“Oh, Ben!” Gale said, upon sighting the first survivors.
They were a pitiful bunch, ragged and dirty.
“I feel so sorry for them,” Gale said.
“Why?” Ben asked. “It’s their own fucking fault. There is no excuse for them to walk around dressed in rags. I don’t feel a damn bit sorry for the adults. It’s the very young and the elderly who get my sympathy-and no one in between, who doesn’t have some physical infirmity.”
Her eyes were hot on him. “That’s a pretty damned
selfish and arrogant attitude, Ben.”
“I don’t think so,” Ben said, unruffled at her condemnation. “Gale, there were many of us over the years-before the bombings-who saw all this coming. We wrote about it; we yelled about it; we talked ourselves blue in the face advocating compulsory military training. Nothing came of it. I defy you, Gale-I challenge you to find one man in that bunch of losers who ever did time in a hard military unit. Odds of you finding one are very, very slim, my dear. And I challenge to find one, just one hard-line conservative in that pack of rags. I challenge you to find just one person, male or female, who practiced-before the wars-the art of survivalism. You won’t find one, Gale.”
She sat silently. It was at moments like these she experienced pangs of dislike for Ben, overriding her true feelings for him. No one likes to be told they are wrong. And Gale was no exception. What made it so bitter-tasting was the fact that she knew Ben was right.
“Honey, people who shared my feelings-male and female-beat their heads against the wall, verbally speaking, against the creeping cancer of liberalism. We tried to tell people in positions of power not to bend to the misguided whims of those pressure groups who favored gun control-for criminals wanted gun control. All gun control did was work in favor of the lawless and against the law-abiding citizens. We saw it all coming. We were laughed at and ridiculed.
“So-called comic movies and TV shows were made, belittling and ridiculing those who
even slightly practiced any type of survivalism. It was all great fun, Gale. See the funny people stockpiling food and weapons and other survival gear. Big joke. The nation’s press showed us as ignorant buffoons and nuts. We expected that, since the national press was controlled and run by liberals. Print and broadcast. But we did try, Gale.”
Ben sighed. “And we were laughed at. Probably by some of those very people right over there.” He pointed. “Those sad, sorry, naive bitches and bastards called us right-wingers, fascists, war-mongers, to mention only a few of the titles that were hung on us. We were laughed at, insulted, belittled and humiliated. The press had a field day with us. And you want me to feel sorry for those sacks of shit over there, Gale? No way, dear. Just no damned way!”
Totally liberated woman that she was, free-spirited and quick to speak her mind, Gale remained silent for this round, for she knew the ring of truth when she heard it. Like many reconstructed liberals, the truth had reached up and boxed her ears too many times for her to ignore it.
Ben pulled off the highway and drove up to a clump of unwashed citizens.
“Who is in charge here?” he asked.
“Nobody in charge,” a man said. “I don’t take orders from no one. Who are you people?”
Ben bit back an impulse to tell the man they were Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. In drag. “If no one is in charge, how in the hell does anything ever get done?”
“What is there to get done?” the man challenged Ben. “We’re getting by. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“Beautiful,” Ben muttered. “What a bunch of losers.” He raised his voice to a normal speaking level. “All right, tell me this: How are you people living?”
“Still lots of canned food left. We scrap around. What business is it of yours?”
Ben’s eyes found a small knot of ragged and dirty kids, most of them very young, standing in a weed-filled lot, staring at the uniformed Rebels. “Where are the parents of those kids?”
“Who the hell knows,” the man said with a shrug. “They’re street kids. You see lots of them around. Damn nuisance is what they are.”
Gale stirred beside Ben. He cut his eyes at her. She was getting angry and reaching that state very quickly.
Ben got out of the pickup, Thompson in hand. He faced the man. “I can see why Silver’s people had such an easy time with his only opposition being you tigers. But I cannot believe you represent the majority of survivors in Macon. Where are the other people?”
The man would not meet Ben’s eyes. Keeping his eyes averted, he said, “There’s some folks over yonder.” He pointed. “But we don’t mess with them. They’ve got a lot of guns and they don’t hesitate to use them.”
“Go on,” Ben prompted.
“What are you tryin’ to get me to say, mister?”
“Those … other people, they have a leader?”
“Yeah.”
“Everybody works in their society?”
“Yeah.”
“They have schools for the kids and they raise gardens and maintain some type of law and order, is that right?”
“Yeah. All those things. So what?”
“And what you and these-was Ben’s gaze swept the ragged, dirty crowd of men and women-“other people want is to lay on your lazy asses and do nothing. Is that correct?”
“Our business,” the man’s reply was sullen.
“Yeah,” Ben said, the one word filled with sarcasm. He turned his back to the man. “Sergeant Greene! Get those kids and clean them up. Have the medics check them out. We’re taking them with us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about us?” the dirty man said, a whine to his voice that grated on Ben. “Ain’t you gonna give us some food or something? Help us out just a little bit?”
Ben lifted the muzzle of the Thompson, placing it under the man’s chin. Ben saw fleas hop around on the man’s neck. “Don’t tempt me,” Ben told him softly.
The man swallowed hard. “I get the message.”
“I thought you might.”
“Least you can tell me your name.”
“Ben Raines.”
The man’s eyes glinted hard momentarily. His hatred overrode his fear of Ben. “Mr. President Raines, huh? That figures. Your time in office was cut kinda short, wasn’t it? You was really gonna come down hard on some folks, wasn’t you? Make everybody obey your law. Make everybody work, whether they wanted to or not. You weren’t any
better than a damned communist.”
“Don’t worry about it, sad sack,” Ben told him. “You’re not going to last much longer. Not unless you shape up. If thugs and punks don’t kill you, disease will. You might last another year. Two if you’re lucky. And if I’m real lucky, I’ll never have to look at you again.”
“You don’t have any right to talk to me like that, mister.”
“You may rest assured you have my heartfelt apologies for bruising your sensitive ego.” Ben walked back to his truck and slid under the wheel. “Worthless son of a bitch!” he said.
“I could not agree with you more, Ben,” Gale concurred.
They waited in the truck while the kids were rounded up and herded into trucks. The convoy shifted locations and the kids were checked out, bathed and dressed in clean clothes. They had all heard of Mister Ben Raines, and Ben was amused at the way they shyly looked at him. He felt sorry for them, for many told of being abandoned by their parents, left to wander alone, fending for themselves. They told of many of their little friends who had died, from the cold, from hunger, brought down by the many roaming packs of dogs gone wild. They said that Silver’s men had taken several of the girls-after they had raped them.
In another section of the city, the scene was quite different. The streets were free of litter, the houses neatly kept. Gardens grew in every back yard. Block
after block had been cleared and planted with all types of vegetables.
Ben stopped his truck in the center of the street, got out, and held his
empty hands in the air. A gesture that he meant no harm to anyone. All the Rebels had been very conscious of eyes on them as they traveled from conditions that would make a pigsty seem attractive, to this well-attended section of Macon, Georgia.
Ben shifted his eyes left and right as heavily armed men and women appeared out of houses, to stand on well-kept front lawns.
“I’m friendly,” Ben called. “We’re just passing through, looking for survivors. To see how they’re getting along. We mean no harm to anyone, believe me.”
“You look familiar,” a man called. “Who are you?”
“Ben Raines.”
The men and women relaxed, lowering their weapons. “I thought it might be you,” a well-dressed man said. “But none of us were certain. Have your people park their vehicles over there.” He pointed. “You’re all welcome here.”
CHAPTER NINE
He did not know why the pain had suddenly stopped. But he was glad it had. His cuts had been cleaned and bandaged. He had been allowed to bathe and was given clean clothing.
Ike now sat alone in a small room. The door was locked from the outside. The room contained a cot, with blanket and pillow, a bucket of water, and a cane-bottomed chair. Nothing else.
He did not have any idea where he was.
But he sure as hell wished he was somewhere else.
He began making plans for escape.
CHAPTER TEN
Cecil knew Ben Raines as well as any man living, and Cecil felt certain Ben was going to pull out once Ike was found and the suspected coup attempt was put to rest. And Cecil really couldn’t blame Ben. The man had never asked for the job. It had been pushed on him, beginning back in ‘88, in the old Tri-States. Ben had never wanted all the responsibility that had been piled on his shoulders. Big shoulders, to be sure, but lots of big problems, too. And Cecil knew Ben didn’t want to break away on any permanent basis-he just wanted to take a rest, get away for a time.
Cecil knew the reins of government would be handed to him if Ben pulled out. And he wondered if he could handle all the problems that went with the territory.
He knew he had the respect of the Rebels. The Rebels were so racially mixed, that old issue never came up. People just did their jobs and nobody gave a damn what color they were. Ben wouldn’t put up with blind race prejudice for five seconds.
But Cecil knew that while he had the loyalty and respect of the Rebels … he wasn’t Ben Raines.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He would really be king of the mountain if he could kill Ben Raines, Tony mused. He didn’t know what had happened to that Russian bastard, Striganov, only that he had taken his people and headed out west. All that mess had been over and done with before Tony even knew what was happening. One had to rely on the infrequent broadcasts of ham operators for news, and they sometimes got it all screwed up.
Fuck the west! Tony thought. The Russian could have the west, Tony would take everything east of the Mississippi River. Maybe after he blew Ben Raines’ shit away, he could arrange for a sit-down with General Striganov, work something out. Striganov. Christ, what a name. Sounded like something to eat.
Tony leaned back in his chair in the converted motel room outside Savannah. The young chick, Ann, was in the adjoining room, playing with dolls, for Christ’s sake. Acted like she’d never seen a goddamn doll before. Tony shook his head in disgust. Cunt like Ann had on her and she plays with fucking dolls! Tony grinned. He knew Ann had been lying when she’d told him she got off their first time together. But Tony knew women, and after their
fourth time together, he looked at the kid’s face and knew she really was getting off. Now she couldn’t get enough cock. His grin widened.
Women were all alike. Young or old. Kept their brains between their legs.
It had been a good move, coming up to south Georgia. He’d been friggin’ tired of north Florida. He’d left a good man down there to run the operations, so he wasn’t at all concerned about that.
Ben Raines concerned him.
All that garbage about him being some kind of a god. Shit! Goddamned law-and-order freak was what he was.
Wasn’t no back-up in Raines. He just went in shooting. But he was a mortal; he bled just like anybody else. And Tony meant to be the one who pulled the trigger on Ben Raines.
Yes, getting rid of Raines would be quite a feather in his cap.
He’d definitely see about wasting Ben Raines. He had people in Raines’ camp.
The son of a bitch!
CHAPTER TWELVE
It didn’t take Dan Gray long to put it all together. He had looked around and found a lot of seasoned combat vets gone from camp. Probably gone to link up with General Raines.
He wondered if the general was going to make a move against those who grabbed Colonel McGowen. Probably, he concluded. Dan knew he had a bad reputation in a fight. But nothing to compare with General Raines’ reputation as a bad ass. He felt very sorry for the Ninth Order when Ben Raines caught up with them.
The Englishman had detected a growing restlessness in General Raines lately. And he had pegged it accurately. When the Rebels were settled in, the problem with Willette and his malcontents solved-and it would be solved-and Ike found, dead or alive, Dan was certain Ben was going to take off. Probably after Gale birthed her babies. But he couldn’t be sure of that, for Gale was one very astute person, and Dan had spoken with her at length many times. Gale knew Ben was getting restless, and she also knew no one woman held Ben for very long. Not since Salina. Gale just might insist Ben take off without her.
Dan didn’t blame Ben for wanting to getaway for a
time: a few months, perhaps even a year. Lord knows the man had been saddled with the problems of creating nations for more than a decade. It was time for a break.
Dan smiled. All right, General, he thought, take your hiatus-you’ve earned it. But before you do, I shall be equipping a new truck for you. And when I get through with it, I shall be able to track you and pinpoint your location no matter where in the ravaged nation you might decide to wander.
He was grinning and rubbing his hands together gleefully as he walked off toward the motor pool.
“I suppose, Mr. Raines,” the spokesman for the Macon group said, “it would be a losing proposition for us to stay here. Is that the way you see it?”
“Yes,” Ben replied without hesitation. “Mr. Harner, Tony Silver, so I’m told, has a small, but very well-equipped army. And he is pushing hard into south Georgia. His tactics are brutal. I’ve told you about them. I believe the only way civilization can endure is for people of like mind to band together. When that is done, perhaps others will join us and we can spread out. I’ve been entertaining the thought of outposts throughout the nation, small fortressstvillage types.”
“Well-armed and well-equipped,” Harner said, leaning forward. “Much like the old west days when the settlers were pushing westward. Yes. I like that concept, General. Count us in.”
“Don’t delay your move too long, Mr. Harner,” Ben cautioned the leader of the Macon survivors. “I
noticed you have a good communications system. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything I think you should be informed of.”
“We’ll start the packing in the morning, General Raines. But we’ll do it in a manner that will not be too obvious. We should be ready to pull out in two or three weeks.”
“Good. I’ll radio Colonel Jefferys and tell him to be ready to receive you, or to give you help, if you should need it.”
“General? Are you, ah, aware of the, ah, manner in which many people view you?”
Ben smiled. “The rumor that I am more god than man? Unfortunately, yes. But every time I bring it up, it seems to make matters worse. Strengthens the rumor, so to speak. So I decided to just drop the subject.”
“I see,” Harner spoke softly. “But, General … have you ever given any thought to the idea the rumor might just hold some degree of truth?”
Ben shrugged that off. He’d heard it
many times before. “Take care of the kids,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The team following the convoy of armed men had reported the men headed into the mountains of north Georgia. They appeared to be skirting the Rebels’ new Base Camp and heading toward the border of Tennessee.
Ben told them to break off pursuit and to head for Clark Hill Lake. Wait there for the other contingent to join them. Ben’s convoy would meet them there.
Ben pulled his small convoy out of the Macon area at noon, pointing them east on Interstate 16. The going proved very slow.
They were heading for Savannah.
The nation’s highways and freeways were rapidly deteriorating, Ben noted. Almost fourteen years of virtual neglect had dramatically taken its toll. Another fourteen years, and many roadways would be impassable. If he was to once more see the country, or what was left of it, with even some degree of access, he would have to do it quickly.
Gale picked up on his thoughts. She could do so by watching the expression on his face and the direction his eyes were taking over a period of time. That plus the fact that when deep in thought, Ben had a tendency to mutter. “The twins will be born around the
last of February. I won’t even consider taking them on the road until they are a year old.”
“Hell, Gale, that’s eighteen months,” Ben said, frowning.
“My, how quick you are this afternoon.” He laughed at her. “Woman, thou hath a barbed tongue.”
She slid across the seat and whispered vulgarly in his ear.
“Well … I suppose there might be a modicum of truth in that-putting it that way. I was speaking figuratively, however.”
“No kidding! Did Cecil have any good news about Ike when you spoke with him?”
Ben shook his head. “No, nothing. He’s got teams out looking. Ike will show up, unless he’s dead. As soon as we take a quick look-see at Savannah, I think we’ll head north, link up with the platoon at Clark Hill Lake, and then join the search.”
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