The doves circled, dropping some shit on the heads of the faithful.
Francis did some of the colored handkerchief tricks: pulled a half dollar out of both ears and juggled a few balls.
The crowd loved it.
Francis said, “Let’s all urge Brother Emil up here . . . I’ll step down. Perhaps then he can explain why he sent some of his men slipping into my camp in the dead of night, like thieves, to poison me and my brothers?”
“I did no such thing!” Emil shouted.
“You are not truthful, Brother Emil,” Francis said. Reaching into the pocket of his snow-white robe, Francis pulled out a small vial and held it up for the crowd to see.
Emil felt a little sick at his stomach.
He felt a little sicker when Francis held out his hand, and one of his men gave him the box the vials had come out of.
“Sister Susie,” Francis said. “My dear sweet lovely child. Does this box look familiar to you?”
Susie said it did.
“When was the first time you saw it, dear?”
“In Brother Emil’s car. At night. In Monroe. Near the hospital.”
“That don’t prove nothing!” Emil hollered. “There’s boxes all over the damn place.”
“True,” Francis said. “But one of the men who has been poisoning me has a small cut on the sole of his right sandal.”
“Well, shit!” Brother Matthew said.
Emil took a deep breath. Drawing himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much, he pointed a finger at Francis. “Now you hear me, Ledbetter. And bear in mind this was your idea. I’m going into meditation now. Seclusion. And I’ll be speaking with Blomm. At high noon, two days from now. We’ll meet again. Right here on this spot. Then, then I shall show you the power of Blomm!”
“Bull-dooky!” Francis said.
“You’ll pay for that, Ledbetter,” Emil warned. “Blomm is angry; I can feel his mighty anger.”
“Horse-poo!” Francis scoffed.
“Be here!” Emil told him. “All of you!” he roared.
“Emil,” Brother Matthew said. “What are you gonna do two days from now, at high noon?”
Emil looked at him. “Hell, Matthew — I don’t know.”
Ben canceled all travel orders for his Rebels. His new orders: Hold your positions. Dig in. Keep your heads down. And be very wary of tricks.
The hours passed slowly and very quietly. The Rebels rested, ate, took much-needed baths, and cleaned equipment. Just like any army that was ever formed. That much never changes.
The Rebels constantly monitored any known frequency of Khamsin. The bands remained silent. If Khamsin was communicating with his troops, it was on a frequency not known to the Rebels.
“He’ll strike,” Ben said. “He’s a very impatient man. That much I do know about him.”
“What’s the word from any recon team?” Colonel West asked.
“A lot of troops about forty-five miles south of us,” Ben replied. “Stretching from Barnesville all the way over to Waynesboro. I got that word about two minutes ago. I was just about to call a meeting of COs and platoon leaders. I’ve ordered Buddy and Tina back in.”
West sat for a time in silence. He wondered what emotions Ben Raines might be experiencing, knowing his two kids were out in the field with small units. “I’ll see that the word is passed, general,” West said. “I’d like to see Kahmsin’s new lines. I’m curious about them.”
“Tina and Buddy both reported that Kahmsin has forced the people living south of us into forced labor camps. It looks like he’s setting up a permanent barrier.”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to know,” West said with a sigh. “General, you are aware that east of Atlanta, stretching south from Rome to Newnan, that area is controlled by outlaws and warlords?”
“I’ve heard.” He glanced at West, accurately guessing what the man was getting at. “Well, now,” Ben said softly, “that would put us in a box, wouldn’t it?”
“Both of us were wrong, general,” West admitted. “And those outlaws and thugs and warlords over east have only to take one look at Khamsin’s superior forces and they’ll join up with him.”
Ben’s laugh was short, holding no mirth. “That son of a bitch! He suckered us, colonel. He turned our own game against us.”
“I fail to see the humor in it, general. We have gotten ourselves into a bind, my friend.”
Ben waved at Denise. “Bring me my map case, would you please?”
Ben spread the map on the ground, just as Dan strolled up. Briefly, West told Dan about the new development, saying finally, “Whether it’s fact or fiction, Dan, remains to be seen.”
“Let’s take it from the east, boys,” Ben said, tracing a line on the map with a finger. “The bridges are blown from Hartwell to Augusta. Every one of them.”
West glanced at him, and Ben explained the why of that.
“You had no choice in the matter, general,” the mercenary said. “I would have done the same thing.”
“North of us,” Ben said, “we’ve got two of Ashley’s battalions, the company that Ashley brought east with him out of Kansas, and the group that this Jake person has gathered around him.”
Ben paused for a moment, silent so long, Dan said, “What’s wrong, general?”
“I see Ashley’s fine hand in all of this,” Ben explained. “I’ll be willing to bet you all that this stretch here, Interstate Seventy-five, running north and south, is being closed down by Khamsin. And he’s probably swung those outlaws and warlords north and south, leaving us one hole to run to.”
“Atlanta,” West whispered. “The city of the dead.”
“And what is our fine and noble Gen. Ben Raines doing now?” Khamsin asked Hamid.
“Nothing, general,” the XO replied. “Everything, along all fronts, is very quiet.”
Now it was Khamsin’s turn to worry. “What is that man up to, Hamid? It isn’t like him to sit and do nothing.”
“Perhaps he now realizes the box you have placed him in?”
“Perhaps. He certainly is not a stupid man. Just idealistic. Those thugs east of Atlanta?”
“Fell right into line, Khamsin. Our troops did not have to fire a shot.”
“And they are being repositioned?”
“Yes, sir. Just as you ordered. They are surrounding the city from the north, south, and west.”
Khamsin smiled. “I will have to reassess my first opinion of Ashley. His plan is a good one. But there is one weak part of it, Hamid. Our lines are not as strong as I would like them to be. Raines could possibly punch through.”
“Begging your pardon, sir. But if that happens, it will not be through our people to the south.”
“No, I don’t think so, either. But I am not sure of the troops to the north.”
“They are . . . not first quality, to be sure,” Hamid agreed. “Perhaps I, myself, might take a battalion up to not only reinforce them, but to keep an eye on them.”
Khamsin looked at the XO. The man was no longer young. He sighed. “All right, Hamid. Perhaps that would be best. May the blessing of Allah go with you.”
“Thank you, General Khamsin. I’ll take the reorganized Second Battalion and leave at once.”
Long after Hamid had gone, Khamsin called for an aide. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me if any news comes through. Any news. No matter how unimportant it might seem.”
“Yes, sir.”
But sleep would not come to Khamsin. He tossed in his bed and finally, with an oath, threw back the thin cover and rose to sit on the side of the bed.
Ben Raines was up to something. Khamsin was sure of it. But what? He checked his watch. Time for prayers.
All good religious people need prayer. Even terrorists.
“I’m not going to order anyone to do this,” Ben said. “And when I make my request for volunteers, I don’t want a bunch of horseshit bravado jumping to the fore. Is that understood?”
It was.
Ben
was addressing senior sergeants, platoon leaders, COs and XOs, along with Ike, Cecil, Dan, Tina, and Buddy. He had called them to his CP.
“What’d you have on your mind, Ben?” Ike asked.
“First I’ll tell you how it’s going to be done, and then I’ll inform you of what is going to be done.
“First of all it’s going to be done very quietly. There is going to be one team. Just one. Thirty people. Khamsin wants to push us into Atlanta. All right. But first let’s check it out.” He grinned. “If my idea works, all of a sudden Khamsin is going to be facing an empty line, all filled with imaginary soldiers.”
“Ever’ time you start grinnin’ like that, Ben,” Ike said, “I get a funny feelin’ in the pit of my stomach.”
“I, of course, will lead the team, general,” said Dan, who stepped forward.
“No, I will!” Ike said.
“That’s nonsense,” Cecil told them. “I shall lead the team.”
Colonel West had joined the group late. “Whatever is going down, I feel that I should go in first.”
Ben let them squabble and then made up his mind.
He winked at Buddy and said, “I’ve decided who will be team leader, people.”
The hubbub ceased as they all looked at Ben. Finally, Tina asked, “Who, Dad?”
“Me!” Ben announced.
SIX
Ben pulled out at full dark, Buddy riding in the Jeep with him. Behind them were several trucks and Jeeps, filled with Rebels and supplies and ammo enough for several days.
As they rolled past Conyers, Lieutenant Mackey and Billy Bob waved at them from the shoulder of the interstate. Both Ben and Buddy saluted the pair and then drove on, entering the darkness.
Just about a mile from the loop that circled the city, Ben halted the short column. “We’ll camp here until dawn. Four guards out and in close, two-hour shifts.”
Buddy climbed up on top of a rusted old truck and stared at the outline of Atlanta. “I can see fire in there, general.”
“Colonel West called it the city of the dead.”
“Have you ever seen one of these people?” Buddy asked.
“No. Not that I know of. But from what I’ve heard, they aren’t pleasant to look upon.”
“Is it their fault? The way they are, I mean.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“That is what the Old Man told me. But he also told me to avoid them at all costs.”
Buddy climbed down to stand by his father.
Ben said, “Your grandfather had seen some of these . . . people?”
“Many times. He said they are bitter about what they’d become, and they hate everybody not like them. I asked him once if there was not some good in them.” Buddy paused.
“And?”
“He said he had not yet found any.”
“I guess that about sums it all up then, doesn’t it, boy?”
“And for that, we will destroy them?”
“Only if they open the fight, son. We’re not here as a conquering army. Now go get some sleep. I want us standing on the edge of the city before first light.” But Ben wondered about that first remark.
“Eerie,” Ben heard one of his Rebels mutter.
And Ben could not disagree with the one word summation. The silent, windswept scene that lay before them was eerie. And it contained yet another one-word description: deadly.
“They are moving around us, father,” Buddy said softly, walking to Ben’s side.
“I can hear them, but I can’t see them.”
“I caught a glimpse of a few. They are robed, their robes dark. They blend in well with the night around them.”
Gentle fingers of silver-gray began pushing up from the east, from the backs of the Rebels as they faced the stark outline of what had once been called the Hub of the South.
“Down,” Ben called, his voice soft.
The Rebels crouched down, close to their vehicles, presenting no targets to whatever lurked in the darkness.
And no one among them knew for sure exactly what type of human being moved silently around them in the ink of night.
“The time is against us.” All heard the voice spring out of the murk.
“Take them!” another voice called, a harshness in the command.
“The light! The light!” A third voice was added.
The dawning had intensified, the silver fingers becoming hands of silver, with just a touch of gold and white.
The Rebels couched beside their vehicles, listening as the scuff of sandals on concrete faded. The mutely lighted night grew silent.
Ben stood up, easing the slight pain in a bad knee. The road they were on became more clearly defined as the dawning continued to lighten the landscape.
“I’d guess at least a hundred had surrounded us,” Ben said, looking around him. “But they’re sure scared of the light. Fortunately for us,” he added.
Ben glanced at his Rebels. They were calm, standing ready. Buddy was probably the youngest of the team. The rest were all in their late twenties or early thirties, hardened and seasoned combat vets. Men and women who had been with the Rebels for years. Ben knew them all on a first-name basis. And knew, too, that there was no backup in any of them. They would stand to the last person.
“Three groups,” Ben said, walking to his Jeep and sitting down in the passenger seat. “We’ll work a block apart, maintaining radio contact at all times.” He laid his Thompson across his knees, the muzzle pointing away from the driver’s seat. “Drive boy,” he said to Buddy.
After only a half hour, Ben realized no one had anything to fear from the Night People — not during the day. For some reason, as yet unknown to Ben, those who lived for the night were very fearful of the sun. Why that was, he did not know. And wasn’t particularly interested in finding out. He felt some degree of pity for the people; but it was not overwhelming within him.
Physically scarred and mentally traumatized by the bombings and aftermath of the Great War and the awful sickness that came a decade later, yes, surely they were. But instead of seeking out help from those able to give it, the Night People had banded together, electing instead to hate and despise those not like them. Instead of holding out the hand of friendship, asking for understanding and help, the Night People had decided to kidnap and God only knew what else, in order to salve their bodies and minds.
“Piss on them,” Ben muttered, his eyes working from left to right. He was mapping out a route through the city.
“Beg pardon, sir?” Buddy asked.
“Look over there.” Ben pointed.
The naked bodies of a man and woman were hanging from a power pole.
“Pull over there,” Ben told him.
Ben got out and walked closer to the bloated and stinking bodies. They had been tortured, and tortured expertly, making the agony last a long, long time. And big meaty hunks of flesh were missing from their bodies.
“Why?” Buddy asked, not leaving the Jeep.
“I suspect because they are normal; not affected by the bombings or the sickness that followed. Now we know what kind of pricks we’re up against.”
Ben got back into the Jeep. He lifted the mike to his lips. “Eagle One to West on tach.”
“Go, Eagle One.”
“I’m at Eastland Road and Twenty-three,” Ben said. “Send two platoons with several days’ rations and plenty of ammo to my sector, please.”
“Ten-four.”
The platoons rolled in at nine o’clock, led by Colonel West.
“Just couldn’t resist it, huh, colonel?” Ben grinned at him.
“Got to go where the action is, general. What’s up?”
“I’ve ordered everyone to start working their way west. Slow and easy, with no rush. They’ll be working inverted — east to west first. In other words, Lieutenant Mackey and her Misfits will be the last to come out.”
“I’m with you,” West said.
“When I give the word, in about thirty-six hours, we’re going to
roll through Atlanta. At night.”
West arched one eyebrow at that bit of news. He said nothing.
“When we start, colonel, nothing, nothing is going to stop us. Now we can’t use Interstate Twenty to get through the city; we can’t use the loops or the bypasses. The Night People have massive road blocks up damn near everywhere you want to look.”
“If you’ve advanced no further than this point,” West said, “how do you know the loops are blocked?”
“I don’t know for sure about the northern loops; Two eighty-five, Eighty-five, and Seventy-five. But both Buddy and Tina tried the southern route getting in here. They had to circle around. I can only assume the same has been done to the north.”
“And you want me and my men to do exactly what, general?”
“Help us find the best route through the city. Right down the heart of the city. And I don’t have to tell you why it must be that way.”
West nodded. “Khamsin will have spotters north and south, covering those areas for any signs of movement. But . . .” West paused, thinking. “How do we clear the route of the Night People without bringing attention to what we’re doing? Gunfire is going to carry a long way.”
“The Night People will be sleeping during the day, hiding from the light. We go house to house, building to building. We use knives and twenty-twos; use hollow-nosed shorts. If your people have sound suppressors available, use them.”
“Going to be a distasteful and bloody son of a bitch, general.”
“Yes. But if you have any doubts about what kind of people we’re dealing with, take your men one block, that direction; take the first road west and have a look.”
West and his men were back in half an hour. None of them looked too pleased.
“Find it?” Ben asked.
West nodded his head. “The couple . . . and more. We found some . . . normal-appearing children who had been tortured and disemboweled. Took them a long time to die. I have no more qualms, general.”
“Then let’s get to work.”
It was bloody and awful and no one among them liked it. But after they found more tortured and mutilated bodies of “normal” people — men and women and little children — the job became less distasteful.
Smoke from the Ashes Page 24