Chaos in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  Four men and four women got up and walked away.

  Ben said, “In the SUSA, our laws are based on common sense. That’s why it is so difficult for some to understand life there. If you’re constantly sticking your lip into someone else’s business, you won’t make it there. If you choose to ignore warning signs posted on someone’s property, don’t try life in the SUSA, because somebody will bury you there. If you get drunk and get behind the wheel of a vehicle and kill some innocent person, the charge is automatic—it isn’t vehicular homicide, it’s murder. We’ve had three drive-by shootings in the SUSA. The people who did the shootings were hanged. The investigation, arrest, trial, and execution took about ten days in each case. We’re not interested in niceties or legal technicalities in the SUSA. Burn a cross on someone’s yard in the SUSA and that property owner will step outside and shoot you and everybody gathered there with you. And nothing will be done to the person who pulls the trigger on the trespassers. My rights end at your property line, your rights end at mine.”

  Three couples shook their heads, got up, and left the group.

  Ben waited until they had left the meeting area and said, “Our laws are few, but they are set in granite. Don’t come down there expecting to change them, because you’ll fail. We take care of the very old, the very young, and the infirm. We love our pets and we take care of them. If you don’t like animals, you better stay out of the SUSA.”

  Two couples got up and left. Ben watched them go with a slight smile on his lips.

  He said, “If you’re a whiner or a complainer, stay out of the SUSA. If you want a free ride, go somewhere else. If your neighbor has an unwanted pregnancy and chooses abortion, that’s her business, and none of yours or mine. We don’t have strikes or work slow-downs in the SUSA. Everyone is on an equal footing there, so we don’t have such things as affirmative action programs. You will not be promoted simply because of your race or gender. Any position in the armed forces is open to qualified people. As you have probably already noticed, women serve in combat positions in the Rebel Army—and no bullshit about it is tolerated. Our schools teach fact, not fiction. We stress education, not who can run the fastest or throw a ball the hardest or farthest. In the SUSA, we know the difference between a hero and an athlete. Games are fun to play and watch. But they are just games. Not important. Anyone who would fight over the outcome of a game or a referee’s call is an idiot and we don’t want them in the SUSA.”

  Four men sitting together got up and walked away, their backs stiff with indignation. “Jockstraps,” Ben heard Jersey mutter. “Good riddance.”

  A number of women in the gathering heard Jersey’s comment and smiled. Several men grinned, looked sheepish, and nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Don’t misunderstand me,” Ben said. “We have all sorts of games in our schools in the SUSA. We just know and stress their level of importance.”

  He looked over the faces of the crowd. He guessed about thirty people had left the gathering; about seventy-five remained. Ben pointed to a group of Rebels standing off to one side. “Those are political officers. They can answer all your questions about the SUSA and the laws we live under. Thank you for listening to me.”

  Doctor Lamar Chase fell into step with Ben. “When did you get here, Lamar?”

  “This morning. Early. Ben . . . dammit, you’re doing it again.”

  Ben stopped and faced him. “Doing what, Lamar?”

  “Don’t hand me that, Raines! You’re going to repopulate the SUSA with the cream and leave the rest for somebody else to worry about. The slackers and whiners can’t or won’t live under our laws. Those with a jockstrap mentality can’t even understand our laws. And even if they could get it through all that mush in their brains, somebody would shoot them before the first week was out.”

  Ben chuckled at the expression on Lamar’s face, but said nothing. He knew there was more coming from his old friend.

  “Ben, I understand what you’re doing. But we can’t heal the country this way.”

  Ben moved them over to the shade of a huge old tree. “Lamar, for forty-odd years the liberals had control of this nation. They fucked it up seven ways to sundown. They fucked it up so bad it was beyond the point of repair. If the world had not blown up in our faces, millions of American people were on the verge of armed revolution. I will not be a party to that occurring again. The SUSA will not be inhabited by whiners and second, third and fourth generation welfare families who lay up on their asses and breed like field mice and expect the government to take care of them and their kids. I know that sometimes people are in need of help, and we’ve never hesitated a second in seeing that they got that help—”

  Lamar held up a hand. “Ben, don’t get wound up on me. I know that everything you just said is true. But you’re talking isolationism.”

  “That’s right, Lamar. But only after we visit every state that is humanly possible to visit and try our damnedest to prop these people up and get them functioning again. And you will have to agree that from what we’ve seen thus far, that’s going to be damn near impossible.”

  “You know, of course, what they’re waiting for.”

  “Sure I do. They’re sitting around with their thumbs up their asses waiting for the government to come in and take them by their pretty little hands and make everything all better again. Just like the fucking liberals conditioned them to expect for forty fucking years! The only problem is that there is no government.”

  “Except for us,” the doctor said softly.

  “That’s right, Lamar. Us. And like the old fellow said one time: Us’ins is gonna look out for us’selves.”

  Ben turned away and walked off.

  Ben watched as forty-eight families packed up their meager possessions and headed south, accompanied by a team of Rebels to insure their safe passage into the SUSA.

  Ben split his battalion and sent two companies east to Marion and Harrisburg, while he took two companies and went west to Murphysboro and Carbondale.

  Ben did not travel over to his birthplace, just a few miles south of Marion. He did not want to see the burned-out ruins of the house where he and his brothers and sisters had been raised, and where his mother and father had died during the chemical part of the Great War. He had buried his second brother and family in Springfield, and had buried his sister in her backyard in Normal, Illinois. Ben had been forced to kill his older brother in a shoot-out up in the Northwest, after his brother joined a Nazi Party movement and tried to kill Ben.

  In both Carbondale and Murphysboro, the survivors had come together and were slowly rebuilding. Only a few families were interested in relocating to the SUSA. The Rebels who had gone to Harrisburg reported the same. And not all the people would allow the Rebel doctors to treat and inoculate them.

  “What the hell is the matter with these people?” Ben questioned Doctor Chase.

  “They don’t trust us,” the doctor replied. “But they seem to love the rhetoric put out by Simon Border. I’ve seen a lot of copies of his newspapers.”

  “Then let Simon Border come in and give them vaccines,” Ben said. “Screw ’em.”

  The Rebels pulled out. Most of the people in that area seemed glad to see them go. Ben ordered all battalions to split and begin working in a Z-pattern, in order to hit as many towns as possible. Batt coms reported meeting no resistance of any kind as they traveled.

  Ben took his two companies and angled over to get a look at what remained of East St. Louis. It was a ruin. Scouts reported back from working their way close to St. Louis.

  “This Issac Africa has troops all along the west side of the river.” The Scout smiled. “They do appear to be a mite jumpy. We deliberately let them spot us.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ben said. “We’ll head straight up 55 and investigate the towns that are located no more than twenty or thirty miles east and west of the interstate. Second section get on Interstate 57 and do the same. Continue working the Z-pattern. There is no way
humanly possible to hit all the towns, but we’ll visit many of them this way. Corrie, get on the horn to Buddy and have his special ops people drop in and clear the airport in Springfield for traffic. We’ve got to be resupplied. Our Scouts are reporting no signs of any major resistance are expected. But there might be a few creepies around. Those bastards love airports.”

  “We’re going to be in Wisconsin when winter comes,” Jersey said, a not-too-happy tone in her voice. “Does it snow much in Wisconsin?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Cooper fired back.

  “Wonderful,” Jersey muttered. Jersey’s early years were spent on a reservation in the Southwest. Winter was not her favorite time of year.

  “What’s the matter, my little cactus flower?” Cooper asked. “Do you miss your rattlesnakes and gila monsters?”

  “No, Cooper. I’ve got you.”

  Ben and his two companies began working west to Highway 67 and east to Highway 51. The second section worked from the Indiana state line over to Highway 51. Many of the people refused to receive the inoculations or allow their children to receive them.

  “Don’t they realize they’re putting their children’s lives at risk?” Ben asked Chase one evening.

  The Rebels were bivouacked in a tiny town about thirty miles south of Springfield, just off Interstate 55. The second section of Rebels were bivouacked about twenty-five miles south of Urbana/-Champaign, just off Interstate 57.

  “I believe the further north we go, the cooler the reception is going to be,” Chase replied. “Both from the majority of the people and the weather.”

  “But we’ll see more and more of the people working together to rebuild,” Ben added. “And that’s good. That’s what I want. Keep them out of the SUSA.”

  Lamar laughed. “These are good people up here, Ben. Good, solid, hard-working people.”

  “Democrats,” Ben said sourly.

  Lamar had a good laugh out of that.

  “It was split pretty even in the last two elections before the Great War, boss,” Beth said.

  Ben grunted. “The Democrats still carried those states.”

  “You’re impossible, Raines!” Chase said, standing up. “Hell, I voted for the Democratic ticket occasionally.”

  “So did I,” Ben said. “Once.”

  Chuckling, Doctor Chase left the small house Ben was using for the night.

  “This is a fool’s errand,” Ben said. “Many of the people won’t even let us inoculate them. Some run off when they see us. I ought to turn the whole damn business around and head back to the SUSA. Bunker ourselves in and let the rest of the country go right straight to hell. Ungrateful bunch of semi-Socialists.”

  That got his entire team laughing at him.

  Corrie turned to her radio and listened for a moment. “Buddy reporting in, boss.”

  “Buddy?” Ben stood up and walked to the radio. “I told him to send some special ops people in, not go himself.” He keyed the mic. “Go, boy.”

  “The airport is secure, Eagle. There were a few creeps. We took care of them. Those people left in what remains of the city are in pretty rough shape.”

  “Any organization?”

  “Not that I could see.”

  “Country people will survive and city people will struggle,” Ben muttered. He keyed the mic. “OK, boy. We’ll see you tomorrow, late.”

  “That’s ten-four, Eagle.”

  “We’ll drive straight through to Springfield, Corrie. We’ve got to be resupplied. Bump the others and tell them to start cleaning up the airport at Champaign. When they’re resupplied, they’re to pull out and check everything east of Highway 51 and north up to Interstate 80, and east to the Indiana line. But stay clear of Chicago. I think we’re going to find some crap and crud among the ruins.”

  “The way we hammered that city, how could there be anything left?” Jersey asked. She shook her head and answered her own question. “But there always is. With the creepies feeding on them,” she added with a shudder.

  Then Cooper asked what every Rebel had asked at one time or the other. “What the hell is the matter with these people? Why don’t they pick up a gun, get organized, and fight?”

  Ben smiled. “Because they’re waiting for the government to come in and do it for them.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Buddy met his father’s columns on the outskirts of the ruined city, just south of Lake Springfield. “I figure at least five thousand people in the city, Father. And I’m probably short by five thousand.”

  “And they’re doing what, as if I couldn’t guess?”

  “Nothing. But in areas all around the city, out in the country, people are wrapping up this season’s harvest, getting the last produce from their gardens, and are getting ready to kill and butcher hogs. They’ve organized into groups.”

  Ben sighed. “OK, gang. Let’s go see what we’ve got in the city.”

  It was depressing . . . even to Ben. Hundreds of people gathered around the trucks and tanks and Hummers. They were people of all ages and genders and races.

  “Shit!” Ben muttered. “Corrie, get our people unassed and push these crowds back so we can set up.”

  Tanks rumbled up and surrounded Ben’s vehicle, forcing the crowd back. Ben got out and hopped up on a tank. Cooper tossed him a bullhorn.

  “Back up,” Ben told the crowds. “We’ll take care of you all, but you’ve got to give us room to set up. Now back up, please.”

  Slowly, grudgingly, the crowds began backing up. Rebels quickly formed a line and began moving them further back. It took the better part of an hour before order was established and the Rebels began setting up medical tents.

  “We’re going to be here for a few days,” Chase said to Ben. “At least.”

  “Get ready, boss,” Beth said. “Here comes Janet House-Lewiston.”

  “Wonderful,” Ben muttered.

  “With the reporters,” Jersey added.

  “I’m overjoyed,” Ben said.

  “Oh, these poor, poor people!” Janet cried, bursting onto the scene.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Jersey said sarcastically.

  “Don’t you dare be sick,” Ben told her. “And that’s an order. I need you here.”

  “Planes coming in,” Corrie called. “ETA ten minutes.”

  Ben looked at Chase and grinned. “Have fun, Lamar. I’ll be out at the airport.”

  The doctor gave him the finger.

  “Everything is shaping up just fine down home, General,” one of the pilots told Ben. “Things are pretty much getting back to normal. We’re screening and processing about fifty families a day and settling them in.”

  “President Jefferys’s 22 Batt?” Ben asked with a smile.

  The pilot laughed and refilled his coffee cup from a thermos. “Now that bunch, General, defies description. I really wouldn’t want to mess around much with those ol’ boys and gals. They may be getting a little long in the tooth, but they’re still rough as hell. They wiped out the last pocket of punks found in our area. And they didn’t take any prisoners.”

  There were six of the big transport planes parked on the tarmac, each plane capable of carrying tons of supplies. Deuce-and-a-halves were lined up, receiving the boxes and crates.

  Ben spotted his son, Buddy, and waved him over. “Why don’t you round up your special ops people and hitch a ride back with these guys?”

  “Oh,” Buddy said with a smile. “I think I’ll stick around for a while, Father.”

  “I could order you back,” Ben told him.

  “Then that would put me in a hard bind, Father.”

  “How so?”

  “Because I’m acting under direct orders from the President, that’s why.”

  The pilot had backed off, away from the father and son. He wanted no part of this family squabble.

  “Cecil order you to bird-dog me, boy?”

  “Let’s just say he asked that I stay close in case you needed my people.”

>   “I see. How many people did you bring with you, boy?”

  “Two companies.”

  Two companies of the most highly trained personnel in the Rebel army. Buddy’s special operations people received training equal to the Navy’s SEAL teams, the Marine Corps Force Recon, the Army’s Special Forces and Ranger, the Air Force’s Air Controllers and Commandos, the French Foreign Legion, and the British SAS. For the most part, they were young, in the peak of physical condition, and per person, had a higher kill average than any other unit.

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting bored tagging along with us?” Ben asked.

  “Oh, I think not,” Buddy said with a smile. He took a map from his pocket and spread it out on the fender of a truck. He put a blunt finger on the area around Chicago. “Full of creepies, Father. From the ruins of Chicago all the way up to the Wisconsin line.” He moved his finger over to Rockford. “And that is where Ray Brown and his gang have settled in for the winter.”

  Ben looked at the map for a moment, then lifted his eyes. “Well, now. This might prove to be interesting, after all.”

  Buddy smiled. “I thought you might say that, Father.”

  “The people want to know how they’re supposed to live through the winter,” Ben was informed.

  Ben sighed and ran his fingers through his graying hair. “There are hundreds of vacant homes in this area. Most with fireplaces. Have any of these people given any thought at all to using an axe or a crosscut saw to lay in a supply of firewood for the winter?”

  “Apparently not,” Buddy told him.

  “I think they want us to do that for them,” Jersey said.

  “Well, we’re not going to do it,” Ben said. “As far as I’m concerned, thus far this ‘nation healing process’ has been a dismal failure.”

  It was late fall, and a fire was crackling in the fireplace of the home Ben was using for a CP. Doctor Chase was sitting in an old overstuffed chair in a corner of the room.

  “The people who are going to do for themselves have done it,” Ben continued. “Those who want somebody else to do it for them have gathered and are waiting for that to happen. We’re not going to do it for them . . . and that’s final. Corrie, issue those orders to all batt coms.”