew what he was thinking. They were all exhausted, they'd lost five of Task Force Randall: one shot dead as he worked with a chain saw, the other four vanished—run away, captured, wounded and lying back in the hills, they didn't know. They hadn't got aboard