Ben headed west out of town. He felt that south would be crawling with police and FPPS agents. He would cut south when he got into middle Missouri . . . if they made it that far. Missouri was split, just as it had been during the first civil war. Those in Southern Missouri sympathized with the SUSA, and they would give Federal troops about as much help as they would a rattlesnake.
Anna would tell him more about what happened with the FPPS agents when she was ready to speak of it . . . or she might never tell him. Probably the latter.
As they traveled through the night, Ben told Anna all that had happened with him since he’d left the SUSA. Then she began to talk about her capture, and a bit about the questions the federal agents had asked her.
“They want you bad, Daddy Ben. They believe that with you dead the SUSA will collapse.”
“They’re fools. The Tri-States philosophy will live as long as there is one person who believes in it.”
“That’s what I tried to tell them. They laughed at me. Among other things,” she added. She turned her head and looked out the window for a moment.
“Did they talk at all about what type of security Osterman and Millard have around them?”
“No. Not a word. But all the agents who were guarding me are—were—dedicated believers in this New Democracy thing. Whatever the hell that is.”
“It’s what the United States fought against worldwide for years, baby. From about nineteen forty-five until the collapse of communism about forty years later. Then, while nearly every country in the world that had fully embraced or at least flirted with some form of that type of government was running away from it, the liberals in this country were rushing to embrace it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Daddy.”
“Most of us who believe in the Tri-States form of government don’t think that liberals make any sense. Or very little. That’s why I’ve believed for years that the best thing for America was the splitting up of the country into four or five smaller nations within a nation, all answerable to some small degree to the larger nation, all using the same currency, but with guaranteed states’ rights that the others couldn’t challenge.”
“We tried to do that, didn’t we?”
“Yes. We did. And under President Altman it was working. But the left wing is never satisfied. They’ve got to have it all their way, or no way. Now we’re in a war that will probably tear this nation apart.”
“Irreparable?”
“It might be that bad. But the Tri-States people, those who are left, will rebuild . . . again, and again, until we’re finally left alone.”
“That will be accomplished in our lifetime?”
“Maybe in your lifetime, Baby. Not in mine.”
“But it was your dream.”
“Yes,” Ben said softly. “It was mine.”
Twenty
Ben drove through the night and managed to cover all of two hundred miles. But at least it got him out of Indiana and into Illinois. He turned the wheel over to Anna and caught a few hours sleep. He awakened with a stiff neck.
“Where the hell are we, Kid?”
“I cut south a few miles back. Where you told me to. We should be able to find some SUSA people in about an hour. Maybe get something to eat and some sleep.”
“We’re not stopping. Any known SUSA sympathizers will be under hard surveillance. Our stopping would be dangerous all the way around. How’s the gas situation?”
“We’re going to need some before long.”
“Pull in the next station. We’ll fill up and get a cold drink and a sandwich . . . if they have them.”
“I could eat almost anything.”
“I have some emergency rations in the trunk,” Ben said with a smile.
“I said almost anything.”
“These are the very latest creation from our lab boys and girls. I packed them before I came to find you.”
“Then they can eat them. We’ll save them for emergencies. Like when we’re about to die.”
Anna’s sense of humor was rapidly returning, and Ben was glad to hear it. He smiled at her and she cut her eyes and winked at him.
“There’s a service station just up ahead,” Anna said. “Looks as if it’s open. You want to check it out first?”
“No. Let’s get some gas and food and keep on going. We’re only a couple of hours from the border. That’s when it’s going to get really interesting.”
“How are we going to get across into SUSA territory?”
“I don’t have the foggiest idea.”
Anna pulled off the highway into the service station and up to the pumps. Ben began filling the tank while Anna went to the ladies room. He noticed a car pull in from the north and park off to one side of the main building. A few seconds later another car rolled in from the south and parked on the opposite side of the building. Ben noted there were four or five in each car. He was just topping off the tank when Anna strolled out, carrying a paper bag filled with food and soft drinks. She walked up to him.
“What’s the matter, Daddy Ben? You’ve got a funny expression on your face.”
“I think we’ve been made. Don’t look around. Two cars. One at each end of the building. Four or five people in each car. Get ready to hand me my spitter from the front seat.”
Anna stowed the groceries and stood with both passenger side doors open. All the weapons in the backseat had been carefully checked and loaded. Ben had two pistols tucked behind his waistband, his jacket covering them. Anna had a 9mm in her waistband.
“Two of the men walking this way,” Anna whispered. “They’re wearing suits.”
“FPPS people. Get ready.”
“Oh, I’m ready for some payback. You can bet on that.”
“You there!” one of the men called, in a tone of voice that irritated Ben. “Get up against the car and keep your hands in sight. You’re under arrest.”
“Screw you!” Ben told him.
“It’s him!” the second man shouted, grabbing for a holstered pistol. “And his kid. Take them, dead or alive! Who gives a damn as long as we get them?”
Anna shot him in the belly just as Ben jerked out his 9mm and began banging.
The other agent went down, several holes in his chest. He did not move.
Another suit and sunglasses burst out of the service station, a shotgun in his hands. Anna and Ben both fired at the same time, and their bullets stopped the FPPS agent cold and knocked him backward. The shotgun dropped from his hands and discharged as it hit the concrete curb in front of the building, blowing out the front glass. The FPPS agent sat down on the ground hard, and then toppled over.
Ben and Anna separated, Ben going to his left, Anna to the right as soon as she had tossed him his 9mm spitter and a canvas magazine holder, full up with five mags. Anna had grabbed a CAR from the backseat, one taken from the safe house, and she opened up, the weapon on full auto. She blew out the back window of the FPPS car parked on the south side of the building just as the vehicle was emptying of agents and sent them yelping and hollering for cover. Anna ran behind a towtruck and crouched there.
Ben gave the second FPPS car a burst that flattened both back tires, some of the lead howling off the concrete drive and parking lot.
“Get that damn cunt!” a man yelled. “She’s the one who used a knife on Jackson—bet on it.”
Anna stood up for a couple of heartbeats. “You got that right, asshole!” she yelled, then gave the shouter a burst of 5.56 rounds. His legs flew out from under him and he hit the concrete hard.
Ben made it to good cover behind a car and crouched there, his spitter with a full mag and ready to snarl.
“Call the state patrol!” an FPPS agent yelled to the gas station attendant. “Get them out here pronto! You hear me?”
Ben put a burst through the front plate glass window, broken glass showered the inside of the small front office. The attendant hit the office floor and stayed put.
“You call ’em if you want ’em!
” the young man shouted. “I ain’t movin’.”
“By God, I’ll put your yellow ass in jail!” the FPPS agent hollered.
“Better than bein’ dead,” the attendant called.
“Son of a bitch!” the FPPS agent yelled.
“Yore mama!” the attendant shouted.
Ben ended the conversation by laying a burst of 5.56 rounds on the concrete just in front of the car the agent was crouched behind. The rounds ricochetted and flattened and several of them hit the agent in his legs and knees. He was knocked to the concrete and began screaming in pain.
“Get him, Becky!” he bellowed. “My knees are all busted up. I can’t move.”
“Yeah, Becky,” Anna whispered. “Come on, you bitch. Just give me a target.”
The FPPS agent called Becky popped up and triggered off four fast rounds in Ben’s direction. The shots missed and Anna gave her a burst from her CAR. Anna missed, but the slugs put the FPPS agent belly down on the ground.
“You damn little whore!” she squalled at Anna. “I’ll get you for that.”
“Go sit on it, bitch!” Anna yelled. She followed that comment with another burst from her CAR. Anna didn’t hit anything, but the howling lead caused Becky to let out with another squall and a string of cuss words.
Anna cussed the woman while she changed mags, Ben hearing the clink of the empty as it bounced on the concrete.
“Did anybody call for help?” an agent hollered.
“The goddamn gas boy won’t call!” another woman yelled.
“I ain’t no gas boy!” the attendant yelled. “And this ain’t my fight.”
“Get up off the floor and use the phone!” the second woman shouted.
“That’s your ass, too, lady!” the attendant hollered. “I ain’t movin’.”
“Bastard!” the woman shouted.
“Bitch!” the attendant yelled.
“You get up off that floor right now!” a male FPPS agent yelled. “By God, that’s a direct order from the FPPS. Call the state highway patrol.”
“Fuck you!” the attendant yelled.
“Shit, Jerry,” an agent called. “We’re on our own out here in the boonies. That hillbilly turd isn’t going to help us.”
“Use the goddamn radio, Don!” Jerry shouted.
“Mine’s busted,” Becky said. “It took a burst from that little Rebel whore.”
“Mine’s busted, too,” Don called.
“Whore!” Anna yelled. “You’re a fine one to talk, you damn federal cunt!” she exploded.
“Somebody shut that Rebel bitch’s mouth! ” Jerry yelled.
“Try shutting mine!” Ben shouted.
Jerry jumped up and started to trigger off a burst from an M-16 he’d retrieved from the trunk of his car. Both Ben and Anna nailed him before he could pull the trigger. Ben’s rounds took him in the stomach and chest. Anna’s rounds caught the agent in the throat and face. His head exploded, showering the FPPS agent crouched next to him with brains, blood, and bits of bone and fluid.
“Oh, shit!” the agent yelled. “Jerry’s head just blew up all over me!”
“Wipe it off,” Becky called. “You all right, Linda?”
“I’m OK. How about you, Bob?”
“I’m hit in one leg and the other knee, but I’ll live. Hurts like hell. Is Jerry dead?”
“Dead?” the agent with flesh and blood all over him called. “Hell, yes, he’s dead. Half his head is missing. Shit, it’s all over me.”
While the agents were yakking Ben made his way back to the car and took a grenade from a canvas rucksack. Anna watched him and smiled.
Ben pulled the pin and tossed the pineapple. It rolled under the car where the agent with Jerry’s brains all over him was hiding then blew.
The gas tank on the vehicle didn’t explode, but the grenade sure made a mess out of the car and the agent hiding behind it. It blew just in front of the agent’s legs and mangled him.
When bit and pieces of the car and the agent stopped falling, Bob called, “That’s it, people! OK, Raines? We’re through. We’ve had it.”
“Slide your weapons out where I can see them and stand up, your hands in the air,” Ben said.
“You sure about this, Bob?” Becky called.
“I’m sure,” the agent replied. “Hell, what choice do we have? Raines? I can’t stand up. One knee is busted, and the other leg’s got a bullet it.”
“Then the other agents can help you,” Ben told him. “Do it, ladies.”
“You won’t shoot us?” Linda yelled.
“Not if you behave and do what I tell you. Make up your minds.”
“OK, OK,” Becky called. “The weapons are coming out.”
Pistols and shotguns came sliding out on the concrete. The women stood up, hands in the air and very sullen expressions on their faces.
“Now, now, girls,” Ben said, knowing that the term ‘girls’ would irritate the oh-so-politically correct, feminazi type women. “Don’t look so dejected. It isn’t that bad, girls. You’re alive. You’ll live to marry some nice man and have lots of healthy babies.”
Anna laughed at the sudden and very disgusted expression on their faces.
“Bitch!” Becky said to Anna.
Anna gave her the middle finger.
“Be nice, now,” Ben told them, as Anna gathered up all the weapons and Becky and Linda helped the wounded Bob to a wooden bench by the side of the service station. Bob was in a lot of pain, and made no effort to hide it. He groaned in agony as he sat down on the bench.
“Check his wounds,” Ben told the women. He looked up and down the old highway. There had been no traffic from either direction during the wild shoot-out.
Ben wondered if local supporters of the SUSA had something to do with that. Probably, he concluded. More than likely he would never know for sure.
“The bullets didn’t hit any big veins or arteries,” Linda said after quickly checking Bob’s legs.
The service station attendant had wandered out and was watching.
“You have a storeroom that can be locked?” Ben asked him.
“Sure do. Around back.”
“Help your friend to his feet and move,” Ben told the women. “Around to the back.”
Ben put the three agents in the storeroom and broke the key off in the heavy padlock.
“It’ll take a better man than me to get that padlock off there after that, mister,” the attendant remarked.
“That’s the general idea, friend,” Ben told him. “Wait a few minutes and then call for help, OK?”
“If the phones work,” the attendant said with a definite twinkle in his eyes. “They can get a little ornery out here, if you know what I mean.”
Ben smiled. “I sure do.” He looked at Anna. “Let’s roll, kid. We’re only a couple of hours from home.”
Twenty-one
Ben took the wheel and headed south, staying on the back roads. He would remain on county roads until he crossed over into SUSA territory . . . if he could successfully dodge Federal patrols and find a place.
They had been listening to the radio off and on since Indiana, and knew the war between the USA and the SUSA had begun. So far the Federal troops had taken quite a beating, but Ben knew that could change in the blink of an eye.
One thing the democrat/socialist government now ruling the USA had not done was pour a great deal of money into a military buildup. The military had lots of manpower—to the feminazis: people-power-but was short on modern equipment. And they had air force to speak of. Big Brother government was spending billions of taxpayer dollars making sure the residents of the USA behaved in a politically correct manner, and toed that strange mixture of democrat/socialistic liberal line in all other matters.
But they couldn’t fund their military.
Which was certainly all right with Ben; it made the Rebels’ job a lot easier. But the Rebels still had a hell of a task ahead of them.
“Are we going to try to drive across our bo
rders?” Anna broke into Ben’s thoughts.
“No. I would guess that every road will have a Federal patrol somewhere on it. If they didn’t before your escape, they sure do now. We’ll ditch the car a few miles north of the border and walk in.”
She looked at him. “You have a radio, Daddy?”
Ben smiled. “Now, what do you think?”
She laughed. “I would say you do.”
“You’d be right. But there’s no point in using it until we get close. I don’t think the Federals have the capacity to unscramble our transmissions yet, but I don’t want to take that chance.”
“We’ll booby trap the car, right?”
“You have a very sneaky mind, Baby.”
“Of course, I do.” She grinned at him. “I learned it all from you and the team.”
Ben smiled at that. When Anna was just barely in her teens she had headed a band of young guerrilla fighters in her home country in Europe . . . several years before Ben and the Rebels arrived and Ben took the dirty-faced little waif in as his own. Ben had legally adopted the girl, according to SUSA law, and her name was now Raines.
Ben pulled off the highway and onto a gravel road. He took out a map of Southern Missouri and studied it, finally settling on an approximate spot where they would leave the car and hoof it the rest of the way.
“Find it?” Anna asked.
“Close enough for government work. The USA’s government, that is. In the SUSA we get it right the first time.”
Anna was still laughing as they pulled out onto the blacktop.
Two miles later they almost ran into a roadblock. Ben saw the car about a quarter of a mile ahead of him brake suddenly, and he pulled off the road and down an old road to his right. The road had not been used in so long it was nearly all grown over with grass and weeds.
“I think we might have more walking ahead of us than we planned on, Kid,” Ben said.
“So we walk for a few miles in the country and then find a car and steal it,” Anna replied. “Suits me.”
Ben feigned great surprise. “Heavens! Steal a car? Have you no shame?”
“Not when it comes to saving my butt.” She opened her door. “Let’s get gone from here.”
Hatred in the Ashes Page 19