Death in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “God, I hope not,” Ben said, the remark puzzling them all.

  “What’s he doin’ down yonder?” Matt asked Satan.

  “Looks like to me he’s settlin in to stay.”

  It was the fourth day after Ben and the Rebels had occupied Buffalo. Those rescued had been flown back to Base Camp One and Rebels in Wyoming had been resupplied to the point of overflowing.

  And still Ben waited.

  “Ol’ Slim’s shore got something up his sleeve,” Matt opined. “I just can’t figure out what.”

  “Nothing good for us,” Satan said glumly. “You can bet on that.”

  “We’ll whup him, Satan,” Matt assured the biker. “What’s the latest on them hardcases comin’ up from the south?”

  “They’re in Wyoming. But they’re having to work their way up slow to avoid being spotted by them people Raines put in Rawlins. They’re comin’ up 191 and then will cut over on 28. Wind their toward us that way.”

  Matt moved to his desk and studied a state map. He shook his head. “I don’t like it but I reckon it can’t be helped. We might have been a tad hasty in havin’ them bridges blown on the Interstate.”

  We, hell! Satan thought. That was your idea.

  “But . . . we done ‘er, so there ain’t no use a-whinin’ about it now. What’d you hear from this Ashley person and that crazy woman he’s with? What’s that crazy bitch’s handle?”

  “Sister Voleta. They’re getting close. Last transmission was sent from around Bismark, North Dakota. I told them to start heading in a more southwesterly direction. That Ashley feller got all uppity with me. Said he was perfectly capable of reading a map without any help from a cretin.” Satan wasn’t really sure what a cretin was, but he figured it was an insult.

  “We’ll deal with him after Ben Raines is defeated.”

  Satan just had to say it. “There ain’t no one ever beat him yet, Snake.”

  Matt’s eyes turned killing cold as they slowly lifted to stare at Satan. Physically, Satan could have easily ripped Matt apart without working up a sweat. But deep down inside the man, Satan both strangely feared and respected the smaller and older man.

  “I’m gonna kill him, Satan. You can just go head on and carve his name on a marker. ’Cause I’m gonna kill the sidewinder.”

  And for the first time in a week, Satan felt that Snake really just might pull it off.

  Ben had spent the four days studying maps of Sheridan and being briefed as to the locations of Pete Jones and his outlaws, and the advancing army of Ashley and Sister Voleta. Rebel communications had them both locked in and descrambled.

  Ashley and Sister Voleta were still days away. But Pete Jones and his bunch were just about close enough to start breathing down the Rebels’ necks.

  And Ben was worried about Buddy having to face his mother—admitted nut and perverted killer that she was—in combat. He called Buddy to his CP.

  “You wanted to see me, Father?” The son stuck his handsome head into his dad’s office.

  Ben waved him to a chair. “I want you and your Rat Team to get with Captain Tony of D Company. Draw supplies for a long field run. Take two of the self-propelled 81mm mortar carriers with you. One fifty-caliber machine gun per platoon. Your team take one also. I’ve already sent a crew out to clear the ambush site in the mountains so you can get through.” He stood up and walked to a state map thumbtacked to the wall and covered with clear plastic. “I want you here, son.” He pointed to the town of Worland. “This Pete Jones person and his army of crud was last reported, about two hours ago, just south of Lander. You should reach Worland by dawn. That’ll give you plenty of time to pick your ambush sites and get some rest.

  “Now, boy, I don’t expect you and Captain Tony to stop Pete Jones cold. From what we’ve been able to piece together, this Jones person has put together between five hundred and six hundred outlaws. But I want you to slow him down. None of this nonsense about standing or dying. You know how I feel about that. If you get in a bind, haul your butt out of there. You’ll take your orders from Tony. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Start drawing equipment and supplies. I want you on the road as soon as possible.”

  Dan had stood just outside the door, with Ben knowing he was there, listening. As soon as Buddy left, he entered Ben’s office.

  “You approve, Dan?”

  “Definitely. For more than one reason.”

  Ben arched an eyebrow.

  “We can handle Matt Callahan and those coming at us from the east. Oh, before I forget, the PUFFs are on the way.”

  “Good. The other reasons, Dan?”

  “Buddy knows his mother is a kook, a killer, a psychopath. That doesn’t mean he has to be present should she be killed.”

  “Thank you, Dan. My sentiments exactly.” Ben sighed. “I sometimes wonder if the bitch can be killed.”

  “She certainly has been a thorn in our sides for longer than I care to think about.”

  “Tennessee, wasn’t it?”

  “Ummm? Yes, I believe it was.”

  “What have you been able to piece together about their strength?”

  “We’re going to be badly outnumbered.”

  “That large a force?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re picking up outlaws the way a magnet draws metal.”

  “I want Sheridan intact. So we’re going to have to go in and take it house to house, meeting the bikers nose to nose.”

  “As much as I admire Sarah, I have to question her opinion as to the outlaws standing firm and fighting us. I do believe they will make a show of force—at first. Oh, they’ll fight us house to house, but all the while they’ll be falling back. That’s my opinion.”

  “And mine, Dan. When are the birds due in from the base?”

  “This afternoon. They’ll be landing with the PUFFs to throw off any observers Callahan might have watching us.”

  “Cecil confirm he’s sending in those spares that I requested?”

  “Yes, sir. Like you, I think we’re going to suffer some casualties taking Sheridan. With the extra birds standing by, we can fly out any hard-hit immediately.”

  Ben turned to stare out a window in the office. “Any word as to whether, ah, HALFASS . . .” He couldn’t keep the broad smile off his face at just the thought of that stupid name. “... has made any moves against Emil or Thermopolis?”

  “No moves so far.” Dan, too, was smiling. “I think Callahan is concentrating solely on us. The man just may be realizing what a big bite he’s taken.”

  “Can we get any number at all concerning the prisoners being held in Sheridan?”

  “Sarah thinks several hundred, at least.”

  Ben nodded and continued to gaze out the window. “Make certain Buddy and Captain Tony have everything they need, Dan. Then report back to me. We’re going to be on the outskirts of Sheridan at dawn tomorrow.”

  19

  Ben stepped out of his CP several hours before dawn. He was in full battle harness. His personal team knew his habits well, and they were waiting for him. The entire encampment was up, but moving very quietly and using very little light so those observers watching them from a distance wouldn’t be alerted.

  Ben looked up at the sky. “Going to be a beautiful day,” he remarked.

  Jersey handed him a mug of coffee without comment.

  “Teams in place above the roadblocks on the Interstate,” Corrie informed him.

  “Who led them?”

  “Colonel Gray, sir.”

  “He made good time.” Ben took a sip of coffee.

  “He probably pushed them pretty hard.”

  “Buddy and Captain Tony?”

  “They made it to Worland about an hour ago. Setting up now.”

  “The mortar carriers have their rubber pads on?”

  “Yes, sir. Done last evening.”

  “Tell the crew chiefs to move them out, Corrie.”

  She radioed the orders and the self-propelled 81
mm mortar carriers began their trek up the Interstate to within range of the roadblocks set up by Beerbelly and the other bikers.

  “Breakfast?”

  “Cold rations, sir. All personnel have eaten and are standing by to mount up.”

  “Let’s take a walk, gang.”

  Ben walked the long lines of Rebels, stopping to speak a few words to as many of his troops as time would permit. He stopped when he reached Tina and her contingent of Scouts.

  “Move them out, girl. When the 81s have done their bit, you link up with Dan and spearhead.”

  She nodded and slipped back into the darkness, gathering her team around her.

  Ben walked on, making sure that all his Rebels had their body armor on.

  Corrie listened to her earphones for a moment and then turned to Ben. “General Striganov and his people have crossed the border, sir. They’re meeting heavy resistance from an unknown force.”

  “Bikers?”

  “Negative, sir. The general believes it’s one of those racist hate groups that have flourished since the war.”

  “They flourished before the war, too. And a few of them of them had legitimate beefs against the government. Now they’ve just turned outlaw and they’re really coming out of the woodwork,” Ben muttered. “If it’s Malone’s group, they’re well armed and well trained.”

  “Malone?” Beth asked.

  “We go way back, Beth. Sort of a mutual hate relationship. I knew he was up in the Northwest, but I didn’t know exactly where.”

  Company commanders, platoon leaders, and other Rebels had gathered around Ben, listening. Tina had paused in her pulling out to hear what her father had to say.

  “Malone started out in Ohio, back in the mid-seventies, I believe. He always had a large following of fanatics. He had a few good ideas and a boxful of very bad ideas. People like Malone gave the word survivalist a bad name. Let’s make sure it is Malone then I’ll give you all a rundown on him. Move, Tina. We’re fifteen minutes behind you. Mount up, people.”

  The Rebels were in position to strike an hour before daylight.

  Beerbelly stared out at the darkness from behind the roadblocks. The Interstate stretched like a long silent snake before his eyes.

  But it wasn’t empty, and he knew that for a ironclad fact. Rubber pads on the tracks, or not, he’d heard those damned 81mm mortar carriers come up. Beerbelly was many things: rapist, murderer, dopehead, slaveowner, but he was not a fool. Of all the bikers and outlaws, Beerbelly held a fair education in his head and was combat-experienced. He’d had listening equipment set up along the Interstate and knew what various sounds meant.

  “Shit!” he whispered as he crouched behind the blockades that he knew Ben Raines could, and would, roll over and squash like an egg . . . any damn time Raines felt like doing it.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Wanda asked, crouched down beside him.

  “We’re playin’ a fool’s game, Wanda. We ain’t got a snowball’s chance in Hell against Ben Raines.”

  “But Snake said—”

  “I don’t give a damn what Snake says. Hell, Wanda, you know the guy’s elevator don’t go all the way to the top. I been doin’ some powerful thinkin’ the last couple of days. I don’t think Snake gives a damn whether we all die or not. Whether we win or lose. Just as long as he can get a good shot at Ben Raines. His hate has him all fucked up in the head.” Beerbelly pointed a thick finger at the darkness looming before them. “You know what’s out there, Wanda?”

  She shook her head. Others had gathered around, listening.

  “Eighty-eight-millimeter mortars. They can toss a round something like thirty-eight hundred meters. Right behind them are the main battle tanks, armed with 105s. And here we squat behind this pissy-assed blockade that wouldn’t stop nothin’ that Ben Raines has got.”

  “Well, what the hell are we doin’ here, then?” Wanda’s voice held a shrillness that clearly gave away her fear.

  Beerbelly was blunt. “Gettin’ ready to die, far as I can tell.”

  “For what?” She almost shouted the question.

  “That’s the big question, baby.”

  “That’s your big ass! Why in the hell didn’t you tell us all this before now?”

  “’Cause I had to put it all together in my head first, that’s why.”

  “I’m gettin’ my girls and pullin’ out, Beerbelly. Like right now!”

  “We’re right behind you, baby!” Beerbelly said, standing up.

  “I think they’re quitting,” Dan radioed back to Ben.

  “They’re leaving the blockade and heading straight for my position.”

  “Take them out, Dan.”

  “Ten-four.”

  The bikers and outlaws rode and drove straight into an ambush. The guns of Dan Gray’s Scouts sparked the still-dark early morning hour and turned the Interstate slick with blood. Beerbelly and Wanda and several other biker leaders and their followers were in the middle of the column and veered off and into the brush. That quick move saved them. But half a dozen of them died when they hit rocks and ravines and were tossed from their bikes.

  They would be left there for the carrion birds and the ground scavengers.

  Bullets from the Rebel guns ignited gas tanks on the downed and still spinning motorcycles, some of the tanks burning, some of them exploding.

  Tina held her Scouts on the south side of the blockade, not wanting to go barging up into a free-fire zone and be mistaken for an outlaw. They began tearing down the blockade.

  As dawn began brightening the western skies, Tina and her team had torn down or pushed aside the last of the blockade and were waving the mortar carriers and Dusters and battle tanks through. When the last of the heavy-tracked vehicles were through, Tina and her Scouts followed them.

  “We’ll secure the airport first,” Ben radioed to his commanders. “That’s vital. Tina, you know the cutoff to the airport; it’s right up ahead off 87. Secure the airport.”

  “Ten-four, Eagle.”

  Beerbelly and Leadfoot and Wanda’s group had cleared the wrath of Raines’ Rebels and had pulled up in a group, shutting down their engines. They knew some of the others had made it, but just who and how many was, at this point, unknown.

  To a person, they were badly shaken.

  “Beerbelly,” Wanda asked, her voice betraying her fear, “what are we gonna do?”

  “I been thinkin’ ’bout that, too.” Beerbelly would have loved to roll a joint and toke it right down to where it blistered his fingers. But his hands were shaking so badly he had to hold on tightly to the handgrips to keep them still. He did not want any of the others to see how scared he was. “We’ll give Raines and his people plenty of time to clear the Interstate. Then we’ll jump across and take 90 east for Gillette. We’ll head north out of there and then cut northwest, try to get up to where this Malone person has his operation.”

  “Malone and his kind ain’t got no love for people like me and my girls,” Wanda said glumly.

  “It’s either that or Ben Raines,” Beerbelly reminded her.

  “In that case I reckon I could put up with a stiff dick in order to stay alive.”

  “Wanna try mine just to get back in practice?” Beerbelly said with a grin.

  Wanda told him where he could put his dick. And it wasn’t where Beerbelly had in mind.

  Some tiny, tingling warning bell sounded in Pete’s head as he approached the blasted and shot-up town of Thermopolis. And it wasn’t the bloated and stinking bodies of Night People that did it. Even though that in itself was enough to make a buzzard puke.

  “We’re taking 120,” he told Sam. “I got a bad feeling, man.”

  Sam got on the CB and advised the others of what was going down.

  “What the hell’s the problem, Jones?” MacNally demanded. “Other than this goddamn stinkin’ town. Jesus, them bodies would gag a maggot.”

  “Just a hunch, Mac. Stay with me. It would be like Raines to set up an ambush at some p
oint along the most likely route through the mountains. You want to stay alive, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah!”

  “All right, boys, here’s the way it’s going to be. No talking on the military radioes. We use CBs only and only then if somebody’s got something important to say. In other words, for you rednecks and other assorted honkies, keep your damn mouths shut.”

  “You an uppity nigger, Jones,” Mac shot back over the airwaves. “You know that.”

  “You keep telling me, Mac. You keep telling me.”

  Tina’s Scouts were brought to a halt at the airport. The facility was heavily manned and the defenders were determined to hold it at all costs. Matt Callahan had told them that the airport was critical to Ben Raines being resupplied and the outlaws took Matt at his word.

  Nine o’clock in the morning, and after two hours of close-up fighting, the Rebels had advanced only a couple of blocks into Sheridan. Ben stood on the outskirts of the town and pondered the situation as the radios from his Rebels kept him informed.

  “Still meeting heavy resistance on all fronts, General,” Corrie relayed the messages. “Tina is bogged down at the airport. She’s badly outnumbered but holding her own.”

  Ben turned to Dan. “Take over here, Dan. I’ll take my team and help out at the airport. Corrie, what’s the word from Buddy.”

  “They’re in position but so far it’s a no-show from the outlaws.”

  Ben nodded. “Let’s go, gang.”

  Ben and his teams skirted wide around getting to the airport and it still took them nearly a half hour to reach it. Matt had dug his people in deep and it was as Sarah had predicted: they were a tough bunch and they knew they were fighting to preserve a way of life.

  But as tough as they were, they were not as trained or as disciplined as Raines’s Rebels, and they did not possess the firepower of the Raines’s Rebels. Like nearly all thugs and punks and bullies from the dawning of civilization, and before, the outlaws had always relied on brute strength and savagery and fear to get their way. That didn’t work with the Rebels. They could be just as savage as those they faced and fought—more so if need be.