Treason in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “We heard you had done that. We didn’t believe it.”

  Ben shrugged his shoulders in complete indifference to what Hanrahan and his cohorts believed as they bounced along the old gravel and dirt road.

  “If our president is alive . . .”

  “He’s your president, not mine,” Ben corrected.

  “If he is still alive, will you make any attempt to work with him?”

  “No. We have long had plans to enlarge the Rebel-controlled areas. Effective immediately, Base Camp One will take in Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Arkansas, Mississippi, Tennessee, North and South Carolina, Alabama, Georgia, and Florida. You people can have what’s left.”

  “Good Lord, man!” Hanrahan almost shouted the words. “You can’t be serious.”

  “As serious as a crutch, Senator.”

  “You are a bold one, Ben Raines. But you’re forgetting we have quite an army. There are hundreds of thousands of people out there who are opposed to your form of government.”

  “I have never been called timid. As far as your army goes—an army made up of losers and whiners and complainers—you won’t have it long. I intend to squash it like a roach. And Blanton is alive. He’s being held up here with my Rebels. I heard it on short-wave.”

  “Thank God! What about the First Lady?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have a workable plan for freeing your Rebels, General Raines?”

  Ben smiled. “I always have a workable plan, Senator. That’s why I’m general of the most powerful army on the face of the earth, and you’re unemployed.”

  THREE

  Ben left the group in a secure area, well south and slightly east of the town. Loaded down with rockets, C-4, timers and detonators, and ammo, he headed into town. He left his Thompson behind and carried an M-16 because of the weight of the weapon and ammo. He stayed off the roads and stuck to the woods and meadows until he came to the edge of town. Once there, he began to circle until he found where the prisoners were being held. It was on the outskirts of town in what appeared to be some sort of playing field; baseball or football, Ben couldn’t tell. Using his binoculars, Ben studied the situation. It could have been worse, he concluded. As it was, the area was only loosely guarded, and as the night drew closer, the area would be shrouded in darkness, for Ben felt sure that power had not been restored this soon. He ate some crackers and washed them down with water from his canteen. He had spotted several dozen of his Rebels among the crowd, including Jersey, Beth, Cooper, and Corrie. Now how would he get them out?

  Ben napped for a time, as he alternately slept and pondered the prisoner situation. Then he smiled. “Hell, why not?” he muttered.

  When it was full dusk, Ben readied some hunks of C-4 and worked his way close to the prisoners. He planted explosives on truck gas tanks, set the timers, then as quickly as possible moved away from that area. He was carrying six rockets for the Armbrust launcher, all of them HE fragmentation anti-personnel rockets. When the trucks blew, he was going to make life pretty damned miserable for a lot of Revere’s troops, and quite a bunch of them had gathered on the opposite end of the field, away from the prisoners.

  The C-4 blew and Ben fired the first rocket. The explosion sent bits and pieces of Revere’s soldiers flying all over the sound end of the field.

  “Jersey!” Ben yelled. “Straight north, people. Let’s go!”

  He quickly readied another rocket and let it fly, then tossed the Armbrust to a Rebel who had jumped the low fence and landed by his side. “You have four pickles left, son,” he told the young man. “Make them count.”

  “Yes, sir!” the Rebel grinned.

  Ben started letting the lead fly from his M-16. Some of the Rebels had jumped their guards during the first few seconds of noise and bloody confusion, and had seized their weapons, turning them on their captors. In less than half a minute, the old playing field was in the hands of the Rebels and those troops loyal to President Blanton. Flames from exploded and burning vehicles were dancing upward, and the smoke soon cut visibility down to nearly nothing.

  Revere’s troops never had a chance once the war dance started. All Rebels were extensively trained in hand to hand combat and they put that training to good use against their poorly trained and very startled captors.

  Ben’s team gathered around him as the flames leaped and crackled and the smoke swirled. “Where’s Blanton and his wife?” Ben asked.

  “We don’t know,” Beth said. “Last we heard they were being held somewhere in the town.”

  “How many troops are we up against?”

  “Couple of battalions,” Jersey said.

  Ben looked at her face. She had a black eye, a busted lip, and several swollen and bruised places. “Who’d you tangle with, Short-stuff?”

  “Couple of guys tried to rape me. They finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort.”

  Corrie had taken a radio from one of the dead and was monitoring it. “The colonel in charge of this lash-up is ordering his people to regroup and defend the town,” she told Ben.

  “He’s a fool,” Ben said. “Get the troops around me.”

  Cooper stepped away and started shouting. Jersey said, “We’re pretty much cut off here. We can’t expect any help. The way I heard it was a timed push. Revere threw everything he had against our people out west at the same time the assault against the hotel was carried out.”

  “We’ll make out. Everybody armed? OK. Let’s take the town.”

  Raines’s Rebels were not accustomed to being taken prisoner, and they were pissed-off. Those troops loyal to Blanton exchanged silent glances and fell in beside the Rebels, looking to Ben for command.

  “We need their equipment,” Ben said, as he led the walk toward the ruins of the old town. “Let’s take as much of it intact as we can.”

  “A Colonel Rush on the horn, General,” Corrie said.

  Ben took the mic. “This is General Raines. What do you want?”

  “Raines, you assault this town and I hang President Blanton and his wife.”

  “And then I take you alive with the guarantee that it will take you a minimum of three very long and very painful days to die, Colonel. And I’ll turn the women that your troops raped loose on them. Think about that.”

  The colonel had obviously heard that the Rebels could be extremely harsh at times. It did not take him long to make up his mind.

  “He’s ordering his people to fall back,” Corrie told Ben. “Blanton and his wife and the staff members taken prisoner are all right. He’s leaving them behind. Revere’s people are in retreat.”

  “Chicken-shits,” Jersey muttered.

  Neither Blanton, his wife, or the members of his staff were hurt, except for their pride, which had been severely bruised.

  “I am extremely grateful to you and your people, General Raines,” the president said.

  “Save it,” Ben told him. “We’ve just learned that a full regiment of troops loyal to Revere is moving at us from the north; from the training base in Canada—some of the thugs and punks and gang members you recruited. We’ve got to get the hell out of here. Mount them up, people.”

  The reunion between Blanton, Hooter, Hanrahan, and the others was tearful, and at Ben’s sharply given command, very short. He ordered a few of his people back to the hotel to retrieve all the equipment they could get into the trucks and told another group to head for the center of the mountain range and set up camp there.

  “My people don’t take orders from you, General,” Blanton told him.

  “That’s fine with me,” Ben said. “You’re on your own.” Ben turned and walked away.

  Blush looked at Blanton and said, “You, sir, are a fool!” He shouted after Ben, “Wait, General. I’m going with you.”

  Rita Rivers, who was still slightly irritated because none of Revere’s troops had ravaged her said, “Good riddance.”

  “General Raines is an arrogant and insufferable ass!” Harriet Hooter said.

 
; “But we need him to stay alive,” the first lady said. “Come on, Homer. Put pride aside and let’s go.”

  “Yes, dear,” the pres said.

  It took the convoy all night to reach their destination. Corrie quickly set up communications and Ben got in touch with Cecil.

  “We’re all right,” he assured his long-time friend. “Just tired and sleepy. I’ve sent personnel over to Fort Drum to retrieve those supplies and equipment we cached up there. How’s it looking out west?”

  “It could be better, but Ike is holding so far. Revere’s troops are poorly trained. And our long-range artillery is helping to save the bacon. Blanton and company?”

  “They’re with me. Reluctantly.”

  Cecil laughed over the miles. “I’d love to hear some of the debates you and Blanton are going to have.”

  “Oh, he’s not a bad guy, Cec. Just a typical liberal with his head up his ass, that’s all.”

  “How did he receive the news about the expansion of our territory?”

  “I’m not sure Senator Hanrahan has told him yet! Doesn’t make any difference. There isn’t a damn thing he can do about it.”

  Several of Blanton’s staff were standing around in the old home Ben had chosen for his CP. They frowned at Ben’s remarks but made no comment. For the moment, General Raines was correct. For the moment.

  The reports General Revere was receiving were sketchy, but he got the message. Rebels had attacked the holding area and had freed those captured Rebels and the troops loyal to Blanton. The message was more than a little vague about just how Blanton was freed. Blanton really made no difference anyway. He was a paper president running a paper government. The only thing that really bothered him was the news that Ben Raines was still alive. For a couple of days he had really felt up-beat. Then the news that Raines was still alive mentally knocked him to his knees.

  Revere sat down behind a battered and scarred old desk. He had to come up with a plan to bust through the Rebel lines and then he could do an end-around. But he couldn’t shift his people and concentrate them for one big massive push. As soon as he did, that damnable ex-Navy SEAL, Ike McGowan, would swing his east and west battalions around and then Revere would be boxed.

  Revere sighed. He knew perfectly well what this war would turn into: a damn guerrilla war. And there were no finer guerrilla fighters in all the world than Raines’s Rebels.

  This war, Revere concluded, could drag on for years.

  The next morning, Blanton sent one of his aides with a demand that Ben grant him an audience.

  Ben looked at the man. “Well, why in the hell didn’t he just come over and knock on the damn door? Sonny, there isn’t much pomp and, circumstance with us. Tell him to come on. But make it quick. We’re liable to be fighting at any time. That enemy regiment is pushing hard.”

  Blanton came right over and got to the point. “General, what is this I hear about you splitting from the Union?”

  Ben leaned back in his chair. “Homer, there is no Union. Why can’t you understand that? It’s over. Done. Finished. We’ve got to rebuild from the ashes. I’m only taking eleven states. You’ve got the rest.”

  Blanton took a deep breath and started quoting the Declaration of Independence. Ben waved him silent.

  “You’re awfully fond of spouting Jefferson, Blanton. So let me quote some Jefferson to you. How about ‘I hold it, that a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical.’ Sit down, Homer. And listen to me.”

  Blanton sat.

  “You spout the Jefferson that suits your ends, so I’ll spout mine. How about, ‘The basis of our government being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right.’”

  Blanton remained silent. Since he was a minority elected president, there was damn little he could say about quotes from Jefferson’s letter to Colonel Edward Carrington.

  “And how about this from Jefferson’s first inaugural address. I’ll take it slightly out of context, as you did: ‘A wise and frugal government shall not take from the mouths of men the bread they have earned.’ That’s not exact, Homer, but it’s close.”

  “You’ve twisted that all around, General!”

  “Shut up!” Ben shouted, pointing a finger at the man. “Don’t make me angry, Blanton. You wouldn’t like me much if you made me angry. I’ll give you one more Jefferson quote that in all your time in the White House you never once uttered. ‘No free man shall ever be debarred the use of arms.’” Ben smiled. “You are familiar with that one, aren’t you?”

  Blanton said nothing.

  “Or how about this one: ‘What country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from time to time, that the people preserve the spirit of resistance. Let them take arms.’ I never heard you mention that one, either.”

  “What is the point of all this, General?”

  “Very simple, Homer. Very basic. The Rebels are armed. We’re going to stay armed. We are going to carve a new nation out of eleven states. And the reasons we’re going to do that are simple. Never again will the government be allowed to disarm its law-abiding citizens. Never again will asinine and frivolous lawsuits be allowed to clog up our courts. Never again will a law-abiding citizen be jailed or sued for protecting what is theirs, be it self, loved ones, property, or pets. Never again will law-abiding citizens be afraid to walk the streets their tax dollars helped to build and maintain.”

  “Are you quite through?” Blanton asked, a stiffness to his words.

  “No. You listen. We can work together, Homer. Our nations can exist side by side. We can sign mutual defense treaties. We can trade with each other. We can have the same currency. We can have open borders. We can do all that, or you can fight me and you’ll lose. Now I’m through.”

  “You’ll fight fellow Americans?”

  “I’ll fight anybody who stands in the way of the right of law-abiding citizens to enjoy liberty, freedom, and the right to live without fear of thugs and punks and two-bit, liberal, would-be dictators.”

  “You’ll destroy this nation!” Blanton shouted the words.

  “Where in the hell have you been for the last few years, Blanton? Under a rock? The nation is destroyed. It’s in ruins except for the areas controlled by the Rebels. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

  “You dare to call me a dictator? What in God’s name are you, General?”

  “I was first appointed by the people and then I was elected, Blanton. In free and open elections. Held on a Sunday, by the way, to make it easier for everybody to vote. You’ll never understand our system of government, Blanton. It’s too simple, too basic for liberals to comprehend. If the Rebel way is so harsh, so brutal, so restrictive, why then do we have several dozen communes of hippies living willingly, freely, and openly within our controlled areas? True, good, peaceful, back-to-the-earth-type hippies. You want to go visit with some of them when this war is over?”

  “No. We’re well aware of those communes. We’ve monitored signals from someone called Thermopolis. Obviously a false name. What is his real name?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care. Why should I care? It’s none of my business.”

  Blanton stood up. “I’m going to pull together what is left of the armed forces and leave you, General.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks. Providing you take Harriet Hooter and Rita Rivers with you.”

  Blanton walked to the door. There, he paused and turned around. “We shall meet again, General. In open combat. And we’ll win, for God is on our side.”

  Ben smiled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before, too.”

  Blanton stalked away and Jersey strolled in. “Corrie says that regiment is about a day and a half away. Two days at the most. We’ve got about a hundred and fifty Rebels here, tops. How are we going to fight a regiment, General?”

  “Like porcupines make love, Jersey. Carefully.”

  FOUR

 
Blanton and his people pulled out with only Lightheart reluctant to go. Ben’s respect for the man had grown. Lightheart appeared to have more sense than anyone else who served President Blanton. Ben put the presidential party out of his mind and turned to his own people, gathering around him. Ben had requested air drops from Cecil and the supplies had been delivered that morning. Ben had immediately sent out teams to start mining the only road in and to set up ambush points.

  “We’re the mouse against the elephant,” he said, pointing to their location on a map. “So the first order of business is to cut that elephant down to size.” He tapped the map with a stick. “When they reach this point, they’re going to be real cautious. So we’re going to let them come on. We want them in deep and relaxed before we spring the trap. Revere can’t pull troops from the front to assist them, and Ike can’t send anyone to help us. So we’re on our own. We’re going to hit and then run like hell. We’ll regroup here.” He again tapped the map. “I don’t want any prisoners,” he said flatly. “Disarm any who try to surrender and turn them loose or shoot them. I don’t care. That’s up to you. Just remember this: we are not only fighting Revere and his people, we are also facing a battle with troops loyal to Blanton. Speaking quite frankly, this is probably the most fucked-up situation we’ve faced in a long time. I don’t like fighting people who are flying the American flag. It’s very repugnant to me. But I cannot reason with Blanton; I can’t reach any sort of compromise with him, so there it is, and here we are. Squad leaders start moving your teams out. Good luck and God bless.”