Survival in the Ashes Read online

  “Stand clear of the town. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  As soon as the thugs and outlaws in the town saw it really was Ben Raines coming at them dead on, they left their women and kids and hit the trail in cars, fender-flapping pickup trucks, and smoking motorcycles.

  “Nice brave bunch of people,” Jersey said. “Really care a lot for their families, don’t they?”

  “Most animals will die protecting their offspring,” Jerre said. “So much for the theory that humankind is superior to animals in all ways.”

  Ben didn’t argue that. He felt the same way about it. Looking at the thugs and punks in wild retreat, he knew that the battle for America might be very nearly over. Six months back, the outlaws would have stayed and fought the Rebels — now most of the slimebags they encountered just ran away in fear.

  Ben knew there would always be some that would stand up to his people, but those were becoming fewer and fewer, with wider intervals between battles.

  “What do we do with the women?” Ham asked, walking up to the wagon.

  “Any suggestions, Cooper?” Jersey needled him.

  Cooper shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I wouldn’t touch one of them with a sterilized poker.”

  Yes, one very long battle was maybe, just maybe, drawing to a conclusion in the United States. But the Rebels had discovered that a large percentage of outlaws and their women who were taken alive and given medical tests were walking germ factories. Sexually transmitted diseases, such as gonorrhea, syphilis, and AIDS were running rampant. Another battle was waiting in the wings. TB had reared up again. But for some reason cancer, per capita, had taken a dramatic nosedive and the doctors and researchers at Base Camp One could not explain that.

  But Doctor Chase had a theory. Chase had a theory about everything. “The factories have stopped belching millions of tons of crap into the air each year,” he theorized. “Farmers no longer poison the earth and the air with chemicals . . . all in the name of progress, of course. And,” he would add, eyeballing Ben’s cigarette, “those things are harder to come by.”

  Ben shook his head and said, “Line the women and kids up, Ham. Tell the medics to break out the equipment and let’s check them over. Corrie, bump Jeff City and tell Tina we’ll be there when we get there. Tell her what we’re doing.”

  He got out and walked up to the line of women, and a sorry-looking lot they were. He stared at them for a moment. “Good afternoon, ladies. It appears that your menfolk have deserted you. You have any plans for the future?”

  They all returned his stare, sullenly and silently.

  Ben decided to try another tact. “How long has it been since you and your children have seen a doctor?”

  That struck a responsive cord. One woman, holding an infant in her arms, said, “We haven’t ever seen a doctor. There’s doctors around, a few of them, but they refuse to see us.”

  “Perhaps they don’t like the company you keep,” Ben suggested.

  She shrugged. “What’s that got to do with treating babies?”

  “Good point.” Ben smiled at her. “The sins of the father are often passed onto the child. I’m not saying it’s right; but that’s the way it is many times.”

  “My baby’s sick,” the mother said.

  “We have doctors.” Ben tossed the decision back to her.

  “With strings attached,” she countered.

  “Not for the first go-around.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but my kid’s sick. And it isn’t right to let a baby suffer.”

  “I agree. The medics are setting up in that building right over there.” He pointed.

  “How are we supposed to pay?” another asked. “We ain’t got nothin’ to barter that y’all’d want.” Before Ben could tell her there would be no charge, her eyes shifted, to touch Thermopolis. “You a funny-lookin’ soldier, man. You look like one of them hippies I seen in a book.”

  “I share the philosophy of the sixties,” Thermopolis told her. “Even though I was barely walking at the time and hardly able to grasp the social significance of the movement.”

  She blinked and shrugged. “Whatever that means.” Her gaze shifted back to Ben. “How do we pay?”

  “It’s free,” Ben told her.

  “There ain’t nothin’ free, mister whatever-your-name-is. We’ll have to pay for it, one way or the other.”

  “Why don’t we just treat your children first. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Are you really Ben Raines?” another asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Them ol’ boys we took up with, and who just took off like their asses was on fire, is scared to death of you, Mister Raines.”

  “They probably have good reason to be. We’ve left their kind lying dead all over this nation.”

  “You gonna kill our men if you catch them?”

  “If we decide to go after them and if they choose to fight.”

  “They ain’t much good, for a fact,” she admitted. “But when your whole world has been tore down and it don’t look like it’s ever gonna be put back together again, a body does what you can to survive.”

  “As long as what you do does not involve killing and stealing from others who are working to rebuild a better society.”

  She nodded her head. “You ain’t givin’ people much of a choice, Ben Raines.”

  “It’s all spelled out quite clearly in the Bible, Miss.”

  “Don’t hand me that crap! There ain’t no God, Mister Raines. God wouldn’t have allowed the whole damn world to be destroyed. Little babies sufferin’ and dyin’ all over the damn place. I can’t believe a smart man like you would even think there ever was a God.”

  “Oh, there is a God, Miss. But He is a very vindictive God. He said he would never again destroy the earth by flood. Maybe the Great War was His way of telling us we’d better shape up.”

  “So now you’re God’s right-hand man, huh?” It was not said sarcastically, but it was spoken with a very slight smile.

  Ben laughed. “Oh, no. I’m a mortal being. With all the mortal faults and frailties built in. I’m just a man who is trying to restore the nation to some semblance of what it once was, that’s all.”

  “But on your terms.” It was not put as a question.

  “That is correct.”

  “You know that there are them who think you are a god, Ben Raines.”

  “I know. They are wrong. I am a mortal man, and nothing more.”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe that. I don’t think you’re a god. But there’s something about you that makes people want to gather around and listen to what you have to say, and then act on it. Follow you. What am I trying to say?”

  “Charisma,” Thermopolis said.

  “Yeah,” the woman replied. “Maybe that’s it. I don’t know.”

  “Your baby looks feverish,” Ben said.

  “She is. And a lot of the others kids as well. We run out of medicine a long time ago. Been takin’ the babies to see an old woman back in the hills; she’s been treatin’ them with herbs and plants and the like.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “We’re ready, General,” Jerre called from the hastily set up aid station.

  “You make my baby well,” the woman asked, “you gonna take her away from me?”

  “That depends entirely on you.”

  “Like I said, there ain’t nothing free in this world.”

  “That’s right,” Ben told her. “That was the problem before the Great War. Too goddamn many people wanting something for nothing.”

  He turned and walked away, before he lost his temper.

  TEN

  Villar, Khamsin, and Kenny Parr traveled hard, knowing that Ben Raines would have Rebels hot after them.

  “Is there anything left of Chicago?” Kenny asked. “If there is, we could go there. Although food would certainly be a problem.”

  “Stay out of the cities,” Khams
in said. “Ben Raines and his Rebels are experts at combat in the streets. Believe me, I know firsthand.”

  Even Villar had been awed when Khamsin told them about the Rebels taking on impossible odds in New York City — and winning. Villar was beginning to see why Ben Raines was unstoppable. And he did not like the taste it left on his tongue.

  Still, he believed it was better than what he had left behind in Europe and Khamsin had left behind in South America.

  Death was preferable to being eaten alive or put on a forced-labor farm or being forced to fight to the death in an arena against some trained gladiator . . . all for the pleasure of those who had proclaimed themselves kings and queens of this or that section of whatever country.

  Many parts of Europe had reverted back to the Dark Ages . . . and done so very quickly.

  And, Villar was reluctantly forced to admit, at least to himself, he had certainly had a hand in bringing about that change.

  The battered armies of the terrorists and the outlaw had taken refuge in an old state park just south of Peoria, and just east of the Illinois River. They would stay only for a day and a night, and then move on. The three of them had decided that the woods of Wisconsin or Minnesota would probably be the safest spot for them to hole up and try to rebuild their shattered armies.

  But Villar knew only too well that unless they could beef up their forces, and do it quickly, eventually the Rebel Army of Ben Raines would find them and wipe them out. He also wondered who Raines would send after him; he thought he had a pretty good idea.

  A runner confirmed his suspicions.

  “We just intercepted a communication, sir,” he panted the words that Villar quickly and accurately guessed that he did not wish to hear. “It was an open transmission from a small group of survivors living somewhere not too far south of here. Colonel Dan Gray and a battalion of Rebels just left their zone, moving north.”

  “No idea where it came from?”

  “It was a very strong signal on low band. So it probably was not more than fifty miles away.”

  “Damn!” Villar cursed his luck. Dan Gray. He knew the Englishman would track him to the ends of the earth and beyond for an opportunity to kill him. Lan Villar got to his boots and gave the orders to his tired men. “Get up and get moving. We’ve got to leave and leave now! We’ll cross the river just up ahead and cut straight north. Get moving, people. If you want to live.”

  “If we are to believe the transmission, there is only one battalion of Rebels,” Kenny pointed out. “And many Rebel battalions are short compared to normal size. We have approximately twenty-five hundred men.”

  Villar did not lose his temper with the young man. For he, too, had once been young and reckless. “But they have tanks and long-range artillery, Kenny. And for more than a decade, one Rebel in battle has been proven to be the equal of five other soldiers. So if you take that into consideration, they have us outnumbered!”

  Less than forty miles to the south of where Villar and the others were pulling out, Dan brought his column to a halt and called Buddy and his Rat Team members back in from the point.

  “We have about two hours of good daylight left,” Dan told his people. “We’ll make camp here for the night. Too risky rolling after dark. Believe me when I say that Villar is an expert in ambush.”

  They had made less than a hundred miles that day, due to the constant sending out of patrols in all directions in search of the terrorist army. Dan knew they were not far behind, due to the signs his people had been picking up: a fresh oil slick, a bloody bandage, a piece of uniform carelessly discarded or blown out of the back of a truck by the wind.

  Dan prepared his four o’clock tea and leaned up against a tree trunk, sipping the fragrant brew. Dan also felt the general was a bit optimistic with his predictions of ending the battle for North America by fall. But Dan seldom argued with superior officers . . . unless his opinion was asked for, and this case, it had not been.

  A runner from communications broke into his thoughts with a message.

  “Sir, we’ve received another of those messages from Malone up in the Northwest.”*

  *Death in the Ashes — Zebra Books

  “Still calling for men and women to join him in his fight to, in his inimitable prose, purge the earth of all nonwhites?”

  “Ah . . . Yes, sir.”

  “The swine! I wish we could have finished him when we had the chance. If Villar hears the message, he’ll perk up like a vulture sensing death.”

  The runner waited.

  “Thank you,” Dan said with a nod and a smile, dismissing the young Rebel.

  Dan leaned back against the tree and sipped his tea, thinking. He knew from looking at all the gear captured outside East St. Louis that Villar had very fine electronic equipment; capable of scanning all bands, high and low. So the odds were good that he had caught the message.

  All right — assume that he has. So? What to do?

  Dan took a map from his case, intending to study it carefully. He knew Villar was close. Probably no more than fifty or sixty miles away. And Villar, if he was to survive, had to beef up his forces. And Villar, Dan knew, would make a pact with the devil if he had to.

  Dan waved Hans Strobel to him.

  “Yes, sir?” The German stood at very loose attention. Experienced soldier that he was, he knew not to salute or to show any obvious signs that he was facing an officer. Snipers looked for that.

  “Go to the communication van and have the operator send a coded and scrambled message to General Raines. Advise him that I am breaking off pursuit and will begin a hard drive westward. This is in response to Malone’s messages. He’ll know what I’m talking about. We cannot let Villar and his people link up with that nut.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

  “Hans?” Dan called to his back.

  The German stopped and turned. “Yes, sir?”

  Dan smiled at him. “Loosen up, my friend. We’re a pretty informal bunch most of the time. Relax — you’ve made the team or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. That’s the best news I’ve had in years.”

  “What do you know about this Malone person, Khamsin?” Villar asked.

  “He’s a nut,” the Libyan said flatly. “But he’s still got a lot of men.”

  “And with groups monitoring those messages he’s sending out,” Kenny added, “I’ll make a bet he’ll add considerably more to his force.”

  “How large a force currently under his command?” Villar directed the question at Khamsin.

  “I would say between fifteen hundred and two thousand,” the Libyan said. He opened a map of the West. “All of them holed up in this wilderness area.”

  “Food supplies?”

  “Voleta told me they have many gardens planted all over this area. It’s a short growing season, but they do quite well with it and have canning facilities to prepare and store food for the winters, which are extremely harsh, I was told.”

  “This Voleta woman seems to be more of a nut case than I care to align myself with,” Villar spoke. “At least for any period of time. However, we might be able to use her to our advantage.” He sat back, hard in thought. “We have to get to Malone. That’s our second objective. This Malone might not agree with us philosophically, but he needs our strength as much as we need his. If Voleta can keep Raines occupied in Missouri, we just might have a chance of linking up with Malone.”

  Kenny looked at the terrorist. “You said that was our second objective. What’s the first?”

  “Avoiding Dan Gray in order to stay alive long enough to accomplish the second objective!”

  The women and kids had been checked over and medicine dispensed where needed. Ben was in his tent, listening to Jerre’s report.

  “The children are all anemic, and of course none of them have been inoculated against the normal childhood diseases. They’ve been very fortunate in that no epidemic has struck them . . . yet. Blood-test results show that about half
of the women are either alcoholics or addicted to some drug.”

  “Drugs!” Ben straightened up. “What kind of drugs?”

  “Amphetamines, mostly — what we used to call speed. PCP, the old angel dust, which can be manufactured anywhere is also widely used. Several of the women told me that was their boy friends’ chief line of business. They trade drugs for food and medicine.”

  “Good God! I thought all that nonsense was years behind us.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Are they worth our time and effort attempting to salvage, Jerre?” Ben had already made up his mind about that; but he wanted some input from Jerre.

  The younger woman sighed. She had suspected Ben would throw that question at her, and she had dreaded the moment. “They’re all human beings, Ben.”

  “They walk upright,” Ben tossed that back to her. “I looked around this town while you people were checking them out. Nothing to resemble a school. The older kids can’t read or write. No gardens planted. The houses they squat in are filth-filled. They have no plumbing facilities. They’ve made no effort to improve themselves or the town in which they live. In several of the homes, human excrement was two feet deep in the bathrooms. They lie, they steal, and they are accomplices to murder, torture, and rape. They’re losers. We’ll take the children and tell the women to hit the road.” He turned to Corrie. “Make arrangements to have the kids flown to a secure zone.”

  “What if the women decide to make a fight of it, Ben?” Jerre asked. “We didn’t disarm them . . . at your orders.”

  “It will be a very brief fight.”

  Few of the outlaw women kicked up any fuss at having their kids taken from them. Most of them seemed relieved and glad to be rid of the children.

  Ben had spoken to Leathers by radio, advising him of their actions and warning that the outlaws were still in his area.

  Only two of the women were allowed to keep their children and be flown to another zone; one of them was the woman who had the brief debate with Ben. There was a spirit in both of them that Ben liked, and he made up his mind after seeing where they lived. The small houses were clean and some effort had been made toward plumbing and their own personal hygiene. Whether or not the women could make it in a controlled zone was up for grabs. Time would tell. The older kids were allowed to leave with their mothers. Many bitter and heart-tugging past experiences had effectively shown the Rebels that once a child passed into their teens, and became hardened to brutality and crime, rehabilitation was nearly impossible to achieve. The Rebels had the inclination and desire to try, but neither the time nor the facilities to expel trying. It was a hard decision, but one that had to be made. The Rebels would not jeopardize four younger children in order to save one older teen. It was a situation that none of the Rebels — including Ben — enjoyed seeing; but it was a decision that was made almost daily somewhere in the shattered nation, by some Rebel commander.