Valor in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get them.”

  The translators ready, Ben was very brief. “Get off your butts and get into this fight. You obviously are capable of doing it, so do it.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “You’re goddamn right, it is.”

  Gene Savie was silent for a few seconds. “Very well, General. What would you have us do?”

  “How many people in your group?”

  “Including children and the elderly, a bit over six hundred.”

  “How many capable of fighting?”

  “Three hundred seventy-five.”

  There were many questions Ben wanted to ask — including how the man knew exactly how many fighters he had — but realized this was not the time for it. “Can you tell me where the Night People keep their prisoners?”

  “I can guess at it, General. But that’s about it. I think in sections of the subway system. I also suspect that the Night People have been around a lot longer than anyone previously thought. The Underground People have been fighting them for decades . . . so I’m told.”

  All that jibed with what Ben suspected. “How have so many of you managed to stay alive for so long?”

  Savie’s short laugh was totally void of humor. “Actually, our number has been steadily declining. At the outset, there were more than five thousand of us. As to how, the section of the park that we control is very heavily mined. We discovered and cleared several tunnels that run from various apartment buildings over to the park. The Night People just got tired of taking so many casualties trying to infiltrate our territory. They knew — and time has proved them correct — they could take us out one at a time and eventually defeat us. At one time, we controlled all of the park.”

  “I assume you were going to warn my people of the park being mined?” Ben’s tone was decidedly dry.

  “Of course we were, General. Are you going to kill my father?”

  “I don’t even know your father, Savie. That is your real name, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. We have not changed our names.”

  Ben decided to hell with it; he’d ask as many questions as he liked. Clear the air, so to speak. “You obviously have good shortwave equipment. Why didn’t you try to contact us before?”

  “The Night People would jam the frequencies. That’s one reason. And I told you: my father was afraid you would kill him.”

  “What did your father do before the war?”

  “You never heard of John Savie? He was a writer.”

  Now Ben was more confused than before. He knew damn well that he did not personally know of anybody named Savie. And he had never heard of a writer by that name. “What the hell did he do, plagiarize some of my work?”

  “Hardly, General.”

  “Fine. Wonderful. Keep me in suspense. I assure you, I can bear it. How much aid can you give me, Gene?”

  “How about if we act as spotters for you, General? My people are so few, and spread so damn thin, if I pull any out, it’ll leave a hole.”

  Ben had already put that much together. And in a way, he felt sorry for being so brusque with the man. The survivors around the park had been living in unbelievable fear for many years. “All right, Gene. That would be a big help. You have any other people with a language background?”

  “Oh, yes, General. Many languages spoken here. Our bunch is a real melting pot.”

  “Good. Always use translators when communicating with us. Gene? Tell your people to hang tough. It’s going to be a long and bloody battle, but we’ll get out of this mess.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  “Eagle One out.”

  Ben hooked the phone and stood for a moment, his face mirroring his inner thoughts. “John Savie. Use to be a writer. And he’s afraid I’m going to kill him. I never heard of a writer named John Savie. And why is he so scared of me? What the hell is going on?”

  “The guy didn’t have an affair with your wife, did he, General?” Jersey asked.

  Ben laughed. “No. I’d sure remember that, Jersey.”

  “If you knew about it,” Beth added.

  “There is that to consider,” Ben conceded. “But I don’t think a woman is the issue.” He shrugged his shoulders and checked his battle harness, making sure everything he might need was hooked in place. “Let’s go to work, ladies. We’ve got about a hundred thousand night crawlers to fight.”

  “I wonder how Lev is doing with the cows?” Beth mused.

  SIX

  On the second day of the Rebels’ newly launched assault on the Night People, one of the captured creepies broke under the exact opposite of friendly persuasion and just before dying confirmed that most of the breeding and feeding farms were under the city, in the subway tubes.

  “What do you want to do with the rest of the creepies we captured, General?” Ben was asked.

  Dan stepped forward. “I shall see to that matter.” When the runner was gone, Dan turned to Ben. “I do hate to bring up what appears to be a very touchy subject, but I feel you should know. Tina has advised me that Jerre knows most of the hippies over at the airport.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Probably lived in one of their fucking communes. Play on words intended.”

  Dan did not press the matter any further. He had never enjoyed handling live rattlesnakes, doing daredevil stunts for fun, or even remotely considered diving headfirst into an empty concrete swimming pool, any of which could be accurately compared to the general’s attitude when it came to Jerre.

  Or so the man would have one believe. Most Rebels did believe it. Those that knew him knew it was a shield.

  “How’s it looking down to the bridge, Dan?”

  “It’s open.”

  “You’re in command here. I’m going over to see Tina.”

  “Right, sir.”

  Dan glared at the Englishman. But Dan’s face was expressionless. However, his eyes did twinkle a bit.

  “Jesus!” Cooper summed it up on the drive down to the bridge. Smoke hung low and heavy over the city; many of the buildings were still smoldering and would be for days. Sappers had gone into the area and planted charges; some buildings had been completely brought down under the massive charges of explosives.

  Katzman had been monitoring creepie radio transmissions, and the suddenness and ferocity of Ben’s attack had taken them totally by surprise. They had not expected Ben to give the OK to such devastation. The move had thrown them into a panic.

  Thermopolis had noticed the Rebels at the airport had suddenly tensed just a bit. He walked over to Tina. “Are you expecting an attack, Tina?”

  “That’s one way of putting it, Therm. Dad is on his way over.”

  The hippie leader thought about that for a moment, took off his headband and refolded it, then tied it back around his head. “You fear your father that much?”

  Tina looked at him, a puzzled look on her face. Then she got it and laughed. “Oh, no! No, you’re reading it wrong.” She cut her eyes to Jerre, walking along with Rosebud, chatting.

  “Well, I’ll just be damned,” Thermopolis finally spoke. “That’s the Ben she used to talk about. She never mentioned any last names. Son of a gun!”

  “I’ll wager that your wife knew. Ah, your old lady — whatever.”

  “Oh, we’re married. Married before the war. We have grown children, grandchildren.”

  “You don’t look old enough for grandchildren.”

  “Thank you. As to Rosebud knowing about Jerre and Ben . . . probably.”

  “Does Jerre love my father, Therm?”

  “I would say yes, in a very peculiar way. Much more than platonic, but somewhat less than star-crossed.”

  “In other words, hopeless.”

  “For whom?”

  “My father.”

  “There are two people involved here, Tina. One heart can hurt just as badly as the other, albeit both hearts not filled with the same pureness of sentiment.”

  “Don’t misunderstand
me, Therm: I like Jerre. Are you a poet, Therm?” She smiled at him.

  He shrugged his shoulders. Very heavy shoulders, she noticed. Big arms, thick wrists, big fiat-knuckled hands. “I was a musician at one time; I’ve been a lot of things.” His eyes sparkled. “Although never a citizen of the Tri-States.”

  “You’d be surprised how many free spirits you’d find in the Rebels.”

  “I’d be surprised if I found any free spirits around here!”

  She laughed at him. “I think you’re in for a shock, my friend.”

  “General Raines coming in, Tina!” Ham called.

  “Come on, Therm. I’ll introduce you to my father.”

  “The moment I’ve looked forward to with breathless anticipation.” Thermopolis’s comment was very dry.

  But Tina did not take offense at it. Smiling, she asked, “Why do you dislike my father so, Therm?”

  “Oh, I really don’t dislike him. We could probably have some very lively discussions. Even back before the Great War, I held a dim view of military leaders, and, I suppose, most figures of authority, which included, of course, the cops. Even though,” he held up a finger, “I knew they were necessary to a free society. And if that sounds like a contradiction, it is.”

  “Oh, you and my father are going to have a good time!”

  “If we live through all this,” Thermopolis amended her comment.

  “Have faith, Thermopolis!” Tina slapped him on the shoulder. “Dad. This is Thermopolis. Therm, my father, Ben Raines.”

  “General.” Thermopolis stuck out his hand and Ben took it.

  “Good to meet you, Thermopolis. And very good of you and your group to come up to assist us.”

  “Thank you, General. Emil sends his regrets. He helped off-load a crate — one crate — and injured his back. He’s being attended to by some of his flock.”

  Ben laughed. “That little con artist has quite a scam going. But I like him. He’s goosy as an old maid, but don’t sell him short on guts — he can come through when the chips are down. Perhaps out of pure fear, but that’s something every Rebel can write volumes about.”

  Thermopolis studied the living legend called Ben Raines for a few seconds, and found himself — despite himself — liking the man. He was dressed exactly as his Rebels. From the beret to his boots. He wore no insignia, but there was no mistaking who the man was. The aura from him was almost tangible.

  “How many of these Night People live in the city, General?” Thermopolis asked.

  “We don’t know. Twenty thousand, a hundred thousand. Somewhere in the middle of those figures would probably hit it accurately. We’ve got a small pocket of survivors living around the south end of Central Park. Six hundred or so. About three hundred and seventy-five of them fighters. We also have a group of people — number unknown — who live under the city and have for decades.” Thermopolis arched an eyebrow at that. “They’ll help us, but I don’t know how or when. They seem to be very elusive people. We also have three battalions coming to our aid from out of Canada: two Russian battalions, commanded by General Striganov and Colonel Rebet, and one Canadian battalion commanded by Major Danjou. They’ll be coming in behind Monte’s people. We don’t know how strong a force Monte has; somewhere between two thousand and five thousand. Monte’s plans are, we believe, to try to roll over you people here and cut off our supply line. I’m sending over three more platoons to beef you up here.”

  The last of that was directed at Tina, giving Thermopolis time to think over the situation. When he had first arrived at the airport, he had been, quite literally, stunned by the amount of supplies being flown in; he had never in all his life seen so much war equipment. The first of the trucks were arriving, bringing with them tons and tons of bullets, grenades, artillery shells, gasoline, oil, clothing, bandages and anything and everything needed for an army to function.

  Thermopolis then realized that Ben Raines was much more than just a military man. He was a planner and a thinker and a doer. Thermopolis grudgingly conceded that he may have misjudged the man somewhat. “I don’t know about platoons and companies and the like, General. What will our strength be here?”

  “With your group, and Emil’s, approximately six hundred and fifty personnel, backed up by tanks and long-range artillery.” He cut his eyes to Tina. “As promised, I’m sending over some eighty-one millimeter mortars and some one-fifty-five SP. Have you picked out FO posts?”

  “Yes, sir. The people are in position now and dug in deep and well.”

  “Very good. As soon as Monte’s people come into range, start dropping some goodies in on them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to mix your shells, Tina. There are no civilians to worry about, so make it as demoralizing as possible. HE, Willie Peter, Beehive. Monte has only light mortars and his people aren’t very good with them, so you won’t have to worry about much return. They’ve relied on brute strength and force for years.

  “Now then, in the event you find yourselves cut off, and there is a damn good chance that’s going to happen, get the hell out of here and link up with Danjou or Rebet or Striganov. Don’t try to rejoin me in the city. And that is a direct order, kid. In two more days, we’ll have enough supplies and ammo in the city to last us for a year. If it comes down to it, and it might, we’ll fight the slime with axes and clubs and bayonets.”

  Ben swung his gaze to Thermopolis. He reached into a pocket of his field jacket and pulled out some pictures. “Just in case you or your people think I’m too harsh in saying we are fighting savages, and that I am cruel in that we do not take prisoners, study these carefully.” He held out the pictures.

  Thermopolis looked at the pictures and very nearly gagged. Ben had ordered shots taken of the naked men and women they’d found hanging on meat hooks in the tunnels. In living color.

  “Pass them around,” Ben told him. “Let all your people see them. The pictures should settle any doubts.”

  “Certainly settled my doubts,” Thermopolis muttered. He lifted his eyes and stared at Ben. “I have never shot a man trying to surrender, General.”

  “I have,” Ben told him. “Bear this in mind, Mister Thermopolis — or whatever your name is: I am not in the business of attempting the rehabilitation of savages. Slavery and cannibalism are an affront to anyone who possesses any degree of decency. Gene Savie’s group around the park once was five thousand strong. The Night People have killed and/or eaten all but six hundred. They have enslaved thousands, fattened them, bred them, and then eaten them and their babies. Monte and his people kidnap civilians and bring them to the Night People, after raping and sodomizing and torturing the unfortunates. It would be a very great insult to the animal kingdom to refer to Monte and his people, and the creepies in the city, as animals. They are far below any species of animal. My goal, our goal in the city is simple: we are going to destroy the Night People and their allies. We are gong to wipe them from the face of the earth. Now they obviously have children; what are we going to do with them? I don’t know. I hate to even think of that. I am not a barbarian, although that is open to debate among some. I have never killed a child. I don’t know what we’re going to do with them. The very young among the Night People we can take and raise. The others? . . . I just don’t know.”

  All that had been thrown at Thermopolis so fast and hard it took him a few seconds to digest it all. He blinked at Ben. “You’re honest about it, at least. But I can tell you right now, I won’t kill a child.”

  “Were you in ’Nam, Thermopolis?”

  “No.”

  “Then you don’t know what you’d do. A lot of ’Nam vets had to shoot kids. It was a choice of getting themselves blown all to hell by the bomb the child was carrying, or shooting the child.” He stuck out his hand and Thermopolis shook it. “Good to have you with us. Good luck to you all.”

  He walked away, Tina by his side, accompanied as always by Beth and Jersey. Cooper had stayed with the Blazer. Tapper walked up to his sid
e. “So what do you think about Ben Raines?”

  Thermopolis removed his bandana and carefully refolded it, a puzzled look on his face. “Tell you the truth, Tap, I’m afraid I rather like the man.”

  Tina introduced her father to Rosebud, who was standing with Jerre. Jerre didn’t speak to him, and he ignored her. Rosebud picked up on the tension very quickly and split the scene.

  “I’ll leave you two alone, Dad,” Tina told him. “I have some things to do.”

  “Sure you do.”

  And then they were alone. Together. Again. As alone as two people can be in a bustling camp, with planes roaring in and out.

  “So how are you getting along, Jerre?”

  “Fine.”

  After that short exchange, conversation died. They stood and looked at each other for a moment.

  Jerre gave confabulation a kick in the butt and said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Ben.”

  “There’ll be a river between us.”

  “It’s always something.” She turned to walk away.

  Damned if Ben was going to let her get in the last word. “It doesn’t have to be!” he spoke sharply.

  She whirled around, blues flashing. Before she could speak, Emil came rushing up, every third step his foot catching on the hem of his robe, almost tossing him headfirst onto the ground.

  “My dear General Raines! Great and Supreme Commander of all the Forces for Liberty on the face of the Earth. Protector of the old and the young and infirm . . .”

  “Emil! . . .”

  Thermopolis and some of his bunch had gathered around, smiling.

  “. . . Savior of the democratic system. Guardian of the rights of all. The great god Blomm has guided my footsteps to this monumental moment in history, when our combined forces shall join to fight and slew . . . slay the nasty worms rotting the core of the Big Apple.”

  Ben stared at him. “Jesus, Emil!”

  “Oh, him, too! Sure.”

  Jerre was laughing so hard she had to turn her head.

  “I have worked out a dance in honor of this moment, Great General Raines.”

  “Oh, God, Emil!”

  “I knew we were forgetting somebody. Right!”