Survival in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “Boy’s full of himself today,” Ben said with a grin. His smile broadened when he saw that while Malone’s people had widened many hiking trails to accommodate vehicles, they had been unable to widen the trail between Dan’s position at the Many Glacier Hotel, and Ben’s CP at Granite Park Chalet. About five miles separated the two lodges. Dan could either hike it, or . . .

  “We have many horses Malone’s people left behind,” the Englishman radioed. “But no proper saddles for the beasts.”

  Ben was laughing as he reached for the mic. “Use the western rigs, Dan. I know that isn’t the way you were trained at Sandhurst, but bear with us.”

  Ben had to wait until Cooper climbed out of the pass and was on top of a mountain so he could repeat the transmission. Communications weren’t the best in the mountains.

  “Barbaric saddles!” was Dan’s reply.

  But at his CP just at the base of Vulture Peak, Villar didn’t have to hear complete transmissions to know Malone’s people were losing. The bits and pieces he could pick up were quite enough.

  “The bastard is fighting an ecologically correct war and is still winning!” Villar said. He looked over at Ashley, Kenny, Khamsin, and Satan. “Ideas, gentlemen?”

  “I do not like this place,” Khamsin said. “Malone does not like me. I vote we leave our vehicles behind and walk out. We can always find vehicles once out of this wretched place.”

  “I ain’t leavin’ my Hog!” Satan said emphatically.

  “Then go to hell!” Khamsin told him. “I don’t like you either.”

  “Gentlemen!” Ashley said. “Please. We don’t have to walk out. We can use horses to carry us and our supplies. I agree with Khamsin. We’ve got to get clear of Ben Raines and rebuild our forces.”

  “I’m with that,” Kenny said. “But there ain’t near-about enough horses for everybody. Somebody’s gonna have to walk.”

  Khamsin waved details aside. “The question is how do we get out?”

  “I’m ahead of you on that,” Villar said. “Just north of us is a glacier. A hiking trail leads to a promontory overlooking the glacier. We take the trail east.”

  “East?” Kenny sat up and paid attention. “That’s heading for Raines country.”

  “That’s right. He won’t expect us to cross territory that’s been secured. Now we can’t have over three thousand men all leaving at once and all of us using the same trails. None of us would make it.” He looked at Satan. “Are you in or out?”

  The big outlaw shrugged. “I’m in. Hell, Malone ain’t gonna last long. Ain’t none of us gonna last long if we don’t get shut of Ben Raines. I’m for gettin’ on a boat and sailin’ to Bullshit, Italy. I know the son of a bitch isn’t goin’ over there!”

  “Don’t bet on it,” Khamsin said. “I will wager with any man that Ben Raines is going to conquer the world before it’s all over.”

  “Odd you should say that,” Ashley spoke softly. “I feel the same way about it.”

  Villar didn’t say it, but he felt pretty much the same way.

  A man came in and handed Villar a note. From the expression on the runner’s face, Lan knew the message was not good news. He read it, balled it up and dropped it on the floor, then sighed heavily.

  “Most of those units who headed south will not be joining us. The fools bunched up in Memphis and headed west from there. Pilots bringing supplies up here spotted them and radioed in. Ben Raines’s damnable PUFFs from Base Camp One did the rest.”

  Villar sat down and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “We had thousands of men, didn’t we? We were going to conquer America and make quick work of it, weren’t we? We were going to be kings, weren’t we? Now look at us. We are certainly a pitiful bunch now, aren’t we? Now we are reduced to tucking our tails between our legs and sneaking out . . . walking! Carrying a few possessions on our backs.” He laughed, and much to the surprise of all, the laugh contained some genuine humor. “Pride goeth before a fall, gentlemen. And we all had much more than our share of that.”

  “So does Ben Raines,” Satan said, a sour note to his voice. “He’s shore kicked our asses all over half the United States.”

  “Ah, but no,” Villar corrected. “The last part of your statement has merit. But not the first. Ben Raines has confidence. There is a difference. Ben Raines has confidence plus patience. We had pride and impatience. We were cocky. Ben Raines was merely sure of himself and his people. We must be careful not to repeat our mistakes in the future.”

  Khamsin looked up. “Are you sure that any of us has a future, Lan?”

  “As certain as anyone can be, Khamsin. That aside, the growing season is over in Alaska.” He laughed once more. “Farmers, that’s us. We’re going to have to be farmers.”

  “I ain’t farmin,’” Satan bitched. “Not no, but hell no.”

  “Then how do you propose that three thousand mouths be fed three times a day?” Villar asked. “That’s nine thousand meals a day, Satan. And we’re running out of field rations.”

  “Steal it!” the biker said.

  Villar laughed. “From whom? Think about it. No, we’re going to have to go south where we can farm year round. Being very careful to stay clear of Raines’s farms and ranches in Texas and New Mexico and Arizona. Malone was good enough to tell me about them. We’re going to have to raise crops, vegetables and the like, and then learn how to can the food for preservation.”

  Ashley started laughing at the thought of these men hovering over pressure cookers and filling Mason jars. “Forgive me,” he finally said, wiping his eyes. “But the mere thought is ludicrous. Lan, do you know how to operate a pressure cooker?”

  “If I can construct a barometric bomb — and I have, many times — I can certainly learn to homecan foods.” Villar’s reply was not coldly given, for he, too, could see the humor in it all.

  “Shhiiittt!” Satan said. “I shore am glad my original bunch ain’t here to see this. Talkin’ about farmin’ and cookin’ and cannin’ foods. Good god amighty!”

  Kenny stood up. “I’m taking my men and heading back to Florida, Lan. That’s final. I got — or I had — a good operation going down there. You boys head on to Alaska. I’ll take my chances down south. I’ll head on out tonight and run interference for you guys. See you.” The young man was gone from the room.

  “Anybody else want to split on his own?” Villar asked.

  No one did.

  “Get back to your sectors and start packing it up then.”

  “Our leaving is going to put a large hole in Malone’s defenses,” Ashley pointed out.

  Villar smiled nastily. “Well, now . . . I guess that’s his fucking problem, isn’t it?”

  TWO

  It was summer in the rest of the battered nation, but in sections of Glacier National Park, it was plain damn cold.

  Ben looked out the window of the lodge at the sunsprinkled and purple-shadowed remnants of a dying day and said, “The International Peace Park.”

  “What’s that, sir?” Beth asked. She stood in front of the huge fireplace, warming her hands in the newly built fire. She had warmed her butt until Cooper, with a grin, pointed out that her BDU’s were beginning to smoke.

  “Back about the time you were being born, the Glacier National Park joined Canada’s Waterton Lakes National Park, just north of us, to form the International Peace Park. It was a celebration of an open border between the two countries. It remained that way until the Great War.”

  Ben turned and smiled, holding up an old brochure. “I just read that, Beth. I’m no expert on the national park system . . . so it used to be called.”

  Ben had called for a cease-fire and had ordered Rebels with bullhorns to start calling for the surrender of all Malone’s men. That move had at first startled the Rebels, for Ben was not known for magnanimous gestures toward the enemy.

  Actually, the move was not as benevolent as it sounded. Under the cover of the cease-fire and the offer of surrender, Ben had ordered dozens of sma
ll teams to move into the enemy-held park at full dark, loaded down with plastic explosives and electronic detonators and the deadly Claymore antipersonnel mines.

  “You’re a sneaky, deceitful, son of a bitch, aren’t you, Raines?” Chase spoke from across the room of the chalet.

  “I certainly am, old friend. In matters of war, I am not to be trusted at all.”

  “General,” Corrie called from the room where the communication equipment had been set up. “Patrols report a force of about two hundred and fifty men are attempting to walk out of the park. They’re heading east; some of them are on horseback.”

  “Let them go and keep them under surveillance.”

  “You think they’re trying an end-around, Ben?” Jerre asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I think they’re trying to escape. They’ve abandoned their vehicles and attempting a bug-out. Ask patrol if they can spot who is fronting the column. The leader will be on horseback, for sure.”

  It didn’t take long, for Rebel patrols were now located in secret pockets all over the park.

  “A young man, General,” Corrie said. “They are just north of Mount Wilbur. Patrol leader says that will take them to a hiking trail just south of Chief Mountain and will eventually connect with Chief Mountain International Highway.”

  “That would be Kenny Parr. He’s trying to make it back to Florida. Alert all units to get off the hiking trails and to allow any enemy troops who are hoofing it out to get clear of the park. Ike has moved up to take the area they will enter. Tell Ike to keep them under constant surveillance until they are out of the park and then ambush them. Wipe them out to the last person.”

  “Why wait until they’re clear of the park, Ben?” Chase asked.

  “So the sounds of the ambush won’t be heard by any others attempting to escape and discourage them from trying it.”

  Lamar Chase sipped his cup of hot tea and studied Ben, as he had done a thousand times over the years. In all his years he had never known a man who was any harder than Ben Raines, but yet one who showed surprising compassion to those who were trying to live decently. Ben could be as brutal and vicious as an attacking grizzly, but yet halt an entire column to stop along the road to care for an injured animal. He could calmly order the deaths of hundreds of men, yet his top priority in setting up secure zone was education. He would shoot a criminal in a heartbeat and then pick up a broom to help in the cleaning out of a hospital to care for people.

  The man was a damned walking contradiction.

  Not a shot was fired within the over fifteen hundred square mile area of the park that night. But more than five hundred of Malone’s people threw down their weapons and walked out of their bunkers to surrender to Rebels. Many of Malone’s people were startled to find the Rebels not more than six feet behind them or to the side of them when they did make up their minds to surrender. The Rebels had slipped in on them as silently as a slithering snake, to lie waiting for the right moment to strike.

  It was unnerving as hell.

  By noon of the next day, Cecil had moved his people more than twenty miles north and Georgi had pushed twenty miles south, the Russian literally knocking on the back door of Malone’s CP, forcing Malone to push deeper into the park.

  “All units hold what you have,” Ben ordered, after receiving the news that Kenny Parr’s men had cleared the park confines and were moving toward Highway Seventeen, and a slightly larger force was moving up the same trail Parr had used. “We don’t want to spook any of the others who might be trying a bug-out.”

  “I have people in place just west of the highway, Ben,” Ike radioed.

  “Lan,” Ashley said, “something’s wrong.”

  “Yes,” the terrorist agreed. “It’s too quiet. Raines ordering a cease-fire caused warning bells to go off in my head. Kenny just radioed that he encountered nothing on his way out. He’s now clear of the park.”

  “It’s a setup, Lan. Ben Raines is setting the boy up for a killing.”

  “Yes. And Khamsin is only three or four hours behind Kenny.”

  “I believe this calls for an abrupt change in plans,” Ashley said.

  “Oh, quite.” Villar smiled sourly. “Any ideas?”

  “Get the hell out!”

  “Not terribly original, but an idea whose time has come, I believe.” Lan stuck out his hand and Ashley shook it. “Which direction would you prefer?”

  “I’ll take my men and head west. We’ll find us a valley and pull the earth over us. No fires, no noise, no movement. It’s the only chance we have of making it out of this mess alive.”

  “Yes. I’ll push south and do the same. Raines won’t use low-flying planes; he knows we still have Stingers. Maintain radio silence. Once Raines leaves the park, we’ll link up. Good luck to you.”

  Kenny Parr’s men walked right into an ambush. A mile from the highway, they walked into a Claymore-infested half mile of hell. What the Claymores didn’t mangle, M-16’s and M-60’s and .50-caliber machine guns took care of.

  Kenny had dropped back to the rear of the column to check for stragglers. At the first explosion, he left the saddle, grabbed his bedroll and took off into the timber, running hard for his life. He ran for over a thousand yards, then dropped into a moss-covered slope and lay still.

  He had never been so frightened in all his life. Never. He was shaking all over. Even his eyelids were trembling. Ben Raines was a devil. He had to be a devil, straight out of the pits of hell.

  Either that, he thought, and that thought frightened him even more . . . or a god, like some people believed.

  A foul odor wafted to his nostrils and the young man grimaced in disgust.

  Kenny Parr, outlaw, murderer, warlord, had shit his pants.

  “Two hundred and forty-nine men dead,” Corrie reported to Ben after speaking briefly with Ike. “Kenny Parr’s body could not be positively ID’d.”

  “It’s possible the Claymores mangled him so badly he couldn’t be identified,” Ben said. “But more than likely the little bastard got away. How about Khamsin’s bunch?”

  “Still moving up the trail. They were ten miles behind Parr’s bunch and the terrain helped to muffle the sound of the ambush.”

  Ben didn’t have to order the ambush site cleaned up. Ike’s people were probably hard at work doing that right this moment. Either that or they had moved the ambush site farther west.

  “No sign of anyone else coming up behind Khamsin?”

  “Nothing. The trail is clear all the way back to Villar’s old CP.”

  “And Villar and Ashley have been gone at least two hours.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s when the rec team came up on the lodge.”

  Ben thought about that for a moment. “They’re not taking the bait. The cease-fire spooked them off.”

  Dan had ridden over the mountain on a horse — trying to ride English-style, which some people, unfamiliar with equestrianship, have compared to the mating dance of certain large species of crane — in a western saddle.

  “If they really want to hide from us,” Dan said, “we’ll never find them.”

  “True,” Ben replied. “So I’m not going to look for them. It would take months to flush them out; that’s providing they didn’t slip out last night. We just don’t have the time. Once Malone is finished, we’re pulling out.” Ben hand-rolled a cigarette and said, “Corrie, order all units to harvest what they can from the gardens they run across and then plow them up. Villar and Ashley can’t stay here without food.”

  That hard smile once more crossed Doctor Chase’s lips. Ben never missed a trick.

  Khamsin had been a terrorist for years, considered one of the best. But as a commander of great armies, he had proved to be a bust. He had arrived in this country with thousands of men and the finest of equipment to be found anywhere in the world.

  Then the Hot Wind ran smack into Ben Raines.

  And over the years — they were only a few but seemed like a lifetime — Raines had steadily stomped
him into the ground. Now he was walking out of a wilderness with little more than the clothes on his back.

  Pitiful.

  Khamsin’s feet were wet and his boots were rubbing a blister on one side of his foot. He stopped to take off his boots and rub his feet. Then he slipped into dry socks and almost cried with relief. He laced up his boots and picked up his heavy pack, slipping his arms into the straps.

  Abu, he spoke to his mentor in terrorism — now long dead — if you are watching me now, please turn away. I will recover from this humiliation. When or how, I cannot say, but I will recover.

  Providing, he bitterly amended that, someone with more luck than I can kill Ben Raines.

  Khamsin picked up his rifle just as the trail before him burst into a firestorm of death. Mangled bodies were blown a dozen yards in all directions as Claymores spread hellish death, rockets exploded against flesh, fired at almost point-blank range. The yammer of machine guns began putting the finishing touches on the scene of bloody destruction.

  Khamsin flung himself off the hiking trail. He ran wildly through the thick brush and timber, ignoring the limbs that smacked and bruised and tore at his face and the thorns that ripped through his battle dress and lashed at the flesh of his legs. The Hot Wind ran until his chest was heaving, his vision blurred, and his legs rubbery and weak and he could run no more.

  Khamsin dropped to the cool earth and buried his face against the vegetation. He wanted to weep and had to struggle to fight back the tears. Khamsin, self-proclaimed The Hot Wind, was now a commander of a nonexistent army. What was left of his army now lay broken and still, in cooling, bloody chunks along the narrow trail of this godforsaken wilderness. For a wild moment he thought of suicide as a way out of the deep humiliation he felt. He quickly rejected that. If by killing himself he could also kill Ben Raines, he would not hesitate to do so. But that devil, Raines, was far away.

  Khamsin regained his composure and took stock of his surroundings. All in all, he concluded, he was in a lousy position.