Judgment in the Ashes Read online

  “They won’t pay any attention to me, boss. They’re under Ike’s orders.”

  “I’m going to have a long chat with Ike,” Ben said sourly.

  But everyone present knew he probably wouldn’t. And even if he did, it wouldn’t do any good.

  “Let’s roll,” Ben said.

  1 Batt rumbled forward and put the smoking ruins of the battleground behind them. The Rebels looked emotionlessly at the dead lying sprawled in grotesque and broken and bloody shapes. The carrion birds and various wild animals would take care of the hundreds of dead. If there were wounded among them . . . well, that was not the responsibility of the Rebels.

  The Rebels were, to a person, very compassionate and caring toward civilians who wanted help, but they usually didn’t give two hoots in hell about those who waged war against them. If time permitted, they would stop and patch up enemy wounded, but they would never help a creepie or a creepie ally.

  “Ike on the horn,” Corrie said from the second seat of the big wagon.

  “What does he want?” Ben questioned.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Ben picked up the dashboard mic and keyed it. “Go, Ike.” Ben had left the speaker on, knowing Ike would detect the faint hollow sound that was just ahead of feedback and would temper his remarks.

  “Dumb move back there, Ben.”

  “Duly noted. What else is on your mind?”

  “You don’t have to take these unnecessary chances, General” the clipped tones of Dan Gray sprang out of the speaker. The Englishman was highly pissed. “Those of us in command would deeply appreciate it if you would never do anything like that again.”

  “Duly noted, Dan. Anything else?”

  “That stunt back yonder was a stupid-assed move, Ben,” the ex-mercenary, West, fired off his verbal shots. West had never been known for his subtlety. “And you know it. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

  “All complaints noted. Is everyone lined up for the assault against Simon’s people?”

  “As lined up as the roads permit, Ben,” Ike said. “We’re going to be badly outnumbered.”

  “What else is new? How’s your ammo?”

  The Rebels were very nearly always outnumbered. They were accustomed to that.

  “More than adequate,” Dan said. “I calculate two days before we hit the first front. My Scouts report the airports in my sector are unusable. We’ll have to be resupplied by truck and chopper.”

  “All major airports in this part of the state have been rendered unusable,” Georgi, miles to the east, broke in. “However my people report that the runways of many of the smaller airports are still clear.”

  “Once we take them,” Dan added.

  “True,” the Russian replied.

  “How long are the runways?” Ben asked.

  “Most are adequate for our cargo planes,” Georgi said.

  “Then we have no problem.”

  “Maybe not, maybe so,” Georgi grumbled. “The roads to the runaways are terrible, and the people are most uncooperative. They are dedicated followers of that stupid potato-head.”

  Ike burst out laughing. “Potato-head? I got to remember that one, Bear.”

  “That is a good description of Simon Border,” West said, chuckling over the air.

  “Are the people armed?” Ben asked.

  “Yes,” Georgi said.

  “Have they fired on our people, Georgi?”

  “Yes. One of my Scouts was slightly wounded.”

  “Then you all know what to do. If fired upon, return the fire.”

  “Then we consider any Simon Border supporter the enemy?” West asked.

  “I don’t think we have a choice in the matter. From now on, we are in hostile territory.”

  “There is also that other matter concerning Simon Border,” West said. “Without going into details.”

  “Is the rumor spreading?”

  “Very fast, Ben.”

  “What did the prisoners tell you?”

  “We didn’t take any prisoners,” West said.

  “Nor did we,” Dan said.

  “Us neither,” Ike drawled.

  Ben’s people had taken a few, but they were sullen and very uncooperative. The Rebels never took any creepie prisoners. “Let me nail it down firm. Then I’ll give you the okay to tell your people. Eagle out.” Ben hung the mic on the dash and stared straight ahead.

  “It is nailed down firm, boss,” Beth spoke from the third seat of the big wagon.

  “I know, Beth,” Ben said. “But I don’t want our people turning deadly against every man and woman who has made the mistake of believing in the dubious gospel of Simon Border.”

  “Why not?” Anna asked. “They must be really stupid people to begin with.”

  “Not stupid people, Anna,” Ben corrected. “Desperate people. Many believed that God had forsaken them. This country’s been up and down like a yoyo since the Great War. Millions of people wanted very badly to believe in something. Either that, or they would lose all hope.”

  “Then why didn’t they just embrace the Tri-States philosophy and have done with it?” the young lady asked. “I have studied other forms of government from books Beth loaned me. Socialism, communism, democracy, others. Our philosophy is by far the best. We have no hunger, full employment, no fancy-dan lawyers twisting the truth in so-called courts of law, practically no crime at all, churches for people who wish to go to church and brothels for those who wish to pay for a few moments of love . . .” She smiled. “. . . And I have been told that sometimes it is difficult to tell one from the other since many of the faces are the same. It is my opinion that anyone who doesn’t embrace the Tri-States form of government is a fool. Period.”

  Ben joined the others in a smile. Anna would defend the Tri-States philosophy of government to the death, as would, Ben knew, ninety-nine point nine percent of those who chose to live in the SUSA. Anna, as young as she was, had seen the worst of humankind. She had seen attempts at democracy fail, and had been forced to live for years under the bloody rules of anarchy in her country. As far as she was concerned, the Tri-States philosophy was it; there was no other form of government worth fighting for.

  “Liberalism ruined the United States, Anna,” Ben said without turning in the seat. “You should study that philosophy and let me know what you think of it.”

  “I have studied it, General Ben. It does have its good points, but they are few. The rest of it sucks.”

  Ben chuckled. “Very aptly put, dear. I couldn’t have said it better.”

  The next day, while Corrie was monitoring transmissions through one headphone, she said, “Scouts have a small group of prisoners about a mile ahead, boss.”

  “Exactly where the hell are we?” Ben asked, picking up a map. He slipped on his reading glasses. Ben’s vision was fine, except for very close or detail work, then he was forced to wear glasses, and he hated them.

  They were paralleling the old Santa Anna Freeway, or rather, what was left of it, picking their way through the shattered streets.

  “South Whittier, I think,” Beth said. “But I’m not certain of that. Everything looks the same and I haven’t seen a street sign since we got here.”

  “I’ve seen old pictures of European cities during World War Two,” Jersey said. “That’s what this reminds me of.”

  “There are the Scouts,” Cooper said. “On our right, just up ahead.”

  Cooper stopped in the middle of the littered street. There was no other place to park. The long column ground to a halt behind them.

  Ben got out and walked over to the prisoners, a sad-looking bunch of men and women sitting amid the rubble. He turned to a Scout. “What’s their story?”

  “I don’t know, sir. They said they won’t talk to anyone but you. That’s the leader, sort of, right there. That woman.”

  “Get her on her feet and bring her . . .” Ben looked around him. Spotted a one-story building with only the front wall blown out and most of the roof intact. “. . . Over there.”

  Seated in a camp chair from his rolling HQ, Ben stared at the woman for a moment, sitting on what was left of a wooden counter. Never see forty again, Ben guessed. Wouldn’t be unattractive if she were cleaned up. He clicked on a portable tape recorder. “All right, lady, I’m Ben Raines. What’s your story?”

  “My name is Susan Marsh,” the woman said in a hoarse voice. “Originally from Michigan. Came out here several years ago with a group of people, following the Simon Border movement. Reverend Border was different back then. He preached the gospel and had a dream . . . not unlike your dream of a better society, General Raines.”

  Ben grunted a noncommittal reply to that. He wasn’t too sure he appreciated being compared in any way to Simon Border.

  “But our dream was one of a collective society, with everyone helping out, working not for oneself, but for society as a whole. Even Reverend Border worked in the fields. I saw pictures of him hoeing in a garden.”

  Carefully staged for the benefit of the masses, Ben thought.

  “But he’s changed over the months,” the woman continued with a sigh. “He’s not the same man I followed west to the promised land. Or the land he said was the promised land.”

  “And that hasn’t turned out as you hoped it would?”

  “No, General. It hasn’t.” She tried a smile that resembled a grimace. “Which I’m sure pleases you.”

  “Not really, Miss Marsh. I told Simon some months back if he’d leave us alons, we would leave him alone. He agreed and all the while had no intention of keeping his word.”

  “Our original form of government is far superior to yours, General,” the woman went on the defensive.

  Ben smiled. “I doubt that you would find many peop
le in the SUSA who would agree with that, Miss Marsh.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps not. But then, General, there are many people living outside the SUSA who look with scorn on both our chosen forms of government, aren’t there?”

  Ben laughed at that. “Well, you have me there, Miss Marsh. You’re certainly correct.”

  She held up a hand. “No matter, General. I didn’t ask to speak with you to argue political philosophy. Reverend Border is, ah, well, he needs to be hospitalized. He’s not a well man.”

  He needs to be shot, Ben thought. But I’ll play along with you, lady. “I wasn’t aware he was ill, Miss Marsh.”

  “I believe the strain of leadership has affected him, General.” She lifted her eyes and stared at Ben directly. “Mentally, sir. I believe the Reverend needs a long rest. Away from responsibility.”

  That’s exactly what I have in mind for him, lady. Resting in a nice comfortable hole in the ground. Ben met the woman’s eyes. “Let’s stop kidding each other, Miss Marsh. Simon is a pedophile. And I have information that he has always been a pedophile. He has to be stopped.”

  The woman’s eyes became shiny with anger. Then the anger faded as quickly as it had come. She shook her head. “But he still has hundreds of thousands of followers, General. Do you plan to kill them all?”

  “I’d rather not, Miss Marsh.”

  “But you will if that’s what it takes to get to Reverend Border?”

  “Yes. So anything you could tell me about his army might help save lives.”

  “You know of course that he has no air force.”

  “Yes. I know that.”

  “He has very few tanks and practically no artillery except for mortars. He has plenty of those.”

  Ben nodded and pulled out the makings from his pocket, carefully rolling a cigarette. “These hundreds of thousands of supporters, Miss Marsh . . . they’re fanatic in their loyalty?”

  “Most of them. And most will fight to the death.”

  “Even though they are aware of Simon’s sexual perversions!”

  “Gods can do no wrong, sir.”

  “But you don’t believe that Simon is a god, do you, Miss Marsh?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir. I don’t. Any more than I believe that you are a god. But there are many who follow you who believe you are something of a god.”

  “Not anymore, Miss Marsh. I’ve worked hard to dispel that myth.”

  “To your credit, sir.”

  “Where is Simon’s headquarters?”

  She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know, General. If I did, I would tell you. I would tell you if for no other reason than there are thousands of good, decent people who are blindly following the dictates of Simon Border and who are going to die in this war if Simon isn’t stopped.”

  “It might be too late.” Ben’s words were softly offered. “Have you given that any thought?”

  “For some of his followers, it is too late, sir. I can tell you that openly and honestly. They believe as deeply and as strongly in Simon’s philosophy of government as your followers do in the Tri-States movement. They will never stop fighting.”

  “And anything goes; the end justifies the means?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are convinced of that?”

  “Quite.”

  “Then we have a very long and bitter struggle ahead of us, Miss Marsh.”

  She met his steady gaze. “A struggle that very well might go on for years, General. For there are thousands of men and women who will follow Simon Border’s doctrine to their grave. And it really makes no difference if the man himself is alive or dead.”

  NINE

  Ben ordered Susan Marsh and her friends turned loose. He was convinced of her truthfulness when she said she and the other prisoners were through fighting and would not raise a hand against any Rebel.

  “Where will you go?” Ben asked her just before the column pulled out. “What will you do?”

  “I’m going back to Michigan,” she replied. “Several of the others are going with me. We’re going to start a small church there and try to live as Reverend Border taught us . . . before he became ill.”

  “I wish you well.”

  “Thank you, General. I believe you really mean that.”

  Ben nodded and the small group turned and walked away. They had a long drive ahead of them, and a dangerous one.

  “They’re going to take the northern route back home,” Ben said. “Susan told me they wanted to pick up a few people along the way.”

  Cooper shook his head. “Isn’t that sort of foolish on their part, boss? One of the men told me they had openly broken with their side and deserted.”

  “Susan told me she had faith in God.”

  Jersey looked very pained. “I’m sure the Christians had the same thought, just before the lions were turned loose.”

  “Mount up,” Ben ordered. “Let’s go start this war big time.”

  * * *

  It took the column two more days to pick through the ruins of Los Angeles and suburbs and reach the northern edge of the once-sprawling city.

  “There it is, General,” a Scout said. “Just past that strip of desolation is Simon’s army. They’re stretched out all the way from Simi Valley over to San Bernardino. He’s got guerrilla units in place all the way over to Twenty-nine Palms, ready to hit and run and harass our people.”

  “Corrie, order every piece of artillery rolling with all units along the southern edge to get into place and make ready for a sustained barrage. We’ll soften up those folks for a few days and see what results that brings. Then bump Base Camp One and have the supply planes readied to fly around the clock.”

  “When do you want the barrage to start, boss?” Corrie asked.

  “Just as soon as all the artillery is in place. Then give Mr. Border’s followers a taste of everything we’ve got in our arsenal.”

  “It’s gonna get noisy around here,” Jersey said.

  The deadly rolling thunder of an artillery barrage is demoralizing, for there is no place to run and hide, no place where you are assured of being safe.

  The Rebels threw everything except their underwear and the kitchen sink at Simon’s army for the next three days and nights. And while the artillery was keeping the enemy’s head down, six oversized battalions of Ben’s Rebels were creeping closer, ready to tangle eyeball to eyeball when the word came down. They were going in loaded down with the deadliest hand grenades ever designed and rucksacks filled with full magazines and 40mm grenades for their bloop tubes.

  The cargo planes flew in and out around the clock, bringing artillery rounds, food, winter clothing, medical supplies, and replacements.

  “Must be tough on those over there,” Cooper said, cutting his eyes to the north.

  “You’ve been under siege before, Coop,” Jersey replied. “How did you feel?”

  “I wasn’t real happy about it.”

  Anna was sitting on the ground, sharpening a long-bladed knife. She looked up, pausing in her whetting of the razor-sharp blade. “We’re going in soon.”

  “How do you know?” Cooper asked. “The boss tell you?”

  “No. I feel it, that’s all.”

  “Not first wave, Anna,” Jersey said. “You know better than that. The boss would love to spearhead, but he knows if he did that he’d have a major revolt among his batt coms.”

  “There will be plenty of fighting to go around,” the young woman replied. “We’re outnumbered a hundred to one.”

  “Not after all this artillery,” Beth argued.

  Anna shrugged. “So we’ve cut it down to seventy-five to one. Big deal.”

  “She does have a point,” Corrie said.

  No one could dispute that.

  Cooper pulled out his Bowie knife and a whetstone and went to work.

  Jersey preferred an entrenching tool: a collapsible steel shovel. She found her whetstone and soon the air was filled with rasping.

  Ben walked up, looked at the scene, and smiled. “You people getting ready for some hand-to-hand?”

  “I guess it’s coming, boss,” Cooper replied.

  “Maybe. But the first wave will take the brunt of that.”

  “Told you,” Jersey grinned at Anna.

  “They won’t kill them all,” Anna persisted. She sheathed her knife and walked away, pausing after only a few steps. She turned around and stared at the team. “Something’s the matter. What is it?”