“That ain’t much of an offer, Mister Raines,” a third outlaw spoke.
“It’s about the same as you people offered us back in the ghost town,” Ben countered.
“I ain’t no snitch,” the man said.
He was tied up and tossed in the back of a truck with his buddy.
One outlaw broke and ran. Ben lifted his Thompson and stitched him to the ground.
“I’ll tell you all I know,” another outlaw said. “But it ain’t much.”
Fifteen minutes later, the column pulled out. The dead outlaws were left for the coyotes and wild dogs and vultures.
At a long-deserted ranch, Ben hanged the so-called tough boys ... and left them dangling at the final end of their rope.
Once more on the road, heading for the first group of outlaws who were bunched up, waiting to ambush Ben and Rani, Rani looked at him.
“You’re a hard man, Mister Raines,” she said.
“Hard times, Miss Jordan.”
“Approximately a hundred outlaws holed up and hiding out in the foothills of the Davis Mountains,” Dan told Ben. “Scouts report they’re dug in for a long fight.” He put a fingertip on the map. “Right here, sir.”
“Any idea what bunch it is?” Ben asked.
“Man with one foot seems to be the leader.”
“West. Tell your mortar teams to go in and begin setting up. We’ll start softening them up at first light.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rani came to Ben’s blankets that night. But as soon as she did, she realized that sex was not on Ben’s mind. She was far too intelligent a person to think it was something she had done, or to believe that sex was the answer to every problem. She was content to lay in Ben’s arms.
“This may sound like a foolish question, Ben. But how long do you think this ... this campaign will last?”
“This particular one won’t last long. Funny you should ask that, Rani.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Dan Gray said something very interesting to me just after we bivouacked. I had thought of it several times, but never with much enthusiasm. It appears, Rani, that the Rebels are the only organized force currently operating in North America with anything other than the looting and raping and killing of innocents in mind. It looks like my Rebels have yet another job facing them.”
“Clearing the land of warlords and outlaws and the like,” Rani said, not putting it in question form.
“Yes.”
“Why, Ben?” she asked, raising up on one elbow to look at him in the darkness. “Why does it always have to be Ben Raines and his people?”
Ben was silent for a time. “Rani, after the war of ‘88, my people were the only ones who had the courage to stand up to the central government and say to them: No! No, you will not take our guns. No, you will not dictate terms to us. No, we will not bow down and kiss your ass. We were the only ones to build something constructive out of the ashes of war. The only ones, Rani. Our kids grew up with a different set of values. We stressed order and discipline and obeying the laws of our Tri-States. We didn’t stifle free speech or forbid a free press—as a lot of people accused us of doing. Instead we simply imposed a new set of guidelines. If a newspaper in the Tri-States printed something about somebody, you can bet they researched their facts very carefully. Sly innuendo and half-truths and ‘protected sources’ were not allowed. Everything was open and aboveboard, clearly visible for all to see. I think you know more about the Tri-States than you let on. You know what we did out there.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
Ben sighed. “Well, Rani, those kids that we took in to raise, hundreds of them, back in ’88 and ’89, are now grown men and women. We proved that a body of government can effectively teach young people to obey the law. I don’t know how historians will treat what we did, and to tell the truth, I really don’t care. But thousands of men and women came together, and together, we erased bigotry and prejudice and most other manmade sins, and proved it could be done. I suppose, Rani, that’s why it’s up to us to take on this new job.”
“And you’re going to take it on, aren’t you, Mister Ben Raines?”
“I don’t think Mister Ben Raines has a choice in the matter, Rani.”
27
Ben stood on a rise and viewed the terrain where the outlaws were dug in. Lowering his binoculars, he said, “They know we’re not taking prisoners, Dan. Either way it goes, they know they’re dead men. There won’t be any offer of surrender from either side. And I will not lose good men and women fighting these scum.”
“No, sir.”
Ben reached down and pulled up a handful of grass. Sparse grass, at best. What there was of it was bone dry. “Ring the area with gasoline and kerosene,” Ben said. “As much as you can find. Burn them out and shoot them.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Rebels began lobbing in heavy mortar fire, using HE and WP rounds. The Rebels were as expert with the mortars as any organized fighting force presently operating anywhere in the world. They dropped in the rounds with deadly accuracy, walking them in behind the outlaws, driving them out of their holes, sending them running toward the thinly burning fires.
Then the Rebels opened up with heavy .50-caliber machine guns, continuing the deadly fire until not an outlaw could be seen standing.
“Finish them,” Ben ordered, lowering his binoculars. Turning to Dan Gray, he said, “That’s one for Jordy.”
“West and his people is finished,” Texas Red told Jake.
The men had had scouts watching the action from a distance.
“West was a fool,” Jake said. “We maybe could have whipped them if we’d all stayed together.”
Both outlaws knew that statement was a crock of crap.
“Now what, Jake?” Texas Red asked.
“Straight out?”
“Straight out.”
“We tuck our tails between our legs and carry our asses just as far away from here as we can. That’s what we do.”
“What are we waitin’ for?”
“If Jake Campo and Texas Red are in Texas, General,” Dan said, “they’ve found themselves a hell of a hideout.”
Ben shook his head. “They’ve gone. It’s been ten days since we finished West and his bunch. I think the others heard the news—probably had people watching it—and hauled out. No telling where they went.”
“That’s my philosophy, too, General. Well, we’ve found something else, though. There are warlords and outlaws cropping up everywhere we look. A great many people have asked us for help in dealing with them. I told them I would take it up with you.”
“I won’t order you to do it, Dan. Not without taking it up with the folks back at Base Camp One.”
“You know what Cecil and Ike would say, Ben,” the Englishman said, calling Ben by his first name, something he rarely did. He was British born and British military trained. Familiarity with superior officers just wasn’t done.
“It’s up to you, Dan. I’m pulling out in the morning, taking Rani with me.”
That did not come as any surprise to Dan. “May I assign a squad to accompany you, sir?”
“No, you may not, Dan. But I’ll tell you where I’m going. Back to the old Tri-States. We’ll winter there.” He outlined their route on a map. “I won’t say we won’t deviate from that route, but it’ll be close most of the way. The static has eased considerably, so we’ll be able to keep some sort of communications open between us.”
Dan opened his mouth to protest, and Ben waved him silent.
“If we hit a snag, I give you my word we’ll head for cover and call in for help.” Ben stuck out his hand. “And we’ll shake on it to seal the bargain.”
The men shook hands, and that was that. But Ben knew he wasn’t fooling Dan Gray. He knew that Dan knew Ben was going headhunting—alone. But Dan also knew that if Ben said he’d call in if too much trouble faced him, he would do just that.
“Take care of yourself, General,” Dan said.
“And good hunting to you, Dan.”
You, too, General, Dan thought.
Ben and Rani pulled out the next morning, early. They took two trucks, Ben pulling a small trailer behind his. The pickups were loaded with supplies. And this time Ben was going to be ready for almost anything that might come their way. He carried a mortar and several cases of rounds; an M-60 machine gun; and enough C-4 to blow up anything he might feel like blowing up—with timers and detonators. Between them, they had enough food to last several months. Gray’s communications people had installed a military radio in Rani’s truck and checked out both of their CB’s. They had installed boosters in both of them. The CB’s could be operated at three different levels: extremely low power, with a range of no more than a mile, for use when they felt transmissions might be monitored; normal range; and with a flick of a toggle switch, jacked up to four hundred watts, giving them an enormous range.
Ben had watched, amused, as Colonel Gray surreptitiously—so he thought—checked out Ben’s and Rani’s trucks.
Ben slipped up behind the Englishman and touched him on the shoulder.
“Great God!” Dan roared, almost separating his feet from his boots.
“Do you have a guilty conscience, Dan?” Ben asked.
“Heavens, no, General. You just startled me, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” Ben said. “Certainly.”
Ben knew he had been planting fresh bugs in their trucks. He let it ride. Humor the man.
With Ben leading the way, they drove first to Hobbs, New Mexico, then took state roads east to Artesia, spending the night just north of the small city. It was then that Ben made love to her, and she could not help but think how incredibly gentle the man was.
When she awakened the next morning, she awakened to the sounds of pecking. She opened sleepy eyes and saw Ben pecking away at his portable typewriter. He was sitting by a window, the sunlight managing to penetrate the dusty glass.
“Are all writers crazy?” she asked.
“It helps to be,” Ben admitted, not looking up from his labors. “It sure does.”
The two of them puttered around that day, first exploring the few deserted towns they found between Artesia and Roswell, then viewing the looted and ruined remains of the museum and art center in Roswell.
“Why?” Rani asked, looking at the desecration.
“No reason,” Ben told her. “Just like all vandalism—mindless.”
It was afternoon when they began the lonely drive between Roswell and Vaughn, and they found it slow going. The highway was littered with deserted cars and trucks, now no more than rusting hulks blocking the way. They could see the shining bones of skeletons in a few of the cars. Ben got out to inspect some of the vehicles and their gruesome contents.
“Shot through the head,” Ben told Rani. He pointed. “That car is the mausoleum for an entire family. Man, woman, and two small kids. All shot through the head.”
“I wonder why?” Rani asked.
“We’ll never know.”
They stopped for the night at what remained of the tiny village of Ramon. The place had been picked clean, and done so with deliberate care, Ben noted.
“It’s ... eerie,” Rani said.
“No,” Ben answered slowly. “I don’t think so. Most of what we’ve seen so far, since leaving Artesia, reminds me of what my people did back in ’89. I think there just might be a group of people, probably a large group, doing what we did—setting up a community, somewhere.”
“Mormons?”
“Probably. Most of what we’ve seen I would not call looting. It wasn’t done with damage in mind. But done carefully.”
“I hope you’re right, Ben.”
“So do I. And that might explain why we haven’t seen any thugs or outlaws or bandits since we entered this state.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Mormons are extremely fine people; very self-sufficient. I’m told that during the great depression—and that happened years before you or I made an appearance on this earth—the Mormons really took care of their own, without, for the most part, government assistance. And they also won’t put up with a bunch of crap from people. They are deeply religious, but will defend to the death what is theirs.” He shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”
They pulled out early the next morning and were in Vaughn an hour later. The town was empty and still, and it had been systematically taken apart. Even down to the last drop of gasoline in the storage tanks.
Ben smiled, looking around him. “I think we shall avoid Utah,” he said. “Unless we just absolutely have to enter the state. I will leave those people alone if they’ll do the same for us.”
Ben stopped on the outskirts of Santa Fe, pulling off the road. He studied maps, trying to determine the best way to avoid the city. There was something disturbing about the quiet of the place, something that set the hairs on the back of Ben’s neck to tingling.
Rani walked up to his truck. “What’s wrong, Ben?”
“Too quiet. I feel eyes on us. Whether they’re friendly or unfriendly, I don’t know. But I don’t feel like taking any chances. Cities have always been a problem since the Great War. They seem to attract the scum of the land.”
“So we do what?”
“Backtrack and take 41 until we reach this county road, which we take over to 14. We head south until we hit this other secondary road that will take us over to Interstate 25. We’ll connect with Highway 44 there and take that northwest to Aztec. It’s going to be slow going, so let’s be careful not to get separated. I don’t like the feel of this country. If we’re stopped, Rani, be ready to shoot first and apologize later.”
“I finally got that message through my head, Ben.”
They backtracked on 285 until coming to their cutoff. Then the going was slowed down to no more than a crawl. The road had deteriorated badly, and was littered with junked vehicles.
Their radios on low power, Ben said to Rani, “If a paved road is this bad, Rani, an unpaved road will probably be impassable. So forget the road over to Interstate 25. We’ll stay on this all the way down to Interstate 40 and then try to plot a new route.”
“One thing about it, baby,” Rani radioed back. “We’re sure going to see some new country.”
“That’s a big ten-four,” Ben said with a grin.
“It worked, Jake,” Texas Red said, smiling. “Our scouts just pulled in. Raines and the cunt left the Rebels, travelin’ in two pickups.”
The one hundred and fifty-odd outlaws were camped along the banks of the Conchas Lake, westnorthwest of Tucumcari. Jake and Red had ordered their men to keep their heads down and stay quiet.
“Which way the Rebs heading?” Jake asked.
“Scouts report they’re goin’ to help some folks up around Odessa. Something about settin’ up outposts.”
“Raines and the broad?”
“They headed west for a time, then cut toward the north.”
Jake’s grin broadened. “OK. I know where he’s heading, now.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Back to his old stompin’ grounds. The Tri-States. Him and the cunt is plannin’ on wintering there. Bet on it.”
“So we take them now?”
“No, you dummy! We send out scouts—our best people. Haircuts, shaved, clean clothes—a good appearance in case they accidently run into Raines. But they don’t have to do that.” He spat on the ground. “We can track them.”
“How?” Texas Red asked, exasperation in his voice.
“’Cause, my good man,” Jake said, smiling, patting his fellow outlaw on the back, “that goddamn Englishman didn’t change the frequency on them bugs he put in Raines’ pickup. And our radioman just figured it out.”
“Oohhh,” Texas Red said. “That’s slick, Jake. Real slick.”
“So in about a week, we move out in teams, real quiet like. No more than four or five guys at a pop. By then, we’ll have a pretty good idea where Raines and Rani is
going. Then we’ll just slow-like gather up there in the old Tri-States, and do it real professional-like.”
“And then we kill Raines,” Texas Red said.
“Yeah,” Jake said dreamily. “I want you to send out some boys. Find two-three cameras and lots of film.”
“What you gonna take pitchers of, Jake?”
“Raines. He thinks he’s a god, so I’m gonna treat him like one.”
“Huh?”
“I’m gonna crucify the bastard.”
28
Ben and Rani stayed on Highway 41 all the way south to Highway 60. There they cut west over to Interstate 25. Just before reaching the interstate, they pulled off the highway and made camp.
“Ben?”
“Uh-huh?”
“I thought New Mexico had a lot of Indians in it?”
“Probably still does. But they’re keeping their heads down. Like a lot of other Indians. You see, Rani, back when we were building the Tri-States, we—the Rebels—helped many of the Indian tribes, too. We helped them move out of and off of those goddamned disgraceful reservations and onto better land where they could farm and build and grow. Then when the government decided to move against us, they went against the Indians first. Thousands of Indians were killed—slaughtered. Men, women, kids. It was senseless. Totally senseless. My God, but there was plenty of land for everybody.” Ben sighed. “It was my fault.”
“How in the hell was it your fault!”
“President Logan had a hard-on for me. He hated me. Just about as bad as I hated him. I wouldn’t kowtow to him; him or the Supreme Court or that august body known as the Congress of the United States. If the Indians hadn’t thrown in with us, maybe there wouldn’t have been a slaughter. I don’t know.”
Rani smiled at him. Then she laughed. “I guess all the things I’ve heard about you are true, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I heard that when the Supreme Court ruled that everything you and your Rebels were doing out in the Tri-States was unconstitutional, you wrote them a letter and told them all to kiss your ass.”
Alone in the Ashes Page 18