Trapped in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “But she and I can never be, Emil. So I’ve learned to accept that and live with it. She will always hold a special place in my heart. But I’m not going to stop living because we can never be . . . or rather, be the way I want us to be.”

  Emil met Ben’s eyes. “Jerre Hunter.”

  “That’s right, Emil. But this is just between us. Man to man.”

  “On my word of honor, Ben. I’ll never breathe a word of it. I got an idea, Ben Raines.”

  “Lay it on me, Emil.”

  “Let’s us, you and me, two men of the world who now find ourselves with broken hearts . . . let’s get shit-faced drunk!”

  NINE

  Ben carried Emil out into the anteroom, slung over his shoulder like a sack of feed.

  “That didn’t take long,” Jersey said.

  “Emil passed out during the second verse of ‘Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town.’”

  With Cooper taking his shoulders and Chuck taking his legs, they carried Emil out to the Blazer.

  “Take him to his quarters, boys. And handle him gently. His heart is broken.”

  “So is his voice,” Chuck remarked. “I believe that’s the worst singing I ever heard.”

  Shaking his head and laughing, Ben walked back inside. He went to the radio, fiddled with it until he figured out how to work it—conscious of Beth watching him with a smile on her face—and tried to reach Ike. No responses.

  “You got to turn it on, General,” Beth called from across the room. “The black plastic switch on the right. Right there.”

  Muttering, Ben turned the equipment on and waited for it to warm up.

  “It’s ready to go, General. It stays hot from a backup battery. If you want it on scramble, flip that silver toggle switch on the left side. Right there.”

  “Thank you, Beth. Eagle to Shark.” He waited while a runner located Ike.

  “Go, Eagle.”

  “How’s it going over there, Ike?”

  “Better than we expected, Ben. We got the engines in these old rust buckets ticking over like perpetual motion machines. We got the winches and cranes working to lift most of our gear on board.”

  “That’s good news, Ike. We’ve moved down to the park and are waiting for Khamsin to follow. Did Cec get over?”

  “That’s ten-four, Ben. We cleared one section of a runway. The wounded will be flying back to Base Camp One in the morning. We have not seen one sign of any creepies.”

  “That’s ten-four, Ike. Talk to you next day. Eagle out.”

  Ben walked outside to stand in the snow and cold for a time. It was coming down to the wire, and it all depended on Khamsin pushing hard and how Sister Voleta and Monte and Ashley would react once the plan went into effect.

  Ben tried to put himself in the place of those over in New Jersey. Ben felt he could figure what Ashley would do. He did not know enough about Monte to reach any firm conclusions, and Ben knew he should not even attempt to plumb the depths of the mind of Sister Voleta. She was totally but brilliantly insane. So there was no way of knowing what she might do.

  And Sister Voleta was also a fanatic, her sole purpose for being to destroy Ben Raines. Like Khamsin, she would willingly die if in doing so she could be assured of Ben’s death.

  Ben returned to the warmth of the building and sat down on his cot, pulling off his boots and stretching out. He expected Khamsin to start his advance in the morning. If the Libyan did as Ben thought, his Rebels would have to hold their current positions for at least one full day, and then begin falling back, sucking Khamsin deeper and deeper into lower Manhattan. Anywhere past 86th Street would be ideal. They had enough fuel oil and gasoline to ensure a big bang and a steady burn in lower Manhattan.

  The chemicals would take care of any who survived the initial blast and burn. Ike and Dan had planted explosives at stress points of many buildings, guaranteed to bring them down.

  Ben went to sleep thinking of the bug-out and the devastation that would follow. He went to sleep wondering if he and his Rebels could pull it off.

  And he went to sleep thinking of Jerre.

  Since he went to sleep so early in the evening, he was up long before any of the others. He dressed quietly and picked up his M14, slipping through the darkened anteroom and stepping outside.

  “Ben Raines,” he whispered to the sentry who had whirled around as Ben exited the building.

  “Yes, sir. You startled me, sir. Christ, it isn’t even three o’clock yet.”

  “I’ll stand your watch, girl. You go get us a couple cups of coffee.”

  “Yes, sir!” She grinned at him, glad for a chance to get out of the cold.

  Ben squatted down on the sidewalk and looked up at the sky. Not a star in sight. And the air was not only cold, it was wet. More snow on the way.

  And that was not good news.

  Two more days of snow, and bridge traffic during the bug-out would be slowed to a snail’s pace. That was both good and bad for a couple of reasons. The bug-out would have to be executed very quickly, but if it was snowing, the dispersion of the chemical agents in the wet air would be greatly reduced and would thus place the Rebels in less danger should there be a wind shift. Ben’s weather people had given him the green light for the day after tomorrow. But it might have to be sooner.

  “Damn!” Ben said. He also felt that the snow would slow Khamsin’s troops in their advance. And they needed to be at the northernmost section of Central Park in thirty-six hours. Then, one more day of the Rebels falling back, and Ben could cut the tiger loose.

  And when to order West to bug out? No later than tomorrow evening, for sure. Khamsin’s spotters would know that at least three battalions had left the city. That just might prompt the man to make a full frontal attack against the weakened lines at the park.

  Maybe.

  The sentry returned with two cups of coffee and some hot bread. “I conned the cook out of the bread, General.”

  “Smells good. Thanks. Everything quiet during the night?”

  “Like a grave, sir.” She squatted down beside him and they ate the bread and sipped the coffee.

  Ben knew her face but not her name. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Penny.”

  “Got a family, Penny?”

  “No, sir. Maybe when all the fighting is over I can think about that. I been fighting with the Rebels for three years. I kind of envy those who do have kids, but it’s not for me, not just yet.”

  “You’d miss the action?”

  “For sure. It gets in your blood. Here it doesn’t make any difference if you’re a man or woman. Everybody is equal. I had me a man down in Texas—back when I was just a kid, fifteen years old. The day he told me he was the boss and I do what he tells me to do, that’s the day I told him to shove it and left. I joined up with Ramos and his people and then was transferred to a base camp over in North Carolina.”

  “Equality is the way I planned it, Penny. How old were you when the Great War came?”

  “I think I was eight, General. Some folks took me in for a few years, then the man raped me. I was about twelve, I guess. I split and stayed with some other kids for a couple more years.”

  She didn’t elaborate on what took place between ages twelve and fifteen and Ben didn’t push it. Over the years he had spoken with hundreds of kids who had been caught up in those years directly after the Great War. Theirs had been a mean, miserable and scary existence. Many had drifted to the Tri-States. Most had stayed and become part of the Rebels.

  “They going to hit us today, General?”

  “I would, if I were in Khamsin’s boots.”

  “We really going to sail out of the harbor in those big ships over yonder in Brooklyn?” She pronounced it “Brookering.”

  “That’s the plan, Penny.”

  “That’ll be fun. I never been on a ship. I never even seen one up close.”

  “It won’t be long now.”

  Ben rolled his people out at four o’clock and afte
r breakfast, told them to get into position.

  Chuck got the field commanders on the horn and Ben took the mike, telling Chuck to take it off scramble. He knew his words would be monitored up in Khamsin’s CP. “This is Eagle. We don’t use artillery unless they open up with it first. Let’s see if the Hot Fart and his assholes have the courage to face cold nerve and hot lead. They’ve got us outnumbered three or four to one, but I don’t think any of them have what it takes in the guts department. Dawn will tell the story, I suppose. Eagle out.”

  When Khamsin was told of the challenge, he took it calmly, and then reached exactly the conclusion that Ben had hoped for.

  “A challenge between generals,” Khamsin spoke softly. “I see now why he fought without honor at first.”

  “Why, General?”

  “To bring our forces closer to his number, naturally. Very well, I accept his challenge. No tanks, no artillery.” He held up a finger. “Do not fear. The forces of Allah will prevail.”

  “Recon teams report Khamsin and men are on the way, General,” Chuck related. “Looks like he took the bait. No tanks and no artillery.”

  Ben smiled. “Very good. This time tomorrow, we can start moving our heavy tanks across the bridges.”

  “We gonna load them on the ships, General?”

  “Some of them. I guess we’ll have to leave the rest.” He again allowed himself a strange smile and picked up a map, studying it, seemingly unconcerned that approximately four thousand decidedly hostile troops were rapidly moving toward his position.

  Ben walked over to Chuck. “Take a break, Chuck. I need to use the radio for a minute.”

  “Ah . . . yes, sir! You want it on scramble?”

  “Please.”

  Ben sat alone in the CP for several minutes, alternately looking at a map and speaking into the mike. Then, again with that strange smile on his face, he hung up the mike and stepped outside.

  “Let’s go fight a war, gang.”

  Neither side gave up an inch of ground all through that long and bloody day. Toward evening, it began to snow again, and Ben had to make a decision and make it fast.

  He drove over to Colonel West’s position. “Bug out tonight, Colonel. Take Tina and her teams and head for New Jersey. We can’t wait any longer. Another twenty-four hours of snow, those bridges will be impassable even with chains.”

  “All right, Ben. But you’re damn sure going to be short.”

  “Even shorter come noon tomorrow, West.”

  “That’s the final bug-out?”

  “That’s it.”

  The two professional soldiers stood looking at each other for a moment, both of them smiling. West broke the silence.

  “I always said if I ever found a better tactician than myself, I’d follow him through Hell and back again. I found him.”

  “Let’s see if it’ll work before you start heaping accolades on my head.”

  “Oh, it’ll work. “He gripped Ben’s arm. “See you, Ben.”

  “Take care of my kid.”

  “Will do.”

  Ben waited and watched as West began grouping his people. Tina came to his side.

  “Why do I get this feeling, Pops, that you’re about to pull something damned sneaky again?”

  “Me? Girl, you know I would never do anything like that.”

  “Right, Pops. Sure. Now then, what about Jerre?”

  Ben stiffened just a bit, and it wasn’t from the cold. “What about her?”

  “She told me she wanted to return to Louisiana with us.”

  “So I can bump into her every goddamn time I turn around? So I can see her with other men? Get real, girl! No way.”

  “She’s assigned to us, Dad. You know how shitty that’s going to look when you deliberately send her off to the boondocks?”

  Ben was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “Maybe it’s time for me to open up the plains states, girl. Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that. Just taking a battalion and striking out, looking for trouble.”

  “Running away is a better name for it.” When he did not acknowledge her comment, she said, “Are you going to run from her all your life?”

  “I do not wish to continue this discussion any longer, Tina. It’s bug-out time, girl. Join your team.”

  “Yes, sir, General!” Then the expression on her face softened and she kissed Ben’s cheek. “You have to do what you think is best, Dad. I’m with you whatever you do.”

  “Thanks. You take care. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I still think you’re going to pull something sneaky.”

  “Never! You know I am as straightforward as a bullet. As honest as Abe Lincoln. As truthful as George Washington. As pure as the driven snow. As honorable as a minister. As . . .”

  “Full of crap as you have always been,” she finished it for him.

  Ben gave her a swat on the rear and she ran away, over the snow, laughing. “I’ll tell Jerre you said hello,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, you probably will,” Ben muttered. “And when you do, she’ll probably spit in your eye or hang a cussing on you.”

  TEN

  “How is Ben?” Jerre asked.

  “Ben is Ben,” Tina told her. “He’s never going to change.”

  West’s column had made it over the bridges without difficulty and were bivouacked in New Jersey. Tina and Jerre were having a very welcome cup of coffee and talking.

  “I’m tired of drifting, Tina. I want a home, some permanency in my life.”

  “Dad isn’t going to kick up a fuss if you come to Base Camp One with us. Just stay out of his way and don’t flaunt your boyfriends in his face. Dad’s going to pull out anyway, probably within a couple of weeks of our returning.”

  “If I come back with you?”

  “Whether you do or not. Cecil will be running the show at the base camp because he’s better at administration than Dad. Cecil has him a lady friend and would rather stay home. Oh, Dad will bitch and moan about his getting old and all that type of crap, and about how he’s too old for the field and this, that, and the other thing. But he’s never going to leave combat to others. He’s always going to be right in the thick of it. Just make plans to come on back with us. Like I said, just stay away from Dad when he’s in camp.”

  Jerre nodded her head. “What’s going on around here, Tina? Something is very strange. The docks are off-limits except for a few people.”

  “I don’t know, Jerre. But I have this feeling that Dad is pulling something very sneaky and keeping it close to the vest.”

  “General Jefferys said he wanted everybody in their sleeping bags by nine o’clock tonight. He also said that everybody was going to have a very busy day facing us tomorrow. But what the hell are we going to be doing?”

  “Beats me, girl. You know Ben, he’s full of surprises.”

  “Yes, I know that only too well. And he can spring them on you right out of the blue.”

  Ben stepped out and looked up into a dark but snowy predawn morning. “Now or never,” he muttered. He walked back into the CP and located the radio, taking it outside. “Eagle to Hawk.”

  Cecil was on the horn within a moment. “Go, Eagle.”

  “Get them up and moving, Cec. We’ll be bugging out at noon.”

  “Ten-four, Ben. We’ll cross at the easternmost point, well out of range of any of their spotters, and then angle toward rendezvous.”

  “Affirmative. Eagle out.” He got Rebet and Danjou and gave the orders. “Bug out, gentlemen. And don’t be quiet about it. I’ll see you across.”

  Dan had joined him. “Get the kids, Dan.”

  “Right, sir.” Dan waved his team to vehicles.

  Gene Savie awakened to a cold muzzle pressing against his face.

  “I do hate to be so abrupt this early in the morning, don’t you know?” Dan spoke softly. “It isn’t a bit civil. But we’re going to relieve you all of a burden.”

  “What are you talking about?” his wife a
sked.

  “Your children, Madame. I do hope you will not kick up too much of a fuss about it. I hate unpleasantness before I have had my morning cup.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Gene cursed him.

  Dan’s smile was thin. “I wouldn’t want you to get in the habit of calling me that. I might take umbrage at the slur against my mother and become quite hostile. Like bashing your teeth out with the butt of this weapon.”

  Gene slumped back onto the pillows.

  “Take all the art you can gather, people,” Dan reminded his Scouts. “They won’t be needing it.”

  Gene and his wife lay in the dark bedroom and glared at Dan.

  A few moments passed in silence.

  “We’ve got them, Colonel!” a Scout called.

  “Very good.” He smiled at Gene and wife. “Ta-ta, now, folks. Do enjoy yourselves . . . in the time you have left. Oh, and don’t attempt to leave your apartments. I’ll have sharpshooters posted here and there. Good day!” he called cheerfully.

  “What’s happening?” his wife cried.

  “Ben Raines is leaving us on the island, that’s what is happening. Just relax. We can strike a deal with the Libyan just like we did with the Night People.”

  “But the children!”

  “Less mouths to feed.”

  Dan took the very quiet and scared kids to Striganov.

  “What do you plan to do with them once we are clear of the island?” the Russian asked.

  “Spread them around our various outposts, I suppose,” Dan told him.

  “Do you suppose Ben would object if some of them went to Canada?”

  Dan smiled. “I don’t think he would mind at all, General.” He was watching as some of the Russian troops were busy making friends with the children.

  “Good, good!” Georgi said, then began assigning personnel to get the kids off the island. They would leave immediately.