Slaughter in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  Ben and Buddy followed the scout over to the mass grave located on the edge of town.

  “Just like the other one,” the doctor said, climbing out of the ditch. “All old people. What about the churches, general?”

  “I have people inspecting them now. But I am expecting the worse.”

  The bad news wasn’t long in coming.

  “Two men and a woman, general,” one of Ben’s company commanders reported. “Nailed up just like the others. Same message on the wall. Ray Brown left his mark here, too.”

  “Get them down and bury them with the others.”

  “Simon Border on the horn, boss,” Corrie said. “And he appears to be angry about something.”

  “I wonder what in the world could have made him angry,” Ben replied with a smile. He walked over to the communications truck and took the mic. “This is Ben Raines, Simon. Go ahead.”

  Simon started preaching, running his words together and gulping air. Ben listened until the man ran out of air. “I didn’t understand a damn word of that, Simon. You want to back up and start all over?”

  “You have invaded my territory, Raines. You have broken your word, as I knew you would. You cannot be trusted. You are evil. You are a pig, Ben Raines. You are a spawn of the devil, straight from hell.”

  “And you’re an asshole, Border,” Ben said calmly.

  There was a long silence from the other end. Then Border screamed, “What did you call me?”

  “An asshole,” Ben repeated. “A hypocritical, lying, self-serving, mean-spirited dickhead. I wouldn’t trust you if you swore on a stack of Bibles. You don’t know what the word Christian means, Border.”

  “How dare you speak to me in such a manner, you, you . . . heathen!”

  Simon then, very unChristianlike, began cussing him, and he knew all the words and got them in the right places. Ben waited until the man had wound down. “Simon, you really fucked up with me when you let Ray Brown and that bunch of scum into your territory and gave them the green light to do any damn thing they wanted to do.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Raines!”

  “You’re a damn liar as well, Simon.”

  Simon sputtered for a moment and then fell silent.

  “You made a bad mistake when you declared war on kids, Simon.”

  “I didn’t do anything of the sort!”

  “Don’t lie, Simon. When you gave Ray Brown and the rest of that scummy bunch sanctuary, you shook hands with the devil. You stay out my way, Simon. You keep clear of me and my Rebels. You understand?”

  “You don’t give me orders, Raines.”

  “I just did, Simon. Now you listen to me. I am going to rid this land of Ray Brown and his ilk once and for all. And if you interfere, I’ll step on you like the big ugly nasty roach you are. Is that clear?”

  “You’re dead, Raines!” Simon screamed. “You’re a walking-around dead man. Nobody, nobody, talks to me like that. Now then, do you understand all that?”

  “I can answer that with two words, Simon.”

  “They had better be ‘I’m sorry.’”

  “No. Fuck you!”

  The Rebel column resumed its march across the southern part of the state. Ben knew, just as Caesar had known when he crossed the Rubicon, that the die was cast. There no doubt had been many people listening when Ben last spoke with Simon, and the man had no choice now but to fight . . . especially after what Ben had said to him.

  Altus was a deserted and looted town. Where once more than 20,000 souls had lived and worked and played and loved and hoped and planned, only silent ghosts now remained. And here, too, just as in the other towns of any size the Rebels had passed through in Oklahoma, they found where Ray Brown and his thugs had struck.

  “Same thing, general,” the doctors told him, after the mass grave, which had never been covered, was found. “The bones are those of old people, and, ah, the bones of their pets were found, too.”

  “Killed the dogs and cats along with their owners?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, the people and their pets are in a better place now. I guess that’s the way we’re going to have to look at it. The pets won’t have to wait at the Rainbow Bridge for their human companions.”

  “The Rainbow Bridge, sir?”

  “Never heard of that, doctor?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Some people believe that is a place where animals, after death, wait for their human friends to join them. It’s called the Rainbow Bridge.”

  “Do you believe that, General Ben?” Anna asked.

  Ben shrugged. “Why not? It’s a nice thought.”

  “You believe animals go to heaven, general?” one of the chaplains asked.

  “Yes, I do. It would certainly be a sadder place without them.”

  Anna smiled. “Some of the people in the old country used to kill dogs and cats to eat. I would never let those few in my bunch who wanted to do that. Most of us agreed that it would be a sin. We would rather go hungry.”

  Ben touched her face with surprisingly gentle fingers, for Ben was not an emotional man and seldom allowed his feelings to surface. Then the moment was past and Ben turned and walked away.

  “General Ben’s bark is much worse than his bite, I’m thinking,” Anna said, then smiled. “In most cases,” she added, to the agreement of Ben’s team.

  * * *

  Ben turned the column north until they reached old Interstate 40, then cut west. On the way north they passed through a dozen small towns, stopping briefly at each town. Ben had stopped searching for mass graves. The Rebels just didn’t have the time. The towns were deserted, utterly devoid of human life. They bivouacked just across the Oklahoma state line in Texas.

  In a small town in the panhandle of Texas, the Rebels found their first signs of life in weeks. The people were packing up and preparing to move south.

  “It just isn’t safe up here anymore, general,” the spokesman told Ben. “We hid when the punks came through. Must have been five or six hundred of them all told. You seen what they did in Oklahoma?”

  Ben nodded.

  “We alerted the folks who were tryin’ to make a new start of it all along the old interstate, and I believe most of them made it clear ’fore the punks reached their location. We’ve been out of radio contact and can’t be sure about that. Problem is, general, we’re so damn few and spread out high and wide.”

  “We’re on our way to deal with the gangs,” Ben told the man. “But until that is taken care of, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “We understand.” The local sighed. “Is this damn country ever going to settle down, general?”

  “Someday,” Ben assured the man. “That much I can promise you. But I can’t give you any fixed date. I wish I could.”

  “Just kill the damn punks, general. If you can cut them down to size, we can manage the rest.”

  “Especially that damn Ray Brown,” a woman added. “That man is a monster. I’ve seen what he and his main bunch have left behind. That man is evil through and through.”

  Ben looked at the small group of about 50 or so men and women and a few small children. These were tough, hardy people, with no back-up in them. Given any kind of a fighting chance at all, they would willingly risk their lives to rebuild the country. But they had to have a fighting chance.

  “I’ve seen it too, ma’am,” Ben told the woman. “Ray Brown and his gangs came through our part of the SUSA, too.”

  “When you find him, general,” another woman said, “kill him slow—make it last. Then burn the body and seal the ashes in concrete. I swear that man is a spawn of the devil.”

  Ben nodded, although he really didn’t think Ray had any connection with the devil. Ray Brown was just a perfect example of a punk; walking proof that the bad seed theory was no unproven assumption. “We’ll find him, ma’am. Rest assured of that. And when we find him, we’ll kill him. That I can promise you. Someday this land will be f
ree of thugs and punks, I’ll promise you that, too.”

  “God bless you, Ben Raines,” the woman said.

  “Fuck Ben Raines,” Ray Brown said. “He’s been after me for years and hasn’t been able to catch me. What makes him think this time will be any different?”

  “Maybe the law of averages, Ray,” Robbie ‘Big Tits’ Ford said. “I got to say we just got out of the ruins of New York by a hair.”

  “A cunt hair,” her brother Hal said with a laugh.

  “Shut up, Hal,” his sister said.

  Hal shut his mouth. His expression was that of a very petulant child.

  “It was stupid killin’ all them people,” Tootsie Aleman said.

  “You callin’ me stupid, you dyke bitch?” Ray snarled at the gang leader.

  “I’m callin’ what you done stupid.” The gang leader didn’t back up. “What you done was toss gasoline on an open fire. You deliberately pissed off Ben Raines.”

  “Fuck him!” Ray repeated.

  “Well, I’m game for that,” Robbie said. “Then I’d have to kill him, I guess.”

  “You are a disgusting bitch,” her brother said, whose own sexual tastes ran toward young boys.

  “Shut up, Hal,” his sister’s reply was automatic.

  Abdullah Camal, better known as the Camel, sighed and shook his head. “I agree with Tootsie. Me and Lumumba are pulling out and getting the hell away from you, Ray.”

  “So carry your black asses.” Ray waved that off. “Who the hell cares what you and that equally ignorant Lumumba do? Personally, I’m tired of listening to the both of you run off at the mouth. Good riddance, I say.”

  The Camel’s eyes narrowed with anger. He very much wanted to do or say something in rebuttal, but he knew too well that if he did, he would be dead within a heartbeat, for Ray had guards around him all the time. Abdullah stood up and stalked out the door. He was not gentle in closing it behind him.

  “Stupid nigger,” Ray said.

  “Well, my God! I finally agree with you on something,” Tootsie said.

  “I’m thrilled beyond words,” Ray replied. He turned his head and yelled, “Pete! What is Raines’s latest position?”

  “Our people just radioed in, Ray. Raines is in the panhandle of Texas.”

  “And Raines thinks he’s so goddamn smart,” Ray snorted. “He doesn’t realize he’s being tracked all the way. Big dumb bastard!”

  “They’re fairly intelligent, boss,” Corrie told Ben. “But not nearly as smart as they think they are. We’ve had a good fix on them for several days now. We broke their code almost immediately.”

  “How many teams are tracking us?” Ben asked.

  “Four, at least.”

  “Ray still in the mountains of Arizona?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Ben smiled. “We’ll cut south just west of Tucumcari. Have one platoon from each battalion except ours prepare to leave the convoy, starting tonight. Head them north. We’ll do that for four nights. They’re to link up just north of Flagstaff and sit tight until they get orders from me. Have the convoy stretch out and put more distance between battalions to compensate for the missing trucks. When we get closer, we’ll shift more troops around, so when we’re ready, we’ll hit Mister Brown from all sides. I’m counting on the punks not having enough savvy to count the vehicles in the convoy.”

  “Someday we’re gonna get a chance to kick some more punk ass,” Jersey griped, adding, “I hope.”

  Ben cut his eyes and smiled. Jersey kidded a lot about kicking ass, but few knew the reasons behind that kidding. When Jersey had been but a child, while wandering helplessly and afraid just after the Great War, she had been seized by a gang and repeatedly raped . . . among other things. Jersey had absolutely no compassion in her for punks.

  “We’re going to get our chance to do just that, Jersey,” Ben said. “I promise you.”

  “The sooner we can do that,” Jersey responded, no humor in her eyes, “the better this world will be for decent people.”

  “Let’s roll,” Ben said. “Jersey’s getting impatient.”

  “Damn right, boss. Kick-ass time!”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Those who had settled in and around Amarillo had been strong enough in numbers to beat back several attacks by Ray Brown and his gangs, but not without suffering some losses and almost depleting their supplies. Ben and his Rebels stayed around Amarillo long enough to see the settlers resupplied and then moved on, crossing into New Mexico without incident.

  “The land of open sky,” Beth said, reading from a dog-eared old tourist guide.

  “What is?” Cooper asked.

  “New Mexico, Cooper,” Beth replied, exasperation in her voice. “Where do you think we are?”

  “Looks deserted to me,” Cooper came right back. “Hey, Jersey?”

  “What, Coop?”

  “Weren’t you raised somewhere around here?”

  Jersey was silent for a moment. “I spent some time with relatives down south of here, Coop. I don’t remember a whole lot about it. I spent time between the Mescalero, Fort Apache, and San Carlos reservations.”

  “I didn’t think you were full Apache,” Coop said softly.

  “I’m not. I think I’m half Apache, half white. An apple.”

  “An apple?”

  “Red on the outside, white on the inside,” Jersey said with a laugh.

  “Want to take a side trip and visit any of those places, Little Bit?” Ben asked.

  “No,” Jersey said softly. “I really don’t. I don’t even remember my Christian last name, and I’m not sure about my Apache name, for that matter.”

  “You think you still have family in any of those places?” Anna asked.

  “Oh . . . I’m sure I do. But I wouldn’t know them and they wouldn’t know me. And they’re probably having a hard enough time of it without some distant relation popping up.”

  “Tucumcari in a few miles, boss,” Corrie said. “Scouts report some survivors there.”

  “The town was about 7,500 before the Great War,” Beth informed them.

  “How many live there now?” Ben asked.

  “About 400, and they’re all staunch supporters of Simon Border.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “Nope. Simon Border’s Temple of God and Faith.”

  “Puke!” Jersey said.

  “Shit!” Cooper said.

  Beth made a horrible face at the thought of anyone worshipping anything Simon Border had to do with.

  Anna lowered the window and spat outside.

  “Ah, dear,” Ben said. “That is not a very ladylike thing to do.”

  “Who said I was a lady?”

  Ben sighed and didn’t pursue the subject. Being a father was something he was not all that good at.

  “How are we going to handle the people up ahead, boss?” Cooper asked.

  “They don’t shoot at us, we don’t shoot at them.”

  “Look there,” Cooper said. “By the side of the road.”

  A crowd of people had gathered at the edge of town, many of them holding hand-painted signs—BEN RAINES IS THE GREAT SATAN.

  “I don’t think they like you very much,” Corrie said with a smile.

  “I sort of get that feeling,” Ben admitted.

  THE REBEL ARMY IS FILLED WITH FORNICATORS AND HARLOTS.

  “I fornicate occasionally,” Jersey said. “Helps take the edge off.”

  Cooper opened his mouth to say something.

  “Shut up, Cooper,” Jersey warned him. “Just don’t say a word.”

  SIMON BORDER IS THE ONLY TRUE WAY.

  “Only true way to what?” Anna asked.

  Ben halted the column and stepped out of the wagon. He was instantly surrounded by Rebels in a diamond formation. He walked up to the group of people and they hissed and drew back as if Ben had some horrible contagious disease. The women were all dressed in drab shapeless dresses that covered them from neck to ankles and the m
en were dressed equally drably.

  “You people need any help?” Ben asked in a friendly voice.

  “Not from you,” a woman replied.

  “We have doctors with us.” Ben kept his voice even. “Are your children all up to date with their shots?”

  “With the help of His Holiness here on earth, Simon Border, the Lord will provide,” a man told Ben.

  “I see. Does everyone here in town feel the way you do?”

  “Yes!” the crowd shouted in one voice.

  “What a pack of screwballs,” Jersey muttered.

  “Well,” Ben said, “if that’s the case, we’ll just move on and let you folks alone.”

  “Good riddance,” a man said.

  Ben waved his people back into their vehicles and they moved on without another word, but with plenty of very hard looks from the supporters of Simon Border.

  “Good God!” Beth was the first to speak once the column was moving.

  “I don’t think God has anything to do with it,” Ben said. “Those people have been had.”

  “But they were had willingly, General Ben,” Anna said. “No one forced them.”

  As usual, the young Anna cut right through the fat and got to the meat of the problem.

  “I feel nothing but contempt for the adults,” Corrie said. “But what about the children?”

  “The battle cry of the liberals back before the Great War,” Ben told the group. “Whenever a social program was in danger of being cut, the liberals would start pissing and moaning about the children. They twisted facts, manipulated numbers, and sometimes just outright lied when it suited them. And Simon always professed to be a supporter of the liberal movement. I feel sorry for the kids back there, sure. But as it stands now, there is nothing we can do about it. Unless we want to start using force against the adults.”

  “Scouts report making contact with a guerrilla group about 25 miles ahead,” Corrie said. “Little town at the junction of 129. They’re on our side.”

  “Be nice to see a friendly face for a change.”

  The group they met a few miles down the road were heavily armed and determined to live free, not under Simon Border’s dictatorial regime.

  “Simon’s bit off a hell of a lot more than he’s capable of chewing, general,” one of the local resistance members who had been introduced as Tom said. “He’s spread thin . . . way too thin for what he hopes to accomplish.”