Buddy stood by Ike’s side on the bridge of the lead ship, both of them looking back at New York City.
“This was a deliberate move by my father, wasn’t it, Ike?” the young man asked. “My being here with you, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“So I would not have to be a part of fighting against my mother.”
“Yes.”
“He had this in mind all along, didn’t he? This ruse, I mean?”
“Just about from the get-go, boy.”
“Where will we land these monsters?”
Ike laughed at him. “We’ll find us some docks down south with the equipment to offload our vehicles, and then we’ll head on back to Base Camp One.”
Buddy stared at the smoke that was once lower Manhattan. “My mother is going to be highly displeased with this action,” he commented.
“That’s the general idea, boy.”
TWELVE
Spotters posted along the New Jersey shore had seen the ships leave, steaming stately along and then cutting out into the Atlantic. They had radioed back to Sister Voleta.
“Damn him!” she exploded. “This idea came to me but I rejected it as unworkable. Goddamn Ben Raines! Somehow he pulled it off.”
Ashley had been stunned as he watched the beginning of the destruction of New York City, and then he shook himself out of it and ordered everybody to move south, quickly, all the way down to Middlesex County.
“Why?” Monte demanded.
“Because I don’t trust Ben Raines,” Ashley told him.
They waited at the rendezvous point for the last men to arrive. They did not arrive.
“That’s about what I thought,” Ashley said.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Monte challenged him. “Them boys was good soldiers. They wouldn’t run off. They’ll be along.”
“They will never be along,” Ashley told him. “Ben used some sort of chemicals; poisonous gases. I wondered why he was waiting to cut and run. He was waiting for the wind to change, to blow straight out of the east.”
Even Sister Voleta was shaken. “If we had stayed, we would all be dead.”
“Yes. I think that, too, was his plan.”
Monte shook his head. “This guy ain’t human. He’s cruel! But . . . with him and his people all gone on them ships, what are we gonna do?”
Ashley squatted down and warmed his hands over an open fire. “If Ben Raines and his Rebels are indeed on those ships.”
“Now what the hell do you mean by that?”
Sister Voleta listened in silence.
“You have to understand how Ben’s mind works. He is such a sneaky son of a bitch. I’ll wager that not one percent of his people knew what he was going to do until it was actually taking place.”
“You mean he don’t even trust his own people?”
“Oh, he trusts them. Of course he does. That’s not why he does it. If one of them were captured and tortured, they might break and talk. Be quiet and let me think for a moment. Your silence would be most gratifying.”
Monte closed his mouth and pouted.
Ashley was thoughtful for a moment and then said, “We know that Ben has spotter planes. Probably based down at this old military complex.” He punched at a worn map. “McGuire, Dix, the Naval Air Station. Somewhere in there. What if, just for argument’s sake, Ben was not on those ships, but instead headed north out of Brooklyn . . . say, crossing into the Bronx here,” he pointed, “on either Six-seventy-eight or Two-ninety-five. He would then proceed up into Westchester County and cross the Hudson using the Tappan Zee bridge, then cut south and come down behind us.”
“So what’s with this spotter plane business?” Monte asked.
“If spotter planes go up more than just a couple of times,” Sister Voleta said, “that would mean that they weren’t just doing reconnaissance of the city. They would be searching for us.”
“Precisely!” Ashley beamed.
“It would be just like that son of a bitch to pull something of this nature,” Voleta said.
“We’ll rendezvous with Cecil at this point,” Ben said, putting his finger on Gypsy Sprain Reservoir. “East side. He’s taken command of the units Ike left behind.” Ben turned to Chuck. “Advise the spotters to do no flybys of any area until I order them up. Tell them to keep the birds on the ground. Do it now.”
Chuck nodded and walked to the Blazer.
“Now I’ll answer the question I know you all have in your minds: What in the hell is going on? I’ve already briefed Ike and Cecil; now it’s your turn.
“We’re going to finish Monte and Ashley and Sister Voleta once and for all. If we have to chase them all the way to California, then that’s what we’ll do. Georgi and Danjou and Rebet say they’re in this fight for the duration. That’s good—I welcome their assistance.
“What we’re going to try is swinging north and then coming down on them. I’m sure you’ve all noticed that none of our heavy stuff was loaded on ship. Ike took just enough to get him through to Base Camp One . . . if he should run into trouble.”
Ben paused for a moment, turning to look at the smoke pouring into the sky from the hundreds of unchecked fires in the city. He shook his head and turned back to his people.
“Once we rendezvous with Cecil, we’ll continue north and cross over the Hudson here.” Again he punched the map. “North of the Tappan Zee Bridge. It’s out of our way, but Ashley may have figured this move out—give him credit, he’s a jerk, but plenty smart—and have it ready to blow when we cross. Then we’ll head south, slowly, giving Dan’s Scouts plenty of time to range far out in front of us.
“When Monte and the others are located, we’ll hit them and hit them hard, and get this nasty business over with—at last.
“All right, people. Let’s mount up and head north.”
It was slow going picking their way through the rubble-strewn and snowy streets of the Bronx. It was a ghost town, with not one living thing seen by any of the Rebels.
“Eerie.” Even Ben said it aloud.
“Will the fires spread over this far, General?” Jersey asked.
“I doubt it. The city will burn for several weeks, in spots, and then the fires will burn out when all the wood and other flammable materials have been used up. But for any left alive over there, it’s going to be damned uncomfortable.”
The column finally picked its way through the mess and rolled north into Westchester County. It was well after dark when they reached the rendezvous point and linked up with Cecil’s command.
They were all tired and cold and hungry.
Cecil moved them on a few miles north to a deserted town where his people had cleaned out a high school and adjoining buildings, including the gym. There, the Rebels had set up a kitchen and placed stoves all around the complex. Huge containers of water were being heated, providing the Rebels with a very quick but very welcome warm bath. To a person they were dirty and smelling of stale sweat and death.
“Hell of a fire,” Cecil commented, after Ben had bathed and shaved and had a bite to eat. “Any way of knowing whether we got Khamsin personally?”
“No. But knowing that thug’s luck, I doubt it. But we destroyed probably ninety-five percent of his army. And the five percent remaining are going to be a long time recouping from this beating. If he’s alive, and I feel that he is, he’ll get off the island and set up someplace—on a much smaller scale, but we’ll see him again, somewhere down the road.”
“Monte and Ashley and Sister Voleta?”
“A thorn in our sides. And don’t count them short. They’re still a force to be reckoned with. For a time I toyed with the idea of just going on back home, bypassing them. But all that would do is delay matters and give them time to recruit more people, and we won’t have the time to deal with them later. So it’s now.”
“You want to explain that ‘we won’t have the time’ bit?”
“Trouble out west. Not even Ike knows of this, Cecil, so keep it betwee
n us for a time. Dan advised me a few days ago that two of his long-range recon patrols have been wiped out. When the first failed to report as usual, another was sent down from Washington State. They reported, through Katzman, that a very large force has set up in Wyoming, ranging in all directions. Then no more was heard from them. We can only assume they’re dead.”
“What type of force?”
“I don’t know. Whatever or whoever it is, it’s big and mean and nasty. Ramos dispatched planes up from the southwest base. They never returned and never reported one damn word.”
“Shit!”
“At least.”
“Who are you sending, Ben?”
Ben stared at him for a moment and then smiled his reply.
Cec got the message. “Oh, come on, Ben!” he raged. “We’ve got the makings of a model city down in Louisiana. You’ve got it to run.”
“Correction, old friend. You have it to run. And you’ve got Patrice to think about. You two are talking marriage, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but . . .”
“No buts. It’s settled. I’m going to do some shaking up on this run. Pure volunteer all the way. After we return to Base Camp One, I’ll ask for volunteers and re-form the units. I’ll take one full battalion and support units. But that’s tomorrow, we’ve still got a lot of fighting facing us today.”
“You’re letting yourself in for trouble with this volunteer business, Ben.”
“How do you mean?”
“Jerre conducted herself well on the island, didn’t she?”
“After her initial freeze-up, yes, very well. Why do you ask?”
“What are you going to do should she volunteer?”
“Reject her.”
“On what basis, Ben? You know the way we operate. You made the rules.”
“I have discussed matters with Jerre. She knows how I feel. She won’t volunteer.” I hope, he silently added.
The Rebels got a good eight hours’ sleep that night, and upon awakening, each took another short, warm bath; they were beginning to feel human once again as they lined up for their first full breakfast in days.
Striganov sat down at Ben’s table, a worried look on his face.
“What’s the matter, Georgi?”
“I just got word from back home. Trouble. Gangs have resurfaced, stronger than before. Our home guard is holding them at bay, but . . .” He let that trail off.
“You need to split off and head back?”
“Maybe. But let’s see if we can’t wrap up this nasty business first. What’s happening, Ben? We destroy one gang of thugs and three more pop up.”
“Everything has broken down, Georgi. There are no rules to follow, no guidelines for the young, no heroes to look up to. Kids who were three and four years old when the Great War came are now seventeen and eighteen years old. And they’ve known nothing except savagery. It was to be expected. I, too, have trouble.” He told the Russian about his teams being killed in the west.
Georgi was thoughtful for a moment. Then he smiled a grim soldier’s smile. “I think we shall be working together again, Ben Raines.”
“Very soon.”
“Yes.”
“When I get back to Base Camp One, I’m outfitting one battalion with support.”
“All volunteer?”
“To the last person. There is no telling how long we’ll remain in the field.”
“Ben,” the Russian said softly, for Ben’s ears only. “While we are far from being old men, we are no longer young bucks. The juices still run hot within us, and, God willing, shall continue to do so for many more years. Is that part of the reason you are once more taking to the field?”
Ben smiled. “You sure chose a roundabout way of asking a simple question. Yeah, Georgi, it is.”
“So you will take to the grind of the field in order that she may live in peace and comfort?”
“It isn’t an entirely selfless act, Georgi. I’m doing what I think is best for both of us. Besides, I like the field.”
“And you think she will never know?”
“Oh, no. She’ll know. Whether she’ll give a damn is up for grabs.”
Georgi refilled their coffee mugs. “I have been blessed in my middle age, Ben. I have found a woman who loves me.” He shrugged philosophically, and then smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. “But I, too, love the field. So I can both sympathize and empathize with you.” He sighed. “Well, now that we have discussed matters of the heart—to not much avail—how about your children’s part in this talked-about sojourn into the Wild West?”
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll both go. Dan will be the first to volunteer. I’d hate to think of him not being there. I couldn’t keep West and his men out of it if I tried. But I think I’ll send them off in a different direction, with a rendezvous point to be determined later.”
“Have you given any thought to this being the same gang of thugs working both countries? Although borders don’t matter much anymore.”
“It might be. If that’s the case, it’s one hell of a big force. And not one that we should take lightly. Georgi, go ahead and take your people back home. We can handle this. Besides, I need some firsthand intelligence as to what’s happening out West. Stay in radio contact with me, please.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Yes. I would imagine your men are worried about their families.”
“To be sure. Ben? With so many women in the Rebels, how do you keep down camp romances? That’s something that’s puzzled me for some time.”
“I don’t try to keep them down. I’m sure there are a lot of them going on. But they know to keep it discreet, and if they marry, one of them is leaving the field for a noncombat job at some outpost or base camp. So far it’s worked.”
Georgi nodded his head and sighed. “Well, it’s a long way back home, Ben Raines. Almost three thousand miles. And sitting here isn’t getting us any closer.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “I’ll keep in radio contact with you and I’m looking forward to seeing you again, this spring or summer.”
Ben took the offered hand. “Take it easy, friend. And thanks for all your help.”
Georgi Striganov smiled and left the table, stopping at the table where Rebet and Danjou were having breakfast, and telling them the news. Both of them turned with a smile and tossed Ben a salute.
Ben returned the smile and the salute and watched the three men leave the gym. He mulled over the final casualty reports from the fight in New York. Seventy dead and more than two hundred wounded. A hundred and fifty of those wounded had been flown back to Base Camp One.
Doctor Holly Allardt had flown back with the last planeload.
He looked up as Tina and Jerre came walking into the large gym for breakfast. Already Ben was experiencing a sense of loss just looking at Jerre.
Emil abruptly took his mind off Jerre when the little man came running into the gym and threw his arms wide. “My poopsie-whoopsie is leaving!” he wailed. “The light in my life has been forever dimmed. Oh, woe is me!”
“Oh, shit!” Ben muttered.
THIRTEEN
Ben had found Thermopolis’s eye and motioned for him to please do something with Emil. With a disgusted look on his face, the hippie and several of his friends carried the squalling Emil out of the gym. Ben waggled his finger for Dan to join him.
“As soon as Tina finishes breakfast, Dan, get her and her team on the road north. I want her a full ten miles ahead of us checking things out, all the way up to the bridge.”
“Right, General. Jerre?”
“What about her?”
“She’s rejoined Tina’s team.”
“Always has something to prove.” Ben shook his head. “Well, it’s her ass. Sure, send her with Tina.”
“I’ll have them gone within the hour.”
“Tell our people we’re leaving at ten o’clock, Dan.”
“Ten-four, General.”
Ben watched as Dan stopped at a table to inform so
me of his Scouts. The whole group of them burst out singing the old Willie Nelson song “On the Road Again.”
As was his custom before beginning any new campaign, Ben walked the length of the convoy, chatting briefly with each driver and as many of his Rebels as time would allow. The snowing had stopped, the day bright and sunny, the temperature right around the thirty-degree mark, according to an old thermometer Ben had found still nailed to the side of a building.
“Tina reports the roads are slick as owl crap,” Ben told one driver. “Even with chains it’s going to be slow going. We won’t make the bridge today. We’re not going to try.”
To another: “Going to be home before spring, Davy. You can get that garden in.”
Back up the other side of the convoy he walked, his waterproof arctic boots crunching the snow and his breath steaming the air as he spoke to the men and women of the Rebels.
Back in his Blazer, Ben spoke to Cooper. “Let’s go, Coop. We have miles ahead of us.”
The long column snaked ahead and began to stretch out. Striganov’s columns had pulled out almost two hours before, and the Rebel drivers were following their ruts. Striganov would drive all the way up to the Canadian border, crossing over the St. Lawrence at Montreal.
It was a beautiful day, and the beauty, although barren and void of human life, was not lost on the Rebels, who had been locked between the tall buildings of New York City for week after drab and bleak and dangerous week.
The Rebels saw no signs of human life, but the wildlife had returned: bear and deer were making a dramatic return to their rightful place in the scheme of things. Ben also suspected that behind the deep timber and brush that had overtaken the earth, mutants were watching the long convoy pass. Ben had pretty much left the beastlike creatures alone over the past few years.
Possessing some sort of native intelligence, the huge mutants seemed to understand that Ben would not harm them if they left the humans alone.
So far, it had worked out.
At one time, Rebel scientists had theorized that disease had wiped out the misshapen and grotesque creatures. That had proved to be a false assumption. The mutants were very much a part of the rural landscape. But they stayed well away from humans.
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