Standoff in the Ashes Read online

  Ben found another room filled with computers. He destroyed them, except for a couple of laptops which he discovered contained modems. He stowed them in carrying cases along with floppies and electrical hookups. “We might be able to use these,” he explained. “We’ll check them out later.”

  “Let’s get the hell gone from this place, Ben,” Lara said nervously.

  “You getting a little edgy?” Ben asked with a smile.

  “Damn right I am. Those guards might have to check in with somebody every so often.”

  “Good point.”

  She sighed. “They don’t call in on time, and this place is likely to be crawling with Feds.”

  “OK. Let’s see about some transportation. We’ll find us a car or a pickup and then we’ll get the gear I stowed by the entrance, blow those chained doors open, and we’ll be gone.”

  Ben found an almost new, full-size pickup truck with a full tank of gas and a full reserve tank.

  “Won’t they know what vehicle we’re in?” Lara questioned.

  “They might be able to figure it out in a day or two. But not immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “Watch.”

  Ben lined up the remaining vehicles and removed the gas caps. Then he tossed a grenade against the chained doors and blew them open so the freed prisoners could get gone. Then he stood back and shot holes in the gas tanks of each vehicle.

  “Pull that pickup over here and get ready to get the hell gone when I jump in. We’re not going to have but a couple of seconds, at the most.”

  “OK, Ben,” Lara said, eyeballing the two grenades Ben held, one in each hand. The pins had been pulled and he was carefully holding the spoons down. She had already concluded that being around Ben Raines was nothing less than exciting . . . and decidedly unpredictable.

  Freed prisoners began exiting the nuthouse. “Get the hell away from the parking lot!” Ben yelled at them. “This whole damn area is about to blow. Move, damnit!”

  The freed prisoners scattered in all directions.

  Ben waved at Lara. She pulled the truck alongside him and Ben opened the door. He popped the spoons and chunked the grenades under the cars; they splashed in the gathering pools of gas.

  “Go!” Ben yelled.

  Lara pulled away. Three seconds later the grenades blew and the entire parking lot lit up like a major volcanic eruption. The concussion waves of the explosion rocked the pickup truck. Lara hit the highway and picked up speed.

  “Where the hell are we, Lara?”

  “Northeast New York State. About forty miles south of the Canadian Border. Vermont is only a few miles to the east. You want to try for Canada?”

  “No. They have troubles of their own. Let’s head for the Adirondacks. Do your people have food and clothing cached in there?”

  “You bet we do. Everything we’ll need to stay alive and make one hell of a fight of it if we’re cornered. I was going to suggest we head there.”

  “You’re driving, Lara. You know this country. I don’t. How far is it?”

  “The way the roads are, plus the roads we’ll have to take once we leave the hard surface highways, five or six hours at least. Probably longer. That is, if we don’t get caught. And that may be one big if.”

  “Not as big as you might think. By the time the Feds get everything sorted out, three or four or more hours will have passed. By then we should be close to wherever the hell it is you’re taking us.”

  She laughed. “Deep in the brush, Ben. This truck has four-wheel drive on demand. That’s good. ’Cause we are sure going to need it.”

  “You know they’ll come after me, in force. They won’t stop looking for me. They will never stop searching for me. And anyone who helps me is subject to be hanged. You might consider telling me to hit the road.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! I’m not about to dump you out on your own. Listen, you can put new life into a movement that has almost been wiped out by the Feds. And believe me when I tell you that we have no informants in our bunch. We’ve gone as high-tech as finances will allow. We have polygraph and PSE equipment, and everyone, everyone, gets tested occasionally, with no notice given beforehand.”

  “Good move. Did you find any Federal plants after the first test?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, we did. We were hoping we wouldn’t, but we found two.”

  “What did you do with them?”

  “We shot them and buried their bodies deep. Then we changed meeting places, and still do every now and then.”

  “How many people can you muster?”

  “About fifty. And we’re all hard-core, Ben. We can do it all, from machine guns to C-4. And we have it all. I gather you have something in mind?”

  “Maybe. Just maybe. I think perhaps getting back to Rebel lines would be taking a big chance . . . odds of us making it are slim, and getting slimmer, the more I think about it. I think that perhaps I might be more useful organizing local units to fight. What do you think?”

  “I agree. We’ve got to take back our country town by town.”

  “Lara, none of you are involved in the killing of abortion clinic doctors, are you?”

  “Oh, no. Personally, I’m pro-choice. I’ve never had anything to do with those types who advocate violence to stop abortion. We’ve got some people in our group who are opposed to abortion, but not so much they support the bombing of clinics and the killing of doctors.”

  “And not racist?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all.”

  “You’re certain of all that?”

  “One hundred percent certain, Ben. My group is racially mixed, and has just one goal in mind—to restore this nation to a constitutional form of government.” She smiled. “Along the lines of the SUSA.”

  They rode in silence for a few miles, passing through one small town that appeared to be deserted. Ben questioned Lara about that.

  “A number of the smaller towns in this area are deserted, or very nearly so. There simply is nothing to keep them going . . . economically speaking. Tourism is gone, and will probably remain that way for years to come. People just don’t have the money to spare.”

  “Osterman’s government has raised taxes?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. I’ve been out of the country, Lara. I really don’t know what’s been happening.”

  “Taxes are nearly sixty percent now. And will go higher if Osterman has her way. The liberal/socialist/democrats have so damn many programs to support.”

  “But the people are being taken care of from cradle to grave, right?” Ben asked with a smile.

  “That is one way of looking at it,” Lara said after a few seconds pause. “If you close one eye and have impaired vision in the other.”

  Before Ben could respond the bright lights of a vehicle illuminated the cab of the truck as a car suddenly appeared behind them, pulling in close.

  “I don’t like this,” Lara said.

  “Let’s see what he does next,” Ben suggested. “Before we do something stupid.”

  The driver of the car behind them cut on his red and blue warning lights.

  “State cop,” Lara said, disgust in her voice. “We sure didn’t get very far.”

  “Haven’t they been federalized up here in the USA?” Ben asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then they adhere to Osterman’s policies, right?”

  “As far as I know. Why?”

  “Then he’s dead,” Ben said flatly. “There is no fence-straddling in this war. No one sits on the sidelines. You are either one hundred percent for us, or one hundred percent against us.”

  “That’s the way it’s going to be, Ben?”

  “That’s it. That’s the way it’s got to be. You in or out?”

  “I’m in,” she replied without hesitation. “All the way. It’s what I’ve been telling my group for months.”

  “We’ll talk about the foot-draggers in your group later. Keep driving. Let’s see what he does.”

  What he did was cut on his siren. The whooping and whining seemed to fill the night.

  “Pull over, Lara.”

  “How do we play this?” she asked.

  “That’s entirely up to the cop behind us.”

  Lara pulled over and stopped on the side of the road, leaving the motor running.

  A man’s voice coming over a loudspeaker cut the night. “Get out of the truck, both of you. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

  “When I get out, I’m going to shoot out his headlights,” Ben told her. “You get to the front of the truck, pronto.”

  “All right.”

  “We’ll get out together. That way his attention will be split. On three.”

  Ben counted to three, and he and Lara opened their doors and stepped out together. He dropped into a crouch and brought up the 9mm. He blew out both headlights, then shot out the warning lights. The night suddenly became a lot darker. He jumped into the ditch that ran along the shoulder of the road.

  “I’m down in front,” she called in a stage whisper.

  “Stay there. And get ready to return his fire.”

  Ben shouted, “Get out of your unit! Do it if you want to live. Right now.”

  “You’re in a lot of trouble, mister!” the state cop shouted. His voice sounded very young; maybe twenty-two years old, at the most.

  “Just a kid,” Lara said.

  “If he isn’t careful he isn’t going to get any older,” Ben responded.

  Ben was slowly working his way up the ditch and then up the slight bank, coming in behind the state police car. He stayed low, to avoid being seen in the glow of the taillights. He could see the silhouete of the policeman sitting in the front seat. Ben suddenly raised up and said, “Keep your hands on t
he steering wheel, buddy. Or die where you sit. It’s all up to you.”

  “Don’t shoot, mister. I’m doing what you tell me to do.”

  “Turn off the taillights, then sit right where you are.”

  The cop did as ordered.

  “Get back in the truck, Lara. And lead us out and down the first gravel road we come to.” Ben got in the passenger side of the squad car.

  The young cop’s eyes widened as the interior lights came on and he got a look at Ben’s battered face. “What the hell happened to you, mister?”

  “It’s a long story. Follow the truck and don’t do anything cute. And don’t say a word until I tell you to.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after spending ten minutes on a winding gravel road, Lara pulled over. The cop pulled in behind her.

  Laura walked back to the car. “There’s a dirt road just ahead that leads off to the right,” she said. “Looks like it runs into a stand of timber.”

  “All right,” Ben said. “Wait here for us. Drive down that road, boy,” he told the cop.

  “I know that road. It doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll get mired up to the axles!”

  “That’s the general idea, boy.”

  A hundred yards later, the car was sunk up to the frame in the mud.

  “Strip,” Ben said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Take off your clothes. Right down to the skin. Do it!”

  Ben handcuffed the naked man to the steering wheel. He then destroyed the radio with several 9mm slugs. Ben bundled up the cop’s clothing and boots and fought the door until he got it open. The car was mired up that deep.

  “Man,” the young cop hollered. “Are you going to leave me here? Like this?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But this isn’t decent!”

  “You work for Osterman, and talk about decency? You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”

  Ben stepped away from the car.

  “Wait! I know who you are now. You’re General Ben Raines. You damn traitor!”

  Ben paused and looked into the car. “You’re calling me a traitor? How many freedom loving people have you arrested and stuck in reindoctrination camps?”

  “It was for their own good.”

  “Boy, you have really been brainwashed, haven’t you? You’re just about a hopeless case.”

  Lara tapped on the horn, urging Ben to hurry up. “Got to go, boy.”

  “This is embarrassing!”

  “But you’re alive.”

  The young cop thought about that for a few seconds. “You killed all those fine officers over at the hospital, didn’t you?”

  “You call that house of torture a hospital? Do you really know what goes on over there? Take a look at my face, boy. What do you think happened to it? You think I fell out of bed and landed on my head?”

  “I’m sure you resisted being placed under arrest,” the naked socialist/democrat insisted. “The officers were fighting to protect themselves. You certainly can’t blame them for doing that. That is a fine facility where you were being held. I knew Officer Bradford. He is . . . was, a fine officer. He’ll be buried with full honors.”

  “Incredible,” Ben muttered, and turned to start slogging through the mud back to the gravel road.

  “I won’t forget this treatment, Ben Raines,” the young cop hollered. “What you’ve done to me is unforgivable. It’s . . . it’s perverted. That’s what it is.”

  Ben shook his head and slogged on through the mud back to the road. He got in the pickup. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “You left him alive?”

  “Sure. It’ll be hours before anyone finds him.”

  Lara’s eyes were full of amusement as she looked at the bundle of clothes Ben laid on the floor of the truck. “You left him naked?”

  “As the day he was born.”

  Lara chuckled as she headed back toward the highway. “Ben Raines on how to win friends and influence people.”

  “He’ll have a story to tell his grandchildren.”

  “Would you tell that story to your grandchildren?”

  Ben laughed. “Hell, no!”

  TEN

  About an hour later, Lara cut off the main highway onto a secondary road. “I know where I am, Ben. Don’t worry.”

  “You’re driving.”

  She glanced down at the instrument panel. “This thing sure gets good gas mileage. The needle has barely moved.”

  “Yeah. I like it, too. Rides very well. But we’ve got to get rid of it soon as we can. That cop radioed in, and unless he was a complete fool he gave dispatch the license number and description.”

  “I was thinking about that, looking for something to steal. Haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “Nor have I. People must lock up their vehicles at night.”

  “Oh, they do. You know that car theft is no longer a felony in the USA?”

  “It isn’t? What the hell is it, then?”

  “Oh, just a misdemeanor, if you’re below a certain age.” Lara smiled and glanced at Ben. “It isn’t the thief’s fault, you know?”

  “Oh, shit!” Ben muttered. “Not that crap.”

  “’Fraid so. It’s society’s fault, never the individual’s.”

  “Let me guess—the coach wouldn’t let the punk play, so he vented his rage on an uncaring society by stealing.”

  “Or worse. Yes, that’s right. Or the prettiest girl in school wouldn’t date him.”

  “Or the kid next door had a new bike.”

  She laughed. “Or they were poor.”

  “Or his mother was frightened by a goat. Yes, I know. It’s all a crock of crap. It always has been. We’ve practically done away with crime in the SUSA simply by teaching right and wrong in public schools . . . starting at a very early age. For the few who are born bad, we have long prison terms, if they’re not killed by property owners while attempting to steal.”

  “And you’ve done it all in a very short time.”

  “In less than a decade. Through education and strict law enforcement. That’s all it takes. Plus a little help from home, if it’s available.”

  “And if it isn’t available?”

  “That’s where society does come into play. Through sponsor programs and one on one buddy systems. Those are big in the SUSA. People aren’t required to take part, and they aren’t criticized if they don’t do so. That’s not the way it is in the SUSA. Stick your mouth into someone else’s business down there and the nosey person is very likely to get a fat lip. It’s just that people care about each other in the SUSA.”

  Lara smiled. “That sounds very much like an oxymoron.”

  Ben returned the smile. “I guess it does, at that. But that’s the way it works, and the people like it that way.”

  “And the liberals hate it because it does work.”

  “Exactly.” Ben caught a glimpse of a battered old road sign. “How big is this town we’re coming to?”

  “It’s deserted. Used to be a tourist town. Quite a few lakes around here, but nobody’s lived here since shortly after the Great War and the collapse.”

  “Let’s find a place to pull over and stretch our legs and answer a call of nature.”

  “I’ll certainly go for the latter. Your legs stiffening up on you?”

  “A little. I’m a bruise from my head to my toes. Bastards really worked on me.”

  “They will never work on anyone else,” Lara commented drily.

  “Amen to that.” Ben looked around as they pulled into the edge of town. “Nice looking little town.”

  “Used to be. When I was little, my dad used to bring the family here on vacation. We’d fish and swim, and hike and cook out every day. There were ranges where kids could learn archery, and others where gun safety classes were taught. That’s where I first got interested in shooting.”

  “Any of your family still living?”

  “No,” Lara said softly. “My dad was a member of a militia group. This was several years before the Great War and the collapse. I was gone, in college. One night the Feds raided our house looking for illegal weapons. Well, there weren’t any. I don’t believe anyone in the entire group had any illegal weapons. My dad was a strong believer in the right of privacy, due process, the right to own and bear arms, the Constitution in general. Dad fought the Feds that night—unarmed, in his pajamas. One of the Feds hit him with the butt of a rifle. Fractured his skull. Dad died a few days later. He never regained consciousness. Of course, since Dad was an open member of a militia—he never denied it—the press painted him as a right-wing nut. He was anything but. No illegal weapons were found in the house, naturally. There were never any illegal guns there. The government never did apologize for killing my father. My mother and two younger brothers then became very active in the militia movement. So did I. My mother died shortly after the Great War. My brothers were both killed by the Feds two years ago.”