Crisis in the Ashes

  Crisis In The Ashes

  The Ashes Series: Book #29

  William W. Johnstone

  “This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people who inhabit it. Whenever they shall grow weary of the existing government, they can exercise their constitutional right of amending it, or their revolutionary right to dismember or overthrow it.”

  - Abraham Lincoln

  PROLOGUE

  If a war had not engulfed the entire world, plunging every nation into bloody chaos, the government of the United States would probably have collapsed anyway. Personal income taxes had been going up for years, and the hardworking, law-abiding citizens were paying well over half their incomes to the government. The left wing of the Democratic Party had taken over and passed massive gun-grab legislation, effectively disarming American citizens—except for the criminals, of course, and about three-quarters of a million tough-minded Americans who didn’t give a big rat’s ass what liberals said, thought, or did. Those Americans carefully sealed up their guns and buried them, along with cases of ammunition. When the collapse came, those Americans were able to defend themselves against the roaming gangs of punks and thugs that popped up all over what had once been called the United States of America. The great nation would never again be accurately referred to as the United States.

  Slowly, a growing group of people began calling for a man named Ben Raines to lead them. But Ben didn’t want any part of leadership. He disregarded the increasing calls from people all over the nation until finally he could no longer ignore the pleas.

  Months later, thousands of people made the journey to the northwest part of the nation and formed their own nation out of three states. It was called the Tri-States, and those who chose to live there based many of their laws on the Constitution of the United States: the original interpretation of that most revered document. Basically, it was a common sense approach to government, something that had been sadly lacking for years with liberals in control of the old United States of America. After only a few months in their new nation, Ben knew that only about two out of every ten Americans could—would, more to the point—live under a common sense form of government. Under this form of government, everyone, to a very large degree, controlled their own destiny. The Rebels, as the residents of the Tri-States were named by the press, took care of the very old, the young, and those unable to care for themselves. But if a person was able to work, they worked . . . whether they liked it or not. There were no free handouts for able-bodied people. If they didn’t want to work, they got the hell out of the Tri-States. Very quickly.

  The first attempt at building a nation within a nation failed when the federal government grew powerful enough to launch a major campaign. The original Tri-States was destroyed, and the Rebel army was decimated and scattered.

  But the federal government made one major mistake: they didn’t kill Ben Raines.

  Ben and the few Rebels left alive began rebuilding their army and then launched a very nasty guerrilla war against the federal government that lasted for months: hit hard, destroy, and run. It worked.

  But before any type of settlement could be reached, a deadly plague struck the earth: a rat-borne outbreak, the Black Death revisited.

  When the deadly disease finally ran its course, anarchy reigned over what had once been America. Gangs of punks and warlords ruled from border to border, coast to coast. Ben and his Rebels began the long, slow job of clearing the nation of human slime and setting up a new Tri-States. This time they settled in the south, first in Louisiana in an area they called Base Camp One, then spreading out in all directions as more and more people wanted to become citizens of the new nation called the Southern United States of America: SUSA.

  Ben and the Rebels fought for several years, clearing the cities of vicious gangs and growing larger and stronger while the SUSA spread out.

  In only a few years, the Rebel army became the largest and most powerful army on the face of the earth . . . with the possible exception of China’s. No one knew what was going on in China, for that nation had sealed its borders and cut off nearly all communication with the outside world.

  A few more years drifted by while the Rebels roamed the world at the request of the newly formed United Nations, kicking ass and stabilizing nations as best they could in the time allotted them.

  Back home, the situation was worsening: outside the SUSA, the nation was turning socialistic with sickening speed. The old FBI was gone. In its place was the FPPS: Federal Prevention and Protective Service, a fancy title that fooled no one. The FPPS was the nation’s secret police, and they were everywhere, bully boys and thugs. Day-to-day activities of those living in the USA were highly restricted. The new Socialist Democratic government of President-for-life Claire Osterman and her second in command, Harlan Millard, was now firmly in control.

  There were border guards stationed all along major crossings in every state. Now many of them had been moved south, to patrol along the several-thousand-mile border of the SUSA.

  A bloody civil war was shaping up between the USA and the SUSA. A bounty had been placed on the head of Ben Raines: a million dollars for his capture, dead or alive. Ben was accustomed to that: he’d had bounties—of one kind or another, from one group or another—on his head for years.

  Anna, Ben’s adopted daughter, had been kidnapped by the FPPS. She was to be tried as a traitor to the Socialist Democrat government, and executed. A highly irritated Ben knew the taking of Anna was to draw him out, for the FPPS was certain Ben would come after her . . . which he damn sure did, with blood in his eyes. That abortive move cost the FPPS several dozen agents, and accomplished nothing else for Osterman and her henchman. It further heightened the already monumental legend of Ben Raines . . . and made Claire Osterman and her government look like a pack of incompetent screwups . . . which they certainly were.

  After Claire completely lost her temper and what little rational judgment she had, she started a civil war with SUSA, using hired mercenaries when half of her own USA troops refused to fight their neighbors. All along a battle line that stretched for thousands of miles, from Texas to Georgia in the old south, federal troops faced Rebel forces across no-man’s lands.

  Once again SUSA, led by Ben Raines and his team, kicked her federal troops’ butts in battle after battle, driving her into a fury which knew no bounds.

  When Sugar Babe Osterman got word from her field commanders that Raines had killed Commanding General Walter Berman, head of her army, in hand-to-hand combat, she almost had a stroke. She notified Cecil Jeffreys, President of SUSA, that if he and his leaders, especially that bastard Ben Raines, didn’t surrender, she was going to launch an all-out missile attack against SUSA at 0600 hours. Cecil Jeffreys called his Commanding General Ben Raines to his office. . . .

  ONE

  Ben Raines was awakened by the ringing of his telephone. He fumbled for the receiver and swung his legs out of bed, almost stepping on the Malamute he’d adopted—rather, who’d adopted him—last week.

  “Yeah?” Ben said, glancing at the clock on the night-stand. 0200 hours.

  “Ben?” Cecil Jeffreys said, sounding tired. “Get down to the command center’s war room. We’ve got a building situation.”

  “On my way.” Ben didn’t waste time asking what the situation was. That would be explained when he got to the war room.

  Ben took a quick shower and dressed in BDUs. Fifteen minutes after Cecil’s call, he was pulling out of his driveway. Mal sat in the front seat of the Hummer beside him, looking out at the night.

  “Something big is brewing, Mal,” Ben said. “Osterman has pulled something. You can bet on that.”

  The Malamute woowoowooed her deep-voiced reply.

>   “I’m still working on a name for you, girl,” Ben told the big dog. “Don’t worry. I’ll come up with something.”

  “Woowoowoowoo!”

  “Right. I know we’re being followed. Better get used to it.” There were several Rebel security vehicles trailing Ben through the quiet early morning hours.

  Ben’s team met him in the parking lot of the command center. Ben handed Mal’s leash to Anna. “Take care of her, kiddo.”

  “Will do, Pops. Come on, Jodie.”

  Ben stopped and turned around. “What’d you call her?”

  “Jodie. You like it?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do. OK. Jodie it is.”

  Ben passed through several checkpoints, then was admitted to the elevator that would take him down to the war room of the presidential command center. There he passed through another checkpoint and was admitted to the war room.

  Cecil smiled at him. “I just hung up the phone after speaking with Madame President Osterman, Ben. She has given us an ultimatum.”

  Ben poured a mug of coffee. He glanced up at the Defense Posture Board. The top light was slowly blinking a dull red—the next to highest defense alert. When it changed to a constant bright red, the SUSA would be on a full alert and on a war status for possible missiles coming at them.

  “What is the ultimatum, Cec?”

  “Immediate surrender.”

  “And if we don’t comply, which of course we won’t?”

  “She will order the launch of missiles against us.”

  “Nuclear?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “I doubt they’ll be nukes. Probably germ warheads. Kill all the nasty ole conservatives and keep the buildings for use by the occupying troops.” Ben laughed. “Socialist carpetbaggers. Now that’s funny, Cec.”

  “I truly wish I could find something amusing about this situation.”

  “What’s her deadline for launch?”

  “0600. I have our air defenses on alert.”

  Ben walked over to a red telephone and picked it up. “This is General Raines. All air defenses are to go on full alert nationwide . . . immediately. We’re going to have missiles to intercept, and we don’t want any to strike SUSA soil. OK. Good shooting.”

  Ben slowly hung up the phone just as Cec was opening his mouth to object. He managed a, “Ben—”

  Ben shook his head. “My show now, Cec. You know our constitution better than I.”

  “You’re right, of course. Do we warn our citizens about the possibility of a strike?”

  “Not just yet. An hour’s time is all many will need. A few minutes’ time is all most will need.”

  “I’ve told Osterman that her demands are ridiculous.”

  “I would’ve told her a lot more than that,” Ben replied very seriously.

  “Oh?” Cec managed a smile.

  “Yeah. Like where to shove her demands. Sideways and with great force.”

  “They would probably fit,” Cec replied, equally drily.

  “I’m sure.”

  The men drank coffee and chatted for a half hour until Ben told Cecil to go take a nap, get some rest. He would man the command center until Cec woke up.

  Ben told the security people to get his team into the war room. While that was going on, he got Ike on the horn.

  “I think you should be here, Ike.”

  “I’ll stay with my troops,” the former Navy SEAL said.

  “I thought you’d say that, Ike, but I wanted to try. Intel says they’re ninety-nine percent certain the warheads are germ, BW of some sort. But they aren’t sure what type of bugs they contain.”

  “We have the vaccines for every type of bug we know Osterman has,” Ike replied. “The troops are ready.”

  “You know that some of the missiles are going to get through.”

  “I know, Ben.”

  “We’re probably going to lose several hundred thousand civilians.”

  “If only they’d taken the vaccines we offered,” Ike said, his voice full of frustration. He was referring to the fact that only about fifty percent of the citizens of SUSA had complied with Jeffreys’ recommendation to take the free vaccines their scientists had cooked up against BW, Biological Warfare.

  “That’s the problem with having a populace that believes in individual freedom, Ike, and with having a constitution that prohibits us from forcing them to do something we think is in their best interests. They made their choice, after being informed of our best guesses about the consequences. Now, those who decided not to take the vaccines will have to live, or die, with their decisions.”

  “I know, but if that rotten bitch uncorks those missiles, Ben . . .” Ike let that trail off.

  “There will be precious little left of the USA. That is a promise.”

  “Will you use our missiles, Ben?”

  “Will I have a choice?”

  Another long moment of silence. “No, I reckon not. God help us all.”

  “Osterman and her followers don’t believe in God, Ike.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. They’re too intelligent to believe in God. Then God help SUSA.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  “Keep your head down and your ass covered, Ben.”

  “I will, Ike. Luck to you, ole buddy.”

  “OK, partner.”

  Ben spent the next few minutes in a conference hookup, talking with all his brigade commanders. They were as ready as they could possibly be. Cecil had ordered additional vaccines flown in to all Rebel locations as soon as Osterman had issued her threat. But, as General Georgi Striginov pointed out, if the missiles carried nuclear warheads there was very little the Rebels could do except ask for heavenly intervention.

  Ben sat at a desk in the war room, talking with his team and petting Jodie.

  And waiting.

  Corrie was handling the communications now. Every so often Ben looked over at her and she shook her head.

  Nothing.

  At 0500 hours Corrie stiffened in her chair. Ben heard her say, “Are you sure?”

  Ben smiled knowingly. “Goddamn Socialist Democrats. I knew it. You can’t trust those two-faced bastards.”

  “Birds are in the air!” Corrie said. “Just launched.”

  “Cooper, get President Jeffreys, please.”

  But Cec had awakened a few minutes before, and had been washing his face in cold water. He walked in the door just as Ben was speaking to Coop.

  “It’s only 0500,” Cecil said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “President Osterman gave us until 0600. What the hell happened?”

  “I warned you about trusting that bitch, Cec. She jumped the gun on us.”

  “Our missiles have intercepted most of the first wave, Corrie said. “Two got through. First one carried a germ warhead and struck in North Texas.”

  “Goddamnit!” Cecil flared.

  “Right on the border with New Mexico, just north of Interstate Twenty.”

  “Very lightly populated,” Cecil said. “Thank God.”

  “Second bird struck in Eastern Tennessee. In the mountains.”

  “Ready all silos and surface-based facilities,” Ben said quietly. “Prepare to launch on my orders. Repeat—on my orders!”

  “Right, boss.”

  “Miserable no-good lying bunch of assholes!” Ben said.

  “I will certainly agree with that,” Cecil said, pouring himself a mug of coffee.

  “Second wave of federal missiles launched and on the way,” Corrie said.

  “Any ground troops taking part in this so far?” Ben asked.

  “Negative, Boss.”

  Anna had filled a container with water and was sitting on the floor beside Jodie while the dog drank. Big Malamutes are not the most delicate animals when they drink, and Anna got water all over her.

  “I should have warned you about that,” Ben said with a smile.

  “Shit!” Ben’s daughter muttered, wiping her pants leg with a handkerchief.

  “One
got through, Boss,” Corrie called. “It struck in Central Arkansas.”

  “Damn! Which way are the winds blowing?” Cecil asked.

  “West to east,” Beth told him. She was handling secondary communications.

  Ben walked over to Corrie and motioned for her to give him the mic.

  “This is General Raines speaking from the war room of Base Camp One. Launch the first wave of our missiles. Wait ten minutes and launch the second wave. Ten minutes later, launch the third wave.”

  He paused for a few seconds. “And may God look with mercy on our souls.”

  TWO

  After Ben gave the order to loose the missiles, he sat on the edge of the desk, tasting of dust. He had just convicted hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of civilians to a horrible death. Unbidden, pictures formed in his mind of Africa, and the hundreds of square miles where the only living creatures were reptiles, all the mammals having been slain by BW in the previous war.

  “Damnit!” he said, slamming his hand down on the desktop. He just couldn’t do it—no matter what the provocation. Though most of the civilians chose freely to live in the USA and gave their allegiance to President Osterman and her Socialist Democrat party and its ideas of something for everyone without the pain of having to earn it, Ben couldn’t bring himself to kill them for their choices . . . true, they were stupid and lazy, but those had never been capital crimes, even in SUSA.

  He whirled around and grabbed the mic. “Belay that order . . . belay the order to launch the missiles!” he said.

  “Come again?” the voice from the speaker asked.

  “Do not, I repeat, do not launch a missile attack,” Ben repeated. “This is General Raines, and I’m canceling that order. Over and out.”

  He put the mic down and looked at his team, and found them to be smiling with relief.

  “What’re you guys grinning at?” he asked gruffly.

  “Nothing, Pops,” Anna replied, stroking Jodie’s fur.

  “Good, ’cause we’ve got some work to do, and pronto.” He pointed at Corrie. “Get on the horn. I want a squadron of bombers airborne immediately. And set up some tankers to rendezvous with them for refueling later.”