“If I’m a fraud, you’re a walking contradiction, Raines.”
“Sure. I admit it.”
“Hardheaded, obstinate, stubborn, die-for-the-flag, and all that crap.”
“To a degree. But then, so are you. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here with me.”
“I’ll certainly argue that!”
“You would argue anything, Therm. Anytime, anywhere, and with anybody.”
“I’d certainly argue that!”
Both men looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.
The Rebels had entered the center of the state — Ben in Florence along the coast, Ike and Cecil approaching Eugene, Georgi and West cleaning out Prairie City, and Five and Six Battalions roaming along Highway 26 — when communications received a frantic call and patched it through to Corrie.
“A group of survivors in Roseburg, sir,” Corrie said. “They’re under heavy attack by the outlaws and crud we’ve been pushing ahead of us.”
Ben quickly opened a map case and found Rose-burg. “It’s about a hundred miles from here. Ask them how many they are and how many they estimate they’re facing.”
“Two hundred and fifty of them and probably fifteen hundred to two thousand outlaws. They have creepies mixed in with them.”
“Ike’s going to have his hands full in Eugene. Hell, we’re just about as close as he is. Tanks out now, Corrie. Main battle tanks and Dusters. We’ll catch up with them along the way. You get cracking on that. I’ll find Dan. I would send the bikers to spearhead but the citizens would probably think they were with the outlaws.”
Dan had heard the frantic call for help and anticipated what Ben would do. He was forming his Scouts when Ben found him.
The tanks were already gassing up for the run, huge tanker trucks pulled alongside. Over the rumble of tanks and the shouted commands of crew chiefs, Ben said, “Spearhead, Dan. Take Buddy and his Rat Team with you. I’ll pull out in about an hour with Tina and her bunch.”
“That’s ten-four, General. See you in Roseburg.”
Tina had jogged up. “Get your teams together. We’ll be pulling out in about an hour.”
She nodded and ran off, shouting for Ham, her second-in-command.
Ben spotted Thermopolis and waved him over. “You’re in command of the bikers and Emil’s bunch. Push on to Coos Bay and stay north of the city. It’s occupied by creepies.”
“Command! To hell with you, Raines!”
“Shut up and listen. The North Bay/Coos Bay/Charleston area is crawling with creepies. Set up your defenses anyway you like; just be alive when I get back.”
“Command, my ass! I’m not taking . . .”
Ben waved Leadfoot over while Thermopolis was still sputtering. Emil joined them while Ben was explaining to the biker who was in command.
Emil promptly drew himself to attention and saluted Thermopolis.
“Will you stop that!” Therm shouted.
“At your service, my captain,” Emil said.
“I’m not your damn captain!”
“Suits me, General,” Leadfoot said. “All my bunch likes and respects Therm. We’ll take his orders. Whatever he says, goes with us.”
“I’ll get you for this, Ben Raines,” Thermopolis said. “I promise you that. I’ll put a chipmunk in your PortaPotty.”
“Reports are really getting frantic, General,” Corrie said from the second seat in the wagon. “The crud is knocking on the town door pretty hard.”
Ben checked his watch. “Dan should be just about there. He’ll take off some of the pressure. Get him on the horn, please, Corrie.” He picked up his mic and waited.
“Go, Eagle,” came Dan’s voice.
“Dan, I’m going to cut off One-thirty-eight just up ahead and take this secondary road. That’ll put you coming straight down from the north and me coming in from the west.”
“That’s ten-four, General. I have the town in visual now. Attacking.”
Cooper anticipated Ben’s next question. “Thirty minutes away from the town, General.”
“And kindly get us there in one piece, Cooper,” Jersey requested.
“Never fear, my dear, Cooper is here,” Coop told her.
Even Ben had to join in the groans after that.
Beth was reading an old tourist’s guidebook to Southern Oregon. “I wonder what happened to all the animals at this Wildlife Safari thing outside of the town? It was one of those places where the animals wandered around free.”
“Hopefully they made it out and are alive and breeding,” Ben said. “There have been unconfirmed reports of cheetahs in this area.”
“Then some of them made it out,” Beth said. “This place was where they bred the cheetah. Gee, wouldn’t it be nice to see one?”
Jersey looked at her. “Only from a distance,” she muttered.
“Jerre was really into saving the animals and all of that type of. . . .” Beth trailed that off into an uncomfortable silence.
“Yes, she was, Beth,” Ben said. “And you don’t have to be uncomfortable speaking about her in my presence. That’s one way of insuring that she will never be forgotten. As long as one person remembers her, she’ll never be forgotten.”
“That’s beautiful,” Jersey said.
“Unfortunately, it’s not terribly original. I don’t remember who said it.”
“Colonel Gray reporting the outlaws have been strengthened, sir. Much larger force than originally thought.”
“How much larger?”
“Colonel Gray reports facing several thousand outlaws and creepies.”
“Kick it in the ass and get us there pronto, Coop,” Ben said.
“Oh, Lord!” Jersey moaned as Cooper put the pedal to the metal and grinned as the big wagon surged forward.
Ben and his command roared through the burned-out remains of Umpqua and a few miles later could see the smoke rising from the besieged town of Rose-burg.
“Order the column to pull over and wait for the tanks to arrive,” Ben ordered. “Order one weapons’ platoon up to join us. We’re going in.”
Ben led the platoon into the outskirts of town and surprised a knot of crud who were huddled around and manning a machine gun. A round from a rocket launcher took out the machine gun nest and the Rebels had a toehold.
“Get whoever is in charge on the horn, Corrie. Tell them where we are and that we’re friendly.”
“Tom Martin says to tell you God bless, General,” Corrie said. “They’re just about out of ammo.”
“Tell them to hang tough. We’ve got a toehold.”
“Would you look at that watermelon patch over there,” Coop said. “Don’t they look good?”
A rocket from the enemy side exploded the building next to them before Jersey could wisecrack about Cooper’s love for watermelon.
“Tanks are here,” Corrie said.
Main battle tank up to our location, please,” Ben said. “Spread the Dusters out in a line and tell them the enemy has rocket launcher capabilities.”
“Martin says all his people are grouped in the downtown area, General. Everyone outside that area is the enemy.”
“That makes it easier,” Ben said as the big tank clanked up. “House to house, people. Let’s go.”
The Rebels worked their way up the block, darting from house to house.
Cooper tossed a grenade through a window of a frame house then sprayed the interior with .223 rounds. A man staggered out onto the front porch, bleeding from a dozen shrapnel wounds and several bullet wounds. He expelled his last breath cursing Ben Raines then toppled off the porch, dead.
“Dan reporting they’ve taken some prisoners,” Corrie yelled over the bang and confusion of combat. “Every thug and creepie that we’ve shoved off their turf have gathered here for a last-ditch stand.”
“I can believe it,” Ben said, after ducking a long burst of automatic weapons’ fire from a house across the street. He leveled his Thunder Lizard and made life miserable for those behind the guns
in the house. Popping out the empty clip and fitting a full one in place, he turned to Corrie. “Tell our tank to put a round into that house.”
The main battle tank swiveled and lowered its 105. The house went up in a roar as a round of HEP (high explosive plastic) exploded.
Ben led the charge across the street and the taking of another block began as Rebels on all sides of the town started working toward the center of town, block by block, house to house.
Ben stepped over the body of an outlaw, sprawled in death on the sidewalk and ran around the corner of a brick home. He came face to face with a trio of creepies; the Rebels could distinguish creepies from others because of their pale faces and horrible body odor.
Ben reacted first and pulled the trigger of his M-14, holding it back. The weapon yammered and bucked in his hands and the lead sent creepies screaming and jerking and hunching obscenely backward as the slugs tore into flesh and shattered bone.
Ben stepped over their bodies and ran for the back yard, his team keeping pace with him. “There!” Ben yelled, pointing toward a well-kept home constructed out of some type of native stone.
Two of Dan’s Scouts joined them and took the point, checking out the house and waving Ben forward.
“We’re just a few blocks from the downtown area, General,” a Scout informed him. “This would make a great CP for you. Tanks have busted through to the survivors and have set up a wall around them. All Rebel teams have worked their way in and are steadily advancing.”
Ben smiled. The Senior Scout had told him, very politely, that the battle was going well and would the general please keep his ass out of the fray and let someone else do it?
Ben turned to Corrie. “We’ll set up shop here, Corrie. Inform the other units where we are — as soon as I figure out where we are.”
The Scout told him the street name.
“Thank you. You may return to your unit.”
“Colonel Gray ordered us here, sir. With you.”
“Very well. See if you can find the coffeepot. I seem to be momentarily out of a job.”
NINETEEN
Ben met with Tom Martin and the others as the Rebels were disposing of those thugs and creeps who were not killed during the battle for the town. Ben was watching the people for signs of displeasure over the disposition of the captured. He could see none. The townspeople apparently had had a gutful of criminals and creepies and anyway the general wanted to get rid of them was just fine.
Beth was holding Smoot to keep the puppy out of mischief. The way she was growing, now that she was getting a proper diet, the Husky pup would soon be big enough to leash.
“You understand the way we operate, Tom?” Ben asked. “And you and your people are willing to abide by those rules?”
“One hundred percent, General,” came the very quick response.
“We have us another secure zone,” Ben said, smiling as he shook hands with Tom Martin.
The thugs and creeps were buried in a mass grave outside of town, in a huge hole scraped out by a bulldozer. The citizens of the town were fingerprinted, photographed, numbered, and put on record.
The securing and stabilizing of America was under way.
Ben waited in Roseburg until he received word that Eugene had been neutralized by the forces of Ike and Cecil. Georgi and the mercenary, West, had set up another secure zone in the town of Burns and were now paralleling Five and Six Battalions on the way south to the California line, following Highway 395. Five and Six would enter Nevada and work their way over to the rendezvous point on Interstate 5 at Yreka, a town reportedly held by outlaws.
On a rainy and cool morning, after much deliberating by radio with all his commanders, Ben made his decision on the next campaign.
“Alaska can wait,” he said. “Let’s secure the lower forty-eight and then move toward Northstar when that’s done. Saddle up, people. We’re pulling out.”
From the coast to the border of Idaho, Rebels cranked up and began the pullout toward the rendezvous point in California.
Buddy and his Rat Team was spearheading the drive. Ben knew he would have to secure Medford and Klamath Falls, the last two remaining strongholds for creeps and thugs in the state. The Rebels had worked this out to a fine art, and scouting reports showed no innocents being held in either town. The two cities would go down in flames.
That morning, as his people began gearing up for the pullout, Ben took a Jeep and drove north out of the town, alone, except for a patrol of Dan’s Scouts that stayed well back but always keeping the general in sight.
Ben drove up high ground and parked, getting up and squatting down on the shoulder of the road. He looked to the north. Hundreds of miles away, Jerre rested on a lonely, lovely, windswept hill.
Memories came rushing to him, enveloping him in a mist of emotions. He recalled the first time he’d seen her, and the last time. He recalled the laughter, the quarrels, and the tears. There had been many women in his life, and would be many more, but none would touch the part of him that Jerre had sought and found. None would know the man as she had known him.
The mist turned into a rain, but Ben didn’t notice it. The Scouts had fanned out, covering both sides of the road, staying in the timber around Ben, securing him.
Ben knew it was time to let go. To put the memories of Jerre away. To get on with life. To find a woman to share the years with.
He didn’t know if he could. He didn’t know if he wanted to do that.
But he knew he had to. Too many people depended on him. He could not allow himself to wallow in self-pity, to remain shrouded in memories, to only love a person who was now with the angels.
Ben sighed and stood up. He remembered the note she’d left for him back in Virginia, so many years ago. He had committed it to memory.
I don’t know what my feelings are toward you, Ben. I like you a whole lot and I think I probably love you a little bit. That’s a joke — I think I probably love you a whole lot. That’s one of the reasons I’ve got to split. There are other reasons, of course, but my feelings toward you are right up there at the top.
You’ve got places to go and things to do before you find yourself — your goal, preset, I believe — and start to do great things. And you will, Ben. You will.
I hope I see you again, General.
Ben still had the note, carefully tucked away with other precious memories.
He looked toward the north one more time. One more time before he finally accepted her dying and went on with his living.
“I loved you, Jerre. More than I ever loved anything in my life. Good-bye.”
Ben Raines walked back to his Jeep and headed south. He had a war to fight; a country to put back together. A world to explore.
Smoot jumped into his lap and licked his face.
“OK, Smoot,” Ben said. “Let’s go see what’s left of Los Angeles.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1990 by William W. Johnstone
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-3041-3
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Survival in the Ashes Page 27
