Survival in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chase stood in the CP, sipping coffee and watching Ben. Although the doctor knew the emotion was there, Ben’s face did not mirror his inner feelings. Chase sat his coffee mug on a scarred table and walked to Ben’s side. “It was the only logical order to give, Ben,” the doctor said. “You tried to save the prisoners; you did your best. What would have been the point in losing more people?”

  Ben shook his head. “Logical, yes. But I just signed the death sentence for a lot of prisoners in the cities, Lamar.”

  “If they are even in the cities, Ben. If. I don’t like it either, old friend. My business is saying lives, remember? But you don’t kill an entire ward of patients to save one. That isn’t logical. If you hadn’t tried a frontal assault, I’d have been in here jumping up and down and screaming at you. You tried it — twice. It didn’t work. Now we’ve got field hospitals filled with wounded Rebels and with no gain against the Believers. You did the right thing. Keep that in mind and put the other thoughts out of your mind.”

  The artillery began booming, the shells whistling and howling as they roared overhead. Downtown Portland exploded as the HE rounds impacted. High explosive was followed by white phosphorus and that was followed by napalm. The downtown area, from the waterfront over to 14th Street was soon blazing. From Hoyt Street to Lincoln, fires were soon burning out of control as Ben ordered done what the Believers had bet their lives he would not do.

  Ben walked outside, to stand watching as the skies above the city and the suburbs around it soon turned dark with smoke. He cut his eyes as Thermopolis walked around the corner of the building and up to his side, to stand quietly.

  “There was a lot of history in that city that I wanted to save,” Ben said. “A lot of history is now going up in smoke, never to be seen by the generations that follow us.”

  “Yes,” Therm agreed. “That is true. But we’ll be able to save some of it. Just like we did in New York City and all the other cities. It won’t all be destroyed. Ben, you had no choice in the matter. The ratio of lives lost against possible lives saved was just too high.”

  They stood in silence for a time, watching and listening as the historic district along the waterfront burst into flames as shells impacted and the gunners raised the elevation and began working toward the center of the city.

  Ben lifted his walkie-talkie. “Corrie, order Dan’s Scouts in, tanks spearheading, and our people to follow. Tell the artillery to take a break just as soon as the troops are in unfriendly territory.”

  Ben waited a moment. Corrie’s voice popped out of the walkie-talkie. “Tanks up and spearheading, sir.

  “That’s ten-four, Corrie.” He turned to Thermopolis. “Would you care to come along and visit the suburbs of this city, my friend?”

  “Gee,” Therm feigned great surprise. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  FOURTEEN

  “See if you can get us to Burnside Street, Coop,” Ben said. “Get off the Interstate here. This old high school should do nicely for a CP.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Where’s Jerre?”

  “Coming across with the medical team,” Beth said. “They’re shorthanded due to all the wounded.”

  Ben knew the figures and just the thought made his face tighten up. They were far too high for the little ground the Rebels had gained.

  “Look out, Coop!” Jersey yelled, just as a wildly driven car filled with creepies shot out in front of them. The big wagon slewed around as Cooper fought the wheel, the tires grabbing for traction on the rain-slick street. Ben lowered his window and gave the creep car a full clip from his old Thunder Lizard. The drivers’ side window blew apart, taking most of the driver’s head with it. The car crashed into a building and exploded into flames.

  “That building used to be part of the Bensen Tech High School,” Beth said, after consulting a map.

  “Thank you, Beth,” Ben said, one eye on Cooper’s antics as he tried to straighten out the still-fishtailing wagon, fighting the wheel. “I believe it would help if you would take your foot off the accelerator, Coop.”

  “Creepies,” Cooper said, jerking his head forward.

  Several carloads of creeps were gaining on them as the wagon slid backward around a corner.

  “Pure luck,” Jersey muttered. “Cooper, if you keep this up, we’ll crash into that big building that is rapidly coming upon us — from the rear. And going backward like this is making me sick at my stomach.”

  Muttering under his breath about women in general and Jersey in particular, Cooper got the wagon under control and roared toward the huge building Jersey had mentioned. He spun the wheel, did a sickening, sliding turnaround in the middle of the wet street, and drove the wagon up onto the sidewalk, with Ben’s side facing the building.

  “Your new CP, General,” Cooper said with a grin on his face.

  “Thanks, Coop,” Ben said drily. “The ride was certainly . . . unforgettable, to say the least.”

  “That ain’t exactly the word I’d use,” Jersey spoke from the second seat. “Shitty, would be my choice.”

  Slugs began yowling off the armor-plate of the big wagon. “Out, people!” Ben yelled, bailing out onto the sidewalk. “Grab everything you can and follow me.”

  “And away we go,” Jersey said, scrambling out of the vehicle.

  Inside the littered building, Corrie began radioing their position to prevent any artillery or mortar fire from hitting them, and to let other Rebel units know their position.

  Ben pointed toward the rear. “That’s your baby, Beth. Don’t let any buggers surprise us.”

  Beth nodded and dropped into a protected position to cover the rear, laying out several grenades and clips for her CAR-15.

  “Dan’s people have a firm hold in their sector,” Corrie announced. “Six blocks have been effectively neutralized.”

  “Where the hell are we?” Ben said, looking at a map just as Jersey and Cooper opened fire on the creeps who had made the mistake of charging the building. The creeps were chopped down by automatic rifle fire. “I don’t like this position,” Ben muttered. “Coop! Is it clear out there?”

  “For the moment.”

  “Let’s get the hell gone from here and get to the airport. We need a landing strip in case we get stuck in here and have to be resupplied by air.”

  They left the building and immediately ran into another group of creeps. But this time they caught the creeps in a cross fire between themselves and a Rebel patrol and reduced the cannibals to bloody rags in the rain-slick street. Ben waved the patrol to him and knelt down on the sidewalk, while the sounds of combat boomed all around them. Using a flashlight, Ben traced the route to the airport while Corrie radioed for tanks to come to their location.

  Only a few moments passed before several main battle tanks clanked and rumbled up to their location. Using the outside phone so the commander would not have to unbutton, Ben said, “We’ll stay off the Interstates. The creeps probably have them mined. Spearhead us over to Ninety-nine and then gradually work toward Airport Way. We’ll pick up other units as we go and take the airport. Move out.”

  The tanks clanked out in front and Ben waved his people in behind him and then told Cooper to follow the huge machines of war. Little pockets of war were raging all around them as they made their way toward the airport: grenades slashed the wet day, followed by automatic weapons fire as the Rebels hammered out their advance. Ben’s team slammed through the suburbs then cut under the Interstate and roared toward the airport, the tanks leading the way.

  “Picking up a lot of creepie traffic from the airport,” Corrie said. “They’re waiting for us.”

  Ben nodded and twisted in the seat, his eyes picking up Thermopolis’s bunch right behind them. Emil and his followers were close behind Therm. “Should be an interesting fight,” Ben muttered.

  The tanks shifted on their treads and cut off the main road to the airport, taking a blacktop road that ran alongside a chain-link fence that paralleled a run
way.

  “Tell them to bust through and let’s take it,” Ben told Corrie.

  The tanks slammed through the fence and the column raced onto a runway, heading for the terminals.

  Ben looked at the jets parked at the terminal gates. “Those jets will still have aviation fuel in them,” Ben said. “Tell the tanks to lower their guns and let’s see some fireworks.”

  Corrie relayed the orders, the tanks fired, and the jets blew, spreading flames all over the outside of the terminal. The flames soon ignited the interior of the long buildings as dusty carpets and tile caught fire and thick, choking smoke forced the creepies out of the terminals and into the rain and the guns of the Rebels.

  The Rebels needed no orders; they opened fire. Within minutes, the burning southeast corridor of the airport was in Rebel hands.

  The rain became a downpour as the leaden skies opened up. The rain slowed the fiery march of flames, and then extinguished most of the fires outside the terminals.

  From his position on the river side of the airport, Ben lifted his mic. “Mortar teams set up and tank commanders lower elevation. Take the terminal down,” he ordered.

  The Rebels began to systematically destroy the main buildings of the airport. Ben pointed out a smaller building off to the side. “Check it out and clean it out. That’s my new CP for this campaign.” To Corrie: “Tell Chase he can set up a field hospital here. And we can fly the wounded out. We’ve got a firm toehold.”

  By late afternoon of the second day, most of the suburbs were solidly under Rebel control. That is to say the ashes of the suburbs were free of creepies. The Rebels had burned everything that could be torched and now stood poised to cross the Willamette River at eight points.

  Ben glanced at Corrie. “Take the city, Corrie,” he ordered.

  She gave the orders and the Rebels poured across, tanks spearheading the drive.

  Ike’s people had cleared out their sector from the Canadian line down to Bellingham and were now driving south along Interstate 5, burning as they went.

  Five and Six Battalions had completed their sweep and Everett was no more than a smoking memory. Five and Six Battalions had shifted over to Highway 9 and were waiting to link up with Ike.

  Cecil and West had fired Tacoma, driving the creeps out and west onto the peninsular and over into the Olympic National Park area. West bivouacked his people north of the smoking ruins and Cecil put his troops south, waiting for Ben to finish up in the Portland/Vancouver area.

  Dan had taken his people across the river into Vancouver and had pushed the creeps out of the city, driving them north with fire.

  At the end of the fifth day, Ben ordered his people out of the smoking ruins of Portland and across the river. He linked up with Dan and the long columns began their northward push.

  Several hundred miles south, Villar monitored radio reports and shook his head in grudging admiration for Ben Raines. “He’ll never be stopped,” Villar said. “There is no force on earth that is large enough or determined enough to stop the man. He is the most ruthless person I have ever encountered. He is going to pull this nation out of the ashes of ruin and if he has to burn the son of a bitch down to accomplish that task, he’ll do it.”

  “Where does that leave us?” Satan asked. The big outlaw biker was beginning to get it through his head that Ben Raines was really as awesome as legend stated.

  Villar looked at the man. Satan was the ugliest human being he had ever seen. “Screwed, if we get in his way,” he said flatly.

  “Send it in code to all unit commanders,” Ben said, after handing Corrie a note. “Take the word Alaska out of all vocabularies. I don’t ever want to hear it on the air. We’re facing too many unknowns to give our destination away. Code name it Northstar.”

  Ben was resting his people just north of Kelso. They had encountered no creeps on the push north along the Interstate. The Believers had fled across the river into Oregon and were, Ben guessed, making their way north, to cross back into Washington at Astoria, to spread out along the coast. He would deal with them later; for now, the taking of Seattle was paramount in his mind.

  Ben walked through the sprawling camp, filled with men and women and their particular instruments of war.

  “When does Seattle fall, General?” a woman called out, looking up from cleaning her M-16.

  “Tomorrow,” Ben told her. “So get your beauty rest, Rosie.”

  “Why?” she called to him. “I sure as hell don’t plan on kissing any of those creepie bastards!”

  Ben laughed and waved, walking on. He spent more than an hour prowling the encampment, stopping to exchange a few words whenever he could, with Corrie and her headset and Jersey with her M-16 constantly at his side. He joked and kidded with his Rebels as he walked the camp. He noticed a group of Scouts running for their Jeeps and turned to Corrie.

  “What’s going on, Corrie?”

  “A little trouble over by the river, General,” she said blandly. “Nothing much.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “A small ambush by some outlaws, General. The Scouts put it down almost as quickly as it happened.”

  “Anybody hurt?”

  “Two Rebels wounded. They’re being taken to the field hospital now.”

  “Tell Coop to bring the wagon around. Let’s go see what happened.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said glumly.

  “What’s the matter with you, Corrie? Aren’t you feeling well?”

  She sighed and Ben caught the glance that passed between the two women.

  Before he could ask what the hell was going on, Dan ran up to him and faced Ben.

  “Dan. What’s the problem?”

  “There is no way to say this except straight out, sir. You better get over to the field hospital. It’s Jerre. She caught two bad ones and Lamar says she’s just hanging on.”

  FIFTEEN

  Lamar Chase blocked Ben at the door to the field hospital. “She isn’t conscious and she is never going to regain consciousness, Ben. She caught a bullet in the head and one in the back. The bullet went right through her head. The second bullet severed her spinal cord. They were both hollow-nosed slugs and did terrible damage to her brain, her right lung, and one kidney after it impacted and began spinning. I’m not sparing you, old friend. Because there is no hope.”

  “I’ll sit with her,” Ben said, his voice dull.

  “I fixed up a private place for her, Ben. And put a chair in there for you.”

  “Is she in pain?”

  “No.” Lamar shook his head. “I ordered her heavily sedated. I wanted to make it as easy as I could for her.”

  “Leave us alone, Lamar.”

  “I understand, Ben.”

  Her head was wrapped in bandages and her skin was very dry to the touch. Ben looked at the chart hooked to the foot of her bed. He couldn’t make any sense out of it and re-hooked it. He sat down in the chair by her bed and took off his beret. He looked at the bottles hanging above her and the tubes from them running into her arms. He called for a nurse.

  “Unhook them,” he ordered.

  “Sir! . . .”

  “I said unhook them. You didn’t know her. I did. She would not want to live like this. Now either you unhook them, or I will.”

  Chase stepped into the room. “Remove them, Sergeant. I’ll take full responsibility for it and sign the order myself.”

  When the tubes and bottles and needles were gone, and the room empty except for the two of them, Ben sat down and put his big hand over hers. He gently squeezed. No response.

  He touched her hair and gently touched one cheek. He leaned back in the chair and waited. One hour and fifteen minutes later, Ben stepped out of the canvass-walled room in the field hospital.

  “She’s dead,” he told a nurse.

  Dan was waiting outside the field hospital. “I have the men who ambushed the pair of them, General.”

  “I didn’t even think to ask, Dan. How is the person who was with her?”r />
  “It was Thermopolis’s wife, General. She received a wound in the shoulder. She’s going to be fine. They were over by the river with a group of people, picking flowers.”

  “The outlaws?”

  “Six of them surrendered.”

  “Dispose of them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Jerre wasn’t especially religious. So we’ll not have any elaborate service.” He looked north, toward the Mount Saint Helens monument about ten miles away. The foothills were green with fresh growth, gentle appearing. “She liked the mountains and the sighing winds. We’ll bury her in those foothills. They look very peaceful. The service will be at dawn in the morning. Tell unit commanders we’ll delay the push until noon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ben pointed toward a copse of trees several thousand yards away.

  “I’ll see to that personally, sir.”

  Ben walked away. He had not shown any visible signs of emotion. But Dan knew that men like Ben Raines, and yes, Dan Gray, too, did not go in for much public display of emotion.

  But Dan knew only too well that inside, Ben was torn apart and hurting.

  Ike, Cecil, and West, along with Buddy and Tina flew in that evening for the service, landing at a strip just south of Kelso. Buddy and Tina went directly to their father’s quarters.

  They found him sitting on the front porch, holding a little Husky puppy in his lap. Ben smiled at his kids. “She found me this afternoon. I guess I’ve got a new pal.”

  Tina kissed him on the cheek and opened her small duffle bag, hauling out an unopened bottle of Glenlivet Scotch. “I found this about a week ago. How about a belt, Dad?”

  “You know that was Jerre’s favorite, don’t you?”

  “I know.”

  Ben sighed. “Sure, why not? Hell, let’s have a snort or two.”

  “What’s the pup’s name, Father?” Buddy asked while Tina was digging around for clean cups.

  Ben laughed. “When she found me, she started making little funny noises. Sounded like she was trying to say smoot. So that’s what I called her. Smoot.”