Judgment in the Ashes, page 13
They traveled over to the secondary highway that ran north and south and turned south. “What’s the population of this little town just up ahead, Beth?”
“The index of my map doesn’t even give it, boss. Can’t be much to it.”
Ben lifted his walkie-talkie and bumped the Scouts who were ranging about a mile ahead. “You reached the town yet?”
“Looking at it now, General. Not much to it. What are we going to do with it?”
“Burn as much of it as we can,” Ben said grimly.
“Yes, sir,” the Scout replied softly.
Ben hated to have to say that, for he disliked making any type of war on civilians. But these civilians were hardcore Simon Border supporters. Ben recalled a line he’d written in a western novel years back: You ride with outlaws, you die with outlaws.
Ben didn’t know then, and he didn’t know now, how original that line was, but it read well.
“Civilians just turned onto the highway from a side road!” Ben’s radio crackled. “Heading your way in a pickup truck.”
The team immediately took to the ditches and brush on both sides of the road. One moment they were walking down both sides of the old highway, five seconds later, they had vanished.
The pickup truck, a very old one, rattled slowly up the road and came to a stop only a few feet from where Ben and his personal team were lying hidden in the tall grass alongside the highway.
“I tell you, John,” a man’s voice drifted over the sounds of the laboring engine, “my wife said she looked out the window and seen the sky filled with parachutes. Keep goin’, man. Why the hell did you stop for?”
“Your wife is full of it, Russell. Look around you. You can see for a mile the stars is so bright. You see any parachutes?”
“No. But that don’t mean they wasn’t here fifteen minutes ago.”
“Then where did they go?”
Half a dozen Rebels, Ben among them, had slipped from cover and made their way silently to stand at both sides of the pickup. Ben stuck the muzzle of his CAR inside the cab and touched the cheek of the driver with the cold metal.
“Shit!” the driver hollered.
“Your friend’s wife was right, partner,” Ben said. “Turn off the engine.”
“If I do that, it might not start again.”
“Do it!”
The driver quickly cut the engine and night became quiet.
“Any military people in your town?” Ben asked.
“A few. Who are you?”
“How many is a few?”
“‘Bout twenty or so. Every town of any size has a detachment of the army. Who are you?”
“Jack Armstrong, the All-American boy.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Get out of the truck. And keep your hands off those weapons on the seat between you.”
The driver grunted in disbelief. “The dash lights been out for months. You got good eyes, mister.”
“I’m half puma.”
“Say what?”
“Forget it. Just get out of the truck.”
The two neighbors exited the cab of the pickup and stood on the cracked and badly maintained old secondary road. Their eyes widened as more Rebels left cover to surround them.
“Rebels,” the second man whispered. “We’re being invaded, John.”
John stood defiant, his voice holding no fear. “You people better get gone from here. Our army will chew you up and spit you out.”
“I doubt it,” Ben told him. “Where are the contingent of soldiers billeted?”
“You gonna have to find out for yourself. ’Cause I ain’t tellin’ you no more!”
Ben chuckled. “I won’t sell you short on guts, mister. Just short on common sense for believing anything Simon Border has to say.”
“Reverend Border is Lord on Earth, mister. He’s a great man.”
“Is that ‘grate’ as in the bottom of an old furnace?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” Ben turned to a Rebel. “Get this wreck off the highway and into the brush.”
“What about these two citizens?”
“We’ll take them with us.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ben and part of his team stood on the outskirts of the small town.
“Hell,” John scoffed. “If this is all of you there is our people won’t have no trouble with you. None at all.”
Automatic weapons fire suddenly ripped the night, followed by several explosions. A few more shots, and all was silent.
Lights popped on throughout the town. A few men ran out into the street, carrying weapons. They were cut down. One flopped in the street, his chest and belly ripped apart. He screamed once, and then lay still.
Ben looked at John. “You were saying? . . .”
John’s face was pale. He shook his head, then said, “Those first shots? . . .”
“Your army contingent being taken care of.”
“What happens next?”
“Your town is destroyed.”
“We ain’t done nothin’ to you people!”
“You’re right. You, personally, have done nothing to us. But you follow the dictates of Simon Border, and he has declared war on the SUSA and joined forces with a Nazi, Bruno Bottger . . .”
The dozen or so buildings that made up the business district of the town suddenly blossomed in explosion and flames.
“Oh, my God!” Russell whispered.
“This ain’t fair,” John said.
“War never is,” Ben responded, then turned and walked away.
A half hour later, the residents of the town were gathered at the south edge. Many of them stood in open-mouthed shock. Flames from the burning town illuminated the scene by the side of the road. Rebels had destroyed every vehicle in town, all of the businesses and many of the homes.
By this time, Ben had been recognized. A citizen standing a few feet away from him said, “Now you people are making war on civilians, right, General Raines?”
“Just like your glorious leader is doing,” Ben replied.
“He is not!”
“You’re badly misinformed. Now shut up.”
The citizen was silent for only a moment. “It’s wintertime, General. What are we to do? You’ve destroyed everything.”
“Leave or stay here and die. It makes no difference to me.”
“There are children here, General.”
Ben nodded. “Yes. And I’m sorry for that. But we didn’t start this war.”
“We’ve left us nothing but a few blankets and no food.”
“The children have ample food to last until relief arrives. We saw to that. If you choose to take food from them to stuff your own mouths, then that makes you shit-sorry.”
“You’re the hardest son of a bitch I ever saw, General.”
“You’re not the first to say that, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” Ben motioned to Corrie. “Move out.”
Ben’s team destroyed one more small town and blew several bridges that morning. He called a halt an hour after daylight touched the horizon. The Rebels backtracked for several miles from their last objective and took cover in a wooded area. They made a cold camp, field rations and sips of canteen water, no hot food or coffee.
The ruse worked. Searchers drove and flew right past their hiding place and began concentrating miles south of the last blown bridge.
“Our people have been busy,” Corrie reported, just before she joined the rest of the Rebels for some much-needed sleep. “Small towns and bridges have been destroyed all the way up and down the line.”
“Any losses?”
“None.”
Ben knew that wouldn’t last. Simon’s military leaders would get it together very quickly and really start putting the pressure on the small teams of guerrillas.
“Get some rest. We’ve got a long night ahead of us and then lots of miles to cover.”
But sleep came hard for Ben that morning. He didn’t like making war on civilians, but knew that in some cases it had to be done in order to break the back of the enemy. If one made life so miserable for the civilians, in most instances they would soon start calling for a halt to the hostilities. Knowing that, however, didn’t make Ben feel any better about it.
He finally drifted off into a restless sleep, awakening about noon, just as the guards were being changed for their two hour shift. His team slept on, with the exception of Corrie, who had just woken up and was on the radio.
“Buddy reports Bottger’s troops are all over his area,” she said softly, so as not to wake the others. “Well-trained and thoroughly professional. He estimates about five thousand of them.”
“How’d he reach that estimation?”
“His people grabbed one of Bottger’s boys.”
Ben nodded. He didn’t have to question further, nor did he have to ask the outcome. Buddy’s Spec Ops people were not the nicest nor the gentlest folks to encounter in any hostile situation. “That throws the rule book right out the window then. Simon has firmly aligned with Bottger so now the game can get just as rough as we can make it.”
“Buddy gave me the coordinates for the new troops billet area.”
“Planes up,” Ben ordered. “I want that area to be a raging firestorm for five miles around. Hit them with everything we have at our disposal.”
“I’ve already put them on standby.”
“Good. I figured you had.” He smiled. Corrie could practically read his mind. “Order Buddy and his people to get clear. It’s about to get real warm in that area.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The drop tonight?”
“Everything is ready to go and the troops are anxious to get on the ground into action.”
“We’re damn sure going to see some action,” Ben said, a grimness behind his words. “Maybe sooner than we expect.”
BOOK TWO
Many religious people are deeply suspicious. They seem—for purely religious purposes, of course—to know more about iniquity than the unregenerate.
- Kipling
ONE
Ben wanted as many of Bottger’s troops to be in quarters as possible when his air attack was launched, so he ordered all his people to lie low until after the strike. There were no doubts in Ben’s mind that Bottger had more troops on the way, but this strike would give the Rebels some breathing room.
“Buddy and his people are clear of the strike area,” Corrie finally reported late that afternoon.
“Took him long enough,” Ben groused. “What was he doing, sightseeing?”
“I didn’t ask,” Corrie replied with a smile.
Ben grunted in reply.
About an hour later, just after dark, just about the time Bottger’s people would be sitting down for evening chow—for they were very punctual about that—Ben’s planes struck the billet area. Ben knew, even though he had not ordered it, that Buddy would have observers close in enough to report damage.
“Damage report coming in now,” Corrie said, as Ben’s personal team crowded around close.
Ben cut his eyes to look at his adopted daughter. Short of handcuffing Anna to the nearest solid object, there had been no way he was going to keep her from going on this mission. But that didn’t mean Ben had to like it. Anna was calm and her pale eyes reflected no inner emotion. Like most Rebel women, she had cut her blond hair very short—shorter than some men’s—but only a fool would ever mistake her for a male.
She looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes, and winked at him.
Ben had to smile. The young lady was gutsy, no doubt about that. And breathtakingly beautiful. But she was far too intense for most young men her age; she loved to read and study and debate issues of importance . . . all of which suited Ben just fine.
“Forward people report the billet area is blazing,” Corrie said. “The air strike was right on target. Bottger’s people were caught flat-footed. Bottger’s contingent in North America has been virtually wiped out. Their future effectiveness is nil . . . to use Buddy’s words.”
“Good,” Ben said. “Let’s pack it up and get gone.” Ben had already checked his map. “We head south and set up some ambushes. We’ll pick up the claymores from supply drops that should be coming in just about now.” He checked his watch. “Let’s go. We’ve got just about an hour to make it to the DZ.”
Simon’s people were searching for Ben miles south of their present location, and the DZ was just about halfway between the point . . . having been changed several times as Scouts kept track of and constantly reported the widening gap between Rebels and Simon’s troops.
Ben and his team headed out, paralleling the old highway on both sides, but staying in the fields and forests. They would see lights on in farmhouses, but kept as far away from them as possible. The occasional dog would bark its alarm, but no one came to investigate. Since the Great War, the wild animal population in North America had exploded, and the residents were accustomed to dogs barking at wild animals.
“Winds have been coming out of the south for several hours now,” Ben said. “That means the supplies will probably be off the target and to our advantage. Bump our forward people to keep their eyes open.”
Less than five minutes had passed before Corrie said, “We’re almost on top of the supplies, boss. Scouts are unpacking them now. They really drifted north.”
Ben looked up into the sky. There were only a few wispy clouds, but they appeared to be moving very fast from south to north. “Those winds are kicking up.”
“More rain?” Cooper asked.
“I don’t think so. I sure as hell don’t want more snow. Too easy for us to be tracked.”
The snow that had fallen was all but gone, with only pockets remaining in very low-lying areas that were shady during the day. They came up on the Scouts unpacking the boxes in the middle of a soggy field and pitched in, then hid the boxes and chutes in a wooded area.
“Roadblock about two miles up ahead,” one Scout informed Ben. “Five men manning it.”
“Take your people and clear it,” Ben told the Scout. “We’ll be getting these supplies distributed.” Ben straightened up. “And if they have a couple of vehicles, bring them back. We’ll ride for a few miles.”
The Scout grinned in the night. “Will do, General.”
There were no shots in the night, the Scouts doing their work with silent knives. The only indication the killing had taken place was a couple of prearranged clicks on Corrie’s radio. By the time Ben and the others had lugged the supplies to the road, the dark shapes of three old longbed pickup trucks were visible, coming up the road, headlights off. One of the pickups was an old super-cab.
The supplies were quickly loaded into the beds of the trucks, the Rebels piled in, and the impromptu convoy headed south. Ben rode in the back of the lead truck with his personal team, Doctor Farmer, and part of the supplies. Four Rebels, counting the driver, rode in the cab, two in the front and two on the narrow seat behind the driver and passenger.
“Beats the hell out of walking,” Jersey said with a sigh of contentment, leaning back against the tailgate.
“You’ll get no argument from me on that,” Ben agreed. “I just hope it lasts for a few miles.”
So did the others, for they had not cached any of the supplies that had been dropped that night, and even spread out among Ben and his personal team, and the twenty other Rebels, the fresh supplies would make quite a load.
“What used to be a fair-sized little town is fast coming up,” Beth told Ben. “There is sure to be quite a contingent of Simon’s there.”
The truck had no rear glass. Ben stuck his head inside the cab and said, “First side road we find, take it. We’ll hide the truck and the Scouts can check out the town.”
“Right, sir,” the driver replied.
A few hundred yards on down the cracked old secondary road, the lead truck signaled a turn and cut off to the right onto a gravel road, the others following. A hundred yards more, and the short convoy pulled into the front yard of an old house. Before the trucks stopped moving, Rebels were out and running toward the house and outbuildings. A few minutes later, the all-clear shout was heard and the trucks parked at the rear of the house, between the house and the falling down old barn.
Ben did not have to say a word. Within seconds after parking, the Scouts had shed much of their equipment and were running down the gravel road toward the old highway, disappearing into the night.
Several of the Rebels immediately set up a perimeter. Ben and the others waited in the gloom of night, moving around as little as possible and keeping the chatter to a whispered minimum.
Ben, Anna with him, walked to the rear of the old house and Ben tried the back door. The doorknob turned under his gloved hand and the door opened with just a faint protest of old hinges. Ben and Anna stepped into the kitchen.
The very thin light from outside revealed a layer of dust over everything. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling. A small kitchen table was in the center of the room. Stove and refrigerator had not been removed from the room.
“Places such as this make me sad,” Anna whispered.
“I used to feel the same,” Ben said. “I guess I’ve seen too many of them to be affected anymore.”
“People used to sit at this table,” Anna touched the dust-covered table with a gloved hand, “and talk and laugh and drink coffee and plan the day’s activities. I wish I could live in a time like that. When things were . . . well, normal.”
“You will, baby,” Ben assured her. “Those times will come again.”
“Will you live long enough to see those days, General Ben?” the young woman asked.
“No,” Ben’s response was quickly given. “But you will. Your children will live in a normal time, and live normal lives.”
“My children?” Anna asked, and Ben could see the faint smile curve her lips. “I have not yet met the man I would even consider spending my life with.”
“You will, baby. It’s something that happens to the majority of people.”
“Then why are you not married?”
