Standoff in the Ashes Page 11

  “Forget about hiding our tracks,” Ben said.

  “The Feds don’t come into the wilderness, Ben, as I said. Once we get past the lake, there are booby traps all over the place. Too many Federal patrols, have been caught in here, too many times.”

  “That means you know the way, though?”

  “Oh, you bet I do. That was one of the reasons Bradford was torturing me, trying to get me to tell him the way to our camps.”

  “What about spotter planes and choppers? Don’t they ever fly over?”

  “Not anymore. Not since the war began with the SUSA. Even when they did, they didn’t get too low.” She smiled at him. “We have shoulder-fired missiles.”

  “How much farther to the lake?”

  “Just about a mile. We’ll get there in plenty of time to catch a mess of fish for supper.”

  “If they’re biting.”

  “Oh, they always hit a lure. Lake hasn’t been fished in a long time.”

  “Lead on, Lara.”

  They broiled fish for supper, and they were delicious. They finished washing up just as night was casting its darkness over the land, creating silver shadows over the lake. A light cooling wind was blowing.

  “Peaceful time,” Ben said, looking out over the quiet lake. “It’s lovely.”

  “Yes, it is. I remember when it was always like this,” Lara replied, a wistful quality in her voice. “I sometimes wonder if those times will ever come again.”

  “Oh . . . someday. Maybe not in my lifetime, but certainly in yours.”

  “You’re not that old, Ben.”

  “Maybe not. But I sure feel like it often enough.”

  “Years of war will do that. I’ve been fighting the socialists ever since they came in power. Hiding and living out in the wilderness. Before that it was the gangs of punks and warlords all over the nation. I know a little something about it.”

  “I’m sure you do, Lara. Freedom never comes cheaply, does it?”

  “Nothing worth having ever does. Especially freedom. We took it for granted for too long, I think.”

  “Yes, we did. And we forgot how damn sneaky the left wing can be, especially when the print and broadcast media was overflowing with those types, aligning with them in sometimes not too subtle ways.” Ben paused for only a few seconds as his ears picked up very faint sounds not normally associated with the forest. “I think we’ve got company, Lara.”

  “Yes. I figured they would come in before long. Relax. Those are my people.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “The way they move. We’ve had to become expert in the woods, Ben. We had no choice in the matter. It was either that, or die.”

  “They’re good. They were right on top of us before I heard one of them.”

  “That would be Jimmy Smathers. He’s just a kid, just learning. They brought him along this time because they knew it was us.”

  “How old is this boy?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Hello, the camp!” The voice came out of the gathering darkness.

  “Come on in, Chuck,” Lara called. “And meet General Ben Raines.”

  There was a long silent pause. “General who did you say, Lara?”

  “Ben Raines. He was a prisoner there in the nuthouse with me. Hadn’t a been for him, I’d be dead right now . . . or wishing I was. Come on in.”

  Ben stood up and heard someone say, “Jesus Christ, Chuck. It’s really him.”

  Shadows in the gloom suddenly became human as men and women began stepping out into the clearing. Ben counted seven men and four women. Lara stood up and put her arms around one older man—just a few years younger than Ben, he guessed. “Good to see you, honey,” the man said. “We’ve been worried about you, but didn’t know for sure where those damn Feds had taken you.”

  “I’m all right, ’cept for a few bumps and bruises. Ben, this is the commander of our militia unit, Chuck Harris. Chuck, General Ben Raines.”

  Ben shook the man’s hand, then was introduced all the way around. There was Dave, Ed, Marty, Dan, Louis, and Jimmy. Then he was introduced to the women: Nora, Lou, Belle, and Val.

  They were all armed with M-16’s and 9mm sidearms. They all had grenades hooked onto their battle harnesses and carried half a dozen extra magazines for the M-16’s and two for the sidearms.

  After a few minutes of small talk, most of it about how Ben and Lara got away from the hospital, Lara fixed another pot of coffee and Ben said, “Let’s get down to it, people. We have a civil war to fight, and I need you all on the side of the SUSA. What about it?”

  Without a heartbeat of hesitation, Chuck said, “You’ve got it, General. You tell us what you want, we’ll do it.”

  “I don’t want elderly people or children harmed . . . if at all possible. That’s the first thing. If an adult works for Osterman’s government they’re the enemy, and I don’t give a damn what happens to them.”

  Chuck and the others smiled and nodded their heads. Chuck said, “That is exactly how we feel about it, General. Of course, I felt that way about the people who worked for the IRS—to name just one agency of the government—back before the collapse and the Great War.”

  Ben laughed. “I know a lot of people who felt the same way. Now then, supplies. I can get us supplied by air drop. It’ll be the long way around, but I can get it done. What do you need?”

  “Medical supplies, for a start,” Chuck said quickly. “All kinds. How about if I make out a list?”

  “Great. Can you get me a radio hookup?”

  “No problem. I’ll have it set up for you tomorrow at our base camp.”

  “Good enough. Have the list ready for me, and we’ll get things moving.”

  “Coffee’s ready,” Lara announced. “The first pot, that is. It’ll take about three pots for this crowd.”

  “I’ll fix the second one,” Dave said.

  “General,” Nora said. “The only news we get worth a damn is on shortwave. The other news is all bullshit . . .”

  Everyone laughed at that. Ben knew that for the past couple of years the news in the USA had been controlled by the government. It had been somewhat lopsided and biased before the collapse and the Great War. Ben, along with millions of other people who did not have their heads up their asses had believed for years the press was controlled by the left wing. Now that was a fact. The news now was pure crap.

  “How is the war going down along your borders?” Nora asked. “The press up here is reporting great victories for the Federals. I just don’t believe that.”

  “Well,” Ben said. “There certainly had been no great victories on either side a few days ago. I haven’t heard a newscast since I was taken prisoner several days ago, but I doubt seriously the Feds have made any significant advances into Rebel territory. I’ll know for sure tomorrow when I talk to my people.”

  “Then you’ll be going back?” Dan asked.

  Ben smiled. “This war has gotten very personal for me, very quickly. I think we need an advisor up here.” He chuckled. “And since I am the commanding general of the Rebel Army, I can pick any person I want for the job. So, I pick me.”

  FOURTEEN

  “Anybody awake down there?” Ben spoke calmly into the mic. “This is the Eagle.”

  “General!” The communications tech yelled the word so loudly that the speaker distorted it “Where the hell are you? Ah . . . I mean, sir.”

  Ben threw back his head and laughed at the tech’s excitement. “Patch me through to President Jefferys, please.”

  “Right away, sir. Hang on.”

  There was about half a minute of silence, then Cecil’s voice came booming out of the speaker. “Ben! Thank God, you’re alive.”

  “I have a few bruises, ole’ buddy, but soon it’ll be payback for the Eagle.”

  “How do you want to be picked up, Ben?”

  “I don’t, Cec.”

  Another short pause, then: “You, ah, want to run that by me again, Ben?”

  “I’m staying right here. I’m going to be working with a militia group from this end.”

  “I suppose there is no point in my trying to dissuade you, is there?”

  “None at all.”

  “All right. Then I won’t try.”

  “But I do need supplies, Cec, and it’s going to have to be a precision drop, at night.”

  “We can handle that. Give me the coordinates and what you need.”

  “Better tape this. The list is long.”

  “OK. You want any help up there? Your team, I mean.”

  “As much as I’d like to see them, no. They’ll understand, I’m sure of that. Maybe later, after we get cranked up and running smoothly, I’ll call in some people. But not now.”

  “OK, Ben. It’s your show. Tape is rolling. Go.”

  “How are your people going to get all that up here without being spotted and shot out of the sky?” Chuck asked after Ben had finished speaking with Cecil.

  “They’ll come up under heavy fighter escort. Tankers will be up to refuel them when needed. They’ll fly over the Atlantic until cutting west over Canada. The Canadians won’t bother my people. The Canadian government might not like us using their air space for this purpose, but they won’t attack my planes. They’ll make their drop here and then head back the same way.”

  “I’ve notified my people all over the park to be on the alert for stray ’chutes.”

  “Good enough. Now all we have to do is wait.”

  “You turned down your president’s offer to send troops in, General. Why?”

  “Because we don’t need them for the type of war I plan to wage up here, Chuck.”

  “We can handle it?”

  “Easily. You’ll see.”

  “Civilians are goin
g to get hurt, aren’t they?”

  “Probably. But those who get hurt will be supporters of Osterman and her government. It’s as I said before—people are either with us, or they’re against us. There are no fence-straddlers or so-called moderates. Moderates, in my opinion, don’t stand for anything. They’re wishy-washy.”

  Chuck smiled at that. “You’re as hard as people say you are, General.”

  “My people and I—millions of us—have fought for years for the right to live in peace, under our own form of government. Governments all over the world have recognized us and signed trade agreements with us. Some nations have even adopted our way of governing. The Tri-States philosophy works. We’ve proved it. It won’t work for everybody. It wasn’t meant to. But we’ve shown that we can live in peaceful coexistence with our neighbors. And we’ll fight for our way of life, Chuck. If any government threatens us, we’ll get mad dog mean and down and dirty to preserve that way of life. You all—all your people—know our system. It’s so simple a form of government, so workable, it scares the shit out of liberals. But I’m preaching to the choir here, Chuck. You know all this.”

  “Yes, I know. We all do,” the leader of the local militia agreed. The group of men and women he headed was a mixture of militia and survivalist people. “But I’m asked often if it would work outside the SUSA. Alongside and with other forms of government?”

  “No. Not fully. Besides, we never planned that it would. We don’t try to force our way of life on anyone else. All we want is to be able to live under our own government and be left alone. We’ve proven we can. Time and again.” Ben sighed and shook his head. “Frankly, we’re running out of patience with those who want to destroy us. If other governments want to play kick ass, we’ll damn sure play it with them.”

  “President Osterman sure plans to kick our ass.”

  “She’ll never succeed, Chuck. All she’ll succeed in doing is ripping North America apart.”

  “Let’s play worst case scenario, General. What happens if the Feds do get the upper hand, and you sense we’ve lost the war?”

  When Ben looked at Chuck, the militia leader felt as if an icy knife had been plunged deep into his guts. He had never seen eyes so cold and mean. “I’ll destroy North America,” Ben said, his words causing another chill to wriggle snake-like through Chuck’s body. “I’ll turn loose every goddamn germ-warhead missile I have and stand there during their flight and curse into the fires of Hell every fucking liberal socialist/democrat that ever took a breath.”

  The militia members and Ben loafed around for the next two days. Ben rested, bathed his bruised body in hot water (which Lara heated in a huge iron pot over an open fire for him), ate well, and slept a lot. He was at about ninety percent recovery at mid-morning of the third day in the militia camp when more of Chuck’s people began coming in. They would assist in the retrieving and the distribution of the supplies to be dropped in late that night.

  Ben was introduced all around, and many of the new people were in open awe of the man. It was a feeling that Ben had never liked, and had never gotten used to, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it . . . except live with it.

  Several hours before dark, the entire camp began moving out toward a long and wide valley several miles away, hoping the supplies would be dropped there.

  The planes would come in low, guided in by Chuck’s people forming two wide lines of light provided by powerful flashlights.

  “No wind,” Ben remarked as they arrived in the valley. “Let’s hope it stays that way. My people will put the supplies right on target, but it’ll be a hell of a lot easier for them if there is no wind.”

  “Will this supply drop run you people short down in the SUSA?” Jimmy asked.

  Ben smiled, as did others within earshot. “No, son,” Ben replied. “Not at all. We have enough supplies stored to run us about twenty years.”

  “Twenty years!” the young man blurted.

  Ben laughed. “At least twenty years, my friend. We believe in staying prepared. We have dozens of crews down in the SUSA that do nothing but build and stock and restock supplies from underground storage areas. We seldom throw away anything that can be used. We have millions of tons of everything you could possibly name, from commodes to panty hose and from dried beans to powdered milk.”

  “Good God,” Jimmy breathed.

  Ben smiled again as the young man walked off, shaking his head. He checked his watch. He had deliberately given Chuck and the others the wrong time for the drop. The drop would not be made at 2000 hours. It would be at 2020 hours.

  During one of the conversations with Cecil, down at Base Camp One, Cecil had dropped a one-word warning to Ben, several times. That one word told Ben that the militia movement had been recently infiltrated, and warned him to be very careful. A little bit of double talk between the two men had altered the time for the supply drop.

  Ben felt certain that if the Feds—or some other group—were going to strike, it would be right before the drop was made, for the traitor would know the procedure. There would be no radio contact between the ground and the planes; the signal would be by strobe lights.

  Ben was 99.09% certain the infiltrator was not Lara. She was still carrying the marks of the beating she’d received from Bradford. That sure as hell had not been faked. Nor had her killing of the guards or the ambushes.

  Nor did he believe the traitor was Chuck.

  Ben had not been able to ask Cecil how he knew about the infiltrator in this particular militia group, but the Rebels had people in place all over the USA, planted there months and even years before.

  At 1930 hours, Ben motioned Lara and Chuck off to one side and told them what was taking place. Both were shocked speechless for a few seconds.

  “That can’t be, General!” Chuck protested. “My people were just polygraphed a couple of months ago. They all passed the tests without a hitch.”

  “Then perhaps the contact was made after the last test,” Ben told him. “The Feds lucked out, that’s all. We might never know why one of your people was turned, but it happens. It’s happened with my people . . . more than once.”

  “Ed Morris,” Lara said softly.

  “What?” Chuck challenged. “That can’t be, Lara. I’ve known Ed all my life!”

  “Why do you suspect him?” Ben asked.

  “His kid,” Lara replied. “His boy was just accepted at a very prestigious university . . . full scholorship paid for by the government. You remember, Chuck, we wondered about it.”

  “Yeah,” the militia leader said. “No kid of a known militia member—a man on the run—was ever accepted by any high tone school like that. Ed said it was because of his son’s grades. But other kids with high scores—whose parents are Osterman supporters—have been rejected. It just didn’t sound right to me,”—he looked at Lara—“us. But we had no reason to doubt Ed. Until now,” he added softly. “Damn! But it’s hard to believe.”

  “It might not be Ed,” Ben cautioned. “We’ll just have to wait and see. I’m betting they’ll make their move just minutes before the drop. I’ll fake a radio message and announce that the planes are on schedule. If they make their move, we’ll have plenty of time to handle it and get ready for the actual drop.”

  “And if we take the traitor alive?” Lara asked.

  “There will be very advanced drugs included in this drop,” Ben said, “several generations advanced from sodium pentothal. We’ll find out who the traitor’s contact is, and deal with them later.”

  “That I’ll be looking forward to,” said Chuck. “With a great deal of anticipation.”

  “You know,” said Lara, “Ed and that new fellow in Chris’s unit, Nolan, are real buddy buddy. They talk a lot when the two units are together. And Ed said he didn’t know the guy before he joined up.”

  Chuck nodded in the darkness. “Yeah. That’s right. He sure did.” Chuck sighed. “So we’ll watch both of them.”

  “Who gave this Nolan person the polygraph?” Ben asked.

  “Why . . . damned if I know,” Chuck admitted.

  “I can find out in about one minute,” Lara said. “I trust Bob Odell with my life. He’s saved it several times over the years. I’ll ask him. Be right back.”