Blood in the Ashes Page 13

  “I’ve taken the situation into my own hands, people,” the captain said with a long face. He appeared very concerned. “And I can only hope and pray I have done the right thing. As God Almighty is my witness, I have General Raines’ best interest at heart in this.”

  “We know that, Captain,” a World War II vet said. One of the “Grandfathers,” as the Russian general, Striganov, had referred to the older men. Just before the “Grandfathers” completely annihilated several companies of Russian troops. “Tell us what we can do to help General Raines.”

  “Have you all seen the medical report I had stolen out of Chase’s HQ?”

  They had. It had outraged them all. To think such a thing was being done to Ben Raines. The persons responsible should be shot. They said as much to Willette.

  Captain Willette fought to contain his smile of victory. He said, “Doctor Chase is in on this thing, too, people.” Willette continued spinning his ever-tangled web of half truths, lies and deceit. “And he’ll try to deny it if questioned. So whatever we do must be done quietly and quickly.”

  All agreed with that.

  “What did you mean, Captain: You’ve taken the situation into your own hands?”

  Captain Willette hesitated for a moment. “I’ll tell you all in a few hours. For now, the less you know the less the chances of an accidental leak. For now, keep very quiet about what you do know. And be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Be careful. Look over there. There’s one of Colonel Gray’s snoops now. Trying to figure out what we’re doing.”

  “Son of a bitch!” a young woman muttered. “This is like Russia. General Raines would never allow us to be spied on.”

  “That’s right. And that’s only one of the reasons we’ve got to move quickly. We’ve got to knock those now in power out, and restore Ben Raines’ health. And I’ll tell you all something else: General Raines’ own daughter is one of those plotting against him. And that’s disgraceful.”

  “Tina? No!”

  “It’s true. She is planning and plotting against her own father.”

  The Rebels shook their heads. Poor General Raines.

  “Stay ready,” Willette said. “I’ll be in touch. It’s going down in a few hours.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Ben’s eyes opened long before the first gray fingers of dawn turned the eastern sky silver. He slipped quietly from the double sleeping bag and dressed in the darkness, his movements as silent as the morning.

  He walked through the sleeping camp to the small tent that housed the ever-present urn of coffee and poured a cup of the hot, strong brew. He circled the camp, chatting briefly with each guard, even taking one sentry’s place on the line for a moment, allowing the woman to go to the bathroom.

  Clearly embarrassed, the woman said, “Sorry about that, General.”

  Ben laughed softly in the velvet morning and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.

  By nature an early riser, this hour was early even for Ben. He wasn’t certain what had jarred him from deep sleep, for he could almost always sleep very soundly. So what had awakened him?

  He was aware they were camped in mutant territory, but he didn’t believe the mutants would attack a camp this large and well armed. No, the mutants had nothing to do with his awakening.

  Then what?

  Tony Silver, Captain Willette, Sister Voleta. That’s what had pulled him from sleep. Those three were in cahoots, he was certain of it. But what an odd trio. And did he, Ben Raines, represent such a threat to them—them being whatever in the hell the three groups personified—they would wage all-out war?

  Why?

  A supposedly semi-religious order, a hoodlum and a leader of a paramilitary group who had wandered into camp only a few months back.

  Odd.

  Ben was a hunch player, had been one all his life. Many times his gut reactions and mental warning system had saved his life. And right now, this minute, he had a hunch something was going very badly for someone very close to him.

  But who?

  Ben walked back to the tent and refilled his coffee mug, his thoughts many and very busy. He was viewing and rejecting ideas every split second, his brain working overtime. He walked to the communications vehicle and started the engine. He turned on the big radio and let it hum for a moment. Base Camp frequency was preset and the scrambler switch was in S position.

  Ben called in to home base. No response. He tried again. Nothing. He went to the emergency frequency. Nothing. He tried once more. No reply.

  “It’s gone down,” Ben muttered. “You bastards!”

  He shook the radio operator awake. She came awake instantly, eyes wide as she saw who was shaking her. “Move it,” Ben said tersely. “Something is very wrong. I’ve been trying to raise Base Camp. They don’t respond. You give it a shot or two.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dressing hurriedly, she ran to the communications vehicle. She worked frantically for fifteen minutes, meticulously checking out every possible problem. She finally shook her head.

  “It’s all on the other end, sir. We’re OK here.”

  “You’ve tried all frequencies?”

  “Yes, sir. The last one I tried was the frequency to be used only in any life or death situation. If they didn’t respond to that . . .” She hesitated.

  “Say it,” Ben told her.

  “Sir ... you know how our backup systems work; you designed them. There is no way for them to fail. The backups are on separate generators. Should the generators fail, the systems automatically switch to a battery bank. Nothing is fail-safe, sir, but this system comes the closest a human could possibly design.”

  “Then they’ve been overrun at home base or the radio shack has been sabotaged. Is that the way you see it?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s about the only two things that could have happened. I voice activated the alarm up there. No way anyone could have slept through all that. So that means the voice activation didn’t get through.”

  James appeared quietly by the truck, Sergeant Greene and Captain Rayle with him. Ben met the eyes of each man.

  “It’s begun at Base Camp, people. Roll the troops out. We’ve got to hunt a hole until we can figure out what’s happened and how to deal with it.”

  “Where are we heading, General?” Rayle asked.

  “Sumter National Forest. It’s only about twenty miles away. Let’s shake it, boys.”

  BOOK TWO

  They were going to look at war, the red animal—war, the blood-swollen god.

  Stephen Crane

  ONE

  “You’ll never get away with this, Captain,” Colonel Gray warned the younger officer. “This is mutiny. And mutiny is punishable by death from firing squad. Be advised of that, sir.”

  “You just keep your hands in the air, Colonel,” Willette said with a smile. The muzzle of his 9mm pistol did not waver. “And don’t get cute.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” Dan replied. “But don’t strain your resources looking for my Scouts. They’re not in camp.”

  “Does that include the traitor, Tina Raines?” an older man asked.

  Unanswered and confusing questions leaped into Dan’s eyes. “Traitor? What in the world are you talking about, Walter?”

  “Oh, don’t deny it, Colonel,” the man’s tone was filled with disgust. “What you people have done is disgraceful. Knowing General Raines is mentally ill and refusing to help him.”

  Cecil was pushed into the room, a rifle at his back. He heard the last part of Walter’s statement. His eyes touched Dan Gray’s steely gaze. “Dan, what in the hell is going on?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest, Cecil. These bloody fools wakened me by shoving the muzzle of an M-16 in my face. Now they’re ranting and raving about Tina being a traitor and Ben having gone bonkers.”

  “What!” Cecil shouted the words. “I believe you all have taken leave of your senses. Now put down those weapons and get the hell out of here. And that, gentlemen, is an order.�
�

  “Shut up, Colonel Jefferys,” Willette said. “You people are all under arrest for treason against General Raines.”

  Cecil frosted the man with an icy look. “That, sir, that last bit, is a fucking lie.”

  “Watch your mouth, traitor,” Captain Willette spat the words at him. “I could have you shot, you know.” He would have liked to call Cecil, “nigger” but he needed the support of the young blacks.

  Lieutenant Carter shoved Juan Solis and Mark Terry into the room. “Ro and Wade and some of the kids got away,” he announced. “Along with that damned old coot, Doctor Chase. But the camp is secure and it is ours.”

  “Good work, Sergeant,” Willette said. “Take these men and lock them up. Don’t take any chances with them. If they try to resist or escape, you have my orders to shoot them.”

  Cecil said, “Willette, when Ben hears of this, your life expectancy will drop to zero.”

  Willette laughed. “Still denying your part in this treason, Colonel? It won’t work. We know all about your part in this. When we locate Ben Raines, he shall be so advised as to your behavior.”

  A young Rebel, a scared look on his face, blurted, “What in the hell is going on around here?”

  “Coup,” Cecil said tightly. “Willette and his bunch acted faster than we thought they would.”

  “Slick,” Dan said. “Very well thought out and very slick. But it’s going to backfire on you, gentlemen. Believe it.”

  “Wrong,” Lieutenant Carter said. “This coup is on behalf of a very sick General Raines. And don’t try denying your part in working against the general.” That was directed toward Solis and Terry.

  “What?” Mark screamed.

  “You’re a fucking idiot!” Juan blurted.

  “I thought you were my friend,” one of Juan’s troops said from the open doorway. “But I’ve seen the medical reports on General Raines—all of us have seen them.”

  “What fucking medical reports?” Peggy Jones screamed. She was being held by two of Willette’s men. “What in the name of God is happening around here?”

  “Get them out of here,” Willette said.

  The room emptied. Cecil, Mark, Dan and Juan were taken to a detention building and locked in separate rooms, with a heavy guard placed around the building. Chances of escape were almost nil.

  “You have Raines’ position pinpointed?” Willette asked a radioman.

  “Yes, sir. They’ve been trying to reach Base Camp since before dawn. The coordinates place them on the west side of this lake, right here.” He pointed.

  “Clark Hill,” Willette said. “Get all troops up and rolling. They’ll meet with Silver’s bunch. Blow Ben Raines to hell.”

  But blowing Ben Raines to hell had been tried many times in the past. By better people than Willette had under his command.

  Ben and his small contingent were moving within the hour. The column turned east on the junction of Highways 378 and 47 and rolled across the bridge into South Carolina a half hour later. At Bakers Creek, Ben halted the column and dismounted his people.

  “What’s happened, General?” was the question on everyone’s mind and asked by a young Rebel.

  “I still don’t know for certain,” Ben told the hundred-odd Rebels gathered around him. “But I would imagine a coup or a coup attempt has gone down. And so far, I have to assume the attempt has been successful. If they—whomever they might be—have taken over the entire communications operation, then they’ve got the camp firm as well.” He looked around him. “I want five volunteers to head northwest, find out exactly what has happened.”

  The entire group raised their hands.

  Ben laughed aloud. He felt better for that show of loyalty. He thought: These people are solid, behind me 110 percent. He pointed out five people.

  “You five get outfitted as quickly as possible and shove off. For God’s sake, though, be careful. I’m not sure what we’re up against. Someone will be on the radio at all times, monitoring. Remember, I don’t want any of you risking your life needlessly. Get in and get out as quickly and as silently as you can. OK. Take off. And good luck.”

  Standing by the pickup truck, Gale said to Susie, “And all I wanted was a nice, safe, uneventful life. You believe this?”

  The young Rebel, Susie, veteran of a hundred firefights and major battles since joining Ben Raines’ Rebels at age thirteen, smiled at Gale. “But would you trade what you now have for that?” she asked.

  Gale smiled. “Hell, no!” she said quickly. “That is, for as long as I get to keep him.”

  “You’re wisin’ up, Gale. No woman keeps General Raines for very long. Not since Salina.”5

  “He loved her that much?”

  “He liked her that much. Rumor is, the general’s not capable of loving—not anymore. Maybe he had a bad love affair long time back. I don’t know.”

  “He stayed with her a long time, though, didn’t he?”

  “Ten years, I think. He’s told you about the other women in his life?”

  “Bits and pieces. I kid him about repopulating the earth single-handedly. But I don’t think Ben is a womanizer in the classic sense of the word. I think he’s just got so much on his mind and feels he has so little time in which to do it all, settling down in one spot just never enters his mind.”

  “That’s a pretty good guess, Gale. I think that just about sums it all up.” She sighed. “We had the good life back in Tri-States. No crime, no unemployment, good medical programs and fine hospitals, fair and equitable working conditions, without unions. I mean, we had it all, Gale. But the central government just couldn’t take it. That goddamn no good President Hilton Logan. He hated General Raines. Despised him. I think part of it was because General Raines used to screw Logan’s wife, Fran.” She laughed. ”I bet that really galled Logan. Well . . . Logan succeeded. He killed a dream come true by destroying Tri-States. Now General Raines is fighting to rebuild at least a part of it. But he’s tired. And who the hell can blame him for that?”

  TWO

  It was a clumsy circling attempt by those left behind. And those men of the Ninth Order left behind were not very good at their jobs. They were not woodsmen. They made too much noise in the brush, they were awkward, and they were amateurs, Ike concluded. And he waited patiently with his knife.

  When the first pursuer got close, traveling by himself, Ike quietly took him out by cutting his throat. He left him propped up beside a tree, a large, grotesque, bloody smile under the man’s chin. The front of his field jacket was soaked with his own blood.

  The man had a canvas pouch hanging by a strap. Ike opened the flap and smiled. Several meals of military rations. And no green eggs.

  “Now we go on the offensive, Nina,” Ike said, returning to her side. “Now we’ll see how good you are with that rifle.”

  She looked at him, questions in her eyes.

  “Start killin’ the dogs.”

  “With pleasure,” Nina said with a grin. She dropped to the prone position, thumbed the .270 off safety, and made herself comfortable.

  Ike watched her handle the rifle. She handled the weapon with the ease of an expert. Must be a story behind that, Ike thought. Have to ask her about it when we’re in a better position for chit-chat.

  After the first man did not return, those of the Ninth Order remaining called in the dogs. Ike watched through binoculars as the men held a hurried conference, with several of the men pointing in Ike and Nina’s direction.

  They called for the man. Only the silence of the deep woods greeted them.

  Scared, Ike thought. Nina read his thoughts.

  “They’re frightened, aren’t they, Ike?” she asked. “All of them frightened of just two people. That doesn’t say much for their courage.”

  “Those types of people aren’t courageous, honey. They’re little people, mentally. They feel secure in a mob. Yeah, they’re scared shitless, I’m betting. I’m also betting they pulled their best people out. Why or for what reason ... I don�
�t know. But I’m guessing it has something to do with Ben. I wish I knew what in the hell was goin’ on. Damn this bein’ in the dark.”

  “Whatever you say, Ike,” Nina said. She pulled her attention back to the front. “Well, now, would you look at that.”

  Ike watched her line up the stalking black form of a Doberman in the open iron sights of the .270. It will be an interesting shot, Ike thought. The slow-stalking Doberman was about 250 yards away.

  She lost sight of the animal for a couple of seconds as it slipped behind a tree, then once more got it in gunsights as it reappeared. She took a deep breath and exhaled, slowly squeezing the trigger, allowing the weapon to fire itself. The slug caught the dog perfectly, directly behind the right shoulder. The force of the bullet lifted the Doberman off his paws and dumped it, dead, some five feet away from impact.

  “Damn good shootin’,” Ike muttered. And it was not a mechanical sentence of praise. It was damn good shooting.

  A man appeared beside a thick tree trunk. Nina chambered another round, sighted in, and shot the man in the stomach. He fell to the ground, kicking and howling and clutching at his bloody stomach.

  “That’s one of the bastards who felt me up,” Nina explained. “And he said some pretty disgusting things to me.”

  “That he was goin’ to do to you?”

  “Yes.” She chambered a fresh round.

  “Remind me to always ask permission,” Ike said with a boyish grin.

  He spun around as a snarling black shape came at the pair from out of the timber behind them. The dog’s mouth was open, saliva dripping from the fanged jaws. Nina fought back a scream just as Ike squeezed the trigger of the Remington 870 and the Doberman was dead before it hit the ground, its chest torn open by the rifled slugs from the shotgun.

  A third Doberman came at the pair. Its flashing teeth were only inches from Nina’s face as she pulled the trigger. The .270 slug hit the Doberman in the left eye, exiting out the back of its slender head, blowing brains and blood with it.