Smoke from the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “Could it be true, Hamid,” Khamsin said, after dismissing his aides. “The rumor, the talk of Ben Raines being some sort of god?”

  “Only Allah could answer that question, Khamsin. I certainly cannot.”

  “Issue the orders, Hamid. All troops fall back south. Retreat.” But Khamsin was smiling. “But do not scramble this transmission. Not this one. After you have given those orders, instruct our radio people to go to the alternate frequency for one short message.”

  For the first time that day, Hamid smiled. “Yes, sir!”

  FOUR

  “You no-good, lousy, son of a bitch!” Francis Frenau cursed Emil.

  Emil grinned at him. “Why, Francis! What an unChristianlike thing to say. I’m ashamed of you, my boy.”

  “You asshole!”

  Emil giggled. “Are you having some sort of difficulty, Francis?”

  They were meeting alone, just outside a small town — or what was left of it — called Delhi.

  “Difficulty!” Francis roared, towering above Emil. “You sorry bastard. Hite, I don’t know exactly what you did to me. But I know that you did it. And I think I’m gonna kill you for that.”

  Francis was about two and a half times the size of Emil — in more ways than one; the porn makers didn’t call him Long Dong as a come-on. In the porn-flick business one has to put up or shut up. Or perhaps rise up might be more apropos. But the big man stopped flat in his size thirteen sandals when Emil reached up his robe and hauled out a single action .45 about a foot and a half long and jacked back the hammer.

  “Whoa, donkey-dick!” Emil told him. “Now you listen to me. You come swishing and yodeling your big ass into my territory, trying to screw up my scam. I’m the one oughta be killing mad, and I’m gettin’ there, Bong Dong.”

  “That’s Long Dong,” Francis automatically corrected.

  “Whatever, you freak. You know the rules of the game: no con artist moves in on another’s territory. You blew it, dinosaur-dick!”

  “What’d you do to me, Hite?” Francis demanded.

  “Blomm put a curse on you.”

  “Blomm’s ass! Save that crap for the stupids. Look, you shrimp. Whatever you done, undo it. My chickies are all upset.”

  “Good. Serves you right. Tell you what, Stanley, I might be persuaded to put in a good word for you, with Blomm . . .”

  Francis/Stanley rolled his eyes.

  “. . . if you’ll give me your word you’ll get your ass, and your other attachments, outta my territory.”

  “Screw you, Hite!” Francis snarled. “I’ll figure out what you did; gimme a little time. And when I do, I’ll be back gunnin’ for your skinny ass.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Emil caught a glimpse of Sister Susie; the chick was even more beautiful in the daylight. He stowed the Buntline special and waved his arms. “Begone, you spawn of evil!” he shouted at Francis. “Begone from the sight of righteousness. Namely, me!”

  “Friggin’ nut!” Francis said. But he left, glaring at Emil occasionally. Emil would pat the butt of the .45 and grin at him.

  “You big softie!” Emil hissed at him.

  Sister Susie sauntered toward Emil. “You’re so forceful,” she told him. “I just love a man that’s sure of himself.”

  “Have you come to your senses, Sister Susie?” Emil said, frowning at the young woman.

  “I’m sorry I was rude to you the other night. Will you forgive me?”

  “Blomm would allow that, I suppose. Come, girl, let us sit by the creek and be comfortable.”

  Sitting on the bayou bank, Sister Susie’s robe hiked up to mid-thigh. Emil reached up under what was left of her robe and squeezed.

  “Oohhh,” Sister Susie said. “Tell me more about yourself, Brother Emil. Are you firm?”

  “Damn right. Plumb rigid at the moment.”

  “OOhhh,” she said, as Emil gave her another squeeze. “That’s good. All the men across the river have suddenly become so . . . so, flexible.”

  “Yeah. I bet they have.”

  She reached under his robe and grabbed his woody.

  After that, neither one of them even noticed the old mossy-back ’gator on the other side of the bayou, watching them through unblinking eyes.

  “I hate to say this, general,” Colonel West told Ben. “But this has turned rather anticlimactic.”

  “It isn’t over,” Ben said softly. “Khamsin’s got too much pride to let it end like this.”

  “What do you mean, Dad?” Tina asked.

  Ben, Dan, West, Tina, and Buddy were sitting in Ben’s temporary CP, just outside of Madison.

  Ike had set up his CP at Thomson. Cecil had pulled back the northern Oconee Forest.

  And Khamsin’s troops had vanished.

  “He’s up to something, I believe. I think he’s going to show us that we’re not the only ones who can play tricks and make them work.”

  “I am a bit curious as to what happened to those IPA troops who had followed Cecil,” Dan said.

  Ben walked to a map and pointed to an unpaved road leading east out of the Oconee. “I think they slipped out this way and then cut north. I think they’re doing an end-around. Maybe a double end-around.”

  Colonel West walked to the map. He studied it for a moment, then nodded his head. “Sure. You’re right, General Raines. They’re going to link up with Ashley’s two battalions north of our lines. And if they’re pulling a double end-around, Ike is in for a bad time of it.”

  “If we could just be sure that’s what he’s got up his sleeve,” Ben muttered.

  “It’s tough to have one’s own game played against you, isn’t it, general?” West said with that strange smile of his.

  Ben faced him. “And you, colonel? Where do you stand in all this? You don’t owe me a thing.”

  West shrugged his heavy shoulders. “I am a soldier, general. For hire. Since money, as we knew it, is useless, then I’ve hired out to you for the fight alone. I like your Rebels, Ben Raines. They’re . . . unique. And to a person, by God, they’ll stand. I think I’ll stick around, general.”

  “Glad to have you, colonel.”

  “So you want me and my boys to link up with you guys, huh?” Jake told the CO of Ashley’s Second Battalion. “Why the hell should I?”

  “I, ah, understand that you had a small argument with the nigger general, did you not?” Jake flushed. “Maybe. So what if I did?”

  “That’s who we are going to fight.”

  “No shit! And just where might he be, fancy pants?”

  “About twenty-five miles away from where we’re standing. And if you’ll join up with us, we’ll have him outnumbered about eight to one. So how about it?”

  “I want him alive,” Jake said. “I got plans for that coon.”

  “If we take him alive, he’s all yours, Jake. And that’s a promise.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Quiet,” Cecil muttered. “We opened the door to the trap, but they didn’t like the bait. I wonder why.”

  “Sir?” a Rebel said. “General Raines is on the horn.”

  “Cec! Good to know you’re still alive.”

  “Something’s up, Ben. I can feel it in my old bones.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Briefly and quickly, Ben told Cecil of his hunch.

  “Okay, I agree with you. But I’m sitting pretty good here. I’ve got Mark and Alvaro just south of me, and we’re dug in deep; good cover. I don’t think those renegade battalions want to try us in the woods.”

  “Yes, I agree. But Khamsin still has no telling how many thousands of troops. And they’ve got to be gearing up for something.”

  “Ike,” Cecil said flatly.

  “That’s what Colonel West and I think. But goddammit, we don’t know for sure.”

  “What’s Ike say about it?”

  “He’s out of pocket for about an hour.” Ben sighed. “How Colonel Williams?”

  “Fat and sassy. That’s why I’m not worried about my position. J
oe’s people are sitting just to my east.”

  “Cec, I’ve sent out a dozen recon teams, north and south of the interstate. What do you know about a two-bit warlord named Jake?”

  “I whipped his ass about eight or ten days ago. Up in Athens.”

  “He’s linked up with Ashley’s renegade battalions. And they’re not far from your position. That man carries a lot of hate for you, Cec.”

  “I should have killed him.”

  “Next time you meet, please do. Cec, recon teams are reporting that all signs, including civilian sight verification, indicate that Khamsin’s people have moved east. I’m going to play out my hunch and bet that Ike’s in for a bad time of it.”

  “All right, Ben. What are your orders?”

  “I’m going to leave Ashley’s battalions and this Jake person for you and your people to neutralize. I’ll take Joe’s bunch and what I’ve got with me and head east. Pray we’re right, Cec.”

  “Will do, Ben. Luck to you.”

  Ben signed off and turned to Dan. “Dan, we know that Khamsin’s people bugged out to the south. Indications are that they then cut northeast. They’re after Ike. That’s the only thing I can figure. I’ve got Buddy and Tina and their teams out working deep recon, gradually moving toward Ike’s position. So here is what we’ll do.” Ben’s eyes touched the eyes of Colonel West. “We’ll all work east. All of us working south of the interstate. Work slowly and miss nothing, for we don’t know what in the hell we’re walking into this time around.”

  Dan and West nodded in agreement.

  “I’ll leave Lieutenant Mackey and her . . . Misfits,” he said and smiled, “where they are. We’ve got to have somebody keeping watch on the backyard while we’re gone. Order your people to get some rest, some food, and to check equipment. We’ll be moving out at dawn tomorrow.”

  The mercenary and the Englishman exited the CP. Ben, Denise walking beside him, walked to his communications truck.

  “Bump Ike again, please,” he told the operator.

  “Howdy, Ben.” Ike’s voice popped out of the speaker.

  “Where in the hell have you been?” Ben asked.

  “Oh, out lookin’ around,” Ike said, knowing Ben’s sharpness was from concern, not anger. “Sure is quiet for all the rush it took to get here.”

  Ben told him of his hunches.

  “Sounds right to me, Ben. But I’m sittin’ pretty good where I am. Khamsin, so I’m told, has reached our status when it comes to heavy guns. He just ain’t got ’em. He, like us, has got mortars running out the ying-yang, but no long range and heavy shooters.”

  “But he’s gonna have you outgunned with those mortars, Ike. He can lay back and do a hell of a lot of damage.”

  “True.”

  “I’ve half a mind to order you out of there, Ike.”

  “Naw! Hell, we gotta face this dude sometime, Ben. Way I figure it, might as well do it now and get it over with.”

  “All right, Ike. Head’s up, now.”

  “Five by five, Ben.”

  “I’ll be pulling out before dawn.”

  “See you soon, partner.”

  West found Ben sitting alone, on the steps of a long-deserted house. He appeared to be deep in thought.

  “Rather a pensive look on your face, general,” West remarked.

  Ben smiled. “Pensive? An interesting word for a mercenary to use.”

  West sat down and laughed. “What makes a mercenary, general? You were one yourself.”

  “I always preferred soldier of fortune.”

  West chuckled. “Semantics, Ben Raines. If you dip a rose in shit, you’ve still got a rose, haven’t you?”

  Denise was sitting a few yards away, listening.

  “I guess I was pensive, colonel. I’ve just got this thought that Khamsin is pulling one on us. Some little . . . elusive feeling deep inside me. But I can’t seem to pin it down.”

  “Some classic military move, general?”

  “Could well be.”

  “Well, let’s hope that in this case, history doesn’t repeat itself and this turns out to be another Little Big Horn.”

  “That depends entirely on which side we elect to be on, doesn’t it?”

  Both men were silent for a few moments, listening to the sounds and smells of late summer. The thick smell of wildflowers and honeysuckle; the happy calling of the birds.

  “Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull suckered Custer, didn’t they?” West asked.

  “Yes.” Ben looked at him. “I think you’ve hit on it, colonel.”

  “Maybe. It was just a thought.”

  “Colonel, if Khamsin’s men run, don’t follow them. Not even if it appears, especially if it appears, a victory is certain.”

  “I’ll pass the word. Ike?”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t know if Ike is in any danger, or not. I have this little feeling that Khamsin has decided to revert back to his roots.”

  “He was quite a terrorist.”

  “Yes. And that may be what he’s heading back to being. I’m thinking that Khamsin’s been shown he can’t beat us by sheer numbers. He’s taken some awfully heavy losses butting heads with us. I’d guess he’s lost a full third of his forces.”

  “Yes. And that’s got to be telling on the rest of his people.”

  “Maybe. But bear in mind that these people are fanatics. To die in battle means instant entry to heaven.”

  West glanced at Ben. “Oh, shit!” he whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  West rose abruptly and walked off. Ben sat on the steps and watched him leave.

  The mercenary was back in fifteen minutes, Dan with him.

  And with Dan, a full platoon of Rebels.

  “Now, wait just a goddamned minute!” Ben said, rising.

  “Sorry, general,” Dan said. “This is the way it’s going to be. The colonel explained what you both feel is going down. Get used to the idea of being surrounded.”

  “And you probably spoke with Ike, too, didn’t you?” Ben asked sourly.

  “But of course!” Dan smiled.

  “Wonderful,” Ben muttered. He turned and walked off.

  The platoon followed him. En masse.

  Ben stopped and turned around. “I’m going to the bathroom! I don’t need an audience.”

  “They’ll turn their backs, general,” Dan said cheerfully.

  Ben walked off, muttering.

  FIVE

  It took Emil a full half day to get over the sight of that alligator, just about ready to chew off his leg. Along with other parts of his anatomy.

  What had saved them both was the hot breath of the gator on Emil’s bare ass.

  “I’m telling you!” Emil said. “That friggin’ ’gator was forty feet long if it was an inch.”

  Emil’s ’gator was closer to fifteen feet than forty; but still a good-sized ’gator.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that ’gator as much as I’d worry about Francis Freneau,” Brother Matthew told him. “Francis has sworn to get even. And we’re running out of that stuff to put in the water over there.”

  “I ain’t goin’ back to Monroe no more,” Brother Carl said. “That place gives me the squirts just thinkin’ ’bout them Night People.”

  “It’s not just Monroe,” Brother Roger said. “It’s every city in the country.”

  “There isn’t any more of it over there anyway,” Emil said. “I thought sure he’d be gone by now. Hell, nearly all his followers are over here with us.”

  “Listen!” Brother Matthew said, holding up a finger. “Bagpipes!”

  “Here comes Francis!” Sister Susie called.

  “Wonderful,” Emil muttered. “What the hell’s he got up his sleeve now?”

  “Them bagpipes is givin’ me a headache,” Brother Carl said.

  Francis climbed up onto the hood of a rusting old car parked by the side of the road and opened his big arms. “Come gather around, my children,” he called. “I have something of great importance
to tell you.”

  “You reckon he’s got a hard-on?” Brother Roger said.

  Emil looked at Roger. “With him, believe me, you’d know it.”

  Emil and his immediate group hung back; the others gathered around.

  “My heart is heavy, brothers and sisters,” Francis said, placing one big hand on his chest. “An old, old friend betrayed me. Cut me with an invisible knife.”

  “Aaahhh!” the crowd said in sympathy.

  “I trusted this man; loved him more like a brother than a friend. But,” he said and gave a mighty sigh, “but as with Caesar, I must say to Brother Emil, Et tu Brute?”

  “He et what?” Brother Carl asked.

  Everyone ignored him. Emil felt many eyes on him. Hard, condemning eyes — coming from his own flock.

  “You’re a liar, Francis!” Emil shouted. “I ain’t done nothin’ to you.”

  Francis smiled lovingly at Emil. “There is no rancor in my heart for you, Emil. Your feet simply slipped from the path of righteousness.”

  “Say what’s on your mind, Stanley,” Emil said. “And then begone with you, or I’ll call down the wrath of Blomm.”

  “Oh, you will, will you?” Francis said. He flung his arms wide. “Call down the wrath of this Blomm, then. I challenge you to do that, Emil. For you see, brothers and sisters, there is no such god as Blomm!”

  The crowd oohed and aahed and drew back, fearful of his blatant blasphemy.

  “You lie!” Emil squalled. “Blomm is real. Don’t push me, Ledbetter.”

  “Then tell this figment of your overactive imagination to strike me dead, Emil,” Francis said. “I’m waiting.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Francis. You’d have to do a mighty hurt to me before I’d do anything like that. You see, Francis, unlike you, I am a gentle person.”

  Francis lost a little ground with that remark. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Emil.

  “You poor fool,” Francis said. “I didn’t want to have to do this. But? . . .”

  Francis lifted his arms and white doves flew out from his sleeves.

  The crowd did some oohing and aahing.