“Bastards!” Ike growled.
The roaring of the fire completely covered the stutter and crack of the M-16. Ike jammed home a fresh clip and began picking his targets.
He knocked the props out from under a half dozen more hooded and robed persons before deciding it was time for him to haul his ass out of that area.
One man came close to Ike’s position and Ike shot him, one slug hitting the magazine of the M-16, the rounds exploding, mangling the man’s belly and chest. Ike tore the ammo pouch from the man and ripped a pair of field glasses from around the man’s neck. He ran into the woods.
Stopping once to check the stars, Ike got his bearings and headed southeast. He found a stream and followed it until he spotted a bridge looming dark in the early fall evening in the mountains.
Ike carefully reconnoitered the bridge and the grounds around it while remaining motionless in the brush. First chance he got, he was getting out of that stinking robe. It was insulting his nostrils. People of the Ninth Order must not believe much in bathing, he thought.
Cautiously, he made his way to the bridge. He followed the highway south by staying close to the timberline. He came to a highway marker. He was on Highway 60.
Ike searched his memory. The patrol he’d been leading had been ambushed just to the east of Highway 411, very close to the town of Chatsworth. So the members of the Ninth Order had carried him quite a distance to the east. He still couldn’t quite figure out exactly why the Ninth Order had grabbed him. He thought all that questioning about Ben had been to throw him off.
Unless . . .
Yeah, he reflected sourly, that had to be it. Willette and his bunch were probably playing footsie with that gang of kooks. Christ! Ike had hoped they were all through with people like that when they left Emil Hite and his band of fruitcakes back in Arkansas.2
Ike had to softly chuckle at the memory of Emil Hite. Hite was more harmless hippie than anything else. The man had a scam working for him. But he wasn’t dangerous—at least not like the Ninth Order.
The Ninth Order. Sister Voleta. What the hell did they want? Good Christ, there was surely enough land for everybody.
Ike just couldn’t figure it.
He walked for half an hour before spotting an old house set off the road, almost completely overgrown with thick brush. He circled the house once before stepping up to the porch. Carefully, he tried the doorknob. It turned with a grinding, unused sound. M-16 ready, on full auto, Ike pushed open the door. It protested on rusty hinges. Ike stepped into a musty-smelling living room.
Something screamed an animal sound and came leaping at him in the darkness.
SIXTEEN
“We’re clean up to that point,” the Rebel said, pointing to an intersection about a half mile from the first barricade just outside Dublin, Georgia. “Beyond that point, General, is the unknown. You want me to send teams in there?”
Ben nixed that quickly. “It’ll be full dark soon,” he said. “No point in risking more lives wandering around at night. They—whoever they might be—know the terrain. We don’t. Let’s backtrack a few miles for safety’s sake. We’ll hit the town in the morning.”
“Whatever is in there,” Susie said, “they’re pretty good. I haven’t seen any movement since we knocked out that machine gun emplacement.”
“Either pretty good or pretty scared,” Ben said. “Or pretty few.” He turned to another Rebel. “What did you learn from inspecting the bodies at the machine gun nest?”
“Five white males,” Sergeant Greene said. “Dirty. Unwashed. Bad teeth. All different ages. I’d say from twenty to forty-five. All wearing battle dress. None of them wore any type of unit crest or any other type of insignia.”
“Odd,” Ben said, more to himself than anyone else. Once again, Tony Silver’s name came to his mind. Suddenly, Ben thought about Ike. He shook that away. “OK. Let’s pull back and get our camp set up for the night.”
Gale touched his arm. “I get the uncomfortable feeling we are being watched.”
“I imagine we are,” Ben said. “From a safe distance.”
Gale looked at the ten naked bodies hanging from the rafter across the street. Tortured and mutilated and grotesque. “What are you going to do with them, Ben?”
“Leave them for the time being. We’ll cut them down and bury them in the morning. Twelve more hours won’t make a bit of difference to them.”
The Rebels backtracked to the interstate and set up for the night around an old motel complex. Ben posted guards on the roof and on both sides of the interstate.
“Heads up,” Ben told his people. “We don’t know how many of the enemy we’re facing, much less what we’re facing.”
“Seems to me, General,” a woman spoke from the ranks, “since we didn’t make the first hostile moves to open this dance, those people back in Dublin—the ones who fired on us—are lookin’ to get their asses kicked.”
“That is precisely what we are going to do, Judy,” Ben told her with an accompanying smile. “At first light.”
“Good!” she replied. “I’m damn tired of people shootin’ at me. Especially since all we’re tryin’ to do is be friends and help those who need it.”
A low growl of agreement spread through the ranks of the Rebels.
“In the morning,” Ben repeated, dismissing the Rebels.
“I’m hungry,” Gale announced.
“I’m sure,” Ben said. “You eat like a horse normally. Now you’re eating for two.”
“Three, Ben. Three.” She looked at him. “A horse!”
SEVENTEEN
Ike sidestepped, tripped the man who came shrieking at him in the darkness, and got the guy in a hammer lock. Ike had dropped his M-16 and was just about to cut the guy’s throat when his hand cupped a soft breast.
Ike squeezed gently. He grinned and squeezed again. Soft. Quite a handful.
“Perverted son of a bitch!” the woman said. “Are you gonna cut my throat or just feel me up?”
Not relaxing his hold on the woman, Ike said, “I might decide to do both.” He squeezed again.
“Will you turn loose of my titty? And you’re choking me, you bastard.”
Ike eased off and stood up. The woman remained crouched on the floor. She rubbed her throat. In the dim light filtering through the dirty windows, Ike looked at her. She was maybe twenty-two or three, no more than that. Light brown hair, tanned skin. Old work shirt and faded jeans. She was built up nice and shapely. She met his gaze squarely, no back-up in her.
“What are you, a fat monk?” she asked.
Ike stepped back and pulled off the hooded robe. He tossed the stinking garment to the floor. Ike was all muscle and gristle and bone. And he was strong as an ape.
Her eyes swept him from face to booted feet. She nodded her head.
“Did I pass inspection?” Ike asked.
“If that’s what you want to call it. OK. So you’re not fat. You’re a fireplug. But what are you? Besides a pervert, that is.”
“I am not a pervert. But you do have a nice set of titties.” He grinned. “I’m Colonel Ike McGowen. Now who in the hell are you?”
“A colonel! Sure you are,” she said sarcastically. “A colonel in what?”
“Raines’ Rebels.”
She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. Blinked her eyes. She twisted around and sat on the floor, looking up at Ike. “General Ben Raines? I mean, President Ben Raines?”
“Yeah. Ben. I was leading a patrol a couple of counties west of here. Some nutty bastards that call themselves the Ninth Order ambushed us, grabbed me. I broke out several hours ago. That’s it in a nutshell. What’s your name?”
“Nina. Yeah, I know that bunch of crazies. Know them well. They killed my old man last month. They burned him to death,” she added bitterly, almost spitting out the last. “Stripped him, tortured him, tied him to a stake, then burned him. Made me watch. The men holding me had a good time feeling me up. They told me what they were going to do to m
e. Real perverted. They were going to screw me to death. You believe that? They meant it! I kicked one in the balls and split. Been runnin’ ever since. Thought they had me a couple-three times, but I always managed to slip past them. Screw me to death. Caught me and my old man, ah, messin’ around. Called me a sinner. So that was to be my punishment. Jesus! What a pack of nuts.”
“I agree with you. Your old man? Your husband?”
“Kind of. We never got married, though. How about you?”
Vibrations passed between the man and the woman. Both of them picked up the other’s silent message. Strong erotic messages. The meaning was very clear.
“How do you want me to answer that?” Ike asked her.
“The only way to answer it, Ike. By tellin’ the truth.”
“I’m married.”
“Faithful to her?”
Something clutched at Ike’s guts. “Up to now,” he said with a grin, meeting her pale gray eyes. “You got anything to eat?”
She smiled.
Ike picked it up. He laughed loudly. The laugh felt good; he hadn’t had much to laugh about the past few days. “Food, baby,” he said, patting his stomach. “Sustenance for the bod.”
“Yeah. I got a sack of army rations. I swiped it yesterday.”
“C-rations?”
“I guess.”
“Yuk! Well, let’s eat. Then we’ll get some rest and head out at first light.” Ike tossed her one of the .38s taken from the Ninth Order. “You know how to use that?”
Nina looked at the pistol. An odd look came into her eyes. She pointed the weapon at Ike and jacked back the hammer. “I sure do, sucker.”
EIGHTEEN
“Hold her hands, baby,” Tony said to Ann. He positioned himself behind the sobbing young girl. “You ’bout the same age, you two. So you tell this chick she fights me, she’s gonna get hurt. I can work it in real easy, or I can tear her cunt up. It’s all up to her.”
“Believe him,” Ann said to the naked, frightened girl. “It ain’t bad once it’s done to you two, three times. It gets to feelin’ real good. Believe me. He’ll treat you real good, too. Just don’t fight him no more.”
The young girl nodded her head. “OK.” She pressed her face against the sheet on the bed. She was thin from years of extremely bad diet and from being on her own in a world rapidly filling with savagery and barbarism. Her name was Peg. She was twelve years old.
Tony ran his fingers over the girl’s buttocks. He touched her anus, then his fingers touched her center and pushed inside her. The girl moaned at the sudden intrusion.
Tony said, “I can make it good for you, baby. Or I can hurt you. It’s all up to you.” He worked his finger in and out. Peg began weeping. “You tell me where your little buddy ran off to.”
Ann stroked the girl’s hair. “Tell him, Peg. It’s better than being out there all alone. You won’t have to fuck no one but Tony. Believe it. You’ll have plenty of good things to eat. Dolls to play with. He’ll. get you pretty things to wear and a machine that makes musical noises come out of funny little round things.”
“She ran off to our hiding place. On the waterfront. It’s an upside-down number on the front of the place.”
“What?” Tony looked confused.
“Can’t you do numbers?” Ann asked.
“No.”
Ann wrote a six on a piece of paper. She showed that to Peg.
“Yes. That’s it. What number is that?”
“Nine,” Ann told her. “Don’t you have any schooling?”
Peg shook her head.
“Who gives a shit?” Tony said. He pulled away from the child. “I got to see a man. I’ll be back later.”
He left the motel room. He really didn’t want sex now. That report he’d received from Dublin about his people there coming under attack had him a little worried. Tony stopped outside his motel room, an idea coming to him.
Who would be foolish enough to attack the army of Tony Silver?
Only one person. He had everybody else too scared of retribution.
Only one person.
Ben Raines.
Had to be.
“Well, I’ll just be goddamned!” Tony muttered. “Ben Raines, right under my fuckin’ nose all this time. Things are definitely beginning to look up for me.”
Tony began laughing.
He motioned for one of his men to come over. “Paul, get a team together. ’Bout, oh, fifty guys ought to be enough to kick the ass off of Ben Raines. More than enough. A god! ” Again he laughed, Paul joining in the laughter. “Goddamn joke is what Ben Raines is. I’ll show the people who is really boss around this land. Me!”
“Right, boss,” Paul agreed. “Everybody knows that. Everybody.”
“Shut up, Paul. We’ll be moving out first thing in the morning. ‘Bout nine o’clock.”
“Right, boss.” The goon turned to leave.
“Oh ... Paul?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“I want you to get some boys together and go down to the waterfront. Warehouse number nine. Do it quiet like, now. There’s a young chick down there I want. Bring her back and have her cleaned up. And don’t none of you guys even think about stickin’ a dick in her. That’s prime gash and it’s mine.”
“Sure, boss. Don’t worry none about that. I’ll see to it personal.”
“All right. You bring her to my room when she’s bathed. I’m gonna bust me two cherries in one night.”
The man grinned, exposing rotten teeth. “Right, boss. I gotcha.”
“Two tight pussies and Ben Raines. All within twenty-four hours of each other. Son of a bitch! My luck is on a steady roll.”
“Right, boss.”
NINETEEN
“All right, lads,” Dan Gray spoke into the mic. “Thanks and take care.” Breaking the connection, Dan smiled. Interesting, he thought. Big fire up near Blue Ridge Lake. Gunshots reported. Dan had ordered his scouts into the area at first light.
Shooting the place up and then burning it to the ground would be something the ex-SEAL would do if his feathers got ruffled. Ike was as randy as they came.
“Hang on, Ike,” Dan muttered.
TWENTY
Ike looked at the loaded and cocked .38 in Nina’s hand. She held it like she knew what to do with it. And had done it before.
“Now what?” Ike asked.
Nina grinned and eased the hammer down. She tucked the pistol behind her belt. “We eat—what else?”
Ike stared at her in the gloom of the darkened living room. “Would you mind telling me just what in the hell that stunt was all about?”
“I just wanted to see if you were as ballsy as you appeared to be.”
“And?”
“You are.” Nina found her knapsack and took out several cans of army rations.
Ike knew the rations well. He looked at the olive-green cans. He grimaced. “You sure you ain’t got any dehyde?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, Ike. It’s this or go hungry.”
“Long as it ain’t them gawdawful green eggs. What all you got in that bag?”
She chuckled softly in the gloom of the old house. “Bacon and eggs.”
Cussing under his breath, Ike found his little military can opener and began circling the rim of the can. “Least it’s dark in here,” he muttered. “Won’t be able to tell if they’re green or not.” The odor hit his nostrils. “They’re green,” he said glumly.
TWENTY-ONE
Ben’s walkie-talkie crackled softly. “Come on,” he whispered into the AN/PRC-6T.
The most forward Scout said, “They’re definitely waiting for us, General. They’ve set up an ambush on both sides of Highway 80. First big supermarket on the south side.”
“Weapons?”
“Heavy machine guns and M-16s. That’s it, sir.”
“Hold your position and stay low. I’m sending teams to flank them.”
“Roger, sir.”
Ben gave James the coordinates. “Don’t ja
ck around with them, James. Use mortars and rocket launchers. I don’t want any more casualties from this operation.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll stand back and blow hell out of the bastards.”
“Go.”
The paramilitary troops of Tony Silver knew the savage fury of trained and disciplined troops for only a few seconds before the M-60 machine gunfire, the mortars, and the 40mm grenades blew them into their own dubious place in the yet unwritten history of the aftermath of the most humanly destructive war ever waged on the face of the earth.3
The attacks were coordinated to launch within a second of each other. And the troops of Tony Silver, who thought they were so well-hidden, so tough, so professional and so feared by all, had only a maximum of five seconds to scream out their pain and fear before their unwashed bodies were torn to bloody strips of mangled flesh.
Ben watched grimly through binoculars as Tony’s little army was creamed.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” the man in charge of this contingent of Silver’s army of thugs and goons and murderers and rapists shouted. “Them is regular army troops. Where the fuck did they come from? We’re outclassed.”
The “army” split. They tucked their tails between their legs and cut out, jumping into cars and pickups and vans and heading east on Highway 80, fleeing as if pursued by the devil.
They left behind them death, rape, torture, sexual perversion and hideous memories in the minds of the people in Dublin who had survived—thus far.
“Cut down those people over there,” Ben said, pointing at the hanging bodies. “James, have Scouts follow those retreating for several miles; make certain they’re really bugging out. Let’s find out about the residents of this town.”
Ben Raines and his Rebels soon discovered the aftermath of Silver’s scurvy followers. The scene was sickening to them all.
Tortured and sexually abused men and women and children began streaming into the littered streets of the town when they discovered the new troops were there not to harm them but to help them.
Blood in the Ashes Page 8
