Smoke from the Ashes

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Smoke from the Ashes Page 19

by William W. Johnstone


  “Back off, I say!” Emil shouted. What the hell? he thought. Might as well give it a try. “I am the earthbound spiritual messenger of the Great God Bloom. I command you all in his name to carry your asses on outta here!”

  “That’s tellin’ ’em, Brother Emil,” Carl whispered. “Blomm’ll strike ’em down.”

  For the umpteenth time since he started his present scam, Emil wished to hell he had thought of something else. Blomm was getting a bit wearing. Not to mention hard in keeping up a good front.

  “We come with peace and love in our hearts,” said a female voice out of the gathering purple shadows. “We mean no harm to anyone.”

  “Yeah?” Emil shouted. “That’s what Kong said to what’s-her-name, too. Drop them hoods so I can see your faces!”

  The line of robed and hooded people pushed back their hoods. Emil lowered the muzzle of his rifle and clicked it to safety. The men and women were unblemished. The men handsome, the women beautiful.

  They were not the Night People. Those creeps could haunt graveyards. And probably did.

  “What’s your problem?” Emil asked. “Don’t you have no better sense than to prowl around cities in the night?”

  “Our bus broke down,” a woman said. “The old engine finally gave up the good fight. There are but six of us.”

  Emil counted. There were six of them. He could have sworn there were sixty. Fear in the night can play tricks on a person.

  “If you are going east, would you be so kind as to give us a lift?” the spokeswoman requested. “We are not going far.”

  “You got any gas?”

  “Plenty of fuel, neighbor. We’ll give you gas for a ride.”

  “I’m only goin’ about forty-five miles,” Emil said.

  “That would be wonderful,” the woman said. “That would put us precisely at our destination. You’re so kind. The night can be fearful, can it not?”

  “Bet your ass,” Emil muttered. He looked at the woman. And speaking of ass —

  “Okay,” Emil said. “Let’s get you all loaded up and this buggy gassed up.”

  They worked quickly, for full night was upon them. Emil noticed that all the newcomers, despite their talk of peace and love, were heavily armed. But in this day and time, only a fool wasn’t.

  With the softness of the chickie pushing against him, Emil cranked the limo, now with a full tank of gas, the luggage on the rack on top. It headed out into the night.

  “See the Night People, over there!” Carl said, pointing.

  “Screw ’em,” Emil said, driving past the dark outline of what had once been a shopping mall. He was soon on the highway.

  Everyone breathed a long, collective sigh of relief.

  “It could have become very ugly back there,” a man spoke from the back seat. “The Night People are organizing, all over the land. They have a system of radio hookups that stretch all over the lower forty-eight. They will soon be a force to reckon with, I am afraid.”

  “They hate and despise everyone who is not like them,” the chickie beside Emil said. “And where once they were to be pitied, now they have turned savage and hateful. They are becoming increasingly dangerous.”

  “Blomm will protect us, won’t he, Brother Emil?” Carl asked.

  “The Good Book says the Lord helps those who help themselves,” Emil stated. Or something like that. Pretty profound, anyways.

  “Blomm?” the chickie by Emil said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Blomm.”

  “Nor I, Sister Susie,” a man spoke from the back seat. “We worshipped with Brother Fladstool out in California for a time; but then the Russian and his troops came along and we had to flee for our lives. Remember, Sister Susie?”

  “Oh, yes, Brother William. It was after that we went to Arizona and for a time worshipped with the Reverend Mugwan, and his Sun, Moon, and Stars Church. But we became dissatisfied with East Indian mystics and are now looking for something more gentle.”

  “Wonderful!” Emil cried, almost losing control of the limo as Sister Susie’s softness pressed against him. He had a hard-on that was throbbing like a bass drum. “I know just the place for you to settle.”

  “Oh, wonderful, Emil!” Sister Susie cried, clapping her soft little hands together. “I’m so glad we’ll all be together.”

  “Oh, we’ll be close, all right,” Emil promised. Bet your ass on that, chickie.

  She put her hand on Emil’s thigh. “Tell me, Emil, how long have you been with Francis Freneau and his Joyful Followers of Life?”

  A back tire on the limo blew out with a bang!

  TEN

  Colonel West and his three battalions of troops took the northern route. They cut up to Highway 36 at St. Joseph, Missouri and then followed that due east. Ben and his troops cut south of Kansas City, then gradually began working their way east, taking the southernmost route of the two armies.

  Before they left, Colonel West told Ben, “Louie is rumored to have some old ICBMs fully functional, general.”

  Ben almost choked on his tea. “Nukes?”

  “That’s what Ashley thought. That’s why he was always so secure. He was even going to use them against you.”

  Colonel West was smiling.

  “Why are you smiling, colonel?”

  “You know anything about guided missiles, general?”

  “No.”

  “Well, on these, sir, you don’t just push a button and the birds fly. It takes a sequence of events to launch. Here’s the way it might work: Your PAR, the Perimeter Acquisition Radar, would gather initial trajectory data on targets and then transmit that to the Fire Coordination Center. The FCC would then select the most appropriate missile site to respond, and then transmit the collected data to the MDC, the Missile Direction Center located at that site.”

  “Good God!” Ben said.

  “Oh, there’s more, sir. Believe me. It is not and cannot be a one-man show. Besides, I looked at one of the missiles. They aren’t ICBMs. They’re Spartan.”

  “Shorter range.”

  “Yes, sir. And this particular Spartan was designed to explode in the exoatmosphere.”

  “Outside the atmosphere.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “What do you mean, colonel?”

  “Well, sir, these birds haven’t been checked in years. And Louie was a genius. I’ve heard that he monkeyed with the guidance system on some of them. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. I just don’t know.”

  Ben thought for a moment. “Is it possible, colonel, for Louie to have . . . hell, rewired the system?”

  “To make it a one-man show?”

  “Yes.”

  West sighed. “It’s possible, general. I think. And that screwball just might have done it.”

  “Any idea which direction they were programmed to fly?”

  “No, sir.”

  “But you don’t believe they’re nuclear, right?”

  “No, sir. I do not believe they are.”

  “Would they blow up by themselves?”

  “It’s possible, sir. You see, general, the firing sequence is almost entirely automated through the Data Processing System. But, Louie could have found a way to hook into or bypass that, because they’re all capable of having manual intervention at any point deemed necessary.”

  “Deemed necessary by . . . whom?”

  “Maybe by Louie.”

  “God help us all!”

  “That’s it, people!” Cecil shouted at Mackey and Billy. “Both of you, over here.”

  Leaving the Misfits to grab five on the field, Mackey and Billy trotted to Cecil’s side. “What’s up, general?” Lt. Mackey asked.

  “We’re moving out. Khamsin’s people are crossing the river, using the bridges just north of Savannah. His first teams are racing toward Interstate Twenty, to beef up those already there.”

  “Where do you want us, sir?” Mackey asked.

  “Right here,” Cecil said, punching a spot on the map laid on the hood of a picku
p. “You’ll be about fifteen miles east of Atlanta.”

  “Why there, sir?” Mackey asked.

  “Because it is close to Atlanta, May. And Khamsin’s people, so our reports indicate, are avoiding Atlanta. The chances of your Misfits mixing it up with a stronger force are lessened there.”

  “The Night People?” May asked.

  Cecil nodded his head in silent agreement.

  “What’s that, sir?” Billy asked. “What’s the Night People?”

  “You haven’t heard of them?” Cecil asked.

  “No, sir. But then, that’s easy to explain. None of us have left this immediate area in more than a year and a half.”

  May explained about the Night People.

  Billy listened and chewed his chaw slowly. “That might account for the strange radio transmissions we intercepted ever’ now and then. Wild, crazy talk.”

  “Frequency, sergeant?” Cecil asked.

  “High band, sir. Just about off the scale.”

  “I’ll order a listening team to start monitoring the high band,” Cecil said, as much to himself as to Billy and May. He looked at May. “We’re getting reports from all over the country about these Night People banding together, always in the cities. They could be a problem in the future.”

  A runner came panting up. “Sir! A forward recon team from General Raines just radioed in. They must be east of Khamsin’s jamming team. General Raines is on the way, sir. And he’s linked up with a Colonel West; that’s that mercenary. West has three battalions with him. Contact says to look for a man named Ashley; he’ll have about a company of men with him. He’s friendly and will be working with us to fight Khamsin.”

  “What’s Ben’s location?” Cecil asked.

  “Still a couple of hundred miles west of the Big Muddy, sir.”

  Cecil thanked the runner and dismissed him. “It’ll take Ben a good five or six days to get here, the roads being what they are. We’re going to have a tough go of it until Ben gets here.”

  “And spread pretty thin,” Mackey said.

  “Razor thin,” Cecil agreed. “So let’s be damn sure we’re razor sharp.” Cecil shook hands with May and Billy Bob. “Move out, people. And good luck.”

  Cecil walked to his communications vehicle. “Get me Colonel Williams,” he ordered.

  Joe on the horn, Cecil said, “How’s it looking, Joe?”

  “Quiet here, general. Too damn quiet. My scouts report a lot of troop movement across the river. All heading south. Is the big push on?”

  “Looks that way, Joe. You’re certain there is no movement north?”

  “Not unless the IPA is goin’ way inland and then cuttin’ north.”

  “I don’t think they want to try the mountain route, Joe. All reports indicate they’re coming across at Savannah.” Cecil thought for a moment, then made his decision, and silently prayed it was the right one.

  “Joe, leave a team guarding the I-Eighty-five bridge and start the rest of your people heading south. Link up with me in Athens.”

  “Moving out now, sir.”

  Cecil walked back to his vehicle and began studying his map. He felt, for several reasons, that Khamsin would not put many troops west of Atlanta. For one, the area between Atlanta and the Alabama line had turned wild, filled with thugs and outlaws and warlords. Khamsin would not want to mix it up with them; not just yet. Another reason was that he would surely know that Ben was on the move, and he would not want his people to get caught in a box, with Cecil’s Rebels to the east, and Ben’s people coming hard from the west.

  Smiling, he closed the map case and once more walked to communications. “Get me Mark and Alvaro.”

  “Mark? Scramble this. The push is on from Khamsin. Get your people up and moving. Move them south of Interstate Twenty, slip into the woods just east of Sinclair Lake. Slide in there and stay low and quiet. I’m going to pull my people into the area you’re leaving. Got all that?”

  “Yes, sir. What’s the drill on this move?”

  “Khamsin’s people will want to punch a hole in the center of our lines. Fine. We’ll let them think they’re doing that. I’ll fall back and let them think the line is broken. As soon as they pour across the highway, you and your bunch plug the hole. I’ll keep falling back and split my bunch, putting those troops of the IPA who have crossed the line in a squeeze, if we have any kind of luck at all, we can destroy a battalion.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Ben is on the way, Mark. We’ve got to hold until he gets here.” Cecil brought the man up to date on Ben and Colonel West.

  “Move out, Mark.”

  Cecil looked at the woman behind the maze of electronic equipment. “Pull everybody north of Interstate Twenty. Everybody. I can’t risk losing a single person in guerrilla action.”

  “Yes, sir.” She reached for the mike and began transmitting in code.

  Cecil looked toward the west. “It’s gonna be close, Ben. Real close.”

  “I’m being forced to detour, general,” Colonel West radioed to Ben’s column. “We’ve got some bridges out on Thirty-six. I’m cutting south to Interstate Seventy.”

  “Try to avoid St. Louis, colonel. Some very strange people are now inhabitating the nation’s cities.”

  “Ten-four to that, general. I’m looking at a map now. I can’t figure out where to cross the Muddy.”

  Ben checked his map. “Try either the northern or southern loop, colonel. You might have to cross at Alton.”

  “Ten-four, general. I’ll get back to you.”

  Ben looked at Buddy. “As many bridges as possible have to be saved, Buddy. Roads can be patched up and maintained. But once the big bridges are gone, they will not be rebuilt; not in our lifetimes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Haven’t seen you since we pulled out of Kansas, boy. Everything going all right?”

  “Fine, sir. General McGowan reassigned me to your column.”

  “How considerate of him,” Ben said drily.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ben looked the young man over for any sign of rank. He could find none. “Exactly, boy, what is your position in this army?”

  “Sort of a roaming recon team, sir. I don’t have any rank.”

  “Is that your idea, or Ike’s?”

  “Sort of a mutual agreement, sir.”

  “I see. Doesn’t that present some difficulty in your giving orders?”

  “No, sir. I have experienced no problems as yet.”

  Ben was conscious of Tina and Dan standing close, smiling. Denise was sitting behind the wheel of the Jeep, looking straight ahead, but smiling.

  “Big goddamn joke,” Ben groused. He glared at Buddy. “Well . . . go roam and recon, boy.”

  “My team is doing that, sir,” Buddy responded. “Sergeant Major Riverson assigned me as your bodyguard.”

  “I am just delighted that everyone is so concerned with my welfare.”

  “Yes,” Buddy agreed, straight-faced. “It must be quite an honor to be so well-thought-of.”

  Ben stared at the young man. But he couldn’t tell if Buddy was putting him on, or not.

  “Let’s roll!” Ben ordered. He looked at Buddy. “You take the lead, boy,” he said to a very startled Buddy. “I’ll ride with Dan for an hour or so.”

  “Sir! . . .” Buddy opened his mouth to protest. Then closed it as Ben cut him off.

  “I’m putting you in charge of the column, boy. What’s the matter. Don’t you think you can handle it?”

  Buddy’s face tightened. “I can handle it, sir.”

  “Then get to it,” Ben said gruffly. “If you hit a snag, holler. I’ll be a couple of miles back with Colonel Gray.”

  Buddy turned away.

  “Boy!” Ben said.

  Buddy slowly turned around. “Yes, sir?”

  “I got something I might as well get said. Now is as good a time as any, I suppose.”

  Buddy braced himself. He knew it had really irritated his father when General Ike
had given him a team. Now he felt sure his father was going to make a fool of him by taking that team away from him, or something worse.

  But he had come here to be with and to serve his father. So whatever his father decided, he would accept it.

  Suddenly, Ben smiled and extended his hand. “Welcome home . . . Captain Raines.”

  ELEVEN

  “I can drive my own vehicle,” Buddy bitched to Denise. She had insisted upon driving him.

  “No, sir,” she said. “General Raines signaled for me to drive you.”

  Buddy nodded his head. He wasn’t about to argue that. “You’re leaving behind any family, Denise?”

  “A few cousins. My immediate family was killed fighting Ashley and Big Louie.”

  Before he could reply, the radio in the Jeep crackled. “Recon One to Eagle.”

  Buddy looked at the radio. “That’s your call, Buddy,” Denise said. “You’re in charge, now.”

  “I’m not the Eagle!” Buddy protested.

  “Recon One to Eagle. Come in, Eagle.”

  “Take the call.” Ben’s voice popped out of the speaker. “Little Eagle.”

  Denise laughed aloud.

  Buddy reddened and then laughed. “All right, Father,” he said. “I can play games, too.”

  He picked up the mike and said, “This is Little Eagle, go ahead.”

  There were a few seconds’ pause before the recon team responded. “Little Eagle, the highway is blocked your side of Norwood. Outlaws. They’re demanding a tariff to pass. Orders?”

  “Stand by,” Buddy said, then consulted his map. Or rather, his father’s map. The point of the column was about five miles from Norwood. He picked up the mike. “This is . . . Captain Raines. My team up front. On the double.”

  In the center of the column, Ben sat with Dan, both men listening. Ike had walked up to join them.

  “You just gonna sit there, Ben?” Ike asked.

  “Yep. It’s Buddy’s show.”

  “You’re a hard bastard, you know that, Ben?”

  “What would you do, Ike, if that were your son up front?”

  Ike mumbled something under his breath.

 

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