Trapped in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  But he did not step forward to offer his hand in greeting.

  “Thank you,” Ben responded. “We just thought we’d drop in for a visit. Maybe stay a few days and rest up . . . if that wouldn’t be an imposition on you good folks.”

  “Well . . .” The man hesitated. “We don’t have much food. It’s been a long winter and our supplies are almost gone.”

  Ben waved that aside. “We have plenty of food. We’ll be happy to share it with you. As a matter of fact, I have an idea: Why don’t we all get together for a potluck supper this evening? We’ll all bring a dish and share. That sound good to you?”

  “Just . . . wonderful, General.”

  Ben spotted a group of kids; they had the same flat look of hatred and contempt as the kids taken from Philly.

  Stepped right into a snake pit, Ben thought, as his eyes caught faint movement on rooftops and second floor windows of homes. Riflemen waiting to open fire.

  Ben and the spokesman stood and smiled at one another. And each smile was filled with contempt for the other. The creepies knew that Ben Raines would take no prisoners, so if this ruse didn’t work, and the spokesman knew it wasn’t, they would try to kill as many Rebels as possible . . . especially Ben Raines.

  “Shouldn’t your children be in school?” Ben asked.

  “Well . . . it isn’t every day that the famous Ben Raines drops in for a visit. We turned school out for the auspicious event.”

  “I’m flattered. But auspicious is a very heady word. Really, all we’ve been doing is killing crud. You folks been having any problems with the Night People?”

  “Ah . . . no. We haven’t seen any.”

  “You’re a goddamn liar!”

  The man brought his rifle up, his face mirroring his inner hate. He was shot all to pieces by Rebel fire just as the cannon on a tank boomed, the round blowing off the top of a building where the crew chief had seen creepies lurking.

  On the road leading into town, the battle was very hot and very brief. The instant the spokesman brought up his weapon, several hundred Rebels opened fire into the knot of creepies, killing them almost instantly.

  The children of the Night People ran away, disappearing into the buildings and the brush.

  “Take the town,” Ben ordered.

  The retaking of Westernport was very short and very brutal, just as brutal as what the creepies had done with their prisoners, taken from the small towns and villages around the area.

  The Night People must have sensed that the ruse would not work, for they had killed the prisoners, all the men and women and children, and hung them up on hooks, like hanging ducks.

  And they had obviously told their own children to head for the timber at the first shot, for not a child could be found among the rubble that was all that remained of the little town after the Rebels had finished.

  “Leave the bodies where they lie,” Ben told his people. “It’s too dry to burn them; we might start a forest fire. And there is no point in trying to chase after the kids. I don’t know what in the hell we’d do with them if we did catch them.”

  Ben took a sip of water from his canteen. Even the water tasted of death.

  ***

  The Rebels were back on the road without a backward glance at the shattered town and the bodies that littered the bloody streets.

  They took Highway 220 out of Westernport and spent an hour in Keyser. Ben had expected to find somebody in the town that once held a population of over six thousand. But it was a ghost town.

  “It hasn’t always been,” West said, walking up. “We’ve inspected several homes and found signs that people were here and not that long ago. There are graves that were dug maybe six months ago—no longer than that. And one hell of a lot of brass around. There was a fight here, and a big one.”

  “But against whom?” Ben questioned, not really expecting a reply. “And I doubt that digging up the bodies would tell us anything. Let’s go.”

  A few miles south of Keyser the column turned west on Highway 50. They passed through small towns—all deserted. They saw no signs of human life as the Rebels pushed on into the unknown. With darkness just a couple of hours away, the Rebels moved into a small town and began clearing out homes and buildings to spend the night.

  “Anybody see the city limits sign?” Cooper asked.

  “Aurora, I think it was,” Jersey told him. “Why, you want to mail a letter?”

  “Funny, Jersey. Very funny.”

  “Double the guards,” Ben ordered. “Just in case.”

  But the night passed uneventfully, with the Rebels catching up on rest. Ben was the first one up—except for the guards already on duty, and the cooks—and walked over to one of the buildings being used as a mess hall and poured a mug of coffee. He chatted with the cooks for a moment and then went outside, to sit on the fender of a truck until his butt got cold and he was forced to move around.

  By that time he had some appetite and started back to the mess hall. A runner stopped him.

  “General Ike on the horn, sir. They’ve docked and have the equipment unloaded, ready to move west.”

  Ben turned just as the mess hall building exploded and the artillery barrage began.

  The first explosion knocked Ben and the runner sprawling. He got to his knees and grabbed the ankles of the young runner, dragging him under a truck for protection, and then went racing toward his quarters.

  “Everybody out! “he yelled. “Bug out! Bug out! They’ve got our range dead on. If we stay here, we’re dead. Move, people, move!”

  Grabbing whatever they could, the Rebels, in various stages of dress and undress, went racing for the vehicles as the deadly artillery dropped in around them. A deuce and a half went up with a whooshing roar as the incoming landed directly on the truck, blowing the gas tanks, the deadly debris killing several Rebels who had been working at frantically loading the bed of the truck.

  Running without lights, the Rebels roared away from the small town, exiting east and west on Highway 50, and south on a county road, for the artillery was coming in on them from the north.

  Ben took as many of his people as he could gather and headed north, up a county highway. He halted them a mile out of town, when the muzzle flashes of the enemy artillery could be seen from the road.

  Flipping his radio on scramble, he lifted the mike. “Eagle to West.”

  “Go, Eagle.”

  “What’s your twenty?”

  “Couple of miles east of the town.”

  “Find a road north and take it. They’re about a mile outside of the town. You may have to work across country on foot. I’m taking my people and heading for them now.”

  “Ten-four, Eagle. Moving.”

  “Cec, you copy?”

  “Ten-four, Ben. I took some hits and bugged out south. Chase is with me, patching up the badly wounded.”

  “You hold what you’ve got and spread out. With any kind of luck, we’ll be driving them toward you.”

  “Ten-four, Eagle.”

  “Dan?”

  “Right behind you, Eagle. What’s the drill?”

  “I think Monte found us. Now let’s go find him and kick some ass.”

  TWENTY

  Ben and Dan left their vehicles on the road, the keys out of the ignition, and began walking toward the artillery, while West and his men came cross-country from the other direction. Both advancing parties carried light mortars and rocket launchers. Just as the artillery ceased firing, Monte sure he had creamed the Rebels hard, he was hit from both sides with mortar, rocket fire and grenades fired from grenade launchers.

  Ashley, being the cautious type, was not so certain he had done much damage to the Rebels and had pulled his people back about a mile and was attempting to see through night lenses. He saw the shapes of the Rebels closing the pincers and knew Monte was trapped.

  “To help or not to help?” Ashley muttered.

  “We don’t need him,” Sister Voleta said. “The man is a fool.”


  “Then it’s agreed?” Ashley looked at the woman in the moonlight.

  “Of course. There is always another day,”

  They faded back into the timber and joined their forces.

  Monte and his men were, as one Rebel would later sum it up, getting their asses kicked.

  With the Rebels closing with them from the west, and the mercenaries closing with them from the east, the warlord and his men went into a panic as the shapes seemed to materialize out of the darkness.

  Monte’s men were not accustomed to hand-to-hand combat, not on this scale, and not outnumbered. Like most bullies, they were cowards at heart, always being very careful to pick the people they bullied. This time they had tweaked the tail of a giant dragon, and the dragon was a many-clawed fire-breather.

  Monte’s men tried to run away. Only a few made it. Ben stepped around a light artillery piece that had been crippled by rockets and came face-to-face with Monte. Monte was standing by the cannon, one side of his face slick with blood from a minor wound.

  The two men had never met, but each instinctively knew the other.

  Monte lunged at Ben, a pistol in his hand. Ben kicked the man in the knee with a boot, and the pain caused the warlord to drop his weapon as he cried out, both hands grabbing his knee.

  Ben stepped in closer and butt-stroked the warlord on the jaw with the stock of his M14. Teeth flew out of the man’s mouth, and his lips were smashed to bloody pulp. Monte hit the cold ground moaning and rolling, trying to escape the rage of the man.

  As the sounds of battle waned around them, Ben stood over the man, the muzzle of the old Thunder Lizard pointed at the man’s chest.

  “No!” Monte cried. “I’ll deal with you!” The words came out mush-mouthed.

  Then he saw Ben smile as a Rebel came to his side. “Tie this bastard up,” Ben ordered. “I want him to stay alive— for a little while longer.”

  “Forty-seven dead, a hundred wounded,” Dan reported to Ben as dawn kissed the darkness, the caress opening the mouth of light. “We’re going to have to get to an airfield and open a runway for the birds to get the wounded.”

  Ben cursed at the totals. When he had profanely vented his spleen, he lifted a map. “There’s an airport at Clarksburg. Send some people over there to check it out. If it’s usable, clear a path and get the birds in.”

  “Yes, sir. About the prisoners we took this morning . . .?”

  “Keep them alive and well-fed and under heavy guard.”

  “Well-fed, sir?”

  “That is correct, Dan.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Ben walked over to West. “Ben, my people found signs where a large force waited and then pulled out, heading north toward Pennsylvania. Sister Voleta and Ashley, I’m sure. And they didn’t show any signs of planning to stop anytime soon.”

  “They’ve had it for this run. I don’t think we’ll see them again soon.” He glanced at Jerre. “Jerre, advise the forward teams heading to Clarksburg to clear the airport and advance no farther. Do not, repeat, do not enter the town. If there are creepies, leave them alone unless the creepies make the first move.”

  She looked at Ben, questions in her eyes. She nodded her head and relayed the orders.

  West, too, had questions in his eyes, but they remained unspoken.

  “Let’s get our dead cremated and the wounded made ready for travel.”

  With creepies all over the place they had all agreed that cremation was the only logical way to treat any Rebel dead.

  “Jerre, bump Katzman and tell him to contact Base Camp One. Send some planes up here for the wounded. We’ll wait at Grafton until after the birds have taken the wounded on board, and then we’ll move on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The convoy made the short run to Grafton and found the town a deserted death town—but only recently so. The signs and smells of creepies were all over the place. Mutilated bodies lay about the streets.

  “Burn them,” Ben ordered. “And then stand down for the night.”

  “What’s Ben got in his mind?” Thermopolis asked Tina, after the dead were collected and burned.

  “I don’t know. He’s not talking and I’m not going to push him on it.”

  “Probably a wise choice.”

  Ben remained mostly by himself and very taciturn the rest of the day and all that night. He would occasionally walk over to the building where Monte and his men were being kept under guard, to stand and stare at them.

  “You wanna deal, General?” Monte would ask each time Ben came over, the words mushy coming out of his busted mouth.

  Ben would always mutter a low curse and turn his back to the man.

  The planes began landing during the early morning hours and picking up the wounded Rebels.

  Dan informed Ben that Clarksburg was filled with creepies. But they had made no move toward the Rebels, and the Rebels were leaving them alone as ordered.

  “Keep it that way,” Ben told him.

  By eight o’clock in the morning, all the wounded had been transported out.

  “Let’s roll,” Ben ordered. “All personnel out of the airport area. Link up on the Interstate and wait for me there.”

  The Rebels dismounted and stood on the Interstate, watching as Ben and his contingent stayed on Highway 50 and escorted Monte and his men to the city limits.

  “Get them out of the trucks,” Ben ordered.

  On the pavement, Monte looked around nervously. “What the hell are you gonna do, Raines?” he demanded. “If you’re gonna shoot us, get it the hell done.”

  “I have no intention of shooting you,” Ben told the warlord. “Strip!”

  “Do what?” Monte screamed.

  “Strip, you bastards! I want the creepies to see what’s coming up for lunch.”

  “You can’t do this to us!” Monte yelled.

  Ben’s reply was a tight smile.

  “I ain’t a-gonna do it,” a man said.

  Ben glanced at Dan. “Strip them and hogtie them.”

  Using rifle and pistol butts for clubs, the Rebels knocked the men down and stripped them naked, tying them up, leaving them on the cold concrete.

  Monte lay on the highway, filth spewing out of his mouth until he was breathless from cursing Ben Raines.

  “Creepies watching this,” Dan said.

  “Good.”

  Tina lifted her binoculars. “They’re carrying knives, Dad.”

  “That’s even better.” He looked at Monte. “You’re scum, Monte. Only God knows how many innocent men and women and kids you kidnapped, raped, tortured, sodomized, and then handed over to the Night People. It’s payback time, Monte. You better start praying, because that looks like a hungry bunch over there.”

  “Goddamn you, Raines! This ain’t decent. This ain’t right. This ain’t nothin’ no human being would do to another human being.”

  “Call it justice, Monte,” Ben told him. “Call it true justice at last.”

  Ben turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Monte’s busted and bruised mouth wailed out the one word of pure and nearly mindless fear. “You don’t know them people. They’ll torture us a long time ’fore they kill us. Them people is worser than anything on the face of this earth!”

  Ben looked at the naked lot of scum and trash and outlaws. There was only contempt in his eyes. “I hope so, Monte. I really hope so.”

  The screaming from the mouths of the warlord and his outlaws began just as the long column of Rebels was pulling out. The screaming would continue throughout the very long day.

  The Rebels made camp for the evening about fifteen miles outside of Charleston. Tina and her teams of Scouts reported that the city was filled with creepies.

  “Do we clear the city, Ben?” Cecil asked, a haggard look around his eyes.

  “We destroy it,” Ben said. “Or as much of it as we can. We’ve been fully resupplied, so we’re going to stand back and shell it and set it on fire.”

  Ben lifted a battered
old map. “West, you take your people, this evening, and cross over the river down here at Interstate Seventy-seven. Cecil, take your battalion and cross over here, at Highway Twenty-one. At dawn, we’ll commence shelling from three directions. That’s it. You people get into position and get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be noisy.”

  When Cecil and West had gone, Ben turned to Jerre. “Get Katzman. Ask him if he’s had any further word from Ike.”

  Katzman reported that Ike was well inland and moving toward Base Camp One.

  “Advise Ike not to engage with the creepies. He isn’t strong enough. Tell him to avoid the cities and head straight for the base camp and start setting up field supplies and vehicles for one battalion.”

  “All right, Ben.” Her eyes touched his. “Your battalion, Ben?”

  “That is correct.”

  He walked away while she was speaking with Katzman.

  “When we get close to your camp, Thermopolis,” Ben told him, “feel free to break loose and head home.”

  “We’ve talked it over, Ben Raines. We’re going to resettle in Arkansas. Until this creepie business is over, I have to admit there is strength in numbers. We’ll settle near the Ouachita Mountains.”

  “Probably a wise choice. We’ll set you up with good radio equipment and anything else you need.”

  “You won’t run my community, Ben.”

  “I have no intention of running your show, Therm. I just want you properly equipped in case you’re attacked or in the event we might need some help. Like I said before: We’re not that different.”

  The hippie and the soldier smiled at each other and shook hands. “Well, I suppose I can live with that, Ben Raines.”

  “Good. I’ll send a platoon of Rebels with you when you decide to break away. They’ll escort you to your new base and help you get set up.”

  “That would be much appreciated. I suppose,” he added dryly, “that Jerre will be among those assigned to escort us?”

  “You’re reading my mind, Therm.”

  “Maybe she won’t want to go.”

  “She’ll take orders or leave this outfit.”

  “In her own strange way, Ben, she cares very deeply for you. Surely you must know that.”