Trapped in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “Is all this a joke to you, General?”

  The others, including Buddy, lay awake in their sleeping bags, listening.

  “Oh, no, Therm. War is never a joke. But victory is very sweet. I would imagine the Hot Wind tried to put a thousand men on the island this night. He lost them all. That knocks the odds down to just about even.”

  “And now what, Ben Raines?”

  “Well, Thermopolis, in the morning, we put it to a vote among all the Rebels and the Russians and the Canadians and the hippies and Emil’s group and the Underground People and Gene Savie’s bunch.”

  “Put what to a vote?”

  “You’re going to be amazed, Therm.” Ben ground out his cigarette and slipped back into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes.

  At dawn, the shoreline was littered with the washed-up bodies of the men of the Hot Wind. They lay frozen and stiffening in the cold air.

  “Beth,” Ben said, “get me all commanders on the horn.”

  “On scramble, sir?”

  Ben paused. “No. Let Khamsin hear this. As a matter of fact, broadcast some bullshit for a few minutes to make sure they’ve got us.”

  Beth opened the frequency and proceeded to say a large and very profane number of highly uncomplimentary things about the Hot Wind, his mother and father, and any brothers and sisters he might have had, and even insinuated some unhealthy relationship between Khamsin and a goat, back when Khamsin was a boy in Libya. Then, with a satisfied smile on her lips, she contacted all commanders and handed the mike to Ben.

  “You amaze me, Beth!” Ben said. “I didn’t even think you knew words like that!”

  “Our countries may no longer exist, General, but I’m still a Jew and that lousy no-good bastard across the river is still an Arab terrorist.” Then she spoke in very fast Hebrew.

  “What did you just say?” Thermopolis asked her.

  “I prayed that a camel would chew off his testicles!”

  “My word!” Dan said, pausing in sipping his morning tea.

  Ben sat down in a battered old chair, threw back his head and laughed.

  He wiped his eyes and picked up the mike.

  Khamsin had been notified and was listening, shaking, livid with rage. He muttered dark threats about what he would do to a certain Jew bitch if he ever got his hands on her.

  “This is General Ben Raines,” Ben began. “From all reports received over the past twelve hours, it’s apparent that we have broken the backs of the Night People. That does not mean that we have wiped them out. We’ll be fighting them for some time to come. But they are no longer the main threat.

  “Our main concern now is that silly bastard across the river in New Jersey. The Hot Fart.”

  Khamsin began jumping up and down, screaming curses upon Ben’s head.

  “We could roll right over into New Jersey and kick his ass, but the man has no honor and none of us could trust him if he said we would be allowed safe passage across the bridge.”

  “No honor!” Khamsin squalled. “Kick my ass!” He picked up a chair and hurled it across the room.

  Sister Voleta was listening in another section of the battered city. She had called for a meeting with Monte and Ashley. Both men had crossed back into New Jersey to join Khamsin and his people. Sister Voleta listened and shook her head.

  “Typical Ben Raines,” she said. “Don’t fall for it, gentlemen. I know the man. Buddy Raines is my son.”

  Both knew that, but still found it hard to believe. Sister Voleta was a pure basket case, but as is often the case, a highly intelligent one.

  “Ben is playing with Khamsin. And if Khamsin buys it, Ben will destroy him. Bet on it. You just listen, and you’ll see what I mean.”

  “So, to all forces fighting under my command, here it is; put it to a vote. That’s the Rebel way. If the Hot Wind wants this city so badly, all right, we’ll just invite him over and he can damn well try to take it. Personally, I don’t think that ignorant heathen has the balls to do it. So we’ll see. Vote on it, people. Let me have your reply by noon. Eagle out.”

  Khamsin was screaming his rage, pacing the office, waving his arms, yelling curses.

  “If he takes Ben up on his offer,” Sister Voleta said, “we don’t go. With our people, we can lie back and wait until Ben kicks Khamsin’s butt—and he will. Believe it. But Ben will lose some people doing it. Then, as Raines tries to leave, we ambush him.”

  “I like it!” Monte smiled.

  “So do I,” Ashley said.

  Sister Voleta smiled.

  “Heathen!” Khamsin screamed, slamming both hands down on a tabletop. “How dare that filthy rabid dog call me a heathen!”

  Ben looked out over the ruined and still-burning sector of the city. Bodies of night crawlers lay like huge roaches, sprawled on the dirty, sooty snow. “Collect all weapons and ammo,” Ben ordered. “We’re going to need them.”

  “The bodies, General?”

  Ben hesitated. The death barges were full of frozen creepies, and his people were getting tired of hauling away dead crud. “Throw them on what’s left of the still-burning buildings. Burn them.”

  The cold winter air stank of death, the smell was trapped in their clothing and seemed a permanent stink in their nostrils.

  “Have you received a report from West on last night’s fighting, Beth?”

  “Hundreds of dead creepies, sir. Tina’s working it up right now. Buddy and Thermopolis are working up a guesstimate of the dead up here.”

  “Our losses, Beth?”

  “Five dead, fifteen wounded, one seriously. Most of the wounded were transported to the hospital.”

  “Give the orders to wrap it up here, Beth. Let’s head back to the CP for a warm bath and a change of clothes.”

  A smile creased the woman’s grimy face. “No one’s going to gripe about that order, General.”

  They bathed in warm water and then rinsed off under a cold shower—quickly. The smell of smoke and dirt and death was tossed out into the streets and into the alleys and quickly froze.

  Jersey tapped on Ben’s door just as he was finishing shaving. “Come.”

  “Report from the Underground People, sir. They say the Judges left the city early this morning. Before dawn. I don’t know how they’d know that. But they were pretty positive about it.”

  Ben slapped on some expensive after-shave he’d found in a department store. Jersey stood staring at the bullet scars that pocked Ben’s hide. Ben slipped into a thermal undershirt and then into a field shirt, hooking his body armor over that.

  “If it’s true, and I have no reason to doubt it—those Underground People are a strange and mysterious bunch—it means the creepies are just about finished. We’ll have little potboilers with those left in the city, but for the most part, it’s over with them. Any word yet on the voting?”

  “I haven’t heard, area-wide, sir. But up here, including the hippies and Emil Hite’s bunch, it was unanimous that we stay and finish it with Khamsin.”

  Ben turned to face her. “Not one negative vote?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I figured Thermopolis would cast a negative vote just to be ornery. He got hot the other night when I told him that back in the days when this country was more or less whole, if a person didn’t vote, they had no right to bitch about what was happening within and without their government. Of course, I didn’t believe that then and don’t now, but I enjoyed getting his goat.”

  Tina stepped into the office. “Voting is in, Dad. The only people who voted against inviting Khamsin in and kicking ass were Gene Savie’s people.”

  Ben nodded his head. “I expected that. Hell with the Savies. Jersey, have Beth call for a meeting with the commanders, up here.” He looked at his watch. “As quickly as possible.”

  For the first time, Ben met with a representative of the Underground People. The man was very pale and wore dark glasses against the reflected glare of wan sunlight off the snow. But he looked to be in excellent physical
shape.

  “Paul,” he said, introducing himself and shaking Ben’s hand. “Are you going to destroy the city, General?” Paul came right to the point.

  “I don’t know, Paul,” Ben lied. “If I did, how much of a hardship would that be for you and your people?”

  “Very little. There are many cities. You realize, of course, that you have not destroyed the Night People? There are several thousand still in the city, and that many more in other boroughs.”

  “Yes, I believe that. Leaderless and confused. They’ll still present something of a problem. You’re sure the Judges have left the city?”

  “Oh, yes. They went up into Canada. Montreal, I would think.”

  Striganov, Rebet, and Danjou stirred at that news.

  “To start a new colony of creepies?” Ike asked.

  “No,” Paul said. “To join the one already there. It’s worldwide, ladies and gentlemen. The perversion began more than a hundred years ago. It skyrocketed after the Great War. I would guess there are several million of them around the globe. Believe me when I say that Hawaii is now anything but a paradise.”

  “I think you said the same thing, Dad,” Tina reminded her father.

  “Yes,” Ben remembered. “Well, right now let’s talk about defeating Khamsin.”

  “Why did you throw down such a challenge, General Raines?” Paul asked.

  “Khamsin has long-range artillery. We have more, but his is ample. Now that he no longer has to worry about harming any allies in this city, he could do us some damage if this thing settled into a battle of cannons. I’d rather have him over here for several reasons. One, by now, we’re all familiar with this city—we’re dug in deep and tight. Two, Khamsin does not know the city. Three, Khamsin is not a street-fighter; every time we’ve got him in a city, we’ve kicked his butt. He’s a terrorist and not a very good field tactician. Not when it comes to moving around big armies.

  “Now then, I’ve got people working right now planting charges on all the bridges connecting this island. I have other teams working at making certain there won’t be a boat or a ship or a barge or a ferry left that’ll float when we decide to pull out. And when we do pull out, it’s going to be a wild, mad run for it.”

  “Are you going to tell Savie and his people about this plan?” Paul asked. “I see they have no representative present.”

  “No, Paul, I don’t intend to inform them of anything. I don’t trust them.”

  “That is a wise decision,” Paul said.

  “West, what is your opinion of Savie and his group? You’ve been working fairly close with them for a few days.”

  West sighed. “I just don’t know, Ben. You remember that Savie told you that originally there were thousands of people like him. I don’t believe that. There is no sign that the park has ever sustained more gardens than it has now. I think he told you a bald-faced lie about that. Also, they never seem to mix it up with the Night People. Not directly. They burn up a lot of ammo, but account for damn few bodies. They’re either the worst shots in the history of warfare, or they’re deliberately missing.”

  Ben looked at Paul, the man’s eyes unreadable behind the dark glasses. “Your opinion, Paul?”

  “Like Mr. West, I don’t know. I’ve never fully trusted any of them. But I do not think they are in any direct cahoots with the Night People. Not anymore. I . . . well, I think they’re just very self-contained and selfish people. Very snobbish people. As to them not being able to hit anything with weapons . . . I think they have never had to become proficient with weapons, and now—for some reason—they have become very frightened people. I also think that they, long ago, made a deal with the Night People. Perhaps that agreement fell through some months ago. I’ve given that some thought over the past weeks. That’s what I lean toward.”

  “You mean, sort of a live-and-let-live policy?” Ike asked.

  “Yes. Precisely. Then the Night People—this is conjecture, please understand—became greedy, or regretted their agreement, and began turning on Savie and his people. But as I said, over the past few months, my people seldom ventured above ground.”

  “If they collaborated with the cannibals, then that makes them just as bad as the creepies,” Tina said, her expression that of someone who had just tasted something very unpalatable.

  Several others muttered about what ought to be done to those so-called survivors around Central Park.

  Ben held up his hand for silence. “We have no proof, people. Let’s don’t condemn them without some proof.”

  Thermopolis stood up. “Ben Raines, it isn’t reasonable that a small group of people could survive in this city for almost fifteen years—not only survive, but live well— surrounded by thirty or forty thousand of these cannibals.”

  “Just relax, people. I’ve had my own suspicions of Savie and his people since long before I first met with them. But we’re not going to do anything just yet. I might decide to use them as grist for the mill. So to speak,” he added dryly.

  They all knew better than to push for any further details. But they all knew that Ben Raines could be a very vindictive man if pushed. None wanted to be in the shoes of Savie’s group if they had collaborated with the Night People.

  “We’re going to let Khamsin bubble in his own stew for a few days,” Ben said. “And while he’s doing a slow burn,” Ben smiled, “and he will be doing a slow burn, we’ll take that time to formulate plans, resupply, rest, and go over equipment.” He stood up. “Now let’s get down to the bolts of this operation. We got the nuts waiting for us across the river.”

  SIXTEEN

  “Emil,” Sister Sarah said to the little con artist, “what did our friend Thermopolis say after returning from the meeting with the Great General Raines?”

  Emil glanced at the woman. Since he had been in New York City, he had almost forgotten about his scam and his fictitious god Blomm. Time to be thinking about that. For if Ben Raines said they would be home by spring, they would be home by spring. Time to crank up the old scam machine, he reckoned.

  “We shall be home by spring, Sister. Just in time for the planting of our gardens.”

  “I will be glad, Brother Emil. This place is so dreary. And I do miss your sermons and dances of praise to the Great Blomm.”

  God! Emil thought. I hope she don’t ask me to dance today. All this snow and ice and I’d bust my ass for sure. “And I miss doing them, Sister. But I have been in touch with Blomm in private—it’s the best I can do with all the action around us. He has not forgotten us. Now run along, my little chickie. I must pray.”

  Thermopolis and Rosebud had been standing close enough to hear the exchange. After Sister Sarah had gone her way, Thermopolis smiled and said, “How long have you been running this scam, Emil?”

  Emil looked around frantically and put a finger to his lips. “Shush that talk!” he whispered hoarsely. “You’ll call down the wrath of Blomm upon your head.”

  “Blomm’s butt!” Rosebud said.

  Emil cast his eyes Heavenward and clasped his hands together. “Forgive them, O Great One. They know not of whom they speak.”

  “It doesn’t take you long to get back into your act,” Thermopolis told him. “I ask again: How long have you had this scam running, Emil?”

  “Oh, piss on it!” Emil muttered. He walked to the couple. “Years.”

  “Oh, I’m not condemning you, Emil. Whatever works for you.” Thermopolis smiled at him. “I ran into an old friend of yours earlier this summer.”

  “Oh?”

  “Francis Freneau.”

  “Crap!” Emil said. “Long Dong himself.”

  “I didn’t tell him that so-called ‘Heavenly explosion’ that sent him galloping out of Louisiana was a rocket fired from Big Louie’s camp out in Kansas.”

  “Thank you. How in the hell did you know that, Thermy?”

  “Friends of ours have a small commune out there. We talk back and forth by shortwave equipment.”

  “How is that jerk,
anyway?”

  “Doing well. He has him a small group of followers up in the hills and hollows of Kentucky. He’s gone into snake-handling.”

  “Good! I hope one bites him on the d . . .” He looked at Rosebud and clamped off the last bit. “. . . elbow,” he finished it.

  She laughed at the expression on his face.

  “Snake-handling!” Emil shuddered. “I knew he was crazy. I didn’t think he was ignorant!”

  “He’s defanged the ones he handles.”

  “I should hope. What’s he have to say about me?”

  “Glowing praises. And that’s the truth. He says as long as you leave him alone, he’ll leave you alone.” Thermopolis laughed. “He told us that after that rocket blew—and he still isn’t convinced that it wasn’t the god Blomm—he couldn’t get it up for a month.”

  “Serves him right. With what he’s got to offer, he needs a rest.”

  Rosebud shook her head and laughed. “Hasn’t anybody ever told you that it isn’t the size of the boat, but rather the motion of the ocean, Emil? And,” she added, “a certain emotion called love has a lot to do with it, too.”

  “Love, baloney. I been in love lots of times.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “No. . . that’s a lie. I don’t think I ever have. I been too busy chasin’ women to fall in love. In heat, yeah! Love, no.”

  “You’re going to look up one of these days, Emil, and there she’ll stand. The girl of your dreams.”

  “Tell you good folks the truth, I kind of like things the way they are now.” Sister Susie walked by and smiled at him. Emil grinned as he eyeballed her posterior. “See what I mean? Ta-ta, folks. I think Sister Susie needs some counseling.” Emil went tripping off behind Sister Susie.

  “He’s incorrigible!” Rosebud said.

  “True. But it’s like Ben says: His followers know it’s a con, and Emil doesn’t hurt anybody.”

  “How is the, ah, situation between Ben Raines and Jerre?”

  “No better. It never will be any better, and Ben knows that, I think. I think right now the both of them are having a good time snarling at each other.”