Survivalist - 22 - Brutal Conquest by Ahern Jerry

Author:Ahern, Jerry [Ahern, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

23

Paul Rubenstein had inched his way through the snow along the north side of the slope until he was within twenty yards of the nearest of the two APCs.

Time was running out.

At any second, he expected to hear gunfire from the defile, where all nine of the field party had disappeared.

The APCs, aside from their standard sensing equipment, were equipped with intruder alert systems. All he had to do was touch one of the units and the system would kick on.

In New York City in the wintertime, he used to get together with his friends occasionally and go out to the park. All of them would pretend they were kids again, which usually meant getting into a snowball fight by the end of things. He had been a pretty good hand with a snowball, even as a litde boy. He pulled off his outer and inner gloves, his hands instantly starting to numb even more than they had been. He kept the gloves under his left upper arm, pressed against his torso to trap the warmth inside as long as he could.

As his hands dipped into the snow, there was stinging pain.

But he had a proper amount of snow. And it was good packing snow, nice and wet. He formed it into a sphere that, to the naked eye at least, looked as perfecdy round as round could be.

There was no time to waste, because his hands couldn’t take the cold much longer. He rose to his feet and launched the snowball toward the rear door of the APC nearest him, then ducked, waiting for the hoped for reaction.

As he got his gloves back on, his hands shaking with the cold, the hatch started to open. There would be men waiting just inside, he knew.

But he had his Schmiesser to his shoulder, ready.

And in his pocket was another ball, this of plastique, about a quarter pound’s worth, with a detonator displayed prominendy, imbedded into it. Only the detonator was disabled.

He trusted that the intended recipients of the ball of plastique would not realize that.

The hatch was halfway down now, about as far as prudent men would lower it.

He lowered his weapon, took the ball of German plastique explosives from his pocket, and lobbed it toward the doorway where the opening was.

If he missed, he had a second ball prepared. He had learned that from John a long time ago: Plan ahead.

But Paul Rubenstein did not miss, the ball of plastique explosives and the neutralized detonator disappearing inside the APC’s hatchway.

Nothing happened for a second or so.

If the men inside were nervy, they’d take a second to inspect the ball, albeit from a distance.

If not … the doorway opened downward all the way, the three men who had been inside now outside, running, pulling coats on and holding weapons at the same time. Paul Rubenstein had the German MF40 submachine gun back to his shoulder and he fired, hosing out three long bursts, taking out all three men.

Then Paul was up,

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