Peg and Lilli came into the bedroom. They looked at the sight, no emotion at all registering on their young faces. They were survivors; they had seen far worse than this in their young lives.
“It’s dark out,” Lilli said.
“Get your stuff together,” Ann said as she hurriedly dressed.
The girls raced for their slim bundles. Each girl had packed her favorite dolly inside.
All except Ann. She looked at her small collection of dolls scattered on the floor and shook her head. She looked at the blood on her hands.
“Too late for that,” she muttered.
She picked up Tony’s .38 snub-nosed Chief’s Special and checked it as she had seen him do many times. All five chambers were filled. Ann knew something about guns, although she was far from being an expert shot.
Ann gave the knife to Peg with this warning, “Don’t hesitate to use it.”
Lilli darkened the lights and pulled back the drapes. “Only one guard, and he’s clear down at the other end. No, wait! He’s walkin’ off down the corridor. He’s around the corner and out of sight. Come on!”
The girls raced down the corridor and within seconds were on the ground level. Ann looked toward Patsy’s room.
“You two wait for me down on the corner. Right over there.” She pointed. “Go on. I got something to do. If I’m not there in fifteen minutes, you two take off. Head north. That’s where Mr. Ben Raines is. Find him. Shove off!”
They ran and were soon out of sight in the dark night. Ann walked silently toward Patsy’s room. She stopped once, to pick up a brick from the ground. She knocked softly on the motel room door.
The door opened. Patsy had only a second to register her shock at seeing the young girl before the brick smashed into her face, knocking her backward. She fell to the carpet, her face broken and bleeding. Ann hit her several more times with the brick, hearing and feeling her skull pop. She tossed the brick to the floor.
“Bitch!” she said.
Then she was gone in the night, joining her young friends.
The trio headed north. Toward the Base Camp of Ben Raines.
FORTY-EIGHT
“We’re too late,” Captain Jennings told his commanding officer.
Sam stood in the middle of what was left at Live Oak.
“Yes,” Sam agreed. “We’ll drive over to Perry, but I have a hunch we’re going to be too late to do any good over there, as well.”
Had Sam not elected to take the interstate for faster traveling, and chosen the southern route instead, he would have intercepted Lou and his bunch of freed slaves just as they were pulling out from Perry. As it was, the two groups remained miles apart.
When Lou caught up with Joni and George at Cross City, they traveled on to Chiefland, only to find the battle was over. The slaves were victorious.
Now more than two hundred strong, the group traveled to Newberry. There, they assisted in mopping up what was left of Tony’s guards, and without stopping to take a rest, immediately left, heading north on Highway 41. They followed that until it intersected with Interstate 75, and continued north, only stopping for refueling and bathroom breaks.
By the time Sam and his mercenaries finally reached what was left of the plantation at Chiefland, Joni and George and Lou and the freed slaves were a full seventy-five miles up into Georgia. And rolling northward toward freedom.
Sam told his men to stand down and camp for the night. He walked to his communications van to call in to Tony. When he learned Tony was dead, and the three young girls gone, Sam chuckled. He relayed the story to his officers and noncoms.
Captain Jennings summed it up. “So now we got controlling interest of the only game in town, eh, Sam?”
“That is correct,” Sam said, lighting a long, slim cigar. His men never asked where he got the cigars, and Hartline never offered any explanation, “Such as the game has turned out to be.”
“Who killed Tony?”
“Who gives a shit?” Hartline replied, puffing smoke to the slight breeze that wound through the trees. He was thoughtful for a moment. “We can forget the slaves that were here,” he said. “Come daylight, I want a full platoon to stay in this area, and start picking up anyone who comes wandering through here. Start getting these places back in shape. The crops are harvested for this season, so we’ll have some months to rebuild. Fuck Tony Silver.” He smiled. “I was going to kill him first chance I got, anyway.”
FORTY-NINE
Ben pinned the silver stars of a general on Cecil’s jacket. He smiled at the man and shook his hand.
“I wish you had warned me about this, Ben,” Cecil muttered so only Ben could hear.
“If I had, you’d have run off and hidden,” Ben replied.
Cecil joined Ben in laughter.
Ben turned to face his people, now more than three thousand strong, counting Abe Lancer and his mountain people and Dave Harner and his group from Macon. Ben lifted a bullhorn to his lips.
“There is a lot I could say, but I never liked long speeches. But let me say I am so very, very proud of you all. I’ll be leaving in a few moments, heading out to at least start what I had planned on doing back in ’88. That is to chronicle the events leading up to and just after the great war that brought this nation to its knees.
“I am leaving in charge a man I have the utmost faith in, General Cecil Jefferys. I don’t want any emotional goodbyes. For I will be back. And when I return, I want to see permanent homes, schools, farms, and an orderly, productive society. You’ve all done it before, you can do it again. And you don’t need me standing over you telling you what to do.
“Call this a small vacation for me. Just getting away from the office for a time. I’ll see you people in about six months. That is all. You have duties to attend to, get to it.”
Ben lowered the bullhorn, handed it to Cecil, and walked toward his new pickup.
The cheering behind him lasted for more than five minutes before Cecil shouted them down and sent them back to work. To rebuild something out of the ashes.
Gale was waiting for him at the truck. She smiled and said, “Well, Raines, if you’re expecting me to get all mushy and sentimental, you’re going to have a long wait.”
“Heaven forbid, Gale. That would destroy my image of you.”
“Uh-huh,” she said dryly. She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “You take care of yourself, Ben.”
“I’ll do that, kid.”
She slipped from his hands and walked away to where Tina was standing. Tina flipped her father a salute and Ben returned it. He got into the pickup, and drove off, heading north into Kentucky.
“You handled that rather well,” Tina said.
“Damned if I was going to cry,” Gale said. “One thing I learned about Ben, he doesn’t like weepy women.”
“Well, you can have a good cry when you get behind closed doors at your house.”
“No,” Gale said. “Ben wouldn’t want that. I’ve got him growing within me, and that is enough. He’ll be back. Whether to me, or to someone else, only time will tell. I think this, Tina: Ben is a man whose destiny is carved in stone. And he’ll see that in a few months. He will see where his duty lies. And he’ll come back. His destiny is not to wander the earth like a nomad, but rather to build, to bring order out of chaos, civilization out of anarchy, towns and cities out of rubble. He knows all that. He’s just got to clear his mind. And when he does that, he’ll be back.” Tina smiled. “You know him pretty well, Gale.”
“Knew him,” she corrected softly.
Both women looked up at the sounds of engines drawing closer. White flags flew from radio antennas on each vehicle.
James Riverson walked up. “The slaves from down south,” he said. “They radioed us they were coming in.”
“Survivors,” Tina said.
“From out of the ashes,” Gale softly said. “More men and women looking for order in a world gone mad.” She looked toward the north, toward the now-empt
y highway Ben had taken. “Good luck, Ben.”
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 1985 by William W. Johnstone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-1960-1
Notes
1 Anarchy in the Ashes
2 Anarchy in the Ashes
3 Out of the Ashes
4 Anarchy in the Ashes
5 Out of the Ashes
6 Out of the Ashes
7 Anarchy in the Ashes
8 Anarchy in the Ashes
9 Out of the Ashes
10 Fire in the Ashes
11 Out of the Ashes
Blood in the Ashes Page 27
