Trapped in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “In her own strange way. Ships that pass in the night and all that crap.”

  “Yours is a strange combination of love, devotion, and anger, Ben Raines. She will never be subservient to any man.”

  “And you think that’s what I want?”

  “Of course it is. You have to control everything around you. I’m not faulting you; that’s just the way you are. But you’ll never control her. No man ever will. I think one did at some point in her life. And she will never permit that again.”

  “You might be right. But it’s a moot point. Because I’ll be pulling out and chances are very good that I’ll never see her again. I have a suspicion that she’ll stay with you and your group.”

  “She’ll certainly be welcome.”

  “Take care of her, Thermopolis.”

  “I’m not her keeper, Ben Raines. She’ll be free to come and go as she pleases. She’s not a child.”

  Ben’s smile was very sad. “That’s where you’re wrong, Therm. Because in a way, she is.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  The shelling started at dawn, from three sides. Tanks and self-propelled artillery and mortars began their destruction of the city. They began dropping in HE, Willie Peter, and incendiary. It did not take long before sections of the city were blazing, the fires, unchecked, consuming the dusty old buildings.

  Ben sat in an old service-station building drinking coffee, choosing to remain by himself and making it plain he did not wish to be disturbed. He had his boots propped up on the desk and was reading a paperback he had found when Jerre came in and sat down across the desk from him.

  “Something on your mind, kid?”

  “Thermopolis and his people are going to be leaving the convoy in a couple of days.”

  “Yeah, we talked about it earlier.”

  “You’re sending a platoon of Rebels with them.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I am formally requesting permission to be among that platoon.” She stuck her chin out, getting set for an argument.

  “All right.”

  She blinked, not believing what she’d just heard, “That’s it? No arguments about it?”

  “There is nothing to argue about, Jerre. If you wish to go, go. I’ll reassign you right now. Dan is picking the team, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” She spoke softly.

  “Then you’re on your way. Pack up your gear and report to Dan. Tell him what I said. He’ll verify it with me later.”

  She stood up and looked at him. “Well, I guess there is nothing left to say.”

  “I don’t know that there ever was all that much to say, Jerre.” He lifted his coffee mug. “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”

  She was gone amid the crash and howl of artillery shells.

  Ben was not hearing the roar of combat. He was lost in memories, remembering that day years back when he had first looked into those blue eyes.

  He sighed and closed the book, putting it in his jacket pocket. He stood up and walked to the door, opening it and stepping outside just in time to see Jerre get into a jeep.

  She looked back at him.

  He tossed her a salute.

  “What’s that all about?” she called, her voice small over the roar of the shelling.

  “One always salutes the victor, Jerre. Protocol and all that.”

  “Nobody won, Ben. We both lost. “She put the jeep into gear and drove off.

  While it was impossible for a force as small as Ben’s to completely destroy a city the size of Charleston, they did leave behind them a burning city. None had any way of knowing how many creepies they had killed, but for about eighteen hours, they had made life damned miserable for them.

  The column crossed over into Kentucky without further incident, bypassing Lexington and taking Interstate 75 south.

  It was just past Lexington that Thermopolis and his group split with the Rebels.

  “We’re not far from home, Ben Raines,” Thermopolis told him. “About a hundred fifty miles south and a bit east of here. So,” he stuck out his hand, “I guess for a time, this is goodbye.”

  Ben shook the hand. “I’d like to say something to your following, Thermopolis.”

  “They are not my following, Ben.”

  Ben smiled. “Now who is bullshitting whom, friend?”

  Both men laughed and walked toward the band of twenty-first-century hippies. The contingent of Rebels who were to act as escorts and to help with the move to Arkansas were already packed up and ready to go.

  Ben made no speeches. He shook hands with everyone there and thanked them. Then he walked away. Without seeing Jerre.

  As the columns split, Ben did not look back. Just told Cooper to take the country roads and to angle southwest; they were going down through Arkansas this time. And Ben also told his people they were not hunting trouble. They were going home.

  They were lucky to make a hundred miles a day on the old county and state roads. Two hundred miles was considered good on the rapidly deteriorating Interstate system.

  They followed Interstate 40 all the way over to Memphis. From there, the Rebels took 61 down through the delta of Mississippi. They saw occasional smoke from the chimneys of houses along the highway, but Ben made no effort to stop and inquire as to their well-being. Everyone in this part of the country, everyone in the deltas on both sides of the Mississippi River, knew that the Rebels’ Base Camp One was located at Morriston, Louisiana. If they needed help, all they had to do was ask, it would be provided. They also knew not to screw up, or the Rebels would land on them hard.

  And on a cool, very crisp and sunshiny midday, the Rebels pulled into Base Camp One to the sounds of a band playing and hundreds of people lining the streets, waving and cheering them home.

  ***

  That evening after a very long and steamy and soapy shower and a good close shave, Ben was sitting in his favorite chair in the den of his home, listening to Gregorian chants on the CD player and having a vodka martini while his dogs lay around the chair, glad to have the master back home.

  Of course, he was thinking about Jerre; she was never far from his thoughts.

  A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie.

  Ben waved Ike and Buddy inside and offered them a drink. Ike thought that would be just dandy; Buddy declined.

  The CD player turned down and the drinks fixed, the men took seats. Ike propped his feet up on an ottoman and said, “I’ve had the mechanics working on vehicles for you, Ben. But since I don’t really know how many people you’re plannin’ on takin’ with you, I don’t really know how many vehicles to line up.”

  “Four companies, Ike. All volunteer. And probably one short company of Dan’s Scouts.”

  “The way our companies line up, you’re talkin’ about roughly eight hundred people.”

  “That’s close enough.”

  “Your four-wheel drive has seen some rough use. I got you another lined up. People armor-plating it and replacing glass now.”

  “You’re walking around something, Ike. What is it?”

  “I’d like to go with you.”

  “Ike, you’re a brand new daddy. And we’ve got several hundred new people to train. With Dan gone, that’s up to you. You and Cecil are needed here.”

  Ike grinned. “I had to try.”

  “And I appreciate it.” He cut his eyes to his son. “Your mother is still out there, boy. We could run into her on this trip.”

  Buddy shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Then so be it, Father. The woman is insane and for years has acted in a criminal manner. She must be stopped.”

  “Then you’re volunteering?”

  “Of course. Father, the entire base has volunteered to go.”

  Ben had expected it, but it still filled him with pride. “I’ll start picking names in the morning. Now then, the only outpost we currently have out west—the far west—is at Great Bend, Kansas. That’s another reason for this trip. We’ve got to start stretching out and reclaiming territory
, making it productive once more. I just went over the records here at camp. Jesus, Ike, we’ve got over ten thousand people around this area. We’ve got people coming in daily. So that means we’ve got to start pioneering some families. Pass the word that I’m looking for settlers to go with us.”

  Ike nodded. “I’m ahead of you, Ben. I got a list of more than two hundred families who want to go.”

  “Good. We’re on the right track. Now then, as we go, we’re going to start clearing small-town airports for the birds to use, to resupply settlers until they can get crops in and become productive. We’ll probably be gone the better part of a year. Cecil is going to handle the administrative end of things while I’m gone. Every thing else falls on your shoulders, Ike.”

  Again, Ike nodded.

  “I’m not going to jump into this thing, Ike. I don’t want to start out and find ourselves in the big fat middle of a blizzard on the plains. We’re going to have very firm timetables as to when and where and how we resupply along the line. And down here, I’m going to go over everything from socks to bullets.” He smiled at them. “But for this night, I’m going to listen to some music, have a few drinks, and relax. Get some sleep, boys; tomorrow starts a very hectic schedule.”

  Ben patted the track of a main battle tank, 105mm-cannon-equipped. “Ten of them,” he said. “Ready to roll.”

  Beth took that down in a notepad.

  “I thought you were going back to Lev and the cows, Beth.”

  “Lev got tired of waiting,” she informed him. “There was a message waiting for me when we got back. It’s just as well. I’d have gotten tired of wiping that ick off my boots.” She jerked a thumb toward a very pretty blond woman, in her early to mid-twenties. “This is Corrie. She’ll be handling the radio.”

  “I definitely approve.”

  “I thought you would,” Beth said dryly.

  Corrie smiled at him.

  “I want a dozen hand-held vision scopes, Beth, and five tripod night vision scopes. Five grenade launchers per platoon.”

  Beth scribbled.

  “I want Big Thumpers mounted on every vehicle that will take them. Five Dusters.”

  They walked on—Beth, Cooper, Jersey, Corrie, and Ben.

  “Three eighty-one-millimeter mortar carriers, five-person crew.”

  Beth jotted it down.

  “One five-point-five-six Minimi per platoon. One fifty per platoon. Two Puffs ready to fly at all times.”

  Beth noticed the absence of Ben’s old Thompson. “What will you be carrying, General?”

  “I’ll keep the Thompson in a boot. I’ll carry the old Thunder Lizard.”

  She jotted down .308 ammo.

  “Tankers to keep us rolling and equipment to test gas and pumps to suck it up from storage tanks.

  “Get everyone’s boot size and make sure there are adequate replacements. I want all body armor checked and any defectives replaced immediately.”

  Beth wrote it down.

  “One mini-MASH fully equipped. Find out what doctors are going along.”

  “Doctor Chase says he is leading the team of doctors.”

  “Doctor Chase is most definitely not leading the doctors,” Ben countered.

  “I just work here, General,” Beth said. “Argue with Doctor Chase.”

  “Put down Doctor Ling to lead the team. I’ll deal with Lamar.”

  “Better you than me,” Beth muttered.

  “Umm?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Ike is seeing to the vehicles, so if any of them breaks down, we can blame it on him.”

  “Yes, sir. We can cuss him a thousand miles from nowhere, sitting on the side of the highway holding a busted U-joint. Right, sir.”

  “Make a note to recheck the transportation before we pull out,” Ben said with a smile.

  “Thank you.”

  “What am I forgetting, Beth?”

  “About ten thousand things, sir. I have a list.” She held out her hand and Cooper gave her a notebook about the size of the Bible.

  Ben glanced at it. “Good God!”

  “Yes, sir. Are you ready?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No, sir.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Where do we start?” He had discovered that Beth was very thorough.

  “Five thousand pairs of socks.”

  “Can we start with the bras and panties?”

  “We’ll get to that later,” Corrie said, smiling at him.

  Ben arched an eyebrow. Might be a more interesting trip than he first thought.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Emil had settled back into his role as spiritual leader of his little group. The battle dress was gone and the robes had returned.

  Emil had contacted the Great God Blomm, and Blomm, so the little con artist informed his following, had instructed him to keep his ass close to home from now on. But Emil was forced to admit, not aloud, that he did miss the excitement.

  No more had been heard from Sister Voleta or Ashley.

  Thermopolis and his group were settling in up in Arkansas. Ben had instructed the platoon of Rebels to stay with them for as long as they were needed.

  At least that kept Ben away from Jerre.

  And vice versa.

  And Ben was stalling in pulling out, and he knew it. He had made up a dozen excuses for his delaying the trip west, some of them proving valid, most just no more than excuses and nothing else.

  West knocked on his office door and Ben waved him in and to a seat. “What’s up?”

  “Ben, I lost two men last week.”

  “Lost two men? How? Desertion?”

  “No. I’ve never lost a man to that. My people are professionals. But . . .” He spread his hands. “I thought at first that, well, hell, there is a first time for everything, so maybe they did desert. Now I find that two more are missing. Sometime last night.”

  Ben kept his face expressionless; but his first thought was of the kids of the Night People. “And your thoughts on the matter?”

  “The same as yours, Ben,” the mercenary said grimly.

  “All the creepie kids accounted for?”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t mean a damn thing. The sneaky little bastards can almost slip out and away while you’re looking at them.”

  “You think . . . ?” Ben let that hang.

  “Yeah, Ben. I think.”

  “If they did the unthinkable and unspeakable, West, they didn’t go far to do it. Come on.”

  The creepie kids would have few places to feast on human flesh, for there were no slums and no shacks in any town or outpost occupied by the Rebels. If there were unoccupied buildings or sheds on any land claimed by a Rebel, the buildings were repainted and kept up by the new owner, or they were torn down. Since building materials and nails and paint were free for the taking, the standing orders were: Just do it. Period.

  When Ben said that Rebel communities were going to be models that would stand the test of time for future generations to build by, he meant it.

  Morriston was rapidly becoming a small town that would have been the envy of anyone even when the nation was whole. There was no litter. If one littered and was caught, and the offender almost always was, the culprit spent a week, seven days, eight hours a day, doing community service work, usually cleaning out septic tanks, digging ditches, or some other unenviable type of work. There was no appeal. There just wasn’t any litter.

  But it was not an inflexible society. Ben knew that kids are kids and kids are going to break the rules from time to time. Loud mufflers and loud music of any type—rock to classical—was tolerated, to a point. Probably the most important thing was that the kids understood the rights of others. They were taught values not only in the churches and at home, but in the schools.

  Members of the ACLU were probably spinning in their graves, and Ben hoped they kept on spinning, right out into another galaxy.

  “Corrie,” Ben told her, “have Doctor Chase get the lab ready to
test for human blood on hands and lips and clothing. Tell Ike to take a team and go over their quarters like a Marine Corps inspection team landing on a recruits’ barracks. They left something behind, bet on it.”

  “Yes, sir.” They walked on toward the kids’ quarters as Corrie completed her transmissions. She said, “General? Doctor Chase says that his goddamned, blankety-blank, I-refuse-to-say-that-word lab is always that-word-either blankety-blank ready.”

  “Thank you, Corrie. You have to remember that Chase was in the Navy. He was an officer, but he was a mustang. You’ll get used to Lamar . . . eventually.”

  “If you say so, sir.” But she looked very dubious about it.

  “What are we looking for, Ben?” West asked.

  “The last place those men were seen.”

  “They were pulling guard duty around our compound. The dog watch.”

  “We’ll start there.”

  It took them several walk-arounds of the area, but West was the one who found the small splotches of blood. “Got it,” he called.

  Ben waved a lab technician over, and the woman lifted the blood onto slides.

  “Now we have something to work on,” Ben said. “Let’s see if we can pick up a trail.”

  A dozen yards on and they found a thin blood trail leading toward a stand of timber across the old Interstate. In the timber, in an old shotgun house, they found the men, hanging up like sides of beef. What was left of them, that is. They were naked and had been carved on with very sharp knives.

  “What’s the drill now, Ben?” West asked, anger very plain in his tone.

  “We either prove or disprove it was them. I have never believed in pampering kids. If a teenager commits an adult crime, they should be punished like an adult.”

  “And the punishment for a crime like this?”

  “Death.”

  “What’d you have, Lamar?” Ben asked.

  “Dried blood under their fingernails and on their skin and clothing. It’s being matched up now. Did you find all the bodies, Ben?”

  “All four of them. The kids ate their fill.”

  “If it was the kids,” Doctor Holly Allardt said.