Treason in the Ashes Read online

  The town where Jesse had settled had once held about twenty thousand decent, law-abiding people, and was some thirty-five miles southwest of the ruins of Oklahoma City. It once had a fine university, but Jesse and his followers had little use for anything like that.

  “This is Jesse Boston. Go ahead.”

  “Pack it up, Jesse. You’re finished,” Ben’s voice was calm out of the speaker.

  Jesse stood for a moment, staring at the speaker in disbelief. He lifted the mic. “What did you say, Raines?”

  “I said, you simple-minded shit, to pack it up. You’re finished.”

  “Just who in the hell do you think you are, Raines?”

  “The biggest kid on the block, Jesse. You want to fight?”

  “I might just do that, Raines.”

  “Then that makes you a fool. I have four battalions of Rebels with me. I have gunships and PUFFs. I have artillery that can lay back twenty-five miles and drop rounds down any chimney you care to point out to my forward observers, and I assure you, they are watching your little kingdom as we speak. You still want to fight, Jesse?”

  “Shit!” Jesse muttered. He keyed the mic. “Damnit, Raines. You don’t have the right to do this. This ain’t . . . well, it ain’t constitutional.”

  “Yeah, that’s a word you punks got to use quite a bit back in the good ol’ liberal days, isn’t it, Jesse?” Jesse wisely said nothing.

  “The Constitution no longer applies, Jesse. The only law in the land is what the Rebels enforce.”

  “Your goddamn law, you mean.”

  “You could say that, Jesse.”

  Again, Jesse was silent.

  “Turn your slaves loose, Jesse. Right now.”

  “And if I don’t, Raines?”

  “My people start coming in at night and cutting throats. And my people are the best in the world at doing that.”

  Those in the room looked at Jesse, some with open fear in their eyes, others with cold defiance.

  “He’s bluffin’, Jesse,” one said. “I say we stand our ground and fight.”

  But Jesse shook his head. “No, Nick. He’s not bluffing. Ben Raines doesn’t bluff.” He keyed the mic. “And if I turn the slaves loose, what then?”

  “We sit down and I explain to you and your lieutenants the very simple rules of living under Rebel law.”

  “There ain’t no goddamn way I live under your rules, Raines.”

  “Is that your final say, Boston?” Ben’s voice was very hard out of the speaker.

  “You got it.” Jesse waited for a reply that did not come. Ben had broken off.

  Jesse and his several thousand followers braced themselves and waited for the attack that did not come. By the end of the third day of the standoff, they were nervous and extremely tense, even though not a single shot had been fired from the Rebel side. Jesse and his people had labored long repairing the town’s utility plant and had enjoyed electric lights—until Rebels slipped in and sabotaged the power plant, then melted back into the darkness like ghosts after plunging the town into darkness. To make matters worse, Rebels had then doctored the town’s water supply. Now everybody had the shits. Then the Rebels sabotaged the sewer system which Jesse and followers had worked so long to get back in order. All the commodes were backed up and everybody was forced to dig latrines and throw up some sort of covering to serve as an outhouse.

  Jesse Boston sat on the hurriedly carved-out wooden plank in his tent bathroom and cursed Ben Raines as the splinters dug into his ass. “I hate you, Ben Raines. Goddamn you, I hate you so bad I can’t even think of enough cuss words to describe how I feel.”

  He reached for the rack where the squares of old newspapers were kept. It was empty. Jesse put his elbows on his bare knees, his face in his hands and said, “I hate you, Ben Raines.”

  “Men and women coming out under a flag of truce,” Corrie said to Ben.

  “All right. Let’s see what we have.”

  Jesse had released the prisoners. “Is this all of those being held captive?” Ben asked a man.

  “Yes. Those of us that are left,” he added bitterly.

  “Say it all,” Ben said.

  “We were a striving little community until Jesse came along. We couldn’t fight him.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t believe in guns, General Raines.”

  Ben shook his head. He started to say some pretty hard things to the man, then thought better of it. “Get them over to the medics,” he ordered. “Patch them up until somebody else comes along and enslaves them. Just get them out of my sight.” Ben turned to leave.

  But the man wouldn’t let it go. “We aren’t all like the Rebels, General. We’re not all brave and know how to fight.”

  Ben whirled around, his eyes blazing. “And you think all of us were born that way? Well, do you?”

  The man, who obviously had not been treated all that badly—he bore no marking of abuse and looked to be in reasonably good health—backed up under the hawk-like gaze of Ben. “We have our beliefs, General.”

  “So did they,” Ben responded, pointing all around him at the Rebels. “They were just average people when the Great War came. Nurses, bankers, clerks, secretaries, farmers, mechanics, salespeople, teachers. They worked in insurance, stocks, you name it. Just average people. But when they looked around them and discovered brute force and violence staring them in the face, they realized that all the liberal bullshit they’d been force-fed by the news media and the talk show hosts and the network commentators and the government and the hanky-stompers . . . fed them since birth was just that: bullshit. So they met violence with violence. Nobody enslaved them. You can’t be enslaved standing there with a gun in your hands and the willingness to use it.” Ben stuck a blunt finger in the man’s now pale face. “My people are fighting and dying to reclaim this nation. So don’t you get all up in my face and talk peace and love and non-violence. It isn’t even a noble thought anymore. Someday, maybe. But not now. So mister, you and your people go get checked out by the medics. And then you scatter. Don’t you ever let me see any of you again. Move!”

  “We are all followers of the great guru Bagwumg Marsheeree,” a woman said. “We believe that . . .”

  Jersey poked her in the butt with the muzzle of her M-16. “Carry your ass, lady,” she told her.

  “Do you have any rice cakes?” a man asked Cooper.

  “Any what?”

  “Move!” Jersey told the man.

  “What the hell is a rice cake?” Cooper asked.

  Ben got on the horn to Jesse. “You ready to talk now, Boston?”

  “Yeah,” Jesse said wearily. “I’m ready to talk. How do we set this up?”

  “You walk out of there heading south on Highway 81. Unarmed. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Can I bring anyone with me?”

  “Your co-leaders.”

  “You got any diarrhea medicine?”

  Ben chuckled, then keyed the mic. “Yeah, Boston. We’ll fix you up. Come on.”

  Within moments, Jesse Boston and a dozen other men were walking down the cracked old highway toward Ben’s location. They were a sorry looking bunch. And they were awed by the mighty machines of war in Rebel hands. They looked at the cleanshaven and disciplined troops and were very happy they had chosen not to tangle with these very competent looking people. Rebel medics dosed them with anti-diarrhea medicine and escorted them to an old home that had been cleaned out and was serving as Ben’s CP.

  Ben pointed to chairs and the outlaws sat. Ben said, “I’m probably making a terrible mistake, but I’ve decided not to have you shot.”

  Relief was immediately evident on all faces.

  “But,” Ben continued, “now I have another problem: what to do with you.”

  “How about just letting us go?” a man asked hopefully.

  Ben smiled.

  “We got kids in yonder who need doctors real bad,” another man said.

  “We’re not at war with children. Have
them brought out,” Ben told him, pointing to a radio. “That is set on the CB frequency you’ve been using to communicate with your roaming patrols. Which, by the way, are now all dead. They chose to mix it up with my people. Bad mistake. Get the kids out of there.”

  Jesse Boston slowly shook his head. “We didn’t know what had happened to those patrols. We thought you people might have taken them prisoner.”

  “We don’t take many prisoners, Boston,” Ben informed the man. “Rebel policy.”

  One of Boston’s co-leaders shuddered. “I can’t speak for no one but myself, General Raines. But as for me, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do,” he stated quietly. He had looked Rebel might square in the face and it had scared the crap out of him . . . with the help of the doctored water supply.

  “You going to try us in your court of law?” another asked.

  Ben shook his head. “No. I’m just going to disarm you except for bolt action rifles and shotguns to use for hunting. Not that you really have to hunt. There are thousands of cattle roaming around here. Free for the taking. You can ranch, farm, raise gardens, and become decent citizens for once in your life. We’ll help you open up schools and a hospital. We’ll bring you up to date on vaccinations and medical checkups. All we ask in return is that you become useful, law-abiding citizens.”

  “Our past?” a man asked.

  “Forgotten.”

  Jesse Boston leaned forward. “Raines, I killed a man just before the Great War. I was serving time for it.”

  “Where?”

  Jesse blinked. “Where?”

  “Yes. Where did you kill the man?”

  “In a honky tonk just outside of Oklahoma City.”

  “So it was trash killing trash?”

  Jesse smiled and shook his head. “Boy, you bring it all down to the basics, don’t you, Raines?”

  Ben returned the smile. Sort of like a mongoose looking at a cobra. “I do try.”

  “In your eyes, we’re all white trash here, aren’t we?”

  “Until you prove otherwise, yes.”

  “Long as we kill each other, that’s all right, isn’t it?”

  “That’s one way of putting it, yes.”

  Boston leaned back in the chair. “You’re the hardest son of a bitch I ever saw in my life, Raines, and I have known some bad ol’ boys. They don’t hold a candle to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Goddamn, Raines! It wasn’t meant as a compliment.”

  “I know it. But that’s the way I choose to take it.”

  “What’s the chances of joinin’ up with you people,” a man asked.

  “Not very good until I test your loyalty and you prove to me you can keep your word.”

  “That’s fair,” another man spoke.

  “Raines,” Jesse said. “Are you telling me that if we’re good little fellows for a time, say a year, and play by your rules, you’ll rearm us and make this a Rebel outpost?”

  “Probably.”

  “And what is to prevent us from returning to our, ah, outlaw ways?”

  “The sure and certain fact that should you do that, I will hunt you down and either shoot you or hang you. Probably the latter. And I think you all know I will do exactly what I say I’ll do.”

  “Well,” one of Jesse’s men stood up. “I was raised on a farm. I kinda miss it. I’ll turn in my M-16 and ammo and keep my .22 and shotgun. You boys can find me and my woman over on Highway 19, along the Washita. Thank you, General Raines.”

  “You’re welcome.

  One by one the men left Ben’s makeshift office, until only Jesse Boston remained. Ben waited on him to open the ball.

  Boston sighed deeply. “You’d really hunt me down and shoot me, wouldn’t you, Ben Raines?”

  “No,” Ben said softly, as his eyes burned with a predatory glow. “I’d hang you.”

  SEVEN

  The children had been inoculated, the men and women given physicals, and the Rebels pulled out. Just before they left, Jesse walked up to Ben.

  “You know, Ben, this isn’t going to be half bad. For the first time in my life, I’m on the side of law and order, and I won’t have to be looking over my shoulder twenty-five hours a day.”

  Ben smiled. “That’s what you think, Jesse.”

  “Huh?”

  “Within seventy-two hours, every punk and thug and worthless piece of human crap in a two hundred mile radius will know that you and your bunch have thrown in with the Rebels. They’ll know that you now have medicines and proper food and up-to-date radio equipment and everything else that goes with joining up with us. And they’ll be coming in to take it from you. Just like you people took it from that pathetic bunch that was here before.”

  Jesse paled as the truth in that hit him hard. “But we don’t have anything to fight with, Ben. We can’t fight off renegades with .22 caliber rifles and shotguns!”

  Ben laughed and patted the man on the shoulder. “Relax, Jesse. Your weapons are stored in that warehouse out on 39, just at the edge of town. I was only testing you.”

  Jesse stared at Ben for a moment, then burst out laughing. He wiped his eyes and stuck out his hand. Ben shook it.

  “We’ll do our best to keep our end of the bargain, Ben.”

  “I know you will.”

  “How?”

  “When I discovered that Boston really was your name, I sent people to the old Oklahoma State Prison to see if they could find your real records. They got lucky and found them. You only killed that one man, Jesse. And you claimed it to be self-defense.”

  “It was! I’ll swear on the Bible it was.”

  “I believe you. I talked with some of those dip-shits you turned loose. They admitted you were the one who stopped the beatings and the rapes and punished the men who were responsible. That told me volumes about you, Jesse.”

  Jesse rolled a cigarette and said nothing.

  “Then some of your own people told me about you setting up a zoo for the children in your camp. Taking care of the animals yourself. How many dogs and cats do you have, Jesse?”

  He mumbled something.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “About a dozen!” he admitted.

  Ben laughed. “Jesse, I won’t deny that you’re probably a mean bastard to tangle with in a fight, but you’re not a bad bastard.”

  “Just don’t let that get out, Ben. It would ruin my reputation.”

  Ben grinned. “Hell, Jesse. Those with you who are worth saving already know it!”

  Ben and his Rebels moved northeast, toward the ruins of Oklahoma City. Scouts had reported back that the smell of Night People was very strong amid the tangle of twisted girders, burned-out buildings, and piles of brick and stone. They saw no signs of human life during the short run from Jesse Boston’s location to the city. Not one single sign.

  “Creepies ate them,” Jersey said, disgust in her voice.

  “General,” Beth said, “was there any evidence of the Night People before the Great War?”

  “Not to my knowledge, Beth. Cannibalism was a very rare thing. But I have a suspicion the Creeps were around, although not in the numbers we’ve had to fight. I think they probably preyed on hitchhikers and runaways. Back when civilization was more or less functioning, about two hundred thousand people a year just dropped out of sight. Vanished. And that was in the United States alone.”

  “Why?” Corrie asked.

  “Oh, marital problems, loss of jobs, unable to pay their bills. All sorts of reasons. Kids ran away because they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, get along with their parents, or peer pressure became too great. Again, there were a number of reasons. When I was just a kid, back in the ’60s, that’s when things really began to unravel. We got involved in a war that no one wanted and the politicians wouldn’t let the fighting men win. After Vietnam, everything seemed to go downhill. About twenty-five years after Vietnam, the whole goddamn world fell apart.”

  “Ben Raines?” the man asked, standing on Ben’s front porch
.

  “That’s right.”

  The man held up a badge. “I’m Bond, FBI. This is Reno, Secret Service.” Reno showed Ben his badge.

  Ben took out his wallet and found his social security card. He held that up. The government agents were not amused.

  “May we come in?” Reno asked.

  “No,” Ben told him. “But it’s a nice day. We can sit out here on the porch.”

  Ben sat down and pointed to chairs on the enclosed porch. “I’m not going to offer you coffee or iced tea or soft drinks. State your business and then get the hell off my property.”

  “You’re not very friendly, Mister Raines,” Agent Bond said.

  “Should I be? This is not the first time federal agents have been around, questioning me and making a nuisance of themselves. I used to have a dog. She was a very nice dog. The last time people like you came around, they blatantly and arrogantly ignored my “no trespassing” signs and let her out of the fenced-in yard and she was run over. I had to have her put to sleep. I don’t like you people and I don’t give a damn who knows it. By the way, have you shot any tax resisters today?”

  Both Bond and Reno flushed.

  Ben wouldn’t let up. “You people have a quota? What is it, a point system? Five points for an adult and two points for a kid?”

  “Your writing has become very inflammatory, Mister Raines,” Reno said. “You’re calling for open and armed rebellion against the United States government.”

  “You’re damn right I am. We’ve got to stop this insanity before it’s too late. And if the only way to do it is by overthrowing the government, let’s get it on.”

  “Your publishing company has agreed to cooperate with us, Mister Raines,” Bond said. “They will no longer be publishing your works.”

  Ben laughed in the man’s face. “I wondered when the government would get around to pressuring them. So now freedom of speech is restricted. I knew it would happen. Hell, boys, that won’t stop me. I’ll just self-publish and peddle my books out of the trunk of my car.”

  “No major chain will be carrying your Doomsday series, Mister Raines,” Reno informed him. “They have voluntarily agreed to cooperate with us.”