Terror in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  The Rebels knew for a fact, because it was a fact, that people who entered into a life of crime did so because they wanted to. Most of the Rebels now serving had been through the most traumatic experience that anyone could endure — the Great War and its hideous aftermath – and they didn’t turn to a life of crime because of it. Most of them ignored the newly hanged bodies.

  Ben toured what he could of the island with Paale and suggested that the two Samoas unite for more than just safety’s sake.

  “I think we most certainly will do that, General,” Paale said. “We were talking about it when the pirates came. We just were not prepared for them.”

  “You will be when we leave,” Ben assured him.

  The assault on Tutuila had taken the fight out of the pirates who occupied the islands of Western Samoa. They put up a half-hearted resistance for a few hours and then gave it up before the Rebels could even get all their troops ashore. They were a sullen bunch as they were herded into groups and placed under guard, awaiting trial. Most of them knew what lay ahead for them, but this way, at least they would be alive for a few more hours or a few more days.

  “What’s at Fiji?” Ben asked Paale.

  “More of the same as you found here,” he was told. “Although not on such a grand scale. The pirates could not conquer such a large population. They control maybe ten of the one hundred inhabited islands. With us fighting with you, one of your battalions could easily retake the chain.”

  “We’ll make it two battalions, just to be on the safe side,” Ben told him.

  Ike and West and their battalions, plus a contingent of Samoan men, sailed off the next morning, the Samoans using pirate vessels. The two battalions would link up with the convoy at the Phoenix Islands.

  Ben and his people were one day away from sailing when Ike radioed. “All gone, Ben,” he reported. “As soon as the pirates here got word of our sailing toward Tahiti, they split for Hawaii. They left a lot of gear behind and I’ve distributed that among the islanders. I’m sailing this evening. I’ll check out the Wallis Islands while you’re checking the Tokelau Islands. See you, Eagle. Shark out.”

  Ben had met with Paale and the other leaders of the island, including representatives from Western Samoa. Trade would once more resume between them and the United States mainland, for Ben and his people had been starved for tuna. Before the Great War, American Samoa had shipped nearly $300 million in tuna to America. Rebel engineers had worked side by side with islanders in helping to restore the old canneries and Ben was leaving Rebels behind to make damn sure no dolphins were caught and killed in the nets.

  Paale had smiled at that. “You would kill a man in a heartbeat, General. But you are more concerned with a fish, hey?”

  “I think you know that a dolphin isn’t a fish, Paale.”

  The man nodded his head. “Oh, sure. You know what I mean.”

  “We have a chance to save this planet, Paale. Make up for the wrongs that were done to it. I intend to see that I do my part in it.”

  “You are a hard man, General.”

  Ben smiled. “Hard times, brother.”

  “There are no signs of life, Father,” Buddy said, lowering his binoculars. They were anchored just off the small atolls that made up the Tokelau Islands.

  “There were about fifteen hundred people here before the war Ben replied. ”Get a landing party together, son. Let’s go check this out. Parties to inspect all three atolls. It shouldn’t take long,” he added dryly. ”All three islands make up only 3.9 square miles.”

  The Rebels inspected all the islands. They found no evidence of human inhabitation . . . there had been none for years. Most of the homes were intact. Hollowed-out coconut tree trunks, used for rain catchments, were overflowing. The schools and hospitals, on each island, were intact.

  Dr. Chase had tagged along. “They were pretty nice hospitals, I’d say. At one time.” He picked up a metal medical chart holder and opened it.

  “All that scribbling tell you anything?” Ben asked.

  He closed the metal folder and tossed it on the rat-chewed mattress. “Yeah. Fellow had a hernia.”

  Sixteen

  The convoy became whole again after linking up with Ike and West at the uninhabited atolls that make up the Phoenix Islands. The convoy changed course and headed for Kiritimati Island, better known as Christmas Island, just about twelve hundred miles from the Hawaiian Islands. The island had an airfield, a good port, and before the Great War, a large government-owned copra plantation. Now it was deserted.

  As had become their pattern, the Rebels went ashore and carefully inspected the island. Before the war, the island had had a population of just over a thousand. The Rebels could find no clues as to where the inhabitants had gone, or why. And as before, Ben ordered these words chiseled into stone: THIS ISLAND INSPECTED BY THE MULTINATIONAL FORCE KNOWN AS THE REBELS, THIS DATE, AND FOUND IT DESERTED AND VOID OF HUMAN LIFE.

  “I suspect we’ll find nothing at Johnston Island,” Ben said. “But there were about four hundred souls there when the war broke out. Let’s go take a look.”

  They found the skeletons of about a hundred people, stacked in a large concrete block building with the doors locked. But the Rebels could find nothing to tell them why the bodies had been stacked there, or what had caused the people’s deaths.

  “This place was used as a chemical weapons dump,” Ben told the landing party. “Makes me nervous. There is no telling what kind of crap is stacked and stored and buried around here. All in the name of peace, of course. Let’s get the hell out of here. Corrie, advise all Batt Corns to gather on my ship. We’re only seven hundred miles from Honolulu. We’ve got a lot of planning to do.”

  With the convoy under way and fresh coffee poured, the battalion commanders gathered. Ben stood up in front of a large wall map of the Hawaiian Islands. He held a pointer. “Our communications people had been hard at work. The big island of Hawaii is where the majority of all pirate and outlaw radio chatter is concentrated. Maui and Oahu hold the next concentration. Kauai and Lanai come next. We have received no, repeat, no chatter at all from Molokai. That tells me we have a landing site all ready to receive.”

  “Why has there been no radio traffic from this island, General?” Pat O’Shea asked, a puzzled look on his face.

  “I can guess,” Ben said with a smile. “But I would rather you people put it together.” He lifted his coffee mug and took a sip.

  Georgi Striganov grunted, then smiled. “When the pirates and outlaws and thugs first showed up,” he said, “I would guess the residents of Molokai played on their fears and put up signs warning that the island was quarantined due to an outbreak of Hansen’s Disease. Leprosy. Molokai is where the large colony is.”

  Thermopolis said, “So the islanders played on the pirates’ fear. They probably showed them grossly exaggerated photos of quote/unquote ‘victims,’ and that scared the shit out of the pirates.”

  “Precisely,” Ben said. “Most intelligent people know there is little to fear from the disease. But you can bet the residents of Molokai played up the worst, probably put on an Academy Award winning performance and the pirates got the hell off that island and to this day leave them alone. We’ve got a number of native Hawaiians in our ranks. Find them and ask for volunteers to go ashore and check out the island. Get on that promptly. If what we think is correct, we’ll land there, establish a command post, and begin launching assaults from all over the island. If our thoughts prove out incorrect, we’ll just have to hit the bastards head on.”

  Ben looked at Ike. “Might be a problem getting them ashore.”

  The ex-SEAL smiled reassuringly. “No sweat, Ben. We have ways of delivering them.”

  Ben nodded and sat back down at the table. “Let’s kick it around, people.”

  “If those people on Molokai pulled this off,” Dr. Chase said, chuckling at the thought, “they’ve pulled off the greatest con since the Piltdown Man. For if memory serves me correctly, the colony th
ere closed down years before the war and became a National Historical Park, with guided tours and the whole bit. The people who remained on, calling it home, were no longer contagious and were free to leave. In addition to that, Father Damien, the Belgian priest who really got the colony off the ground and really cared for the patients, and restored dignity to those confined there, was, ironically, the only voluntary resident who ever contracted the disease.”

  “When was that, Lamar?” the mercenary, West, asked.

  “Oh ... back in the late 1800s.”

  “Back when Lamar was just a lad,” Ben said.

  The crusty old doctor gave him the bird.

  When the convoy drew within a hundred miles of the coast of the Hawaiian chain, the ships began a long, slow circling. They had seen no other vessels on the water, other than floating derelicts, which they always boarded, inspected, and then scuttled.

  “They’ll be expecting us from the south,” Ben said. “So we’ll fool them and come in from the northwest. I was thinking of running between these two islands here, Necker and Niihau, but if the pirates have any sense, they’ve got patrol boats working all up and down the southern coast. We’ll swing wide and come in at night to put ashore our people. If anybody’s got any objections, now is the time to voice them.”

  No one did.

  Ben nodded at Corrie and she called the bridge, okaying the change in course.

  “Are the Hawaiians briefed and ready to go?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah,” Ike said. “They’re anxious to go home. Two lived on Molokai and have plenty of family there. The Hawaiians probably will not return to the States with us.”

  “That’s fine. I intend to leave Rebels on the islands once we’ve cleared them. Only a few more days, people.” He grinned at Jersey, knowing what she would say.

  “Yeah,” the little bodyguard said. “Kick-ass time!”

  The convoy was not spotted after it changed course, and it gave the big island a wide berth, ran for half a day, then cut west. The Hawaiian Rebels and two special ops teams went over the side at full dark and disappeared into the Pacific night. The huge convoy backed off and began circling while they waited for work.

  Ben was awakened at midnight. “You called it, Father,” Buddy told him. “That’s exactly what the residents of the island did. But the pirates have grown suspicious over the years and now the island is cut in half. The thugs and pirates control the western half, and the eastern half is the so-called confinement area of the sick. Of course, there are no sick.”

  Ben was instantly awake and dressing. “We start going in now, son. Have the special ops people found a harbor?”

  “They haven’t, but the people who live there know of one. I’ve got it marked out in the wardroom.”

  “Let’s go. Get my battalion up and ready to move, son. Like right now. I’m sick of this damn tub.”

  Ike and the others yelled and bitched and kicked things and behaved predictably when they learned that Ben and his battalion were going in first. But it didn’t do any good.

  “Georgi and Thermopolis, your battalions come in right behind me, followed by Dan and West, Danjou and Rebet, Pat and Tina. Ike, your battalion stays behind and mans the guns of this convoy. You know the convoy is going to be attacked.”

  “All right, Ben.” Once orders were given, Ike would not argue with them. Usually.

  “The rest of you, get back to your ships.” He looked at the captain of the flagship. “Get us in close, Captain,” Ben ordered.

  “You’ll be there before you know it,” the captain said.

  “Take one day’s rations,” Ben told his platoon leaders just before jump off time. “Food should be plentiful on the island. I’m not sure about the water, so take plenty of purification tablets. And all the ammo you can comfortably carry.” The Rebels noticed that Ben was once more carrying his old Thunder Lizard, the big M-14.

  Ben walked off to be alone for a few moments, while the landing craft were being readied.

  “Landing craft are ready, sir,” Corrie said.

  “Let’s go,” Ben said, and stepped over the railing.

  The captain had brought them in as close as he dared on this moonlit night. But the waters were calm and the ride in was smooth and uneventful. The special ops team signaled with a single strobe and the landing craft veered slightly, slowed, and crunched onto the sandy beach.

  “Welcome to Hawaii, General,” a burly man with a wide grin said, stepping forward and holding out a hand. “And, sir may I add that we are damn glad to see you.”

  Ben shook the hand and stepped out of the way, allowing his people room to exit the craft.

  “Jim Peters is the name,” the man said.

  “What’s the situation, Jim?”

  “First thing the pirates did was collect every gun on every island. When we knew that our leprosy ruse wasn’t going to protect us very much longer, a few of us, pitifully few, wrapped up our shotguns and rifles and buried them along with what little ammo we had. Outlaws are just like politicians, aren’t they, General Raines? Take the guns and you control the people.”

  Ben chuckled and slapped the man on the back. “Jim, I think you’re going to be a fine Rebel.”

  The men stood shoulder to shoulder, watching as Ben’s One Battalion silently stormed the beach and formed up into columns. Jim would leave residents to meet each landing party and guide them to their assigned destinations.

  “We’ve got a pretty good walk, General,” he told Ben, “but a safe one. This entire end of the island is void of thugs and pirates and their ilk. They’re still frightened to death of Hansen’s Disease, especially when they learned that we had no more medicines left to treat it.”

  “Do you have anyone with the disease?”

  Jim laughed. “No, sir. Not a soul.”

  The Rebels made it ashore and then kept their heads down until all battalions and mounds of equipment had been safely off-loaded. Ike then took the convoy out to sea. The Rebels stayed low during the day and marched at night. Jim and friends came up with horses and mules and burros to bring in the tons of equipment that had been hidden in the lush vegetation along the beach. Quietly, the Rebels got into position on the east side of the highway that marked the boundaries. Ben told Jim to pass the word for the citizens to get ready to move west into the forbidden zone at a moment’s notice.

  “We can’t possibly hope to get everybody out, and you’d better understand that you will take civilian dead and wounded.”

  “I understand,” Jim said. “We all do.”

  “We’ve got to take this harbor here at Kalaupapa and also the airport for our attack choppers to land and refuel. These four towns, plus the harbor and the airport have to be taken simultaneously. Or within moments of each other. We’re going to be moving very fast, Jim. And believe me, when the Rebels start to move, anyone with hostile intent who gets in our way is dead.”

  “I understand.”

  Ben looked at all the other leaders who had gathered in the house just off of highway 450 and just east of the town of Kaunakakai. “There is something else you’d all better understand. These are Rebels laying down their lives for you people. This is American soil. The Rebels run America. These islands will come under Rebel rule and Rebel law. There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Does everybody understand that?”

  “It’s clear, General,” an elderly man said. “Your way is harsh, but so are the times. Your laws and rules are not nearly as harsh as the men and the women who have enslaved our people, and murdered and raped and tortured for all these years. They have killed a full quarter of the population. They have desecrated the holiest of our places. They have raped tiny children. They have killed human beings for sport. But you know all this. You and your people have been fighting against these types for years. None of us will interfere in any way. You have my word on that.”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “Everyone is in place, General,” Corrie said, walking into the den of t
he home. “Ike says the convoy has, miracle upon miracles, not been detected.”

  “Thank you, Corrie. Get some rest. Jim, tell your people to start making themselves scarce at dark. We’re going in at midnight. By dawn, I intend to have two-thirds of this island in Rebel hands.”

  The others raised eyebrows at that. They muttered and mumbled and shook their heads at the statement. “But that is impossible, General,” one said. “This island is fifty miles long and ten miles wide. And your people are afoot!”

  “We won’t be afoot long, I assure you all of that. Now get some rest. We’re going to be needing your help tonight. And it’s going to get real busy, real quick.”

  Ben walked the edge of the highway. He was only a mile from the town of Kaunakakai, on the bottom of the island. Dan and two other battalions were poised to strike at the harbor at the top of the island. Several other small villages had already been taken by the Rebels, silently and deadly. Buddy and his Rat Team had moved in, located the pirates and thugs, and taken them out with very sharp knives.

  Ben glanced at his watch, then at Corrie. He nodded his head. “Give the orders, Corrie. Let’s take this damn island!”

  Seventeen

  The town of Kaunakakai was the largest on the island, with a population of about twenty-five hundred before the war. Its business district was three blocks long. Jim and the others had pointed out the houses where pirates would be sleeping, and Buddy and his Rat Team had already pinpointed machine gun emplacements and where the heaviest concentration of pirates would be found.