Fury in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “And how many of your babies have you handed over to them?” Ben asked softly.

  Linda gasped at the question.

  The woman sneered at Ben. She knew she was only minutes from death. “The ones that’s sickly. The Believers have fine hospitals and such. They raise them up fat.”

  “Good God, woman!” Cooper blurted out. “The goddamned creepies eat them!”

  “So?” she said. “What business is that of yours?”

  Several Rebels crossed themselves. Jersey muttered, “Suffer the little children unto me, Jesus said.”

  Ben spat in the woman’s face. “Beth, Jersey. Take these . . . ladies out of town and deal with them, please.”

  “Our pleasure,” Beth said, prodding them up with the muzzle of her rifle.

  A Rebel walked out of the newly claimed territory and whispered to Ben. Ben nodded his head in understanding. “A few who have surrendered verify that we now have all the children that were in the town,” he said to no one in particular. He was thoughtful for a moment. “Corrie, give the orders for all Rebels to evacuate the town. Then order artillery to destroy it and everyone in it.”

  Smoke spiraled into the sky from the west coast of the state, the interior, and from the east side as Eureka, Redding, and Susanville were brought down by Rebel gunners.

  Rebel planes would begin landing as soon as the airport runways were cleared. The children — many of the older ones just taken prisoner confirming the horror story the woman had told Ben — would be flown back to Base Camp One for further medical treatment, and would eventually be placed in foster homes.

  “Hideous!” Linda said. “We were so secluded in our little valley we knew very little of what was actually taking place outside of it. This is just . . . mind-boggling.”

  The bodies of the dead outlaws and their women had been dragged into piles and scooped up by front-loaders, then transported to a mass grave site. All weapons had been gathered up and stacked according to caliber. They would be transported to supply depots and carefully gone over by Rebel armorers.

  “Hiding one’s head in the sand never really accomplishes anything,” Ben said. “Reminds me of the story about the family who had but one child and wanted to protect that child from all the evils of the world. The child was educated at home, all activities monitored and restricted, and never allowed to leave the home compound. On the child’s eighteenth birthday, his parents let him go outside the compound for the first time and he died of shock.”

  “If there is criticism in there, General,” she replied, “I accept it for all of us.”

  Ben shook his head. “No criticism, Linda. Just amazement at your naiveté. I guess you people did what you thought was best. But now you have to face the real world. You witnessed a very small part of it today.”

  “You mean there is more?” She tried a smile with the light sarcasm.

  Corrie walked up. “General, Leadfoot’s bunch report that Red Bluff is deserted. A lot of people left there in one hell of a hurry. General Ike reports the same thing all the way down to Ukiah, and General Striganov has scouts out as far south as Interstate 80, just north of Lake Tahoe. Deserted all the way down. But the signs show a lot of people were in that area a short time ago.”

  Ben opened a map case and carefully studied a map of California. “All right, Corrie. Have Georgi investigate all the towns east of Highway 99. Tell Leadfoot and his people to check out Chico, Yuba City, and Marysville. I think he’s going to find them deserted. Abandoned is a better word. Sacramento is going to be our next big one. Tell Leadfoot to stay the hell out of Sacramento.”

  “Right, sir.”

  Thermopolis, the leader of the 21st-century century hippies who had joined in the Rebels’ fight some months back, walked up. Ben looked around to see if the little con artist, Emil Hite, might be nearby. He wasn’t. Ben liked Emil, and the little man was a scrapper, but Emil could be a tad nerve-janging at times.

  “Therm,” Ben said, greeting the man with the graying shoulder-length hair. “What’s up?”

  “Ben, I’ve got an old friend who had a commune not too far outside of Oroville. He was a fairly resourceful fellow. I’d like to take some of my people down there and see if he’s still alive.”

  “I can’t stop you, Therm.”

  “I know that. But if I’m playing the soldier game, I’d like to have the commanding general’s permission.”

  “It’s fine with me, Therm. You want some Rebels to go with you?”

  Therm thought about that for a moment. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that would be wise. Pasco might misinterpret that as aggression and open fire.”

  “Why do I get this feeling that your friend will want no part of us?”

  Therm shrugged his shoulders. “You’re probably right, Ben. But he runs, or ran, a tight ship. No lawlessness, no drugs, everybody works and pulls their own weight if they’re physically able. You probably won’t like him, but I think you’d respect what he is.”

  “Okay, Therm. But leave your VW Bugs and wagons here. Take a couple of Hummers with radio equipment so you’ll be able to stay in contact with us.” Ben smiled and Therm braced, knowing Ben was about to stick the needle to him. “Tie a flower or a guitar or something to the antenna, so this Pasco will know you’re only half-converted to reality.”

  Thermopolis gave Ben a dirty look, nodded his head, and walked off, muttering under his breath about fascists and dictators and the like.

  “Better yet,” Ben called, “take Emil with you. That would really set you apart.”

  Thermopolis turned and gave Ben the finger.

  Linda had stood quietly, watching and listening to the exchange. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “Oh, sure. What’s not to like? He thinks I’m full of bullshit and I know he is, so we get along. We’ve had some spirited debates over the months. He certainly doesn’t agree with everything I do, but he’s realist enough to know that the Rebel movement is the only thing standing between order and anarchy.”

  Linda said, “But the East, for the most part, is safe now. He could take his followers and leave, go back to the commune ways and live in peace.”

  Ben smiled. “Yes, he could. But he won’t. That’s why I know he’s spouting bullshit. Don’t kid yourself, he’s in this fight to stay. He’ll tell you he’s with us to see the country in the only reasonably safe way. Safety in numbers, and all that. But he’ll be with us when we hit Northstar, and he’ll be with us when we sail for Europe. Part of his motive will be his insatiable curiosity, and another part will be that in his brain, if not in his heart, he knows that what we’re doing is right. Brutal and savage, but right.” Ben chuckled. “Although he’ll never admit it and will argue to his dying day that I’m wrong.”

  “Just like you would never admit it if you are wrong about him?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t. That’s why we’re friends.”

  “Praise be to Ben Raines, the Supreme Commander of all forces that are right and just and good on this granite planet!” Emil Hite shouted, bouncing into the perimeter.

  “Oh, God!” Ben muttered.

  “Once more, justice and goodness has prevailed,” Emil said, walking up to Ben.

  “Right, Emil,” Ben said.

  “But we shall be benevolent conquerors. We shall heal the sick and offer solace to the bruised minds of those who have been enslaved.”

  “Right, Emil.”

  “The mighty army of Ben Raines rolls on, bringing liberty and justice to all.” Emil began to sing the “Star-Spangled Banner.” Smoot began to howl in protest. Emil looked at her looking at him. “Tin ear!”

  “That’s very good, Emil. But you’re going to herniate yourself if you keep trying to hit the high notes.”

  “I’ve been practicing.”

  Ben eyeballed Emil’s latest getup. Emil had long ago abandoned his flowing robes for military battle dress, but whenever he was outside of a combat area, he also wore a turban and cowboy boots.
He had recently begun carrying two pearl-handled, nickel-plated six-shooters, tied down like an Old West gunfighter. But for all his eccentricities, Emil had proven himself in battle, time after time, and Ben respected the little man for that. But he still considered Emil to be a tad off the wall.

  “Where’s Therm going, General?”

  “To visit some hippie friends of his in a commune south of here.”

  “Oh, neat-o! You think he’d mind if I went along?”

  “You can go if he asks you, Emil. But don’t bug him about it. On second thought, you’d better stay here. I, uh, need you.”

  “You need me?” Emil rose to his full height of about five-five. “I am at your service, mon general. Your wish is my command. Ask, and I will obey without hesitation.”

  Ben was thinking hard, aware of Linda’s amused look. “Uh, right, Emil. Listen, I want you to, ah . . . I want you to make certain that Therm and his bunch check out Hummers from the motor pool and that they have a good radio with them. Also make certain they have enough rations for several days. Will you do that for me, Emil?”

  Emil sprang to attention. “Yes, sir! I shall see to that at once.”

  “Thanks, Emil.”

  Emil whirled around, almost tripping over his high-heeled cowboy boots, and went running off to find Thermopolis.

  “Your friend Thermopolis is not going to like this,” Linda said.

  “He’ll get over it.” Ben grinned, softening the hard planes of his face and taking years from him. “Besides, he’s used to me shoving Emil at him.”

  Ben looked toward the town of Redding from his position at the airport. The small city was no more. The Rebels had set firebreaks to keep the flames from spreading, then moved back and let it burn.

  “It seems like such a waste,” Linda remarked.

  “There are only so many commodes, so many brass fittings, and so many bathtubs and kitchen sinks we can use, Linda. And we have enough stockpiled around the nation to outfit several million more people, and there are still millions more in empty homes and buildings. And we’re also eliminating another place for outlaws to stay. Linda, we have warehouses filled to the overflowing with every part and gidget you could name, and some that you couldn’t. We probably have half a million or more car and truck engines. We have enough spark plugs to stretch from here to the moon and back, and enough panty hose to completely wrap the earth.”

  She laughed out loud at that.

  “You see, after the Great War, we started what was probably the greatest scrounging effort ever undertaken by humankind. Since so many of us were ex-GI’s and ex-intelligence officers, we knew where the underground storage facilities were all over the nation. We filled them up. The Rebels have all the gold, all the silver, all the precious gems, all the great paintings . . . you name it, and we have it.”

  “And it was your idea?”

  He shrugged. “Part of it, I guess. Excuse me.” He waved for Corrie to come over. “Corrie, have Lead-foot establish a CP at Beale AFB outside of Marysville and wait for us there. I know where there are some goodies to be had there. Providing somebody else hasn’t got them.”

  Linda glanced at him. “I thought you said your storage facilities were all filled up.”

  Ben smiled. “These are sealed chambers, concrete and steel bunkers, set deep in the earth, that contain weapons, equipment, and MREs.

  MR . . . what?”

  “Meals, Ready-to-Eat. Wouldn’t you like a break from Doctor Chase’s highly nutritious and nearly totally unpalatable homemade goop?”

  “Not to take anything away from the doctor, but yes, I would. What does he put in that stuff?”

  “It’s his secret. His lab people won’t even tell me. Which is fine. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “General, you want to know a truth about Doctor Chase’s field rations?”

  “Sure?”

  “They taste like shit!”

  Ben threw back his head and laughed. “Welcome to the Rebels, Linda.”

  FOUR

  The Rebels pulled out the next morning. Vultures were circling high in the sky, sensing there was food far below them, but unable to spot the buried bodies with their sharp eyes.

  The convoy traveled as far as Red Bluff, and Ben ordered the Rebels to stand down and start cleaning up the town. “Nice-sized little place,” he remarked, after inspecting the town. “And the airfield is in pretty good shape. This would make a dandy outpost. Corrie, see if you can raise Thermopolis on the radio.”

  After a moment, she handed him the mike. “This is Eagle, Therm. Did you find your lost peace-and-love generation?” He winked at Linda as he said it, envisioning the frown on Therm’s face.

  “Yes, I did, Eagle.”

  “Thank you for reporting in, Therm.”

  “Sorry about that. I truly am. I just forgot.”

  “Therm, I won’t belabor the point. But I was about to send troops in after you. Some of Pasqual’s bunch might have gotten hurt.”

  “Pasco!”

  “Whatever. Therm, ask your friends if they know where any survivors might be who would like to help us set up an outpost here in Red Bluff. The town is the right size and everything else about it checks out.”

  “As a matter of fact, they do. Ben, they know where there are about three hundred people living. They’re all in small groups and looking to reestablish what they consider to be normal living.”

  Ben laughed at that. Linda had been listening over the speaker and had a confused look on her face. Ben said, “What Therm means is that these are the types of people who get regular haircuts, in addition to liking life under rules and regulations and saluting the flag and things of that nature.”

  “He doesn’t like an orderly life?”

  “Of course, he does. For a commune to work, they have to have rules and regulations too. He’s just needling me.” Ben lifted the mike. “Send them on their way, Therm. We’ll be waiting for them.”

  “That’s ten-four, Ben. Pasco says they are basically good people for straights.”

  Ben laughed. “I’d like to meet Pasco.”

  “He says thanks, but some other time.”

  “Okay, Therm. You can all go on back to listening to that horrible music.”

  “How in the hell did you know? . . . Oh, never mind. Old Hippie out.”

  Linda looked at him. “How did you know what they were doing?”

  “I guessed. But don’t ever tell Thermopolis that.”

  The first of the survivors in that area of northern California began arriving late that afternoon. They by no means appeared to be a beaten-down bunch, for they were well-armed and carried their weapons like combat-ready troops. They were just tired and very wary. Chase had set up his MASH and was ready to receive them, taking the children first, then the women, then the men.

  While the kids were being examined and receiving the first of many inoculations for childhood diseases, Ben met with the leaders of a few of the small groups.

  “Pasco radioed us and told us you were in the area,” a man said. “We just couldn’t believe it. It’s been tough, General. Moving every three or four weeks, always trying to stay one jump ahead of the outlaws.”

  “They are that strong?”

  “Sir,” another man said, “I’m not being critical, so please don’t take it that way. You had to move in some direction; it’s only logical that the outlaws would move in the other, getting away from you. They had us outmanned and outgunned. In this area alone there were once — not that many months ago — a dozen settlements, all doing well. Then the outlaws from the east joined up with those in L.A. and San Francisco. I’d say a conservative figure would be between five thousand and eight thousand men, women, and kids have either been killed or captured over the past year.”

  “You are aware of what the outlaws are, or were, doing with the prisoners they took?”

  The man spat on the ground. “Oh, hell, yes! Now let me tell you something that you probably don’t know. The la
rgest concentration of Believers in the lower forty-eight is in —”

  “The Los Angeles area,” Ben said, interrupting with a smile.

  The men shared a laugh. “Well, you did know.”

  “We guessed. The few prisoners we took up in Redding confirmed that. Right before we shot them.”

  The man studied Ben for a moment. “That’s why Pasco will never be a part of your group, General. He thinks you and your people go too far.”

  “That’s his right. There are others who agree with him. And they do not and never will receive any help from us, in any way, shape, or form.”

  “Pasco knows that. Thermopolis is trying to change his mind.”

  “What do you think his odds are of doing that?”

  The man moved his right hand in a waggling motion. “Not too good, General.”

  “What’s Pasco’s problem?”

  The man stared and studied Ben for a moment, then stuck out his hand. “I’m Les Word.”

  Ben shook the hand. Hard and callused.

  “Why does Pasco have to have a problem, General?”

  “Isolating oneself away from any type of open society tells me a lot. And the Rebels do have an open society. A dozen things come to mind, Les: dropout drug users wanted by the law, when there was a law; malcontents; a land-baron mentality; benevolent king . . . which one fits Pasco?”

  “Which one fits you, General?” Les asked with a smile, no back-down in the man.

  “Oh, even though I didn’t ask for this job — I actually ran away from it for six months — I don’t know that any of those descriptions fit me. You see, Les, Rebels know the rules — and in our society there are very few gray areas between right and wrong — and we — we — obey the rules. Very rarely does anyone come to me with a legal problem.”