Terror in the Ashes Read online

  “We’ll resupply you, set you up with new radios, and arm you, if you wish.”

  “Oh, I wish, sir. Oh, my, yes. We’ve been lucky over the years. Very lucky. But luck will run out someday. That’s Frank’s problem. He thinks because of our poor docking facilities here, we’ll be left alone. He was shocked to see the helicopter. He is not . . . worldly.”

  Ben nodded his head. “Come on, let’s start making a supply list.”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Martin said with a smile. “We need everything.”

  Thirteen

  Ben sent two ships back to where they had spotted a drifting tanker — about four days out from Pitcairn. They had checked it and its cargo was diesel.

  Pitcairners are great scavengers, plucking from the sea whatever washes up, and that was plenty. Their homes are made from lumber thrown overboard from ships. Now they were in terrible need of repair. And they had 55-gallon drums that had washed up stacked all over the island.

  “We’ll use those to store the fuel in. But that will only be a small portion of what’s on that tanker. I don’t know what to tell you about the rest of it.”

  Then Ike came up with, “Hell, let’s beach her on one of the uninhabited islands. We’ll run her aground on the lee side and you folks can take what you need when you need it. We’ll drain the forward compartment before we beach her.”

  “There you go,” Ben said, as Martin and the others laughed and clapped their hands.

  “That will be enough fuel oil to keep our generators and tractors going for the rest of our lives.”

  Then Ike sobered. “No, it won’t work.”

  “Why?” Martin asked.

  “If the old girl sprang a leak, you’d have an ecological disaster on your hands.”

  “Not necessarily,” said a man who looked to be about as old as God. But he moved nimbly to a map of the islands. “Bring her in here, at this spot, at high tide. After you have blown out a deeper trough. This area is surrounded on three sides by high rock walls. Enough explosives here,” he pointed, “and us working to build a sea wall, would ensure the ship would be virtually dry and aground for years and lessen the danger of a spill.”

  A Rebel engineer studied the location carefully and said it could be done.

  “So do it,” Ben ordered.

  With Rebels swarming all over the island, repairs were done quickly and done well. Ben ordered a ship dispatched from the west coast with badly needed medicines and supplies, and a doctor and two medics agreed to stay on for a time.

  One of the few things the residents could tell the Rebels about Tahiti was that like everywhere else, when the Great War struck, the outlaws took over.

  “The French Foreign Legion had a small detachment of men there,” Martin said. “But the hoodlum element quickly killed them all and began taking over. Pirates operate out of the two big islands, Tahiti and Mooréa. They roam all up and down the Tuamotu Archipelago. They might even try to attack your convoy. Although I think that would be a terrible mistake on their part.”

  “The people on the Marquesas?” Ben asked.

  “That I don’t know. We lost contact with them years ago. But if I had to guess, I’d say it was a pirate’s haven.”

  The men shook hands. “Will we see you again, General?” Martin asked.

  “I doubt it. But you’ll be seeing American ships several times a year. That I can promise you.”

  “Godspeed, General.”

  The Rebel convoy put the tiny dot in the vast ocean behind them.

  The convoy had not traveled three hundred miles from the tiny island when lookouts spotted three ships coming up on them fast. Ben lifted binoculars and had to smile, even though it was extremely dark humor.

  “The bastards are actually flying the Jolly Roger,” he said. “I cannot believe it. Battle stations,” he ordered.

  “All guns ready,” Corrie reported.

  “Helicopters up,” Ben said.

  “Yes, sir. General? The pirates are ordering us to heave to and prepare for boarding parties.”

  Ben chuckled. “Those simpleminded outlaw bastards. My God, can’t they see the size of this armada?”

  “They are going to open fire, sir.”

  “Tell them to strike their colors or die.”

  Corrie relayed his orders. Then listened intently.

  Ben looked at her. “Well?”

  “Ah, sir, they say for you to fuck off.”

  A cannon shell whistled overhead and landed harmlessly in the sea.

  “Blow them out of the water, Corrie.”

  Apaches launched missiles and the three pirate ships took hard hits. One went down fast, the other two were burning and taking on water.

  “Prepare to launch boats to pick up the survivors,” Ben ordered. “Apaches return home. When the pirates are cleaned up, patched up, and in dry clothing, bring the leaders to the stateroom, please.”

  “Some of them won’t make it, sir,” Corrie pointed out. “Sharks.”

  Ben could see fins slicing the calm waters. “They definitely have a real problem,” he said, then walked away.

  The first prisoner Ben and the others in the stateroom questioned was a big burly brute of a man with cruelty and savagery etched on his face and in his eyes. His head was shaved and he wore rings in both ears and in his nose. His huge arms were covered with tattoos, most of them highly obscene.

  “Ye let them good men die to the sharks, mate,” the man said. “Ye’s a cold-hearted bastard.”

  “And you are a stupid-looking motherfucker,” Ben replied. “You’re about two heartbeats away from getting a slug right between your eyes. So you shut your mouth until I tell you to open it. Is that clear?”

  The pirate was taken aback by that. He obviously was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. But before he could respond, Cooper stuck his head into the stateroom.

  “We picked up a few of their prisoners, General. Mostly women. They’ve been treated bad, sir. Real bad.”

  The pirate laughed. “We like to see how much pain they can stand. It’s a game. Some of them gets dragged over the side and et on by the sharks. It’s a fun game.”

  Ben stared at the man for a moment. “You openly and freely admit to those disgusting practices?”

  “Hell, yes!”

  Ben was silent for a moment, studying the brute of a man standing grinning arrogantly before him. “Get him out of here,” he finally said.

  “What’s the matter, big-shit General?” the ape sneered. “Does I frighten you?”

  “You disgust me,” Ben said, his voice low. Those Rebels in the room could feel the menace in Ben’s voice.

  “Well, la-tee-da,” the pirate sneered. “Ain’t we the dainty one, though? I sure am sorry that I dis-gust you. You want to kiss and make up?” He puckered up thick wet lips and made kissing sounds at Ben, leaning as close to him as his restraints would allow. “Maybe you could suck my dick, too.”

  Ben looked at Ike. “Take him out and hang him. Now.”

  The pirate stiffened in shock. His face paled under his heavy tan. He tried a smile. “Ah ... with you bringing law and order back to the world, General, I kinda figured on a trial.”

  “You figured wrong.”

  “What about his body?” Ike asked.

  “Throw it to the sharks.”

  “You cold-blooded son of a bitch!” the pirate said, the words exploding out of his mouth.

  Ben smiled, his lips a thin line and his eyes void of emotion. “How do you like it, now that you’ve finally met someone as cold as you?”

  The man was cussing and shouting out oaths as the Rebel guards dragged him to a makeshift gallows.

  “We’re turning out of the Archipelago, General,” Beth told Ben. “Heading toward the Windward group of the Societies.”

  “Won’t be long now,” Ben said. “I’m surprised we haven’t had more attempts to board.”

  “The ships that have seen us have turned tail and left,” Coop said. “So you
can bet they’re waiting on us.”

  Ben walked to the communications room. “Anything?” he asked the woman on duty.

  “Plenty, General. And none of it good. They’re sure massing for us. I was just finishing typing it up for you.” She handed him a clipboard.

  Ben quickly scanned the pages. “Well, they’re definitely waiting for us Get me an all-ship hookup with the batt corns, please.”

  Ben took the mic. “As you probably know by now, the crud is waiting for us on the islands. Go over our plans again, make sure you haven’t missed anything. Start issuing supplies. Make sure everybody has water purification tablets and they take two canteens of water in with them. We all know the drill, so all I can add is, Good luck.”

  The outlaws on the islands that made up the Society chain watched with dismay as the large convoy of ships approached the big island of Tahiti and slowly began circling, well out of range of anything the outlaws had in the way of weapons. The island was only thirty-three miles long, and the convoy, made up of dozens of ships, appeared to the outlaws to be much larger.

  “You got your passport ready, Ben?” Ike joked as they stood by the railing, looking through binoculars at the capital city of Papeete.

  Ben lowered his binoculars. “All ready, Ike.” He turned to Corrie. “What’s the chatter about on the island?”

  “They don’t know what to do,” she replied. “I’m getting chatter from a dozen different groups. Some want to surrender, some want to mix it up right now.”

  “Either way they want it is fine with me,” Ben said.

  They stood by the railing and waited.

  “Here’s one who wants to talk,” Corrie said, handing Ben the headset.

  Ben slipped on the headset. “This is General Raines. Say what’s on your mind.”

  “We’d like to make a deal,” the outlaw said.

  “No deals,” Ben told him. “You lay down your arms and surrender or you die. Those are the only two options that you have.”

  “You are not offering much, General. Suppose we choose to fight?”

  “Your funeral,” Ben said flatly.

  “You have no right to come here and dictate terms to us,” another voice spoke.

  “I don’t intend to argue about it,” Ben said. “Make up your damn minds, one way or the other.”

  There was no reply.

  Ben returned the headset to Corrie. “I think they’re going to fight,” he said to Ike. “The special teams will go in at midnight and raise a little hell. The rest of us will strike just before dawn.” He looked at a map. “We’ll save Papeete for the last. Take your battalion and go in here at Teahupoo, Dan’s people go in up here at Tautira, both parties work toward this bottleneck here at Afaahiti. I’ll take my people and go in here and secure the airport and the town of Faaa. Georgi will go in here at Mahina. Rebet will take Paea, Danjou’s people will land here at Tiarei. Everyone else will stay in reserve. The convoy will pull back for several miles before beginning the shift. Give the orders, Corrie.”

  Rebels began gearing up for action, and they were ready for it. The weeks of inactivity had charged them up and they were spoiling for a fight. On the island, the outlaws watched and knew their years of terror were about to end.

  Beaten, abused, enslaved, raped, and tortured islanders whispered among themselves. “The American Ben Raines and his Rebels are here.”

  “Here?” came the astonished whisper.

  “Here. And now is the time for us to help them.”

  Those who had put up with a decade of abuse reached for their hidden machetes and axes and hatchets and homemade spears. They had long memories, and very sharp blades.

  Fourteen

  Ike and Dan sent their special operations people in under cover of darkness with orders to terrorize the outlaws and blow up a few things. The highly trained hellions grinned and waggled their thumbs in reply, then went over the side into rubber boats for silent approach.

  “Let’s get into position,” Ben said.

  The transports began moving into position, slowly encircling the island, getting ready for the Rebels to make their pre-dawn strike. On the island, in the towns and villages, the outlaws wiped the sweat out of their eyes, wiped sweaty palms on their shirts and pants, then gripped their guns. Many of them never dreamed that the Rebels would ever leave America, much less travel thousands of miles to these islands.

  Now they were looking death in the face and not liking the sight at all.

  The Rebels slept for a few hours, and most did not have to be awakened at 0400. They were that ready to go.

  Corrie walked up to Ben’s side. “Special operations report a lot of ships have pulled out of harbors, sir. They took a north by slightly east course.”

  “Heading for the Marquesas,” Ben said. “They might convince those there to head for Hawaii. We’re going to have our hands full, no doubt about that.”

  “Small craft approaching from the island,” the captain’s voice came over the loudspeakers. “Coming at us at high speed.”

  “Blow them out of the water,” Ben said quietly.

  All around the island, the big ships began unleashing their muscle. The small boats of the twenty-first-century pirates had no chance against the guns of the Rebels.

  “Prepare to take prisoners,” Ben gave the orders. He sipped at a mug of coffee.

  When the few surviving pirates were hauled on deck, they lay looking up into the hard faces of the world’s most highly trained and motivated soldiers, well-fed, groomed, eyes shining with good health.

  “Mercy,” one said.

  “That’s us,” a Rebel told him. “Angels of mercy, for sure.”

  The pirates were jerked to their feet and shoved down passageways, to be inspected by doctors and then tossed in the brig. They would be tried by the island’s civilians once the area was secured. And the Rebels had little doubt but what most, if not all of them, would hang.

  Ben looked at his watch. “Prepare to jump off,” he said to Corrie.

  “Yes, sir. SP teams report the airport area is ringed with outlaws. They haven’t been able to make much of a dent in their defenses.”

  “Tell them to hold what they’ve got and keep their heads down. We’re on the way.” Ben stepped over the railing onto the rope ladder. “Let’s go.”

  Ben’s battalion struck left and right of the airport and drove in hard, while only a very light force struck directly in, but producing enough firepower to make the outlaws think the main thrust was coming at them head on and right out of the sea. They threw everything they had at the smaller force. Ben closed the pincers, and the small force of Rebels withdrew to either side of the airport. By the time the outlaws realized what had happened, they had but one direction to run: straight into the sea.

  They threw down their weapons and sat down on the ground, the concrete, the tarmac, and the floor, holding their hands high above their heads.

  “Shit!” one Rebel bitched. “There ain’t a good fight to be had anywhere.”

  The other battalions were experiencing the same lack of resistance. When the outlaws saw the massive numbers of troops coming straight at them, the fight went out of most of them and they threw down their weapons.

  Those who tried to run back into the jungles fared much, much worse, as they ran into bands of Tahitians who hacked them to death with machetes and axes, beat their heads in with clubs and stones, or drove spears through them. The citizens were in no mood to strike any sort of bargain with those who had so tormented them over the long and painful years since the Great War rocked the earth and destroyed nearly all vestiges of civilization and order.

  By noon of that day, Ben had assembled a dozen men and women who appeared to be respected by their other countrymen and -women and sat them down.

  “We’re not here as conquerors,” he told them. “These are your islands. We’ll stay until the outlaws are rounded up and tried — and how they are tried is entirely up to you people.”

  �
�They will be hanged,” one woman said. “Promptly.”

  Ben shrugged. “That’s up to you. We’re leaving you all the captured weapons. I would suggest you familiarize yourselves with them and get some sort of organized resistance force together as quickly as possible. We might never be back.”

  That got them moving.

  Ben drove over to the capital city, Papeete. It was nearly in ruin. The outlaws and pirates had looted and vandalized everything. Ben noticed the bodies hanging from lampposts and tree limbs and power poles and sturdy awnings. He made no mention of them.

  Ben sent those battalions he’d held in reserve over to Mooréa and they found much the same as Ben and his people had on the bigger island — very light resistance and many, many prisoners. Ben ordered the prisoners be turned over to the Tahitians. Let them deal with the problem.

  They did. Very expeditiously.

  Ben set some of his people to training the police and the newly formed citizen-soldiers who would make up the Tahitian Army. Several hundred of the outlaws and pirates had made it back into the rugged interior of the two bigger islands.

  “Do we clean them out?” Ike asked.

  “No. Let these people do it. They know the country, and I think they’ll do a good job of it.” He handed Ike a thick folder. “Maps of Hawaii and many of the towns on the islands. Pass them around.” He held up another folder. “Maps of the Marquesas. Only six of the islands were populated – at the time those maps were made, that is. And the entire population was about seven thousand. I don’t have any idea what we’re going to find over there, Ike.”

  Ike’s sailor eyes quickly scanned the charts. “About seven hundred and fifty miles from here.”

  “Pretty good, Ike,” Ben said with a smile. “It’s seven hundred and forty. Communications have picked up a lot of chatter. We’re going to have some resistance, but many of the pirates have set sail, or steamed, whatever, for Hawaii. Those islands are going to be a real humdinger.” Ben looked at his closest friend. “You have something on your mind, Ike?”

  “Not really. I just never did like Hawaii. And I always got the feeling that the true Hawaiians didn’t like me, either.”