Survival in the Ashes Read online

  And all in all, he thought, I have been in a lousy position ever since I landed in America and discovered Ben Raines. He contented himself by silently cursing Ben Raines for a long moment.

  He pulled himself to his boots and walked on, carefully measuring the terrain after each few slow steps. After walking about a mile, Khamsin found a blow-down: a wild jumble of trees that had been felled during some savage mountain storm. He slowly picked his way into the maze, being careful not to leave any sign of his entrance. One freshly broken off branch would have those devil Rebels on him like wild animals on a blood scent. And they were animals, Khamsin thought. They fought like animals, without the slightest shred of decency. The Rebels were savages led by the most savage of them all: Ben Raines.

  Khamsin had food for several days, if he rationed himself. He could hear a spring bubbling, so water was nearby. If he kept his wits about him, he might survive to fight again.

  Khamsin pulled himself into the darkness of the wild tangle and spread his ground sheet just as it began to rain, a cold falling of thick drops.

  Raindrops began dripping down the back of Khamsin’s jacket, running down his spine. Water collected on his nose and dripped off, puddling on the ground sheet.

  He hadn’t felt this miserable since those damnable Jews kicked his ass during a fight in Palestine, years back.

  “Goddamn you, Ben Raines!” Khamsin whispered, as his ass got wet. “IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!”

  THREE

  Meg Callahan had left Malone’s side to strike out on her own. Malone was in an unreachable blue funk; so crazied thinking about his racist empire being pulled down around his nose, he was unbearable to be around. Meg had a strong suspicion that Malone, never all that stable, was having some sort of mental breakdown.

  She had heard intercepted radio transmissions from the Rebels, deliberately broadcast uncoded, about the slaughter of Parr and Khamsin’s troops, and about the hundreds of Malone’s men surrendering; just throwing down their guns and giving up.

  She knew, too, that the Rebels were now all over the vastness of the park. Malone might last a day, perhaps only a few more hours. Meg wisely wanted some distance between them.

  What to do? was the question.

  She entertained no thoughts of immediate revenge toward Ben Raines. That was so stupid it did not even enter her mind. What she had to do was hunt a hole and bury herself for several days. And she had that hole all picked out — if she could just make it.

  It took her most of the morning, hiking through wilderness, but she made it, and crawled into the cave near the Continental Divide. She would be cold for a time, for she could not risk a fire, but she would survive.

  Now she began entertaining thoughts of revenge — at a much later date, of course.

  Ben sat with his immediate staff and a few guests at the banquet table of the chalet, all of them enjoying fresh vegetables, just plucked from the gardens of Malone’s people and cooked late that afternoon for the evening meal.

  “The Hot Wind made it out,” Ben said. “So did Kenny Parr. Villar and Ashley and their people have dug themselves a hole and pulled the earth in over them. We’ll have to deal with them again, bet on that. But not during this go-around. What’s the latest report on prisoners?”

  “Just over eight hundred,” Dan told him. “About half of them women and kids.”

  Ben had never taken eight hundred prisoners at one pop during all the long years of fighting. And he didn’t have the foggiest idea what to do with that number.

  Looking at the faces seated around the table, Ben knew that they didn’t know what to do with those people, either.

  “Malone?” he directed the question at Corrie who was busy buttering an ear of corn.

  “Five Battalion moved across the line as General Striganov and his people pushed south, Buddy and Tina’s teams on a parallel with them. Ike and West pushed in with West linking up with General Jefferys. Malone and what is left of his people are believed to have left the park and to be at that old lodge in the Lolo National Forest just west of the Indian reservation.”

  Ben nodded, thinking: It’s almost over.

  The body count of enemy dead had reached almost two thousand. Many of the prisoners were now being used to dig holes and bury their dead comrades in hatred. The Rebels had been very lucky, suffering far less casualties than anyone could have predicted: ten dead and so far, just over forty wounded.

  “We’ll start interviewing the prisoners first thing in the morning,” Ben said. “We’ll see what we can salvage.”

  Not very damn much, was the general conclusion among the Rebels.

  The prisoners, even though they had surrendered, were die-hard, hard-core racists and hate mongers.

  Ben had shifted his CP over to the more easily accessible Many Glacier Hotel. The old lodge, built back in the 1920s by the Great Northern Railway, was huge, with rambling corridors and rough-hewn wood beams. It offered an impressive view of Swift-current Lake.

  The children of the surrendered, those kids still young enough to be taught — or reprogrammed as the Rebel doctors put it — were already being trucked out of the park, on their way to staging areas to be later flown to families in various secure zones and some back to Base Camp One.

  A dozen of the leaders of Malone’s pack of crud were standing at loose attention in front of Ben, who was seated in the lobby of the old hotel.

  “I ought to shoot every damn one of you,” Ben bluntly told the men.

  Their faces paled and they sucked in their bellies and their assholes tightened at that.

  “But I can’t do it,” Ben said.

  The men visibly relaxed.

  “But I don’t really know what the hell to do with you.”

  “Turn us a-loose,” one man spoke.

  “And what would you do?” Ben challenged him. Ben gazed at the mountains across the lake, at the white lillies and the wildflowers growing impossibly next to the snow.

  “Why . . . we’d leave!”

  “And go where and do what?”

  The question seemed to confuse the man. People of his ilk are easily confused.

  “Let me put it another way,” Ben said. “Perhaps I can somehow penetrate that murk that is called a brain. Believe it or not, you all have one, but in case you don’t know where it is, it’s located between your ears.”

  That got Ben some dirty looks but the men wisely kept their mouths shut.

  “In case you men haven’t heard the news, Malone is dead.”

  The men closed their eyes and silently cursed.

  “He killed his wife, his son, and then stuck the gun in his mouth and blew half his head off. The bodies were found late last night. Now, as to what I’m going to do with you. I’m going to place you all on the old Flathead Indian Reservation. The few Indians that you have left alive will be in charge.”

  “I ain’t takin’ orders from no goddamn Injun!” one man blurted.

  Ben looked at him. “Would you rather die?” he asked softly. “Because that is the only other option you have left.”

  “I don’t believe you would just shoot me standin’ here unarmed.”

  “Then you are a bigger fool than I first thought,” Ben told him.

  “What gives you the right to tell us what to do?” another challenged.

  “Now that is a question I find worthy of a response. What gives me the right?”

  Thermopolis was listening closely, leaning up against a wall in the corridor.

  “Many things,” Ben said. “Power is one reason I have the right. I have the biggest, finest, best-equipped, best-moraled army anywhere in America. That’s one reason and I mention it only because brute force is the only thing people like you really understand. But the most important reason of all is that the majority of the people we encounter like the Rebel type of law. Majority is the key word in that statement. And by majority, I mean those people who are trying to live decently, who respect the rights of those who are trying desperately
to rebuild this nation; for all people of all races and creeds and religions. Not crud like you.”

  “So what happens to us?”

  “You prove yourselves to me and the other Rebels. Prove that you can get along with people of all races and creeds . . . like the Indians you’ll be living alongside of. And taking orders from.”

  “Not me,” another said. “Oh, I ain’t gonna try to walk away from you, Ben Raines. I got more sense than that. I’ll go on the reservation. Then I’ll leave.”

  Ben shrugged. “That’s your business. Once we’re gone, you all might try to run. And the Indians won’t stop you. I’ve discussed this with them. But once you run, you better keep on running, and you’d better constantly keep looking over your shoulder. Because one of us might be gaining on you. And don’t go into any Rebel-secured zone asking for help — any kind of help. Food, clothing, medical care. You won’t receive it. Within a month, all Rebels and citizens living in Rebel zones will be issued ID cards. Complete with thumbprint and photo. And you asked this morning why we were taking your pictures and fingerprinting you? Here is your answer: we’re starting our own criminal file.”

  Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out several crisp new greenbacks, holding them up for the men to see. “We’re back on a limited monetary system. And without ID cards, you can’t use money. You might steal it, but you can’t use it. How’s that grab you, asshole?”

  The man glared hate at Ben Raines. But that was something that Ben was very accustomed to receiving. It didn’t bother him a bit.

  Malone and his jerks just thought they had killed or enslaved all the Indians. They were very wrong — as usual.

  The weapons taken from Malone’s people were given to the Indians and the zone declared secure. The Indians told Ben they had been praying for some Rebels to show up.

  Ben reminded them they had been through the area south of the park just a few months back.

  “You were also fighting a war then, General,” a subchief reminded him. “And we were unarmed, except for bows and arrows, which most of us couldn’t hit a barn with if we were standing inside it, and were afraid we’d get caught up in the middle of the war, with neither side knowing who we were.”

  “Good point,” Ben said. “You’re going to have trouble with the people we’ve saddled you with. Are you sure you want the responsibility?”

  “They won’t give us much trouble, General. You see, they’re afraid of us. It is very a peculiar thing about white people. Most especially the ignorant among you. If they do not understand something, they are fearful of it. They do not understand the animals’ way of life, such as the wolf and the coyote, and will make no effort to try and understand them, so they want to kill them. It is the same with people of another race. Very peculiar.”

  Ben smiled. “I think you and I will get along very well.”

  “I think so.”

  “Be careful. Villar and Ashley are still in the park, and they are dangerous men.”

  “Since the government disarmed us and slaughtered us right after the Great War, we have been virtually defenseless. Now with the weapons you have provided, we will be all right, I am thinking.

  “There are secure zones just to the east of you. If you need help, don’t hesitate to call. They’re good people.”

  The men shook hands and yet another bond was sealed, and another secure zone set up.

  The Rebels began making plans to pull out. Ben called for a meeting with his commanders to test their feelings on Alaska.

  “It’s pretty late in the season,” Ike said. “We get caught up there, for whatever reason, and we could be in serious trouble.”

  “Yes,” Striganov agreed, adding, “we are not adequately prepared for any type of arctic fighting. We could make it through the winter in the southern part, but without arctic gear, we would have to leave the rest of the state for another time.”

  “And we don’t have any idea what we might be facing in the way of hostilities,” Cecil said. “We do know there are people there — quite a few according to our monitoring of radio signals — but whether they are friendly or unfriendly is something we don’t know. We have reason to believe they are hostile.”

  “We do know for certain there are no Night People there,” West spoke. “Which brings me to this: let’s make certain the lower forty-eight is as clean as we can make it before leaving it.”

  “I agree with that,” Ben said. “Since we’ve learned that the massive nuking that the government told us about never took place, there are cities still standing that we’ve ignored for years. We can concentrate on the Northwest — including the coast — for the rest of the summer. Or for however long it takes. The Northwest takes in a lot of territory. During that time, our factories at Base can be working on gear for us to use in Alaska.”

  “Does that mean we will be taking our drive to rid the land of outlaws and warlords and creepies state by state?” Buddy asked.

  “Yes. If that is what we decide our objective for this summer to be. Let’s take a vote on it. The Northwest, people?”

  All hands were raised, including Ben’s.

  “That’s settled, then. We’ll cross the Bitterroot and take Idaho first. And that just might be easier said than done. We’re looking at a lot of rugged country west of us.” Ben spread out maps on a table and the men and women gathered around. “Now then, communications tells me they’ve been picking up a lot of very jittery signals from all over Idaho. We’ve got some very nervous people over there hoping that we just go away. That tells me the countryside is crawling with outlaws and the cities are filled with creepies. So we’re not going to make them any more nervous than they are and send them into deep hiding. I want every commander to let a few uncoded transmissions through. Let those west of us think we’re pulling out and heading back to Base Camp One. What we’ll really be doing is gearing up to hit Idaho as hard as we’ve ever hit anything. But with the addition of Five and Six Battalions, we can pretty much effectively blanket the state.”

  “Utah, Dad?” Tina asked.

  Ben grimaced. He had been waiting for someone to ask why that state had been left alone by the Rebels. “I wondered when one of you would bring that up.”

  Those in power in Utah had not been receptive to the Rebel overtures of partnership. All knew that Utah was, for the most part, clean of creepies and outlaws. It was also clean of anyone who did not subscribe to the way of thinking of the majority. And since it was known that Ben, Cecil, West, and Ike had all been employed, at one time or another, by a certain intelligence-gathering organization that had operated out of the Washington suburbs, the Rebels were not welcome in that state. That was a longstanding and little-known feud that went back decades.

  Ben slowly met the eyes of those in the room. Cecil, Ike, and West were smiling. “They don’t bother us, and they don’t tolerate lawlessness in that state,” Ben finally spoke. “They are and have been for some time completely self-sufficient. If they want to build a wall around themselves, that’s fine with me. I can’t and won’t condemn someone for doing what we did in the Tri-States. Just as long as they stay inside that wall and don’t interfere with us I’ll leave them alone. But I will cross their borders, peacefully, whenever I feel like it. If they try to interfere with any peaceful crossing, they will be met with force.”

  Ben paused to pour a cup of coffee. Mug in hand, he returned to the table. “Georgi, take your people and head north. When I give the signal to jump off, drive south out of British Columbia and secure everything down to and including Coeur d’Alene and east along Interstate 90.

  “Five and Six Battalions will position themselves north to south along Highway Ninety-three, from the Montana line to Shoshone.

  “Cecil, you and West will drive straight across on Highway Twelve and secure everything over to and including Lewiston and Moscow.

  “Ike, I want you to pull out today. Head north across British Columbia and then cut south, staying right on the Idaho line all the way
down to just south of Hell’s Canyon. Cut across there and start cleaning house southeast along the Interstate.

  “I’ll take I-Fifteen down to I-Eighty and then cut west. I’ll link up with you somewhere along the line.

  “Buddy, you’ll split off from my columns at Pocatello and take your Rat Teams down I-Fifteen to the Utah line. Don’t cross over. Take this road at Malad City and turn west over to I-Eighty then cut north and link up with me.

  “Dan, your people will split off from me at Dubois and clean house down to Shoshone. Link up with me at Twin Falls. Everybody got it?”

  There were no questions.

  “Ike, you give me a bump when you’re in position and ready to go. On Ike’s signal, we go and we go in hard. That’s it, people. Let’s go get ready to kick some ass!”

  FOUR

  It would be several days before Ike got into position, for nearly all of the roads he would be traveling were two lane, and it had been years since they had seen any maintenance. Georgi, on the other hand, was in position by that evening, massing his forces just south of Creston, waiting for the signal to drive south.

  Five and Six Battalion began their move south, halting just north of the Continental Divide, at the approach to Lost Trail Pass.

  Cecil and West stopped on the Montana side of Lolo Pass and waited.

  Ben and his contingent were the last to pull out. They halted at Monida Pass and waited for word from Ike.

  Each contingent that waited on the Montana side posted sentries on the high passes, but apparently the fake radio messages were taken in by the outlaws and the creepies, for the Rebels could spot no signs of trouble, and the radio chatter from the unfriendly side of the mountains was loose and easy.

  Intelligence analyzed the transmissions and worked up an assessment of what lay on the other side of the Divide. Dan took the report to Ben.

  “Starting from the west side of the state,” Dan reported, “there is a very heavy concentration of Night People in the Caldwell/Nampa/Boise area.”