Blood in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

To: Charles and Bobbi

They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.

Ben Franklin

If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be.

Thomas Jefferson

PROLOGUE

The bullet spider-webbed the windshield and knocked a hole in the interior of the truck before exiting out the rear of the cab. Gale screamed and ducked to the floorboards, her hands over her ears. She said some very unladylike words, just audible over the rattle of gunfire.

From the direction the slug took in entering the cab of the pickup, Ben knew it had been fired from his right, from the south side of the highway. Ben spun the steering wheel.

A six-wheeled V-300 roared up beside Ben’s pickup. It passed the truck and wheeled about in the cracked and pitted highway, its twin Browning M2 .50-caliber machine guns yammering, spitting out death, clearing the thick underbrush by the roadside of all living things. An APC had rolled up beside Ben’s pickup, on the south side, a buffer of protection for the general and his lady.

Rebels sprang into action. They were Gray’s Scouts, and they knew their jobs, performing

without any wasted motion. Small arms fire rattled over the thick timber.

A few screams were heard. Then a quiet settled over the area. The screaming ceased.

Ben’s radio crackled. “All clear, sir. We got them all.”

“Stay in the truck, sir,” Colonel Dan Gray said, appearing by the driver’s side of the pickup. “I’ve got teams working the north side of the highway.” Gunfire came from the north side. “I suspected as much. Very sloppy ambush. Not professional at all.”

Ben smiled. Dan was an expert at ambush. “Who were they, Dan?”

“Just another band of rabble and outlaws, sir,” the Englishman said quietly. He was very calm. This was his job. “More and more of them appearing as conditions continue to deteriorate. I think it’s going to get much worse.”

“Yes,” Ben agreed.

“We’re under attack and you guys sit there discussing fucking politics, for Christ’s sake,” Gale said, crawling back on the seat. “What a bunch of characters.” She looked down at Ben. “I’m hungry.”

“She’s pregnant,” Ben explained.

“Yes, sir,” Dan said blandly.

“It’s a desperate time, Dan,” Ben said. “What’s left of the nation is reeling, with no direction, no leadership, no organization. The scum of humanity is surfacing.”

Dan smiled. “Quite, sir. A strong man needs to take over.”

BOOK ONE

CHAPTER ONE

The long convoy bivouacked between Lebanon and Cookeville, Tennessee, near a small town named Buffalo Valley. It was a dead town, with no sign of any living beings. Only the scattered bones in the streets gave testimony to that which once was.

Many of the towns the convoy had either driven through or bypassed on the interstate appeared dead, but Ben had detected a definite air of hope in the men and women and children in the long column that had snaked and threaded and picked its way from southern Missouri. Other columns were on their way to north Georgia, coming from Louisiana and Arkansas.

Yet another move for Raines’ Rebels.

Hopefully, Ben thought, as he lay beside Gale in their tent, the last move.

But as he lay waiting for sleep to take him, Ben pondered over what he considered to be the somewhat mysterious behavior he had detected from his close circle of friends: Ike, Cecil, Doctor Chase, Juan, Mark and Colonel Gray. Something was in the wind. But what?

“Are you asleep?” he whispered to Gale.

Silence from her side of the double sleeping bag.

But her breathing had changed. Ben knew she was awake.

“I asked if you were asleep,” Ben persisted.

She sighed, turning to face him, dark eyes shining in the dim light filtering through the open flap of the tent. “I was,” she said sarcastically. “Despite your tossing and turning and snorting like a water buffalo.”

“I do not snort like a water buffalo! Have you ever seen a water buffalo?”

“What’s that got to do with it? Ben, what do you want?”

“Do you get the impression that Dan and his people are becoming a bit overprotective lately?”

“You woke me up to ask me that? Good God! And I was having such a nice dream. Do you wanna hear about it?”

“No. I am not in the least interested in hearing about your slumber-time sexual fantasies. Just answer the question.”

“Sexual fantasies! I was dreaming about a hot roast beef sandwich, with mashed potatoes and lots of gravy. How in the hell can you make anything sexual about that?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes, master. They’re just trying to keep you alive, that’s all. You’re such a klutz.”

Ben smiled in the darkness. “Wanna play?”

She looked at her watch. “At two o’clock in the morning?”

“Well, there is that old saying. I forgot about that.”

“What old saying?”

“Warmed up coffee and woke up pussy.”

“Good God! How crude.” She rolled over and went back to sleep. But she was smiling.

Ben thought: I wonder if she knows more than she’s telling? Whatever it is, maybe she’s in on it, too? Damn! What I don’t need is a mystery. Not at this time.

He put his arms around her and she turned to face him.

“He’s not going to like it,” Juan Solis said. “I can tell you all that right up front.”

The group of men were meeting not far from the main bivouac area. Dan Gray, Cecil Jefferys, Juan Solis, Mark Terry, Ike McGowen, Doctor Chase.

“I think he’ll see his way to do it,” Ike said. “Once we lay it out for him. But Ben’s gonna take off for a while before he does it. He wants some time alone on the road.”

“He said it himself,” Dan said. “This morning after the firefight. “The nation is leaderless, with no direction, no organization.””

“Ben is tired,” Dr. Lamar Chase said. “Not to imply his health is bad,” he quickly added, catching the alarmed looks on the faces of the men around him, “for he’s in better physical shape than most men fifteen years younger. He’s just tired. Good God, people, the man has been building and rebuilding nations for more than a decade. That would tell on a god. And he’s worried about many of these new people that have joined us. And I am too.”

“Yes,” Cecil spoke. “Ben has talked with me about them. Captain Willette and his bunch especially. We

have no way of checking their stories, no way of knowing where their true loyalties really lie. Ben is leery of many of them. But they’ve done nothing out of line.”

Ike said, “I’m with Ben about these new people. Some of them rub my fur the wrong way. I get the same feeling I had back in ‘88, just before the balloon went up.”

“All we can do is keep an eye on them,” Juan said.

“We’d better,” Mark said. “You all notice how they’re singling out the younger troops to talk with? I don’t like that. I get the feeling something … evil is in the wind.”

“I’m with you, partner,” Ike said.

“When do we tell Ben?” Dan asked.

Ike looked at him. “When we get to Georgia. No point in gettin’ him all stirred up now.”

Ben experienced a form of mild depression as his eyes swept the land on either side of Interstate 24. The scene greeting him was one of almost total deterioration. Ben knew living beings were out there, knew many had survived not only the bombings of ‘88, but also the plague and the horror that followed a decade later. But the survivors did not appear to be doing anything.

Ben thought: How in the hell do these people expect to pull anything out of the ashes of destruction and despair if they just sit on their butts and do nothing?

Gale glanced at him. As if reading his thoughts, she said, “They don’t have a leader, Ben. Someone to put their faith and trust in.”

Ben shook his head. “Uh-huh, and hell, no, lady. Not again. Not this ol’ boy. I’ve had my shot at running the show.”

“Then why are we moving to Georgia, Ben?” she challenged him. “Just to see the countryside?”

“It’s one thing to build a small following of people, Gale. It is quite another to try to pull together an entire nation. I thank you, but no thank you.”

She thought about that. She stuck out her chin. “You did it before,” she reminded him.

“No,” Ben contradicted her. “I attempted to do it. And for a very brief time, if you are speaking of my short tenure as president of this battered nation.”

“Ben-was

“No, Gale. No. Another Tri-States, perhaps, something on that order. Perhaps, Gale, if I-we-could do that, and make it work, then others would follow our example. That is my hope. But only time will tell.”

“All right, Ben.” She knew that particular subject was, for the time being, closed. She gazed out the window. Nothing moved, no sign of human habitation, much less human progress toward rebuilding. “It just looks so … barren, Ben.”

“It is, to some degree. But it’s a dangerous illusion, Gale. I think many of the survivors have formed pockets of defense around the nation. Probably many have slipped back to the medieval fortressstvillage type of existence.”

“This nation-or what is left of it-put people on the moon. We were reaching for the stars. Now-this.”

“It was inevitable, Gale. All people had to do was study history to find out where any nation is heading. Unfortunately, most people were too busy protesting this or that-whatever served their own special interest group or union-or were too busy glued to a television set watching the most asinine pap ever made for insulting the human intelligence. In short, the majority didn’t give a shit.”

“That’s harsh, Ben. Perhaps too harsh.”

“I don’t think so. It isn’t too harsh for me to say the nation’s morals slipped to zero. It certainly is correct to say in our courts it became not a matter of guilty or innocent, but guilty or not guilty-and not guilty came, more often than not, as a result of some minor breach of technicality. Fuck the victims of crime and turn the punks loose. And as for my remark about TV, after a time, I just quit watching television.”

“Come on, Ben-what did you watch? Stuff with a lot of violence, I’m sure.”

“No. I bought a VCR and watched screw movies,” he said with a grin. “Come on, Raines! Get serious.”

“What is this, Gale-psychoanalyze Ben Raines time?”

“I would like to know a little bit about the man I’m living with,” she said, adding primly, “and the guy who got me pregnant.”

“Takes two, you know?”

“Give, Raines.”

“I watched what I personally enjoyed, Gale. High drama or low shoot-“em-up-and-stomp movies.

I watched good comedy-as I define ‘gd.” Most of the comedians I enjoyed never used one word of profanity in their routines. A good comic doesn’t have to. Just like a good actor doesn’t have to rely on gimmicks. Their very presence emanates talent. And dancing should be graceful, Gale. Not leaping about like a pack of savages in the throes of a pre-sexual orgy.” “Ah-huh,” Gale whirled on the seat-and cracked her noggin on the sun visor. “Shit!” she said, rubbing her head. “I always knew you were a closet bigot. Admit it, Raines.”

“I’m not a closet anything, Gale. How’s your head?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“You asked for my opinion, Gale-I gave it. Others are entitled to theirs, as well.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “I just wanted to see if I could get a reaction out of you.” She glanced at his strong profile. “I read every one of your books I could find, Ben. I didn’t like some of them, but I read them. You really got down on the American people. I used to think what you wanted was a nation of clones, all patterned after yourself.”

“And now?”

“I was wrong.”

“My God! Let me stop and find a hammer and stone tablet. I want to preserve that last remark for posterity.”

Gale stuck out her tongue at him.

“How’s the kid?” Ben asked.

“Plural, Ben. Two. The twins are doing just fine, thank you.”

“In nine months I’m going to prove you wrong, Gale.”

“You really know a lot about the reproduction system, don’t you, Raines? Where are you getting this “nine months” crap? Try about six and a half months.”

He looked at her midsection. “I can’t tell any difference. You look just as skinny and malnourished as ever.”

“Thanks a lot, Raines. I’ve gained a few pounds. Hey! Look over there.” She pointed.

Ben looked. He radioed the column to a halt and got out of the truck. Uncasing his binoculars, he focused them and then began cussing. “Bastards,” he said. “Dan! Over here.”

The Englishman appeared at Ben’s side. “Sir?”

Ben handed him his field glasses. “Take a look, Dan.”

Dan’s face went white with rage. “Damned barbarians.”

“What do you make of it, Dan?”

“They seem to have constructed some sort of miniature Stonehenge, General. And they are burning someone alive in the open center of it. My word! What has this nation come to?”

“It’ll get worse, Dan,” Ben said. “I assure you of that. Let’s go take a look.”

“Ah … General? Why don’t you just let me take a team over there? We’ll-was

The look on Ben’s face stopped Dan. Ben said, “I believe I said let’s go take a look, Dan.”

“Right-oh, General,” Dan replied cheerfully.

“You will permit me to lead the way, I hope?”

“Carry on, Colonel. Oh, Dan?”

The Englishman turned. “Thanks for your concern, Dan. But when I require the services of a nanny, I’ll want one who’s a hell of a lot better looking than you.” Ben softened that with a smile.

Dan laughed, taking no umbrage at Ben’s remark. “I certainly can’t blame you for that, sir. I am a bit worse for wear.”

“Be careful, old man,” Gale called from the truck.

Ben waved at her and followed Dan and his scouts across the rocky field. The screams of the man being burned alive at the stake grew louder as the Rebels approached. The smell of burning flesh was offensive to them all.

“Jesus Christ, Ben,” Ike said.

“I know, Ike,” Ben said, then cautioned them. “You people step easy now. We don’t know what we’re facing here. Whatever these people represent, they’re armed.” He could see the man chained to the stake was not much more than a boy.

“That is far enough!” a robed and hooded man called from the outer fringe of the circle of stone. Other robed and hooded men joined him. They were all armed, most with sawed-off pump shotguns, a few with M-16’s and AK-47’S. All carried side-arms belted around their waists.

“Stand ready!” Colonel Gray barked the order. A dozen bolts on automatic weapons were pulled back. A stocky Rebel with an M-60 machine gun, belt ammo looped over his shoulders, leveled the light machine gun at the knot of strange-appearing men.

The guards quickly re-evaluated their position.

“We want no trouble, gentlemen,” one of the older guards said. “But you are interfering in a matter that is none of your concern.”

“Seems like to me you’re giving that boy-was Ben’s eyes touched the young man chained to the stake, his lower body now completely engulfed in flames- “more trouble than he deserves. What has he done to warrant this?”

“That is none of your concern,” Ben was told. “Stay out of it.”

“Colonel Gray?” Ben said. “Would you be so kind as to put that young fellow out of his misery?”

“My pleasure, sir.” The Englishman lifted his rifle and shot the burning boy once in the head, forever stilling his hideous screaming and ceasing the agony from the fire.

A low grumble of anger sprang from the crowd. It was a mixed group, Ben noted. Men and women and some teenagers.

“Whoever you are,” a woman spoke from the crowd of robes and hoods, “you do not have the right to interfere with justice.”

“Justice is one thing,” Ben said, his eyes searching the crowd for the source. “Torture is quite another. My name is Ben Raines. Now you know my name, what is yours?”

The crowd looked at one another. A tall, stately, middle-aged woman stepped from the inner circle. She walked out of the stone circle to within a few feet of Ben. The odor of burning flesh clung to her robes. She had the eyes of a fanatic.

The woman stared at Ben for a moment. “We were told you were dead,” she finally said. She seemed disappointed to learn Ben was still alive.

“As you can see,” Ben said with a smile, “paraphrasing Mark Twain, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I am very much alive and doing quite well.”

“So I see,” the woman spoke. Her eyes were like a snake’s stare: unblinking. “I am called Sister Voleta. I am a princess in the Ninth Order.”

“Fuckin’ loony, is what she is,” a Rebel muttered.

The woman heard the comment. Her dark eyes narrowed. The odor of unwashed bodies mingled with the sweet smell of human flesh.

These people, Ben thought, don’t believe much in bathing.

Ben’s peripheral vision picked up movement from the north, along the timberline that bordered the open, weed-filled field.

“I see “em,” Ike muttered. He lifted his walkie-talkie and spoke quietly.

At the interstate, mortar teams began setting up by the side of the road.

“If those are your people,” Ben told the robed and hooded woman with the dark, evil eyes, “you’d better pull them up short before I give the orders to have them annihilated.”

The woman’s eyes never left Ben’s face as she spoke. “Very well,” she said softly, speaking so only Ben and those near them could hear. “You win this small battle. But I assure you, there will be a next time. You have made a serious error by interfering. It will not be forgotten.” She smiled strangely as her gaze swung to the long column behind Ben. She raised her voice. “Tell our guardians to halt. We are

too few against many. This time,” she added.

A woman lifted her arm and waved the group of men to a halt. She lowered her arm and the men squatted in the field.

Ben pointed to the charred, bloody remains of the dead young man. “What had that boy done?”

“He violated the rules,” Sister Voleta said. “That is punishable by death.”

“Must have been a serious violation.”

“He bred with an outsider. That is not permitted in our society.”

“An outsider? Where is she?”

“She will be stoned to death at dusk. That is our law.”

“Get her and bring her here.” Ben’s words were harsh.

“You do not give orders on this land, Ben Raines. Your words are meaningless here. For as far as you can see and beyond, all that is land claimed by the Ninth Order. You are trespassers. Do not tempt the gods, Ben Raines.”

“We take her easy, or we take her hard. Your choice.” Ben threw down the challenge.

The woman made no attempt to hide her hate or her anger. Her eyes flashed venom at Ben. “The Ninth Order is powerful, Ben Raines. Your interference this day will neither be forgotten nor forgiven.”

“I’m scared out of my wits,” Ben said. He barked, “Get the girl.”

The robed and hooded woman trembled with rage. She glared at Ben. Finally she said, “Bring the godless slut here.”

A young girl, no older than her middle teens, was dragged from the inner circle. She had been forced to watch her lover burned and ultimately shot in the head. She had been savagely beaten. One eye was closed. Her face and arms were bruised. Blood leaked from her mouth. She was naked from the waist up. Her breasts were bruised.

“They took turns raping me,” she said to Ben. “They hurt me.”

“She is a fornicator,” Sister Voleta said. She enjoys it. How could it be rape?”

Ben shook his head. “Lady-and I use the term as loosely as possible-you people are weird.” He looked at a Rebel. “Take the girl to the convoy, to Doctor Chase. If anyone interferes, shoot him.”

A jacket was placed over the girl’s bare shoulders. She was led away. No one tried to stop them.

Ben looked at Sister Voleta. “I haven’t the vaguest idea what the Ninth Order might be. I don’t really care. I strongly suspect it is another of the pagan, barbaric groups that are growing like fungus to join the other nuts and kooks around this country. But I warn you-all of you. If you people cause any trouble for me, or for those who travel with me, I promise you I shall return and wipe you out to a person. And do not take my words lightly, sister.”

“We are not afraid of you, Ben Raines,” the woman spat her words at him. “For the Ninth Order stands on the word of God.”

“Horseshit!” Ben returned the venom. “You people twist and profane God’s word to suit your I own perverted whims. You’re no better than Emil 1 Hite and his nuts down in Arkansas.”

“We have been in contact with Father Hite. We might join forces with him.” “Father Hite!” Ben laughed at her. “All right, lady, you do that. It’s just as easy for me to cut the string on two yo-yos as one.”

“It is not over, Ben Raines. Rather-it has only begun.”

Walking back to the column, Ben wondered what in the hell that last bit was all about.

The going got slower on Interstate 24. The convoy was forced to call it a day just south of Manchester, near what had once been the Arnold Engineering Development Center. The complex now lay in ruins.

Ben ordered the young woman taken from the hands of the Ninth Order to be brought to him after the evening meal.

“Go easy with her, Ben,” Doctor Chase cautioned. “She’s had a rough time of it. She was raped fore and aft.”

“Nice people,” Ben muttered.

“Dangerous people,” Chase commented, then left Ben’s quarters.

“What is your name?” Ben asked.

“Claudia.” She looked much different from the first time Ben had seen her. She had bathed, dressed in clean clothing, and fixed her short hair.

“Claudia … ?” Ben prompted.

“I have no last name. I … think I am fifteen years old. But I’m not sure. I was born-I thinkin the state of Michigan. I do not remember anything about my parents.”

She was looking at Ben very intently, her eyes serious, mixed with fear. Her direct gaze made Ben uncomfortable.

“Why are you looking at me in that manner, Claudia?”

“Because Sister Voleta says you are evil. She says you are the greatest threat on the face of the earth. She says Ben Raines thinks he is a god, that you want to return to the old ways.”

“I’m not a god, Claudia. But I sure would like to return to the old ways. If the old ways she was referring to meant hard work, honesty, ethics, and everything else that once made this nation great.”

“I know nothing of the old ways you speak of. I remember only hunger and cold and running from gangs of evil men.”

Of course, Ben thought. This child was maybe two years old when the world blew up in our faces. Only two. He shook his head.

Is everything I want to see accomplished before my time is through hopeless?

Ben sighed.

“How much schooling do you have, girl?”

“I … I can read some words. I can figure some, too. But I can write my name!” she said brightly.

That’s more than a lot of young people your age can do, Ben thought. “Tell me about the Ninth Order, Claudia. And don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“I believe you, Mister Raines. The Ninth Order is all around us. Sister Voleta is the princess of the Ninth Order. They worship both Satan and God. They are not nice people.”

Still a writer at heart, Ben had to fight to hide his smile. Obviously, brevity was Claudia’s forte. “What do you know about us, Claudia? About what my people are trying to accomplish?”

“Nothing. But I do know you have traitors among your ranks. People who wish to replace you as leader of the Rebels.”

CHAPTER TWO

The young girl could not or would not, probably the former, tell Ben any more concerning her statement of traitors among his ranks. She knew only that she had overheard it from men and women of the Ninth Order. That news did not come as any surprise to Ben. So many of the old group was gone. So many of the original people who gave their sweat and blood to build the old Tri-States. Long dead. And with them, some of the fire and passion and longing for justice and freedom and peace.

Ben sent the girl back to her quarters and sat in his tent alone, mentally reviewing some of the new people who had joined the Rebels just recently. And they numbered several hundred.

Lieutenant Dick Carter had joined the group just after the battle in Missouri with the Russian, General Striganov. So had Sgt. Charles Bennett and Capt. Tom Willette and his company of soldiers. And the three men had made friends almost immediately. Coincidence? Ben doubted that. But there was absolutely no way of checking any of the stories the men had told. They had to be accepted at face value. They were all good soldiers, no doubt about that. They knew their stuff. Ben could not fault them as soldiers. They took orders without a gripe, and carried those orders out.

Many of his younger Rebels liked the trio of newcomers. They were easygoing, and … glib, the word came to Ben. Glib. And very slick.

Ben had heard a lot of the rumors attributed to Carter and Willette and Bennett. But none were bad things. Nothing that would constitute any lack of respect for Ben. Things like: “Ben should retire, put his feet up, and enjoy his position.” And: “The man is a living legend.” And this: “General Raines has certainly earned his rest. He needs to be in a fine office, with a general staff around him. I’m worried about him out in the field. God! What if something should happen to the general? Christ! What would we do?”

Ben smiled ruefully. All the remarks that had filtered back to him were spoken solely out of love and respect for the man-so it would appear. But Ben could see, now, the silent insidiousness behind the seemingly loyal words.

What to do?

He didn’t know. Yet.

“I tell ya’ll what,” Captain Willette said to a mixed group of Rebels after evening chow. “General Raines sure scared me this afternoon. Does he have to go out into the field taking chances like that? Damn! Look, I don’t want you folks to think I’m trying to run things around here-you know that’s not what I want. I’d die for General Raines. All of us would. But I’m worried about General Raines. Somebody has got to

convince him to start delegating some of the more dangerous tasks to other people. He’s just got to do that.”

Many of the younger troops under Ben’s command were beginning to vacillate, leaning toward Captain Willette’s views. Even some of the older Rebels, men and women who had been with Ben for years, wanted Ben to retire from the field. They wanted Ben to remain in charge, certainly, but to do so from an office, and when he traveled, to do so with a contingent of bodyguards. Not just with Buck Osgood and a couple of Rebels.

All agreed, mentally if not vocally, General Raines would have to start taking more precautions. If he didn’t do so willingly, then … Well, they would just have to think about doing something. It was a touchy situation. No doubt about that.

At Ben’s orders, Colonel Gray sent a team into Chattanooga the next morning with orders to check out as many survivors as possible, find out what, if any, organization they had and what, if anything, they had planned for the future. If they were willing, they could link up with Raines” Rebels.

Skirting the city of Chattanooga, Ben’s convoy slipped into north Georgia at mid-morning, staying on two-lane country roads. The column slowly made its way east, heading for Interstate 75. When the scouts reported the interstate just ahead, Ben halted the convoy. He had made up his mind to bring the smoldering whisper campaign into full flame. He didn’t know what else to do. If he allowed it to

continue, he knew it could destroy what he had built. He didn’t feel he had any choice in the matter.

“Ike,” Ben said. “Take them on east to Base Camp. Link up with Captain Rayle. I’ll maintain radio contact daily.”

“Where are you going, Ben?”

“I’m taking a platoon and visiting Atlanta. Haven’t been there in a long time. I want to see what is left. Who knows, we may find something worth salvaging.”

“Ben…”

“I’ll see you in a few days, Ike,” Ben cut off any further conversation on the matter. “James!” he yelled. “Get your team together. Let’s roll.”

James Riverson, the senior sergeant in the Rebel army, a man who had been with Ben for many years, nodded and began pulling supplies. At a slight nod from Ben, James began pulling a lot of supplies. The sergeant knew they would be gone much longer than a few days.

Ike opened his mouth to yell his protests at Ben’s actions when Colonel Gray touched him on the arm.

“Relax, Ike,” the Englishman said. “I anticipated this yesterday, saw him studying maps of the city and the Atlanta area. I sent teams of LETTERRP’S out last night. They’ll intercept him about fifty miles north of the city and stay with him. Ben won’t like it. He’ll know who did it. But there won’t be a damn thing he can do about it.”

Ike grinned. “You’re a sneaky bastard, Dan. You know that?”

“But of course,” Dan said, returning the smile. “Besides, with Ben gone, we can get a more accurate

picture as to the next moves from Carter, Willette and Bennett. Those three and their followers are up to no good.”

“Like I said, Dan. You’re a sneaky bastard.” But it was all an act on Ike’s part. Ben had confided in him the night before.

Ben had told only a few of his plans. Dan had been out of pocket when Ben had made up his mind; but Ben knew the Englishman would put it together very quickly and probably have teams of Scouts and LETTERRP’S out in the field to intercept him before he reached Atlanta.

So Ben didn’t go to Atlanta.

He cut east of the interstate at Highway 20 and stayed with it, edging south with the highway, skirting Atlanta. Gale didn’t argue with Ben, but she was curious as to what he was doing. She grew even more curious when she noticed a mischievous little smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

It finally reached the point of irritation.

“Ben, what in the hell are you pulling?”

“We’re taking a vacation, Gale. Just the two of us. Along with a platoon of bodyguards, that is.”

She looked at him. “I think you are positively bonkers, Raines. The entire world is crumbling around us; there are gangs of bandits all over the place; nuts and kooks and crazies are worshipping everything from toadstools to titties-and you want to take a vacation. I worry about you, Ben. I really, really worry about you.”

“Thank you for your concern. However, there is

another reason for my devious behavior.”

She waited for an explanation. She looked at him. “Well?”

“You noticed Cecil didn’t object to our taking off?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“There are three people who know why I’m doing this,” Ben explained. “Cecil, Lamar and Ike. We agreed we’ve got a coup building within the ranks, Gale. It’s still small. So I’m going to drop out of sight for a few weeks and see where it goes in my absence. I’m just going to have to play it by ear for a while. I think, Gale, it’s shaping up to be a bad one.”

“That’s why you’ve been so tense the past couple of days.”

“Yes. What I’m doing may not be the best way to go-I don’t know. I do know a few of the people behind the whisper campaign. Willette, Bennett and Carter are the leaders. And there is this Ninth Order business. I got some strange vibes talking with that woman. I want to ramble around some. Test the water, so to speak.”

“All I wanted was a nice man to fall in love with,” Gale said. “I would have liked a nice home, a couple of kids. A new dress every now and then. Jesus Christ! I had to go and pick Ben Raines, of all people. Now I’m wandering all over the country like a damned gypsy, with a man who blows things up for a hobby.” She looked out the window. “Ku Klux Klan is probably waiting for us right around the next bend in the road,” she muttered.

Ben laughed at her. “What did I do for laughs before I met you, Gale?”

“Laughs? I suppose you think the Klan is amusing?”

“Yes,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’ve always thought them funny. Ever since my dad showed me a picture of them all decked out in bed sheets and pillowcases. They tried to organize around Marion when I was just a kid. Tried to get my dad to join. Dad told them to go to hell. Dad wasn’t a liberal, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was no bigot, either. They came back about a week later. Tried to burn a cross on Dad’s south field. Dad was waiting for them with a twelve-gauge shotgun, loaded with rock salt.” Ben laughed at the memory. “Dad shot several of them right in the ass. I never saw so many bed sheets flapping in the breeze in all my life. You talk about steppin’ and fetchin’. Those rednecks had their sheets up around their lines and I mean some kind of gettin’ it across that field. One of them got all tangled up in a barbed wire fence and started bellowing like a calf in a hailstorm. Dad was laughing so hard he couldn’t see to shoot.”

Gale had to practically stick her fist in her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. She turned her head away and sat giggling, looking out the window.

“You see,” Ben said, laughing at her antics. “You think it’s funny the way I described it. Right?”

“Yeah, but Ben-come on! The KKK preaches hate against minorities. Jews included, I might add. In that respect, it ain’t so damned funny. But you wouldn’t know about that.”

Ben grinned and put the needle to her. “Oh, come on, Gale. Stop postulating. And knock off wearing your heritage like a thorny crown.”

She cut her eyes at him. “Very funny, Raines. Ha ha. And what the hell do you mean: postulating?”

“You want me to explain the word?”

“You want a fat lip? I know what postulate means.”

“You are assuming I don’t know where you’re coming from because I haven’t been where you’re going, right?”

She thought about that for a few seconds. “Weird way of putting it, but yeah, I guess so.”

“Wrong. That’s like saying I can’t feel for a starving child because I’m not a starving child.”

“Oh, crap, Ben. Your analogy is all twisted. That’s not-was

A hard burst of gunfire stopped Gale in mid-sentence.

Ben twisted the steering wheel hard left and cut into the driveway of an old farmhouse.

Gale hit the floorboards. “I am getting very tired of this,” she said.

“We shall continue this scintillating conversation at a later date,” Ben said.

?”’ I am in the company of a fucking madman,”” Gale muttered, as gunfire blasted the quiet afternoon.

Lead sparkled the windshield, showering both of them with glass.

“I don’t think those people like us very much,” Ben said. “Did you forget your deodorant this morning, dear?”

“Will you for Christ’s sake do something!” Gale shouted.

“Calm yourself,” Ben said. He took his old Thompson SMG from the clips built into the dashboard and the floorboard. “Stay low,” he told her.

“That just has to be one of the most useless instructions I have ever heard,” Gale said.

Ben slipped from the truck. “Where away, James?” he called over the rattle of gunfire.

“That grove of trees to the northeast, General. They won’t be there for very long, though,” he added.

.50-caliber machine guns began yammering from the rear of the six-bys in the short column. 40mm grenade launchers began lobbing their payloads into the brush on the slope. Mortars began plopping and popping from the tubes.

Ben’s Rebels began flanking the hidden assailants, spraying the area with automatic weapon fire. WP grenades blasted the brush, setting it on fire. Men leaped up and tried to run from the burning brush and timber. The Rebels cut them down, offering no quarter or mercy.

Ben called for a cease fire. It was quiet except for the moaning and crying of the wounded. “Finish them,” Ben ordered.

In five minutes it was over. No prisoners.

“Gather their weapons and fan the bodies for anything intelligence might use. Leave the bodies for the animals. We’ll head for the nearest town and see about a new windshield for my truck.”

The wounded outlaws put out of their misery, James walked to Ben’s side. “Sorry looking bunch, General. Trash and no-counts.”

“Weapons?”

“Some of them in pretty good shape. Nothing intelligence could use.”

“Let’s roll it.”

The entire ambush, firefight, mop-up and victory, had taken less than fifteen minutes. Raines’ Rebels were known for their fierceness in battle.

“Just to take off like that,” Sgt. Charles Bennett said. “Leaving all of us behind to worry about him. OK. I know. I’m going to make some of you mad. Can’t be helped. It just isn’t right. Maybe General Raines is … Naw. Couldn’t be that.”

“Couldn’t be what?” a Rebel asked.

“Skip it,” Bennett said. “It’s just something I heard, and I ain’t gonna repeat none of it. Even if it is true.”

“At least tell us where it came from.”

Bennett shook his head and turned to go. He looked back at the group. “You won’t tell anybody where you heard it?”

“Not a soul, Charles. But if it involves the general, I think we all have a right to know.”

“Yeah,” Bennett said. “I guess that’s right. OK. I’ll just do this, and if you pick up on it, fine with me.” He tapped the side of his head, temple area, and made a circling gesture. He walked away.

After several moments of arguing among themselves, the Rebels came to this conclusion: Ben needs a long rest. He deserves it.

All agreed with that. More Rebels joined the group. They agreed that Ben was probably more tired than anything else, that he was mentally exhausted. But how to get him to take that much-deserved rest?

“Let’s ask Captain Willette. He’s pretty sharp. He’ll know what to do.”

Ben stopped the small convoy in Monroe, Georgia. After some searching, a windshield was located, popped out, and the bullet-shattered glass in Ben’s pickup was replaced.

“No safety inspection,” Ben joked. “I’m likely to get a ticket.”

“Beg pardon, sir?” a young Rebel looked at him, not understanding what Ben said.

“Never mind, son,” Ben said. “All that was before your time.”

A lot of things were before your time, Ben thought. He looked at the young Rebel and shook his head. They will never be the same. From now on, it’s pure survival.

“Let’s head for Monticello and the Oconee National Forest,” Ben said, after looking at an old map of Georgia. “We’ll hole up there for a few days. Keep our heads down and out of sight. Gee is supposed to contact me tomorrow, at noon.”

James Riverson, the huge ex-truck driver from Missouri, spoke his mind. “I don’t know about this move, General. Personally, I’d like to go back to the convoy and kick the ass off Willette and his bunch. This move could backfire on us.”

“He’s right, General,” Buck Osgood expressed his opinion.

Some Rebels agreed with Buck, others weren’t sure. While Ben demanded rigid discipline from his people, anyone could express an opinion. When Ben was in the active U.s. military, he had detested chicken-shit units. In his outfit, officers pulled their weight just like everyone else.

Surprising James and Buck, Ben agreed with them. “I know that, boys. But I’ve got to know how many of our people are with Willette and his crew. Let’s face it: None of the three, Carter, Bennett or Willette, or anyone aligned with them, has said anything treasonous about me. If I confronted them now, what would I confront them with? This is the best way, I’m thinking. There is an old adage about giving a person enough rope to hang himself. That’s what I’m doing.”

All the Rebels knew that when Ben made up his mind, that was it. End of discussion.

They would lay low for a couple of weeks, see what developed.

Monticello contained a half dozen survivors. They had survived, but though they were survivors-in one sense of the word-they were pitiful in Ben’s eyes. No one appeared to be in charge. No organization. No one had planted a garden or done anything else constructive. The people just seemed to be existing. Their children were dirty and ragged. There was no type of school. The adults had worked out no plan of defense against the many gangs of thugs and outlaws and paramilitary groups that now roamed throughout the land.

Ben dismissed the families in Monticello from his mind. They might have survived thus far, but not for much longer. They would be easy prey. God alone knew what would happen to the children when that occurred-and Ben knew it would happen. For the scum-who for some reason seem to survive any holocaust-were surfacing, to rape and ravage and kill.

“Wind it up,” Ben ordered. “We’re moving on. Losers don’t impress me.”

The convoy moved a few miles down the road, to what was left of a small village. The Rebels had what was left of the hamlet to themselves. Only a few scattered bones lay in white, silent testimony to that which once was.

The Rebels began setting up camp, first cleaning out a few stores and homes. Ben waited by the communications truck for Cecil’s call.

When the radio crackled, Ben answered the first signal.

“How’s it going, Cec?”

“We’re in place and setting up,” Ben’s second in command replied, his voice popping from the speaker. “Now the rumor is you are suffering from a mental disorder; you need a long rest. Even gods get tired. So on and so forth.”

“So the power play is firming up?”

“It’s beginning to have some consistency, yes. But nothing of any real substance. Willette is very smooth and very intelligent, Ben. He’s shifted many of his people around. Has them in every unit except HQ’S Company and Dan’s LETTERRP’S and Scouts. Dan and I have seen to that exclusion. Speaking of Dan, he’s plenty miffed at you. I settled him down by telling him why you did what you did, and that you tried to find him to tell him yourself.”

“That’s fine, Cec. How are our people being received by the mountain people?”

“Very well. Captain Rayle says the incidents of terrorism and brutality by the gangs of thugs and slime along the borders-all borders surrounding us-have picked up dramatically during the past month. The country is really going to hell in a bucket, Ben. I don’t have to tell you to be careful out there in the boonies.”

“I heard that, Cec. When do you want the next voice contact?”

“Day after tomorrow. Noon. We’ll use the same frequency. Ben? You people keep your heads down out there.”

“Ten-four and out.”

Ben turned to Gale. “You heard him. So don’t take it in your head to go out picking wildflowers. It’s dangerous out there.” He looked at the group of men and women gathered around the communications truck. “That goes for all of you. Travel in pairs and go armed at all times.”

“You trying to give me orders, Raines?” Gale stuck out her chin.

“Let me put it another way; maybe I can get through to you that way. How would you like to get gang-shagged by a dozen men?”

“You just have to be the most tactful, literate person I have ever met, Raines.”

“Thank you. I’m cute, too,” Ben said with a grin.

Gale choked back a reply.

CHAPTER THREE

He had been christened Anthony Silvaro in New York City. That was in 1970. When he was fourteen years old, he left his parents’ very comfortable apartment and became a street punk. Sociologists and psychologists had nothing tangible to blame for Tony’s behavior. In this case they could not fall back on their universal catch-all and blame Tony’s behavior on society. Tony’s parents were both college educated, both professional, successful people who made a good living, loved their kids, and would not dream of anything even remotely close to child abuse. Their combined incomes placed them in the upper, upper middle class. Tony’s two brothers and one sister were nice, normal, well-behaved young people. They made good grades in school, usually obeyed their parents, and all had plans to attend college. Tony-as he had been a good-looking boy-turned into a strikingly handsome man. He had never suffered the “embarrassment” of pimples, had no physical infirmities, had never been “picked on” by his teachers or by anyone else, and was very athletic.

Any streetwise cop knew Tony’s problem. Perhaps there is some chemical imbalance in the brain? the shrinks said, clutching at what few straws remained them.

The streetwise cop’s reply was predictable. “Horseshit.” Dyslexia, then.

“You have to be joking.”

The shrinks swelled up like a puff adder. They knew what was coming.

“He’s a punk. Period. He was born a punk. He will be a punk all his life. He will die a punk. He’s just no good.”

Tony was eighteen when the balloon went up in ‘88. He had been busy running his string of teenage whores and mugging old ladies and terrorizing old men over in Brooklyn when the rumors of war began. Tony didn’t know from jack-shit about survival outside the concrete canyons of the Big Apple, but he figured he’d damn well better learn. He also figured he’d better head for the wilderness.

He went to Paterson, New Jersey. I mean, Christ! How far out in the boonies do you have to go to be safe from The Bomb? Paterson, for Christ’s sake.

It wasn’t far enough, and Tony got out with only minutes to spare, driving a stolen car. He left the owner of the car dead in a puddle of blood. Just an old fart. Who gives a shit about old people, anyways? He got lost down in southern New Jersey, in the fucking swamps. He managed to cross over into Wilmington, Delaware, just before the bridge became hopelessly jammed up with stalled cars and trucks.

He got on the JFK Memorial Highway and almost blew it with that move, only at the last possible exit veering off to the north before touching Baltimore. He was in southern Pennsylvania when the lid blew off the pot.

Tony sought refuge in a barn, coming face to face with a black angus bull. The first bull he’d ever seen up close. Tony had visions of a rib-eye, rare. He shot the bull four times in the head with his .38.

After making a large mess with a butcher knife, Tony gave up his dreams of a rare steak. He couldn’t figure out how to get the hide off the ugly goddamn stinking brute. He found some chickens, only to have them peck his hands when he tried to grab some eggs.

“Mother-fuckers!” Tony yelled in frustration. He blasted the hens with his .38. Maybe he’d have to settle for fried chicken. But how in the hell do you get the feathers off them?

Tony pilfered the farmhouse, looking for guns and food. He found both. Plus a very frightened twelve-year-old girl. Tony raped her several times. He’d always preferred young pussy. Liked to hear them squall when he stuck it in. But this one wouldn’t quit hollering. Tony cut her throat. Stupid cunt. If she had cooperated, Tony reasoned and rationalized the issue in his punk mind, she could have made both of them some money. Guys like to make it with young chicks. A hundred bucks is nothing to a guy with a hard-on for young gash. Stupid cunt.

Tony couldn’t believe the next few months. The whole fucking world went nuts. People running around like scared rabbits. And the broads. Christ! They’d do anything for protection from the gangs that began cropping up all over the place.

Tony had never had so much pussy in his life. Black pussy, brown pussy, yellow pussy, white pussy. It was all the same when the lights went out

and a guy got it hung in there good.

Soon Tony had teamed up with a dozen other thugs, all about his age. In six months time, they had more than a hundred women of all ages. And a dozen boys for those who leaned in that direction.

President Hilton Logan almost screwed all that up for Tony, with Logan’s police state and secret agents snooping around and relocating the citizens all over the goddamn place. But crime will out if it’s worked right, and Tony was far from being stupid. He knew how to keep his head down and to roll with the flow. And who to pay off. And he knew to keep far away from Ben Raines’ Tri-States out west. Ben Raines was fucking nuts on the subject of law and order. Screw up in Ben Raines’ Tri-States and a guy’s chances of getting much older dropped to damn near zero.

Tony kept his people far, far away from Tri-States. And he hoped Ben Raines’ conception of crime and punishment wouldn’t catch on nationwide. There wasn’t just a little crime in the Tri-States. There wasn’t any crime. Period.

By the time Tony Silver hit his twenty-fifth birthday, he was on his way to being an empire-builder. An empire built on pain and the suffering of others, to be sure, but still an empire. And Tony had learned his hard lessons about the true wilderness. He wasn’t in Ben Raines’ league yet, but he was learning. His gang was more than five hundred strong. He ran all kinds of scams, from whores to gambling to extortion to dope.

When Tony was thirty, the bottom dropped out. First came the mutants-ugly bastards-then the

bugs and the rats and all that other gross shit. Tony had figured that if he could live through Ben Raines as president, with his high-handed tactics and methods of law and order, Tony could live through anything!

That bastard Raines was a law and order freak. Hadn’t the dude ever heard of loopholes and technicalities and all that other good liberal shit?

Guess not.

Christ, Raines was putting people against the wall and shooting them just for rape. How unconstitutional. Hell, Tony knew all cunts liked it once a guy got it in. Everybody knew that.

Tony and his gang of thugs and slime and punks lived through Ben’s short term as president of the United States by being very careful and keeping an extremely low profile.

But the fleas and the rats and the disease almost finished Tony’s career in crime.

But not quite.

Tony Silver bounced back, bigger and stronger than before. He now ramrodded a gang of more than a thousand men. Over a thousand of the most undesirable and socially unredeemable assholes ever assembled.

And Tony controlled all of north Florida and south Georgia.

“When are we going to return to the group, Ben?” Gale asked.

Truth was, Ben really didn’t want to go back. By nature, Ben was a loner, and the pull of the highway

was getting strong. What he really wanted to do was put Gale in the pickup and pull out, just the two of them. He wanted to be free of duties and responsibilities and overseeing rules and laws and regulations and moral conduct.

Ben sighed. He knew he could not turn his back on a group of men and women who depended on him. Even though he wanted to do just that. Wanted that so badly it was almost a tangible sensation at times. But maybe when his people were settled in and this power play concluded … maybe then.

“We head back when Cec gets word to me that the coup attempt is something firm. Gives me something I can sink my teeth into. That’s all I can tell you at this time, babe.”

“And when Cecil does that?”

“We go back and I take out Mr. Bennett, Mr. Willette and Mr. Carter.”

“Take out?”

“Dispose of them.”

“You’re a hard man, Mr. Raines.”

“Hard times, Ms. Roth,” he said with a smile.

Ben knew his plans could backfire, knew he was taking a chance going at it by this route. But he had known for some time many of the younger Rebels in his command were unhappy at the way Ben was running things. Ben was, for the most part, a steady type of man, a man who tried to think matters through, very carefully, before implementing them. Many of the younger Rebels were not too happy about Ben’s demands that they all receive some formal education. They reasoned that there were no more rocket ships to be built, no more searching for

the stars. If they were going to start rebuilding from scratch, it was more important to know how to build a house than to understand higher math.

Ben had told them he understood their feelings. He. also added, “But you will have to know how to read a blueprint in order to build more permanent structures.”

He got through to a lot of them. Some of them he did not reach.

But Willette had.

Most Rebels, of all ages, were really afraid of Ben. Afraid not to obey him. Rumor was the man was close to being a god. It not only confused them, it angered them, because if the man was a god, and everybody knew he was, kind of, then goddamn it, why didn’t Ben Raines behave like a god? Why didn’t he get himself a big ol’ house, with people to wait on him, and just sit there with that old Thompson submachine gun by his side, and let those with troubles come to him so he could solve them?

And that old Thompson was something to be feared, too. Only a few would even touch the thing. That Thompson was synonymous with Ben Raines. A part of the man.

And then General Raines really pissed many of the Rebels off by saying when they received some education , they would then see he was no god, just a mortal being, just like the rest of them.

Well, that was a crock of crap and they all knew it. The young man from the east, Ro, said Ben was a god. The young man from the west, Wade, said Ben was a god. Travelers who came in to seek refuge said monuments and tributes and places of worship were

built all over the nation-all erected toward Ben Raines.

That had to prove something. And nothing Ben could say would make them believe otherwise. The man was a god. Sort of. But … maybe a human god. That way Ben could have human emotions and stuff like that. But he couldn’t die. Everybody knew that. That was accepted as fact.

No, Captain Willette and Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Bennett were right. Ben needed to be in some … special place. By himself. A place where he could just sit and hand down judgments and make decisions. But it would have to be a place befitting Ben Raines’ stature.

And none of the Rebels involved with Willette were too thrilled about Gale, either. She wasn’t right for Ben Raines. She just wasn’t the right woman. Goddesses were tall and blonde and … what was the word? Magnificent. Yes. Grand in appearance.

It wasn’t the fact that Gale was … well, not one of them. That wasn’t it at all. Didn’t have anything to do with it. That’s what Willette told them. Very convincingly, too.

And nobody thought to mention that of all Captain Willette’s followers, there were no blacks, no Jews, no Hispanics, no Orientals.

That came as no surprise to Cecil.

“This camp is being divided, Ike,” Cecil told the ex-Seal. “Invisible battle lines are being drawn. And I don’t like it.”

“If we could just get settled in one spot,” Ike said. “If we could just have a couple of years to work it out, set up schools and get people working. I’m gonna tell

you something, friend: Ben isn’t going to put up with much more of this,” Ike prophesied. “And I wouldn’t blame him if he just walked out and said to hell with it all. I’ve been reading the signs, and they’re strong. If Ben can work this out here, I got a feeling he’s gonna split for a year or two. After Gale has the baby.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” Cecil said, a frown on his face. “Ben is the glue that is holding us together.”

“I’m not wrong.” Ike was firm in that. “Like Doc Chase said, Ben’s tired. And if we don’t bring this … present matter to a head pretty damn quick, Ben is gonna walk. Believe it.”

“I know,” the black man said glumly. “I see the signs, too. Ben never wanted the responsibility. We pushed it on him. Goddamn it!”

“That goes twice for me, buddy.”

Ben and his small contingent of Rebels sat it out in the small town. Cecil contacted Ben every other day, but there was really no news to report that would prompt Ben to return, to personally take a hand in stopping the rumor mill. More and more, Ben entertained the notion of just taking off, of gathering up those he knew he could trust and just getting the hell out. He was fed up. Tired of paperwork and being chained to a desk, overseeing the several thousand lives in his command.

Gale picked up on his mood. “You really want to cut out, don’t you, Ben?”

“Yes, I do, Gale. And I can’t say it’s a selfish move on my part. The Rebels have to be made to see they

can survive without me. Will you come with me, Gale?”

She sighed. She loved him, but she was a realist. She had accepted the fact that no woman was going to hold Ben Raines for any length of time. Ben was a gypsy at heart. He was loving and gentle and kind to whatever woman shared his bed; but that woman had best be prepared for Ben’s leaving, for that was inevitable. Take the good times while they were being offered, and accept the fact they would not be permanent.

“I don’t know, Ben,” she said. “I’m not a wanderer like you. We’ll see.”

Ben told her of his original plans, back in ‘88. Of just wanting to travel the country, writing of his experiences along the way, putting down on paper what had happened to the nation. And of how he had gotten sidetracked. He told her of Tri-States, of Salina, Jerre, the other women.

Gale was more amused than jealous, for she understood Ben much more than he realized.

He spoke to her at length, and she detected a longing in his voice. Ben was a master at survival, having recalled all his hard service training and put it to use. But he was still a writer at heart. Ben felt that someone should, for history’s sake, chronicle the events leading up to and after the bombings of 1988.

And he felt he was probably the only one remaining who could do that job.

“I guess that makes me sound very arrogant, doesn’t it, Gale?”

She felt somehow closer to him for his sharing his thoughts. She knew only too well just how private a

man Ben Raines really was. But while she felt closer, she experienced a sense of loss as well. As if Ben, in his own peculiar way, was telling her their time together was getting short. She accepted it. She had anticipated it. “No, Ben, I don’t think it makes you arrogant at all. I think it makes you a man who is determined to chart the events of this nation. I think you owe it to history to do so. And I think I would only be in the way. What do you think about it?”

He brightened, his mood lifting. “I think you’re nuts, Gale. We’ll go together. I’ll put this little coup attempt to bed, and we’ll take off. Just as soon as you have the baby.”

“Babies, Ben, babies. I keep telling you. It’s going to be twins. And I don’t know if I’m going with you, or not.”

“Twins, Gale. Right. Twins. And you’re coming with me.”

“We’ll see, Ben,” she said, patting his arm. She smiled. “How many offspring will this make, Ben?” Ben muttered under his breath and Gale laughed at I him. “I keep telling you, Ben: You keep this up and in a hundred years, half the population in America will be direct descendants of yours.”

He sobered her abruptly by saying, “There is no I America, Gale. And what is left of the nation is falling apart rapidly. And it just dawned on me, Gale. I can’t pull it back together. No matter how much I might want that, I just can’t do it alone. It’s just too large a task for one man.”

She touched his arm as she realized he was right. “Ben …”

James Riverson walked up. “Sorry to bother you,

General. But we got trouble coming at us. Scouts report armed men just rolled past their positions. “Bout a platoon of them. We got maybe ten minutes ‘fore they get here.”

The survivalist in Ben quickly overrode the writer’s side of the man. The warrior in him, never buried too deeply, leaped to the surface. The warrior rudely pushed the philosopher aside. A line from Ecclesiastes came to Gale: A time to kill and a time to heal.

“Stagger positions on both sides of the street,” Ben ordered. “M-60’s on top of that building and over there,” he said, pointing. “50’s set up there and there. Move it!”

Gale watched the man change before her eyes. He never failed to amaze her. He could shift personalities at the blink of an eye. And while she loved him, she was woman enough to let him go.

In thirty seconds the street was-deserted. A slight breeze blew lightly through the old town. Paper swirled through the air, floating and bouncing on invisible wings. The sounds of engines reached the ears of the hidden Rebels. The nose of a deuce and a half edged around the corner. Two men in the cab. Half a dozen in the uncovered rear. The bed of the truck was piled with supplies. The men in the trucks were armed with automatic weapons and dressed in paramilitary fashion.

Ben had no idea who the men were, or what they represented. They might be like himself, people who were trying to put the nation-or what was left of it-back on an even keel. But Ben somehow doubted that. The men were unshaven and dirty. They

looked more like pirates than soldiers. Something about the men nagged at Ben’s mind, pulling at the shadowy reaches of his brain. Then some old bit of intelligence came to him. Colonel Dan Gray had said his LETTERRP’S had reported that a man named Tony Silver was in command of a large group of thugs and goons down in Florida. And at that time-that was several months back-Silver’s men were moving into south Georgia. They were terrorizing the citizens, robbing and raping and killing and turning the civilians into virtual slaves, the women into unwilling whores.

“Do we take them, General?” James” voice whispered out of Ben’s walkie-talkie.

“No,” Ben returned the whisper, his eyes on the passing convoy. “Let them through. I’ve got an idea. No one makes a sound. Hold your fire. James? Have a team maintain a loose contact on the column. Stay back and be careful. Keep in radio contact with me several times a day. I want to see where these men are heading. I’ve got a bad feeling about them.”

The column rolled through the tiny village, the men in the trucks totally unaware of the eyes on them, the guns trained on them. Death could have reached out and touched them at any time.

“That’s all of them, General,” James reported from his vantage spot on top of the building. “Rear scouts report the road is clear.”

“Team out,” Ben ordered. “James? How many did you count?”

“Forty-odd. Supplies for a long time on the road, well armed. General, are you thinking these people have something to do with Captain Willette and his bunch?”

“That was my gut reaction, yes. We’ll wait for the team to report back. I think we’ll find they’re heading for a spot near where we’ve decided to settle. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn this Sister Voleta and her Ninth Order is involved, as well. I got some strange vibes from that woman.”

“That would seem like a strange pairing, Ben,” Gale said. “Silver is a thug and the Ninth Order is supposed to be so religious.”

“I think she’s about as religious as a rattlesnake,” Ben said. “That religious business is a front, I’m thinking.”

“A front for what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we just let Colonel Gray and his people take them all out right now?” Rebel asked.

“Because that way, we’d only knock off the tip of the iceberg. They’d rebuild. I want the entire chunk.”

“Colonel Jefferys on the horn, General,” the radio operator said. “He says it’s urgent.”

Ben walked to the communications truck and took the mic. “Go, Gee.”

“One of our scouting parties was ambushed just inside the Chattahoochee National Forest,” Cecil I said. “We took some hard casualties. And Ben? Ike’s missing.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Ben tossed in his sleeping bag that night. He would doze for a few moments, then awaken to toss and turn once more. After several hours of fitful sleep, Ben threw back the sleeping bag cover and said, “Shit!”

Gale was silent. But Ben knew she was not asleep. He looked at her form in the darkness, her back to his eyes.

Gale sighed deeply after a few moments. “Will you quit staring at me?”

“Go ahead,” Ben said. “Say it. Get it over with, Gale.”

“Say what?”

“You’ve been pulling the silent treatment on me all evening. Now either knock it off or say what’s on your mind, will you?”

She turned to face him, fixing her dark eyes on his face. “That was quite a performance you gave this afternoon. And in front of the troops, too. I must admit, I’d never seen anything quite like it.”

Ben grunted. “Yeah. I thought perhaps that was it.”

“You almost scared the pee out of those young troops, Ben. Some of them were actually trembling, listening to you rant and rave and carry on like a madman.”

“I guess so. All right. I’ll apologize to them in the morning.”

“It is morning!”

“Oh. Really? Well … later on in the morning, then. Damn it, Gale, Ike knew better. He and Cec share the responsibility when I’m gone. He had no business taking off like that. This not only puts me in a bad situation, but just think where it leaves Cecil.”

“Oh, Ben! Hell! Ike is just like you. He can’t sit around doing nothing. He’s got to be a part of the action. Just like you. So ease off Ike’s case, buster.” She softened her tone. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you, Ben?”

“Yeah. But I shouldn’t be, I guess. Ike can take care of himself.” But the whispered reply held a note of concern. “We’ve been together a long time. Really, since the beginning, back in

‘88.”

Gale waited.

“I met him down in Florida. Ike and four or five lovely young ladies. Ike married one of them, Megan. I told you about that.” He laughed softly. “Let’s see. There was Honey-Poo, June-Bug, Tatter, Angel-Face, Bell-Ringer. That was Megan’s nickname. Juno was with me, then. The husky.”

“Did you ever see any of those women again? I don’t mean …”

“I know what you mean. No, I never did. I don’t know what happened to them.”

“You ever wonder?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You two-three, really, counting Cecil-have been through a lot together.”

“Yes. And Ike’s not a young buck any longer. He’s

crowding fifty awfully hard. Goddamn it!”

“Settle down, Ben.” Gale slipped from the sleeping bag and came to him. She slipped slender arms around his neck and blew in his ear, “Watch your BP, old man.”

He smiled and kissed her.

“Really, Ben, you can’t blame Ike. In a sense you’re doing the same thing.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. We’re sitting down here, a hundred miles away from the main group. Nobody wanted you to leave-right?”

“We might head back soon.”

“No, we won’t, Ben. Think about it.”

His smile flashed white in the darkness. “You giving the orders, now, huh?”

“You want to return so you can lead the search for Ike,” she said, pegging his thoughts accurately. “And that is dumb on your part. Very dumb. Think about it, Ben.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “You’re right, Gale. Ike knows the policy. We won’t sacrifice a dozen to save one. They were his rules, back in Tri-States. He wouldn’t want them violated any more than I would.”

“Get some sleep, Ben. We’ll talk about it in the light.”

He returned to his side of the big double sleeping bag and to the warmth of the woman.

Her fingers found him; his hands found her.

“Won’t this hurt the baby?” he asked.

Her reply was at first a chuckle. “I really doubt it, Ben.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“You can save yourself a great deal of pain,” the voice came to him. “Tell us where General Raines is hiding.”

“Don’t know, partner,” Ike said. “Ben is his own man. He goes where he damn well pleases. And he don’t always tell us.”

White hot pain tore into Ike’s left arm. He bit back a scream as the electric charge lashed at him with invisible claws.

“You lie.”

“Tellin’ you the truth, partner,” Ike gasped.

The pain left his arm. Ike sighed with relief. Then the pain shifted to his right leg as the wires were attached and activated by a crank. Ike chewed his lips bloody fighting back screams.

“Ben Raines is a false god.” Ike heard the words through waves of hurt. “Only Sister Voleta and the Ninth Order is real. We have learned that to worship both God and Satan is the real way to happiness and contentment on this earth. We all have taken vows to destroy any who worship false gods. Where is Ben Raines?”

Ike looked at his torturers. “Fuck you!”

The pain came in waves.

CHAPTER SIX

Tony looked at the just-budding breasts and thin pubic hair of the young girl lying on his bed. Blood dotted the white sheet.

She had been a virgin. A real, honest-to-God cherry. Tony had begun to believe there weren’t any of them left in the country. He’d wait a few minutes more before taking another whack at the kid. Been a long time since he’d had any pussy that tight. Like to have never got his cock in. Sure felt good once he did, though.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Twelve, I think,” she whispered.

“No shit! You got some fine gash, baby. It got good to you, didn’t it, sweets?”

The child hesitated for only a few seconds. Then survival took precedence over the pain between her legs. She knew all about Tony Silver. Everybody in north Florida and south Georgia knew about Tony Silver. The Man. She was young in years, but wise to the ways of staying alive. She was a survivor. “Yes,” the child said. “I liked it.”

Tony grinned. “Sure, you did, baby. Ol’ Tony’s been pleasin’ the ladies for years. Now you roll over here and give ol’ Tony some head. Get me all hard

again and we’ll have some more fun.”

The child named Ann did not hesitate. She was tired of being cold and hungry and afraid and always running for her life. This wasn’t nearly as bad as all that. And she knew from talking with older women that it would get better as time passed.

She took him orally just as the door to the motel bedroom opened and a man walked in. He approached the bed, flicked his eyes to Ann’s young nakedness, then shifted his hard gaze to the naked man.

“Raines’ right hand man, Ike McGowen, was captured yesterday up in north Georgia. But he’s a tough one. Voleta’s people haven’t been able to break him. Yet,” he added.

“Don’t kill him,” Tony warned. He pulled Ann’s mouth from his half erection and pushed her away. “Cool it, baby.” He looked at the man. “This Ike guy was one of them Frogmen, or something like that-from way back in the wars. My guess is you ain’t gonna break him with pain. Radio that stupid cunt, Voleta, and tell her to use mental shit on the guy. But first, tell her to tape record some of the guy’s screamin’ and hollerin’ and send it to Ben Raines’ headquarters. Let Raines hear his best buddy being I tortured. That’ll get the son of a bitch’s attention, I betcha.”

The goon looked confused for a moment. “But… how can we do that, boss? Don’t nobody know where Ben Raines is at.”

Tony’s face reddened. “Dumbass!” he yelled, frightening the young girl. “I gotta think of everything around here, for Christ’s sake? Somebody in that fuckin’ camp knows where Ben Raines is. Bet

your ass on that. They’ll get to him. Goddamn, man! Use your head once in a while.”

The goon’s face brightened. “Oh, yeah! Right. That’s good thinkin’, boss.”

“Thanks a lot,” Tony said dryly. “There anything else on your mind?”

“Naw.”

“Then get out of here. Me and this young chick got business to take care of.”

The goon giggled and left.

Tony pulled the child to him, fondling her budding breasts, squeezing her nipples. He pushed her head to his groin. “Deep throat me, baby.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Abe.” The man sat down by Abe Lancer’s front porch rocker.

“Ranee,” Abe Lancer said, looking at the man. “What’s on your mind this mornin?”

Abe was the unofficial and unelected leader of the mountain survivors. It was not a position Abe sought, or really wanted. As a matter of fact, he didn’t like it at all. But rather like Ben Raines, he didn’t know how to get out of it. But he thought about it. A lot.

“The new folks is settlin’ in right well.”

“That’s good.” Ranee would get to whatever it was on his mind in his own good time. That was the mountain way. Wasn’t polite to rush a body “fore he got it clear in his head.

“Right nice day, ain’t it?”

“Yep.”

“How you likin” these new folk, Abe?”

“I reckon most of “em is all right. Probably some is better than others. Just like us here in the mountains.”

“That’s the way I see it.” Ranee spat a brown stream of tobacco juice off the porch.

Abe grinned. “You kill my old woman’s flowers

with that poison and she’ll take a broom to your backside.”

“Don’t doubt that none at all.”

“Nope.”

“I like these new people. Hard workin” bunch of folk. Just jumped right in and started workin’. Ever’-body pulled they weight. I think we gonna get along just fine.”

“That’s the way I see it myself.”

“I ain’t seen hide nor hair of President Ben Raines. You?”

“Nope. Way I hear it, though, President Raines got a good reason for layin’ low. What do you hear “bout it?”

“Same thing. I don’t like that there Captain Willette. Not one damn little bit. He’s got snake eyes on him. Distrustful of him. And I ain’t alone in that, neither. My cousin from up to Tellico Plains sent word this mornin” them people that ambushed and shot them Rebels Colonel McGowen was leadin’ had some of Willette’s people mixed in with “em.”

Abe cut his eyes to the man. “How come your cousin knew that?”

Ranee smiled, returning the man’s gaze. “How much of what goes on in these mountains slips by you, Abe?”

Abe grunted. “Damn little, I reckon. Got folks usin” their eyes and ears for me.”

“Same with Waldo. Most folks over there come to him with problems. Like we’uns do with you.”

“I hope your cousin likes it more than I do,” Abe said dryly.

Ranee grinned. “Anyways, Waldo says they was all

tied up withand in this crazy damn Ninth Order business.”

“That nutty woman calls herself Sister Voleta?”

“That’s her.”

“Shit!”

“That’s the way I feel about her, myself.”

“You tell your cousin to keep his eyes open. For now, let’s go see Colonel Jefferys. I don’t like the way this mess is beginnin’ to stink.”

“People watching us, General,” James said. Late afternoon in central Georgia.

“They’ve been out there for about fifteen minutes,” Ben said. “I spotted them when they started circling the town.”

“Thanks for telling me, Ben,” Gale said.

“No point in worrying you. Whoever it is out there is very wary of us. They-was

Ben’s radio crackled. “General? Those … people out there?” Ben picked upon the emphasis on “people.” “They’re dressed in animal skins. They got feathers and other crap stuck in their hair. Goddamn-edest lookin’ bunch of savages I’ve ever seen. I’m watchin’ them from the rooftop of the old service station.”

“How are they armed?” Ben radioed back.

“A few got guns. Rest of them have spears and clubs and sticks and knives. Jesus, those are weird-lookin’ people.”

“They’ve made no hostile moves,” Ben said. “But I don’t like the idea of them watching us. Order them to disperse, James.”

Riverson shouted out the command. The brush around the tiny village shook with movement.

“They’re scattering, sir,” the lookout reported. “That was the damnedest-looking bunch of… whatever-the-hell-they-are I’ve ever seen.”

“Stay alert,” Ben ordered. “I don’t think they’ve gone far.” He felt Gale’s eyes on him, then answered her unspoken question. “I don’t know, Gale. But there appears to be large numbers of subcultures popping up all over the land-probably the world. I told you about the cave people. They’re called the People of Darkness. I don’t know anything about this bunch.” Ben’s eyes were haunted for a few seconds, filled with concern and unnamed trouble.

“What is it, Ben?”

“How could people revert back to the caves in so short a time? In just slightly over a decade, we’ve gone from high tech to barbarism.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if Doctor Chase’s theory isn’t the correct one.” be

“What does he maintain?”

“That all this,” Ben said, waving his hand, “is God’s will. His doing. That He gave the human race opportunity after opportunity, and all we did was screw it up. Then He became angry and brought it all back to the basics. That this is our last chance to get it all together. If we don’t…” He shrugged. “It’s over. A long slide backward.”

“Do you believe all that, Ben?” Her question was quietly spoken.

He took her hand. “I don’t know, Gale. I do know the human race quite literally raped this earth-and for no other reason than our own greed. I am not a

religious man, Gale. I have never professed to be something I am not. But I do believe very strongly in God. I do not believe all this-was again he waved his hand-“just happened. I do believe we evolved-because I don’t know, and neither does anyone else, how many times God tried to create the human race and failed. I have no difficulty accepting both creation and evolution. At least to my satisfaction. If people choose to disagree-fine. That is their right.” He looked at Gale and smiled ruefully. “And once again, Professor Raines mounts his soapbox.”

She laughed. “When I get tired of it, Ben, I’ll let you know.”

“Right!” Ben cut his eyes and lunged at Gale, grabbing her up and tossing her to one side of the room just as a spear came through the broken window of the old house. The point of the spear imbedded in the wall. Ben jerked his .45 from leather and the room rocked with gunfire. A painted face, looking savagely at them through the window suddenly exploded as the heavy slugs hit the jaw, the nose and the forehead.

Gale screamed from her position in the corner as Ben’s .45 roared again.

The tiny town roared and rocked with gunfire, as arrows and rocks and spears quivered and sang through the air. The Rebels reacted with lead and grenades.

The old front door to the house shattered open. A man dressed in animal skins stood in the doorway, a huge, spiked club in his right hand. He yelled at Ben and charged him, the club raised over his head.

Ben leveled his .45 and squeezed the trigger. The

slug struck the savage in the center of the stomach and doubled him over, dropping him to his bare knees.

The .45 was empty.

Ben grabbed his Thompson, clicked it off safety, and put two rounds in the savage’s back for insurance. The half naked man jerked and howled as the slugs tore life from him.

Ben stepped to the door just as several painted-up men were climbing over the railing to the porch. Ben gave them a burst from the Thompson, blowing the men off the porch. They landed on the littered ground in a mass of torn flesh and gushing blood.

Ben heard a woman screaming. He ran to the corner of the porch. A painted man had a woman Rebel spread-eagled on the ground, her field pants off, her arms held by another painted and feathered savage. One man knelt between the woman’s legs, trying to force his erection into her. She jerked her hips from side to side, frustrating penetration.

Sergeant Greene ran around the back of the house, picked up a spear from the ground and drove the point through die man’s neck, the sharp head almost decapitating the man as blood sprayed from his mouth.

The near-naked man holding the woman’s arms jumped to his sandaled feet. Ben’s Thompson barked, a line of crimson holes appearing on the man’s chest as he was flung backward.

Painted shapes ran from the tiny village, disappearing into the ever-growing forest and brush that had almost completely overgrown the town and the sidewalks.

The village grew quiet after the noise of battle. Only the moaning and occasional screaming of the wounded could be heard.

“Report!” Ben yelled.

Two Rebels dead. Five wounded. One of the wounded not expected to make it.

Thirty savages lay dead, scattered about on the streets. A dozen more twisted and moaned in pain.

“Just about wiped them out, General,” James said.

“I hope,” Ben replied. “Finish them, James.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gale walked to the safety of an old service station. Two Rebels accompanied her at a nod from Ben. Gale did not like this side of Ben, although she recognized Ben’s order as being very necessary. The Rebels had taken prisoners from the gangs of thugs and misfits that had the misfortune to attack them from time to time. It had never worked out. Many had diseases that baffled Doctor Chase’s medical people. The “viruses,” as Chase referred to them-holocaust or not, anything that baffled doctors was still called a virus-did not respond to any known medication. Several Rebels had died from the strange illnesses.

Ben had been forced to send down the order, “No prisoners.”

It also appeared that a form of insanity was cropping up among many of the survivorstvictims of the aftermath of germ and nuclear warfare that had hit the world back in the late eighties. Chase’s medical teams had performed numerous autopsies on the dead. Pockets of highly infectious pus were found in the brain of many.

“I don’t know what is causing it, Ben,” Doctor

Chase admitted. “I just don’t. I don’t understand it. But I can tell you this: this-was he grinned-“virus is very dangerous.” He lost his grin and became very serious. “Ben, what makes it so dangerous is the fact-and it is a fact-that I don’t know how to treat it. I can’t find anything that will even arrest it, much less kill it. No prisoners, Ben. We can’t risk it. It’s for our own safety. Give my people time. They’ll find something that’ll work.”

Single gunshots slammed the late afternoon as Rebels went to each downed man and put a bullet through the head.

“Face masks and gloves on when you handle them,” Ben shouted. “Drag them into that building.” He pointed to a shack on the edge of town. “We’ll have a controlled burn. The rest of you get your gear together. When the burn is over, we’re pulling out of here.”

When the dead were stacked in the old building and fires were set, Gale walked to Ben’s side.

He met her eyes. “I tried to question one of them, Gale. I couldn’t get any sense out of him. He babbled first about the Bible, then about Satan, then about me being Satan’s child. Only one thing he said made any sense.”

She looked at him.

“He’d seen a man who called himself The Prophet.”

Gale sighed. The old man she’d seen personally had come to haunt her.* “You think these people are insane?”

“No. I think they’re losers and savages. People who have given up and who are trying to justify what they’ve become by twisting the word of God all out of proportion. Hell with them.”

James walked up. “We must have wasted one or more of the leaders,” he said. “Some of the wounded screamed out that they’d be back, in force this time.”

“We won’t be here,” Ben said. He looked toward the shack. The fire was almost out. The sweet smell of what certain cannibalistic tribes used to refer to as “Long Pig” filled the air. “Mount “em up, James. Let’s roll.”

The small convoy rolled out on Highway 11. They connected with 129 and rolled south. About ten miles north of Macon, Ben pulled them off the road and they made a cold camp for the night. During the night, two of the wounded Rebels died. They were wrapped in blankets and at dawn were buried in a wooded area off the highway, with Ben speaking a few words over the unmarked graves. He then read from Ecclesiastes and from the Psalms.

Leaving the small gathering, Ben walked to the communications truck and called in to Cecil. He told him of the strange savage people who attacked them, and the loss of four Rebels. He concluded with, “What’s the situation up there, Cec?”

“Stable, Ben. But we’re unable to do much in the way of setting up shop, so to speak. I can’t take the chance of spreading our people out too thin. Willette and his bunch have between five hundred and seven hundred followers ready to move. I don’t

believe they’ll try anything violent; but I can’t be sure of that. And I can’t risk moving many of our regulars into the countryside to set up permanent bases. Not yet. And-was he sighed-“I’ve got teams out looking for Ike. No luck as yet, I’m sorry to report.”

“I’m just about ready to come back and start kicking ass, Cec.”

“Not yet, Ben,” Cecil cautioned him. “I didn’t realize just how slick Willette and his people were until yesterday. He’s quick and he’s smart. There is nothing I can pin directly on him. Not one damn thing. And Ben? I am afraid for you to return. I mean, physically afraid. Accidents happen, if you get my drift.”

Ben got the drift. Hot anger filled him, rushing through his veins. “Yeah, Cec, I get the drift, all right. It was sure to happen someday. Well, that day is here. OK, ol” buddy. After we take a look at Savannah-if there is anything left of that city-I’m going to take my contingent and swing around to the east. I want you to quietly, and quietly is the word, assign me another full platoon. Have them link up with us at …” He scanned a map. “Well, just west of Clark Hill Lake. When we get close I’ll contact them by radio as to exact location. Full combat contingent, Cec. And keep teams out looking for Ike.” “Long as you stay out of it, Ben.” Ben ignored that. “You have any idea who ambushed Ike and his party, or the reason behind the ambush, Cec?”

“Yes. But it’s getting complicated, Ben. Abe Lancer-he’s the unofficial spokesman for the mountain people of this area-says he got word it was the Ninth Order who grabbed Ike. He says they were working hand in hand with some of Willette’s people. Now try to make any sense out of that.””

“I figured as much, Cec.” He told his second-in-command about the trucks of armed men they had seen and of the teams he had following them.

“Curious, Ben. Very curious. You think they’re tied in with Willette?”

“It’s a possibility we have to take under consideration. What about Abe Lancer and his people? How do they stand?”

“Abe is solidly with us. None of the mountain people trust Willette or any of his followers.”

“Cec? Keep in mind this coup attempt might get bloody. And that we may have to fire on some of our own people.”

“I try not to think about that, Ben.”

“I know the feeling. OK. I’m about to read the riot act to the Ninth Order. Tell me, what new intelligence do we have, if any, on this punk named Tony Silver?”

“Not much new. Runs a paramilitary organization out of north Florida. Rapidly moving into south Georgia. Strong-arm stuff, slavery, forced work camps, prostitution. The whole filthy bag.”

“We settle matters with Willette, we’ll see about punching Mr. Silver’s ticket, too. And it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to find him mixed up with Willette and the Ninth Order.”

“You getting your dander up, Ben?”

“Damn well better believe it, buddy.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Got some survivors in Macon, General,” the radio operator told Ben. “Scouts report they’re in bad shape.”

“Diseased?”

“No, sir. Susie didn’t say that. Ragged, dirty, down on their luck. That type of bad shape.”

“Losers.”

“Yes, sir. I guess that’s about it.”

“We going to meet any resistance?”

“Negative, sir. Silver’s bunch was there, on a fishing expedition, but they left after taking some of the women.”

“Jesus Christ!” Ben said. “You mean the men just stood back and allowed Silver’s bunch to kidnap women and girls?”

“That about it, sir. Silver’s bunch took their pick and left.”

“Too bad,” Ben said with a grin. “I’m in the mood to kick some ass.”

The radio operator flashed Ben a smile. She said, “Me, too, General.”

Ben laughed. “That’s the spirit. Christ, I wonder what happened to the men’s guts?”

Gale stood by silently, listening. She had stopped

trying to convince Ben that all men did not have his will to survive, did not possess his skills at fighting, did not have his knowledge of weapons, had not spent time in one of the roughest military units ever formed.

Ben would look at her and reply, “What stopped them from learning the same things I know? Lack of guts, maybe?”

She would throw up her hands and walk away, knowing that to argue further would be futile. Once Ben Raines” mind was set, it was next to impossible to change.

“Who is in charge of this team of Scouts?” Ben asked the radio operator.

“Susie.”

“Tell her to hole up. We’re on our way.”

The convoy approached Macon on Highway 129. The once-thriving city was no more than a hollow shell of what it had once been. Out of an original population-circa 1987 roadmap-of more than one hundred thousand, the Scouts were reporting perhaps no more than six to eight hundred people were left.

“Oh, Ben!” Gale said, upon sighting the first survivors.

They were a pitiful bunch, ragged and dirty.

“I feel so sorry for them,” Gale said.

“Why?” Ben asked. “It’s their own fucking fault. There is no excuse for them to walk around dressed in rags. I don’t feel a damn bit sorry for the adults. It’s the very young and the elderly who get my sympathy-and no one in between, who doesn’t have some physical infirmity.”

Her eyes were hot on him. “That’s a pretty damned

selfish and arrogant attitude, Ben.”

“I don’t think so,” Ben said, unruffled at her condemnation. “Gale, there were many of us over the years-before the bombings-who saw all this coming. We wrote about it; we yelled about it; we talked ourselves blue in the face advocating compulsory military training. Nothing came of it. I defy you, Gale-I challenge you to find one man in that bunch of losers who ever did time in a hard military unit. Odds of you finding one are very, very slim, my dear. And I challenge to find one, just one hard-line conservative in that pack of rags. I challenge you to find just one person, male or female, who practiced-before the wars-the art of survivalism. You won’t find one, Gale.”

She sat silently. It was at moments like these she experienced pangs of dislike for Ben, overriding her true feelings for him. No one likes to be told they are wrong. And Gale was no exception. What made it so bitter-tasting was the fact that she knew Ben was right.

“Honey, people who shared my feelings-male and female-beat their heads against the wall, verbally speaking, against the creeping cancer of liberalism. We tried to tell people in positions of power not to bend to the misguided whims of those pressure groups who favored gun control-for criminals wanted gun control. All gun control did was work in favor of the lawless and against the law-abiding citizens. We saw it all coming. We were laughed at and ridiculed.

“So-called comic movies and TV shows were made, belittling and ridiculing those who

even slightly practiced any type of survivalism. It was all great fun, Gale. See the funny people stockpiling food and weapons and other survival gear. Big joke. The nation’s press showed us as ignorant buffoons and nuts. We expected that, since the national press was controlled and run by liberals. Print and broadcast. But we did try, Gale.”

Ben sighed. “And we were laughed at. Probably by some of those very people right over there.” He pointed. “Those sad, sorry, naive bitches and bastards called us right-wingers, fascists, war-mongers, to mention only a few of the titles that were hung on us. We were laughed at, insulted, belittled and humiliated. The press had a field day with us. And you want me to feel sorry for those sacks of shit over there, Gale? No way, dear. Just no damned way!”

Totally liberated woman that she was, free-spirited and quick to speak her mind, Gale remained silent for this round, for she knew the ring of truth when she heard it. Like many reconstructed liberals, the truth had reached up and boxed her ears too many times for her to ignore it.

Ben pulled off the highway and drove up to a clump of unwashed citizens.

“Who is in charge here?” he asked.

“Nobody in charge,” a man said. “I don’t take orders from no one. Who are you people?”

Ben bit back an impulse to tell the man they were Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. In drag. “If no one is in charge, how in the hell does anything ever get done?”

“What is there to get done?” the man challenged Ben. “We’re getting by. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“Beautiful,” Ben muttered. “What a bunch of losers.” He raised his voice to a normal speaking level. “All right, tell me this: How are you people living?”

“Still lots of canned food left. We scrap around. What business is it of yours?”

Ben’s eyes found a small knot of ragged and dirty kids, most of them very young, standing in a weed-filled lot, staring at the uniformed Rebels. “Where are the parents of those kids?”

“Who the hell knows,” the man said with a shrug. “They’re street kids. You see lots of them around. Damn nuisance is what they are.”

Gale stirred beside Ben. He cut his eyes at her. She was getting angry and reaching that state very quickly.

Ben got out of the pickup, Thompson in hand. He faced the man. “I can see why Silver’s people had such an easy time with his only opposition being you tigers. But I cannot believe you represent the majority of survivors in Macon. Where are the other people?”

The man would not meet Ben’s eyes. Keeping his eyes averted, he said, “There’s some folks over yonder.” He pointed. “But we don’t mess with them. They’ve got a lot of guns and they don’t hesitate to use them.”

“Go on,” Ben prompted.

“What are you tryin’ to get me to say, mister?”

“Those … other people, they have a leader?”

“Yeah.”

“Everybody works in their society?”

“Yeah.”

“They have schools for the kids and they raise gardens and maintain some type of law and order, is that right?”

“Yeah. All those things. So what?”

“And what you and these-was Ben’s gaze swept the ragged, dirty crowd of men and women-“other people want is to lay on your lazy asses and do nothing. Is that correct?”

“Our business,” the man’s reply was sullen.

“Yeah,” Ben said, the one word filled with sarcasm. He turned his back to the man. “Sergeant Greene! Get those kids and clean them up. Have the medics check them out. We’re taking them with us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about us?” the dirty man said, a whine to his voice that grated on Ben. “Ain’t you gonna give us some food or something? Help us out just a little bit?”

Ben lifted the muzzle of the Thompson, placing it under the man’s chin. Ben saw fleas hop around on the man’s neck. “Don’t tempt me,” Ben told him softly.

The man swallowed hard. “I get the message.”

“I thought you might.”

“Least you can tell me your name.”

“Ben Raines.”

The man’s eyes glinted hard momentarily. His hatred overrode his fear of Ben. “Mr. President Raines, huh? That figures. Your time in office was cut kinda short, wasn’t it? You was really gonna come down hard on some folks, wasn’t you? Make everybody obey your law. Make everybody work, whether they wanted to or not. You weren’t any

better than a damned communist.”

“Don’t worry about it, sad sack,” Ben told him. “You’re not going to last much longer. Not unless you shape up. If thugs and punks don’t kill you, disease will. You might last another year. Two if you’re lucky. And if I’m real lucky, I’ll never have to look at you again.”

“You don’t have any right to talk to me like that, mister.”

“You may rest assured you have my heartfelt apologies for bruising your sensitive ego.” Ben walked back to his truck and slid under the wheel. “Worthless son of a bitch!” he said.

“I could not agree with you more, Ben,” Gale concurred.

They waited in the truck while the kids were rounded up and herded into trucks. The convoy shifted locations and the kids were checked out, bathed and dressed in clean clothes. They had all heard of Mister Ben Raines, and Ben was amused at the way they shyly looked at him. He felt sorry for them, for many told of being abandoned by their parents, left to wander alone, fending for themselves. They told of many of their little friends who had died, from the cold, from hunger, brought down by the many roaming packs of dogs gone wild. They said that Silver’s men had taken several of the girls-after they had raped them.

In another section of the city, the scene was quite different. The streets were free of litter, the houses neatly kept. Gardens grew in every back yard. Block

after block had been cleared and planted with all types of vegetables.

Ben stopped his truck in the center of the street, got out, and held his empty hands in the air. A gesture that he meant no harm to anyone. All the Rebels had been very conscious of eyes on them as they traveled from conditions that would make a pigsty seem attractive, to this well-attended section of Macon, Georgia.

Ben shifted his eyes left and right as heavily armed men and women appeared out of houses, to stand on well-kept front lawns.

“I’m friendly,” Ben called. “We’re just passing through, looking for survivors. To see how they’re getting along. We mean no harm to anyone, believe me.”

“You look familiar,” a man called. “Who are you?”

“Ben Raines.”

The men and women relaxed, lowering their weapons. “I thought it might be you,” a well-dressed man said. “But none of us were certain. Have your people park their vehicles over there.” He pointed. “You’re all welcome here.”

CHAPTER NINE

He did not know why the pain had suddenly stopped. But he was glad it had. His cuts had been cleaned and bandaged. He had been allowed to bathe and was given clean clothing.

Ike now sat alone in a small room. The door was locked from the outside. The room contained a cot, with blanket and pillow, a bucket of water, and a cane-bottomed chair. Nothing else.

He did not have any idea where he was.

But he sure as hell wished he was somewhere else.

He began making plans for escape.

CHAPTER TEN

Cecil knew Ben Raines as well as any man living, and Cecil felt certain Ben was going to pull out once Ike was found and the suspected coup attempt was put to rest. And Cecil really couldn’t blame Ben. The man had never asked for the job. It had been pushed on him, beginning back in ‘88, in the old Tri-States. Ben had never wanted all the responsibility that had been piled on his shoulders. Big shoulders, to be sure, but lots of big problems, too. And Cecil knew Ben didn’t want to break away on any permanent basis-he just wanted to take a rest, get away for a time.

Cecil knew the reins of government would be handed to him if Ben pulled out. And he wondered if he could handle all the problems that went with the territory.

He knew he had the respect of the Rebels. The Rebels were so racially mixed, that old issue never came up. People just did their jobs and nobody gave a damn what color they were. Ben wouldn’t put up with blind race prejudice for five seconds.

But Cecil knew that while he had the loyalty and respect of the Rebels … he wasn’t Ben Raines.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

He would really be king of the mountain if he could kill Ben Raines, Tony mused. He didn’t know what had happened to that Russian bastard, Striganov, only that he had taken his people and headed out west. All that mess had been over and done with before Tony even knew what was happening. One had to rely on the infrequent broadcasts of ham operators for news, and they sometimes got it all screwed up.

Fuck the west! Tony thought. The Russian could have the west, Tony would take everything east of the Mississippi River. Maybe after he blew Ben Raines’ shit away, he could arrange for a sit-down with General Striganov, work something out. Striganov. Christ, what a name. Sounded like something to eat.

Tony leaned back in his chair in the converted motel room outside Savannah. The young chick, Ann, was in the adjoining room, playing with dolls, for Christ’s sake. Acted like she’d never seen a goddamn doll before. Tony shook his head in disgust. Cunt like Ann had on her and she plays with fucking dolls! Tony grinned. He knew Ann had been lying when she’d told him she got off their first time together. But Tony knew women, and after their

fourth time together, he looked at the kid’s face and knew she really was getting off. Now she couldn’t get enough cock. His grin widened.

Women were all alike. Young or old. Kept their brains between their legs.

It had been a good move, coming up to south Georgia. He’d been friggin’ tired of north Florida. He’d left a good man down there to run the operations, so he wasn’t at all concerned about that.

Ben Raines concerned him.

All that garbage about him being some kind of a god. Shit! Goddamned law-and-order freak was what he was.

Wasn’t no back-up in Raines. He just went in shooting. But he was a mortal; he bled just like anybody else. And Tony meant to be the one who pulled the trigger on Ben Raines.

Yes, getting rid of Raines would be quite a feather in his cap.

He’d definitely see about wasting Ben Raines. He had people in Raines’ camp.

The son of a bitch!

CHAPTER TWELVE

It didn’t take Dan Gray long to put it all together. He had looked around and found a lot of seasoned combat vets gone from camp. Probably gone to link up with General Raines.

He wondered if the general was going to make a move against those who grabbed Colonel McGowen. Probably, he concluded. Dan knew he had a bad reputation in a fight. But nothing to compare with General Raines’ reputation as a bad ass. He felt very sorry for the Ninth Order when Ben Raines caught up with them.

The Englishman had detected a growing restlessness in General Raines lately. And he had pegged it accurately. When the Rebels were settled in, the problem with Willette and his malcontents solved-and it would be solved-and Ike found, dead or alive, Dan was certain Ben was going to take off. Probably after Gale birthed her babies. But he couldn’t be sure of that, for Gale was one very astute person, and Dan had spoken with her at length many times. Gale knew Ben was getting restless, and she also knew no one woman held Ben for very long. Not since Salina. Gale just might insist Ben take off without her.

Dan didn’t blame Ben for wanting to getaway for a

time: a few months, perhaps even a year. Lord knows the man had been saddled with the problems of creating nations for more than a decade. It was time for a break.

Dan smiled. All right, General, he thought, take your hiatus-you’ve earned it. But before you do, I shall be equipping a new truck for you. And when I get through with it, I shall be able to track you and pinpoint your location no matter where in the ravaged nation you might decide to wander.

He was grinning and rubbing his hands together gleefully as he walked off toward the motor pool.

“I suppose, Mr. Raines,” the spokesman for the Macon group said, “it would be a losing proposition for us to stay here. Is that the way you see it?”

“Yes,” Ben replied without hesitation. “Mr. Harner, Tony Silver, so I’m told, has a small, but very well-equipped army. And he is pushing hard into south Georgia. His tactics are brutal. I’ve told you about them. I believe the only way civilization can endure is for people of like mind to band together. When that is done, perhaps others will join us and we can spread out. I’ve been entertaining the thought of outposts throughout the nation, small fortressstvillage types.”

“Well-armed and well-equipped,” Harner said, leaning forward. “Much like the old west days when the settlers were pushing westward. Yes. I like that concept, General. Count us in.”

“Don’t delay your move too long, Mr. Harner,” Ben cautioned the leader of the Macon survivors. “I

noticed you have a good communications system. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything I think you should be informed of.”

“We’ll start the packing in the morning, General Raines. But we’ll do it in a manner that will not be too obvious. We should be ready to pull out in two or three weeks.”

“Good. I’ll radio Colonel Jefferys and tell him to be ready to receive you, or to give you help, if you should need it.”

“General? Are you, ah, aware of the, ah, manner in which many people view you?”

Ben smiled. “The rumor that I am more god than man? Unfortunately, yes. But every time I bring it up, it seems to make matters worse. Strengthens the rumor, so to speak. So I decided to just drop the subject.”

“I see,” Harner spoke softly. “But, General … have you ever given any thought to the idea the rumor might just hold some degree of truth?”

Ben shrugged that off. He’d heard it many times before. “Take care of the kids,” he said.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The team following the convoy of armed men had reported the men headed into the mountains of north Georgia. They appeared to be skirting the Rebels’ new Base Camp and heading toward the border of Tennessee.

Ben told them to break off pursuit and to head for Clark Hill Lake. Wait there for the other contingent to join them. Ben’s convoy would meet them there.

Ben pulled his small convoy out of the Macon area at noon, pointing them east on Interstate 16. The going proved very slow.

They were heading for Savannah.

The nation’s highways and freeways were rapidly deteriorating, Ben noted. Almost fourteen years of virtual neglect had dramatically taken its toll. Another fourteen years, and many roadways would be impassable. If he was to once more see the country, or what was left of it, with even some degree of access, he would have to do it quickly.

Gale picked up on his thoughts. She could do so by watching the expression on his face and the direction his eyes were taking over a period of time. That plus the fact that when deep in thought, Ben had a tendency to mutter. “The twins will be born around the

last of February. I won’t even consider taking them on the road until they are a year old.”

“Hell, Gale, that’s eighteen months,” Ben said, frowning.

“My, how quick you are this afternoon.” He laughed at her. “Woman, thou hath a barbed tongue.”

She slid across the seat and whispered vulgarly in his ear.

“Well … I suppose there might be a modicum of truth in that-putting it that way. I was speaking figuratively, however.”

“No kidding! Did Cecil have any good news about Ike when you spoke with him?”

Ben shook his head. “No, nothing. He’s got teams out looking. Ike will show up, unless he’s dead. As soon as we take a quick look-see at Savannah, I think we’ll head north, link up with the platoon at Clark Hill Lake, and then join the search.”

“You weren’t listening to a word I said the other day, were you, Ben?” He grinned at her.

“Shit, Ben!” She stared out the window for a few seconds. “I wonder if Ike is all right?”

Ben said nothing. He was wondering the same thing. He was worried about Ike, but not as much as Gale thought. Ben knew the ex-Navy SEAL’-IF he wasn’t dead, and Ben didn’t like to think about that-was busy planning and rejecting escape options. Given just a second’s carelessness on the part of his captors, Ike would strike faster than a cobra and be gone.

After reviewing what he knew of the ambush in his

mind, going over it many times, Ben was almost positive Ike was being held captive in either the Chattahoochee, the Nantahala, or the Cherokee National Forest. Hundreds of thousands of acres of wilderness. More wilderness now than ever before. And that would be in Ike’s favor, for he was survival-trained, and Ike knew where the hidden caches of guns and ammo and supplies were located, left behind by the Rebels a couple of years back. And God alone could help the Ninth Order if Ike escaped and found the caches. The ex-Seal would not leave a one of them alive.

“Ike is all right,” Ben said.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ike thought he had it figured. Each afternoon, precisely at five p.m., a robed and hooded figure came to the door and knocked once. Ike replied. He was then ordered to stand away from the door, his back to the far wall. The door would open, a tray of food would be shoved in, on the floor, and the door would close. Ike looked at the makeshift manlike figure he had constructed from pillow and blanket and wood from the chair. He had placed it in a shadowy corner of the large room. It would have to do. It might fool the guard for a few seconds. That was all the time Ike would need. He hoped.

Although painful while occurring, his torture had left no serious physical problems. Had they continued, however, that would have been another story. Ike hefted the chair leg, quietly smacking the heavy end against his open palm. “Come on, you son of a bitch,” he muttered softly. “Just stick your hooded head inside that door.”

He heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. One set of footsteps. They halted in front of his door. Ike smiled grimly. The smile of the hunter. “Disbeliever!” the voice called.

That was Ike’s cue. “Yeah.”

“Step away from the door.”

“All right, all right. Hurry it up, partner, I’m hungry.”

“Stand back.”

“Done.”

The key rattled in the lock. The doorknob turned. The door swung slowly open. A tray of food was placed on the floor. The hooded man looked at the dim outline of the makeshift bundle of blanket and pillow and sticks. He grunted and placed the tray of food on the floor. Just as he once more lifted his eyes, eyes that now held suspicion, Ike stepped from behind the door, the club raised over his head.

“Overpass out just up ahead, General,” the lead scout radioed back to the main column. “Three miles from your location.” Late afternoon in Georgia, the fall air cooling.

Ben pulled up behind the Jeep. The support columns had been blown under the east side of the bridge, collapsing it.

“Now why would anyone want to do that?” Ben asked. He took a closer look. He could see weeds and brush growing amid the jumble of concrete and steel. “It wasn’t done recently.”

“Doesn’t make any sense to me, General,” a Rebel replied. “Another patrol went north to see if the access road to Highway 80 is clear. She’ll be reporting back in a minute.”

“Well,” Ben said, “this might have been an accident. We’ll see.”

The radio crackled. “319/441 is blocked, Jerry. None of this is making any sense. “Fore the general makes any moves, send a patrol to backtrack and check out this old Highway 257 into Dublin. I got an edgy feeling about all this.”

James pointed at two Rebels in a Jeep. “Go,” he told them. “Maintain radio contact and stay alert for trouble.”

“Susie?” James spoke into the mic. “Stay loose and heads up.”

“Ten-four, Sarge,” she responded. “Rolling.”

The Rebels waited in the cooling wind that blew from the north. Winter was not far away. Five minutes passed. The last recon team sent out called in. “Sarge? Highway 257 is blocked just off the interstate.”

Ben took the mic. “This is General Raines. Backtrack to the interstate and head west until you intersect with Highway 338. That’ll lead you into a small town named Dudley. Check it out and be careful doing it.”

“Ten-four.”

“Susie?”

“Sir?”

“You getting hinky about this?”

“Yes, sir. All senses tell me something is bad wrong.”

“Back off about a mile and sit it out. Keep your head up, now.”

“Yes, sir. Rolling.”

“James? Have a Jeep jump the median and cut across that field. Swing back to the interstate then cut north on Highway 19. See if it’s blocked. This downed overpass may have given someone a grim idea. All this is getting just a little weird to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The minutes ticked slowly past. Ben tuned up the collar on his field jacket. He checked his weapons. The Scouts began calling in.

“Dudley is a ghost town, sir. Highway 338 is blocked on the east side.”

“Hold your positions and stay alert for trouble,” Ben ordered.

“Highway 19 is blocked, sir. Just off the interstate.”

“Come on back. Susie? Come back in.”

Gale looked at Ben. “Let me guess, Ben. We’re going to visit Dublin, right?”

“Right on the money, honey,” Ben replied with a grin.

She walked back to the pickup, muttering as she walked. “Man just can’t mind his own business.”

The Scouts who had jumped the interstate rolled back in. “Let’s move it,” Ben ordered. “Load those .50’s and stay alert. We’re probably heading into trouble up ahead. I hope not, but let’s be ready for anything.”

“You hope not!” Gale said as Ben dropped the pickup into gear. “Ben, you thrive on trouble.”

“And if you didn’t like it, you would have split a long time ago.” He grinned at her.

“Just think,” she replied. “I used to belong to the Youth for Peace movement.”

“Did you have a little banner you waved about?” Ben asked.

“Very funny, Raines.”

“Did you?”

“Yes!”

They backtracked the ten miles and cut north on 338. The small town was deserted and in ruin. It had been picked clean by looters. The Rebels rolled through what remained of the town and stopped several hundred yards from the barricade that stretched across Highway 80.

Ben got out of the truck and looked at the barricade through binoculars. “It wasn’t put up to last any length of time,” he said. “All right, knock it down.”

Explosives were set in place. Sixty seconds later, the barricade erupted in a smoky mass of wood and brick and concrete blocks.

“Scouts take the point,” Ben ordered.

Susie wheeled her Jeep through the smoking ruins, an armed Rebel riding shotgun, his M-16 ready. Another Rebel stood in the rear of the Jeep, ready with a mounted M-60 light machine gun.

“Roll it slow,” Ben said.

The column moved out, all weapons held at the ready.

“What do you think is up ahead, Ben?” Gale asked. “And before you get smart-mouthed, I realize that is a stupid question.”

“Several possibilities. One: a group of people-much like us-who have bunkered themselves in for personal safety. Two: a gang of thugs who have taken over the town for whatever reason. Three: the complete unknown.”

“Mutants?”

“I doubt it. No mutant I’ve seen has the intelligence to build a barricade that well. Tony

Silver’s name keeps popping up in my mind. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to deal with Silver.”

“So it’s the unknown thus far?” she said.

“Right. We’ll know in about half a minute, I’m thinking.”

“I can hardly wait.”

“Your adventurous spirit is overwhelming, Ms. Roth.”

“Just drive the damn truck, Raines.” She looked at the 1987 roadmap. “Sixteen thousand people in Dublin. Back before the bombs, that is.”

“Maybe one-tenth survived that. I doubt it was that high. The plague? I don’t know. That may have finished the town. We’ll soon see.”

Susie’s Jeep was stopped in the middle of the highway as Ben slowed and pulled up beside her, on the north side. The woman had an odd expression on her face.

Ben got out of his truck. “What’s the matter, Susie?”

She pointed to the side of an old service station. “Look over there, General.”

Ben looked. “Jesus Christ!” he blurted.

Bloated, naked bodies were hanging from a beam that stretched from building to building. Their hands were tied behind their backs, their faces were dark, tongues swollen and protruding.

Before anyone could say anything else, a hard burst of machine gunfire knocked the Rebel still sitting in the front of the Jeep out of his seat, the heavy slugs tearing away part of his face. The Rebel in the rear swung his M-60 and pulled the trigger back, holding it, spraying the area where the fire had originated. He fought the rise of the weapon on full auto.

Ben located the source of the firing and burned half a clip at the hidden machine gun emplacement by the side of an old house. Rebel rocket launchers cracked their explosive messages. The machine gun nest was blown into bloody bits.

“Teams on both sides of the road!” Ben yelled. “Clear it, house to house. Medics, up front, now!”

It was too late for the Rebel lying in his own blood in the front of the Jeep. The heavy .50-caliber machine gun slugs had torn the life from the young man.

Ben glanced at Susie. The young woman had tears in her eyes. “You all right, Susie?”

“I will be, sir,” she replied. “In a minute.” She turned her back to him and wiped her eyes. Facing him, she said, “General, Bert and I were engaged, sort of. We had talked of getting married.” She looked at the young man named Bert, now being wrapped in a tarp. “I wouldn’t want to leave here until his death had been avenged.”

“We won’t, Susie,” Ben assured her. “I want to find out what in the hell is going on around this place.”

Susie spat very unladylike on the ground. “Personally, I would rather burn the whole fucking town to the ground.”

She walked back to her Jeep. She found a rag and began mopping up Bert’s blood from the seats.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ike both felt and heard the man’s skull pop under the hickory club. He quickly dragged the robed and hooded man into the room and closed the door, after checking the lock. He damn sure didn’t want to get locked back in with a stiff.

Ike stripped off the robe and put it on, grimacing as he did so. The robe stank of old sweat. Fanning the body, Ike discovered a .38-caliber pistol and a pocket full of cartridges. He found a package of cigarettes-Lord only knew how old they were-and a Zippo lighter. Even though Ike had been trying to quit smoking for years, he made up his mind he’d sure fire one up if he got out of this loony bin in one piece.

He smiled. After he wasted a whole bunch of these kooks, that is.

He slowly opened the door and looked up and down the dimly lit hall. Must be a gasoline generator producing the power, he thought. The hall was quiet and deserted, he slipped out into the hall, stood for a moment, trying to get his bearings, then walked in the opposite direction his guard’s footsteps had always sounded. He passed a room that smelled strongly of kerosene. An idea came to him. He smiled grimly and entered the

room. He found two five-gallon cans of kerosene and a carton of rags. Ike saturated the room with raw kerosene and ran back to the room where he’d been held captive, leaving a trail of kerosene as he ran. He doused the dead man with kerosene, and threw the rest of that can of flammable liquid on the walls and floor. He lit a handful of rags and dropped them to the floor, backing out of the room.

He backed right into a breathing body.

“Brother Jake?” the man said. “Why … you’re not Brother-was

That was as far as he got. Brother Whatever-in-the-hell-his-name-was felt his throat explode in pain as Ike ruptured his larynx with the knife edge of his hand. Brother Yo-yo hit the floor and began flopping around, slowly suffocating, gagging and making horrible choking sounds. Ike hastened death’s touch by kicking the man in the temple with the toe of his boot. The man croaked once and was still. Fanning the body, Ike found another .38 pistol, more cartridges, and a long-bladed hunting knife in a leather sheath.

Ike took the seconds required to check both pistols. Fully loaded. He tossed Brother Yo-yo into the burning room, shut the door, and picked up the second can of kerosene. He ran down the hall, slopping kerosene on the walls and floor, the fire trailing behind him as he ran.

Smoke was rapidly filling the corridored building as Ike came to a dead end. A dirty window faced him. He unlocked the window and climbed out, closing the window behind him.

The outside air was clear and cold. Ike breathed

deeply, gratefully. It felt good to be free. Even better to be armed. Now to get his bearings and find some heavier weapons. Then to do some damage, draw some real blood.

He could hear the sounds of men and women yelling, some of the yelling pain-filled as the fire spread quickly through the old, wooden building. It had been some type of old warehouse, Ike guessed.

A man ran around a corner of the building, carrying an M-16. He ran toward Ike, crouched in the darkness. When the robed man passed the kneeling Ike, Ike jammed one end of the hickory stick hard into the man’s gut. The air left him in a rush. Ike cracked the man’s skull with the club and hit him again for insurance. He grabbed up the M-16 and tore the full ammo pouch from the man. He checked the M-16. It was one of the older models, manufactured long before the M16A2 came to be. This old baby was full auto.

Ike checked the clip. Full. The clips in the ammo pouch were all full, a mixed bag of twenty and thirty round clips.

“Now for a little fun,” Ike muttered. “My kind of fun, kids.”

Using the heavy brush around the burning building, Ike slipped into deep cover, edging into the prone firing position. He found a group of robed men and women standing about two hundred yards from the burning structure. He blew a full clip into them, knocking half of them sprawling, kicking and screaming on the ground.

“Bastards!” Ike growled.

The roaring of the fire completely covered the stutter and crack of the M-16. Ike jammed home a fresh clip and began picking his targets.

He knocked the props out from under a half dozen more hooded and robed persons before deciding it was time for him to haul his ass out of that area.

One man came close to Ike’s position and Ike shot him, one slug hitting the magazine of the M-16, the rounds exploding, mangling the man’s belly and chest. Ike tore the ammo pouch from the man and ripped a pair of field glasses from around the man’s neck. He ran into the woods.

Stopping once to check the stars, Ike got his bearings and headed southeast. He found a stream and followed it until he spotted a bridge looming dark in the early fall evening in the mountains.

Ike carefully reconnoitered the bridge and the grounds around it while remaining motionless in the brush. First chance he got, he was getting out of that stinking robe. It was insulting his nostrils. People of the Ninth Order must not believe much in bathing, he thought.

Cautiously, he made his way to the bridge. He followed the highway south by staying close to the timberline. He came to a highway marker. He was on Highway 60.

Ike searched his memory. The patrol he’d been leading had been ambushed just to the east of Highway 411, very close to the town of Chatsworth. So the members of the Ninth Order had carried him quite a distance to the east. He still couldn’t quite figure out exactly why the Ninth Order had grabbed him. He thought all that questioning about Ben had been to throw him off.

Unless …

Yeah, he reflected sourly, that had to be it. Willette and his bunch were probably playing footsie with that gang of kooks. Christ! Ike had hoped they were all through with people like that when they left Emil Hite and his band of fruitcakes back in Arkansas.*

Ike had to softly chuckle at the memory of Emil Hite. Hite was more harmless hippie than anything else. The man had a scam working for him. But he wasn’t dangerous-at least not like the Ninth Order.

The Ninth Order. Sister Voleta. What the hell did they want? Good Christ, there was surely enough land for everybody.

Ike just couldn’t figure it.

He walked for half an hour before spotting an old house set off the road, almost completely overgrown with thick brush. He circled the house once before stepping up to the porch. Carefully, he tried the doorknob. It turned with a grinding, unused sound. M-16 ready, on full auto, Ike pushed open the door. It protested on rusty hinges. Ike stepped into a musty-smelling living room.

Something screamed an animal sound and came leaping at him in the darkness.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“We’re clean up to that point,” the Rebel said, pointing to an intersection about a half mile from the first barricade just outside Dublin, Georgia. “Beyond that point, General, is the unknown. You want me to send teams in there?”

Ben nixed that quickly. “It’ll be full dark soon,” he said. “No point in risking more lives wandering around at night. They-whoever they might be-know the terrain. We don’t. Let’s backtrack a few miles for safety’s sake. We’ll hit the town in the morning.”

“Whatever is in there,” Susie said, “they’re pretty good. I haven’t seen any movement since we knocked out that machine gun emplacement.”

“Either pretty good or pretty scared,” Ben said. “Or pretty few.” He turned to another Rebel. “What did you learn from inspecting the bodies at the machine gun nest?”

“Five white males,” Sergeant Greene said. “Dirty. Unwashed. Bad teeth. All different ages. I’d say from twenty to forty-five. All wearing battle dress. None of them wore any type of unit crest or any other type of insignia.”

“Odd,” Ben said, more to himself than anyone

else. Once again, Tony Silver’s name came to his mind. Suddenly, Ben thought about Ike. He shook that away. “OK. Let’s pull back and get our camp set up for the night.”

Gale touched his arm. “I get the uncomfortable feeling we are being watched.”

“I imagine we are,” Ben said. “From a safe distance.”

Gale looked at the ten naked bodies hanging from the rafter across the street. Tortured and mutilated and grotesque. “What are you going to do with them, Ben?”

“Leave them for the time being. We’ll cut them down and bury them in the morning. Twelve more hours won’t make a bit of difference to them.”

The Rebels backtracked to the interstate and set up for the night around an old motel complex. Ben posted guards on the roof and on both sides of the interstate.

“Heads up,” Ben told his people. “We don’t know how many of the enemy we’re facing, much less what we’re facing.”

“Seems to me, General,” a woman spoke from the ranks, “since we didn’t make the first hostile moves to open this dance, those people back in Dublin-the ones who fired on us-are lookin” to get their asses kicked.”

“That is precisely what we are going to do, Judy,” Ben told her with an accompanying smile. “At first light.”

“Good!” she replied. “I’m damn tired of people shootin’ at me. Especially since all we’re tryin’ to do is be friends and help those who need it.”

A low growl of agreement spread through the ranks of the Rebels.

“In the morning,” Ben repeated, dismissing the Rebels.

“I’m hungry,” Gale announced.

“I’m sure,” Ben said. “You eat like a horse normally. Now you’re eating for two.”

“Three, Ben. Three.” She looked at him. “A horse!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ike sidestepped, tripped the man who came shrieking at him in the darkness, and got the guy in a hammer lock. Ike had dropped his M-16 and was just about to cut the guy’s throat when his hand cupped a soft breast.

Ike squeezed gently. He grinned and squeezed again. Soft. Quite a handful.

“Perverted son of a bitch!” the woman said. “Are you gonna cut my throat or just feel me up?”

Not relaxing his hold on the woman, Ike said, “I might decide to do both.” He squeezed again.

“Will you turn loose of my titty? And you’re choking me, you bastard.”

Ike eased off and stood up. The woman remained crouched on the floor. She rubbed her throat. In the dim light filtering through the dirty windows, Ike looked at her. She was maybe twenty-two or three, no more than that. Light brown hair, tanned skin. Old work shirt and faded jeans. She was built up nice and shapely. She met his gaze squarely, no back-up in her.

“What are you, a fat monk?” she asked.

Ike stepped back and pulled off the hooded robe.

He tossed the stinking garment to the floor. Ike was all muscle and gristle and bone. And he was strong as an ape.

Her eyes swept him from face to booted feet. She nodded her head.

“Did I pass inspection?” Ike asked.

“If that’s what you want to call it. OK. So you’re not fat. You’re a fireplug. But what are you? Besides a pervert, that is.”

“I am not a pervert. But you do have a nice set of titties.” He grinned. “I’m Colonel Ike McGowen. Now who in the hell are you?”

“A colonel! Sure you are,” she said sarcastically. “A colonel in what?”

“Raines’ Rebels.”

She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. Blinked her eyes. She twisted around and sat on the floor, looking up at Ike. “General Ben Raines? I mean, President Ben Raines?”

“Yeah. Ben. I was leading a patrol a couple of counties west of here. Some nutty bastards that call themselves the Ninth Order ambushed us, grabbed me. I broke out several hours ago. That’s it in a nutshell. What’s your name?”

“Nina. Yeah, I know that bunch of crazies. Know them well. They killed my old man last month. They burned him to death,” she added bitterly, almost spitting out the last. “Stripped him, tortured him, tied him to a stake, then burned him. Made me watch. The men holding me had a good time feeling me up. They told me what they were going to do tome. Real perverted. They were going to screw me to death. You

believe that? They meant it! I kicked one in the balls and split. Been runnin’ ever since. Thought they had me a couple, three times, but I always managed to slip past them. Screw me to death. Caught me and my old man, ah, messin’ around. Called me a sinner. So that was to be my punishment. Jesus! What a pack of nuts.”

“I agree with you. Your old man? Your husband?”

“Kind of. We never got married, though. How about you?”

Vibrations passed between the man and the woman. Both of them picked up the other’s silent message. Strong erotic messages. The meaning was very clear.

“How do you want me to answer that?” Ike asked her.

“The only way to answer it, Ike. By tellin’ the truth.”

“I’m married.”

“Faithful to her?”

Something clutched at Ike’s guts. “Up to now,” he said with a grin, meeting her pale gray eyes. “You got anything to eat?”

She smiled.

Ike picked it up. He laughed loudly. The laugh felt good; he hadn’t had much to laugh about the past few days. “Food, baby,” he said, patting his stomach. “Sustenance for the bod.”

“Yeah. I got a sack of army rations. I swiped it yesterday.”

“Crations?”

“I guess.”

“Yuk! Well, let’s eat. Then we’ll get some rest and

head out at first light.” Ike tossed her one of the .38’s taken from the Ninth Order. “You know how to use that?”

Nina looked at the pistol. An odd look came into her eyes. She pointed the weapon at Ike and jacked back the hammer. “I sure do, sucker.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Hold her hands, baby,” Tony said to Ann. He positioned himself behind the sobbing young girl. “You “bout the same age, you two. So you tell this chick she fights me, she’s gonna get hurt. I can work it in real easy, or I can tear her cunt up. It’s all up to her.”

“Believe him,” Ann said to the naked, frightened girl. “It ain’t bad once it’s done to you two, three times. It gets to feelin” real good. Believe me. He’ll treat you real good, too. Just don’t fight him no more.”

The young girl nodded her head. “OK.” She pressed her face against the sheet on the bed. She was thin from years of extremely bad diet and from being on her own in a world rapidly filling with savagery and barbarism. Her name was Peg. She was twelve years old.

Tony ran his fingers over the girl’s buttocks. He touched her anus, then his fingers touched her center and pushed inside her. The girl moaned at the sudden intrusion.

Tony said, “I can make it good for you, baby. Or I can hurt you. It’s all up to you.” He worked his finger

in and out. Peg began weeping. “You tell me where your little buddy ran off to.”

Ann stroked the girl’s hair. “Tell him, Peg. It’s better than being out there all alone. You won’t have to fuck no one but Tony. Believe it. You’ll have plenty of good things to eat. Dolls to play with. He’ll, get you pretty things to wear and a machine that makes musical noises come out of funny little round things.”

“She ran off to our hiding place. On the waterfront. It’s an upside-down number on the front of the place.”

“What?” Tony looked confused.

“Can’t you do numbers?” Ann asked.

“No.”

Ann wrote a six on a piece of paper. She showed that to Peg.

“Yes. That’s it. What number is that?”

“Nine,” Ann told her. “Don’t you have any schooling?”

Peg shook her head.

“Who gives a shit?” Tony said. He pulled away from the child. “I got to see a man. I’ll be back later.”

He left the motel room. He really didn’t want sex now. That report he’d received from Dublin about his people there coming under attack had him a little worried. Tony stopped outside his motel room, an idea coming to him.

Who would be foolish enough to attack the army of Tony Silver?

Only one person. He had everybody else too scared of retribution.

Only one person.

Ben Raines.

Had to be.

“Well, I’ll just be goddamned!” Tony muttered. “Ben Raines, right under my fuckin’ nose all this time. Things are definitely beginning to look up for me.”

Tony began laughing.

He motioned for one of his men to come over. “Paul, get a team together. “Bout, oh, fifty guys ought to be enough to kick the ass off of Ben Raines. More than enough. A god!” Again he laughed, Paul joining in the laughter. “Goddamn joke is what Ben Raines is. I’ll show the people who is really boss around this land. Me!”

“Right, boss,” Paul agreed. “Everybody knows that. Everybody.”

“Shut up, Paul. We’ll be moving out first thing in the morning. ‘Bout nine o’clock.”

“Right, boss.” The goon turned to leave.

“Oh … Paul?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I want you to get some boys together and go down to the waterfront. Warehouse number nine. Do it quiet like, now. There’s a young chick down there I want. Bring her back and have her cleaned up. And don’t none of you guys even think about stickin” a dick in her. That’s prime gash and it’s mine.”

“Sure, boss. Don’t worry none about that. I’ll see to it personal.”

“All right. You bring her to my room when she’s bathed. I’m gonna bust me two cherries in one night.”

The man grinned, exposing rotten teeth. “Right, boss. I gotcha.”

“Two tight pussies and Ben Raines. All within twenty-four hours of each other. Son of a bitch! My luck is on a steady roll.”

“Right, boss.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“All right, lads,” Dan Gray spoke into the mic. “Thanks and take care.” Breaking the connection, Dan smiled. Interesting, he thought. Big fire up near Blue Ridge Lake. Gunshots reported. Dan had ordered his scouts into the area at first light.

Shooting the place up and then burning it to the ground would be something the ex-Seal would do if his feathers got ruffled. Ike was as randy as they came.

“Hang on, Ike,” Dan muttered.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ike looked at the loaded and cocked .38 in Nina’s hand. She held it like she knew what to do with it. And had done it before.

“Now what?” Ike asked.

Nina grinned and eased the hammer down. She tucked the pistol behind her belt. “We eat-what else?”

Ike stared at her in the gloom of the darkened living room. “Would you mind telling me just what in the hell that stunt was all about?”

“I just wanted to see if you were as ballsy as you appeared to be.”

“And?”

“You are.” Nina found her knapsack and lookout several cans of army rations.

Ike knew the rations well. He looked at the olive green cans. He grimaced. “You sure you ain’t got any dehyde?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Ike. It’s this or go hungry.”

“Long as it ain’t them gawdawful green eggs. What all you got in that bag?”

She chuckled softly in the gloom of the old house.

“Bacon and eggs.”

Cussing under his breath, Ike found his little military can opener and began circling the rim of the can. “Least it’s dark in here,” he muttered. “Won’t be able to tell if they’re green or not.” The odor hit his nostrils. “They’re green,” he said glumly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ben’s walkie-talkie crackled softly. “Come on,” he whispered into the AN/PRC-6T.

The most forward Scout said, “They’re definitely waiting for us, General. They’ve set up an ambush on both sides of Highway 80. First big supermarket on the south side.”

“Weapons?”

“Heavy machine guns and M-16’s. That’s it, sir.”

“Hold your position and stay low. I’m sending teams to flank them.”

“Roger, sir.”

Ben gave James the coordinates. “Don’t jack around with them, James. Use mortars and rocket launchers. I don’t want any more casual ties from this operation.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll stand back and blow hell out of the bastards.”

“G.”

The paramilitary troops of Tony Silver knew the savage fury of trained and disciplined troops for only a few seconds before the M-60 machine gunfire, the mortars, and the 40mm grenades blew them into their own dubious place in the yet unwritten history of the aftermath of the most humanly destructive war

ever waged on the face of the earth.*

The attacks were coordinated to launch within a second of each other. And the troops of Tony Silver, who thought they were so well-hidden, so tough, so professional and so feared by all, had only a maximum of five seconds to scream out their pain and fear before their unwashed bodies were torn to bloody strips of mangled flesh.

Ben watched grimly through binoculars as Tony’s little army was creamed.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” the man in charge of this contingent of Silver’s army of thugs and goons and murderers and rapists shouted. “Them is regular army troops. Where the fuck did they come from? We’re outclassed.”

The “army” split. They tucked their tails between their legs and cut out, jumping into cars and pickups and vans and heading east on Highway 80, fleeing as if pursued by the devil.

They left behind them death, rape, torture, sexual perversion and hideous memories in the minds of the people in Dublin who had survived-thus far.

“Cut down those people over there,” Ben said, pointing at the hanging bodies. “James, have Scouts follow those retreating for several miles; make certain they’re really bugging out. Let’s find out about the residents of this town.”

Ben Raines and his Rebels soon discovered the aftermath of Silver’s scurvy followers. The scene was sickening to them all.

Tortured and sexually abused men and women *Out of the Ashes

and children began streaming into the littered streets of the town when they discovered the new troops were there not to harm them but to help them.

The Rebels broke up the mob of people into sections, for interviewing, for medical treatment, for food and clothing.

After a time, Susie came to Ben. “This Tony Silver’s got to be stopped, General. I’ve talked withand seen little girls and boys not over nine or ten years old who were sexually assaulted and abused. It’s pitiful, General.”

Ben listened.

Sergeant Greene said, “One man told me a lot of the kids-mostly girls, ages twelve to fourteen-were taken out of this area. To be turned into whores for shipment around the country.”

Ben nodded. But one question kept nagging at him: Why did the people left in the town allow it to happen? Why didn’t they fight?

James said, “There isn’t a female in this town, between the ages of nine and sixty, who hasn’t been raped repeatedly. The men were sexually humiliated, in front of the women.”

“Are these people residents of this town?” Ben asked.

“No, sir,” a Rebel said. “Those I’ve talked to say Dublin was wiped out by the plague. These people area mixed bag, from all over the state. They just got here “bout six months ago.”

“Why here?”

The Rebel shrugged. “They’re some kind of religious order, sir. Don’t believe in violence.”

“No guns?” Ben said acidly.

“That’s it, sir. Not a weapon in the whole town.”

Ben felt anger wash over him. What had the young Rebel, Bert, died for? A group of dickheads so naive they believed all they had to do was hold up the dove of peace and it would be honored? Stupid, naive, out-of-touch-with-reality crapheads.

Ben brought his anger under control. “Tell them to read Ecclesiastes. Get their priorities in line.”

“Sir?” the young Rebel asked.

“Never mind, Joey. Just talking to myself. All right,” Ben said with a sigh. “Maybe it all ties in. I have a feeling it does.”

“What, Ben?” Gale asked. She was sick at her stomach from what she had seen and heard this awful day. But she knew Ben had no patience with people who would not fight for their lives.

“The Ninth Order, Captain Willette, Tony Silver. The whole rotten, scummy bag.”

“How does it tie in, Ben?”

He shook his head. “Hunch, Gale. That’s all. Could be I’m wrong.”

The Rebels gathered around him dismissed that instantly. The thought of Gen. Ben Raines being wrong about anything was something no loyal Rebel ever entertained. That would be unthinkable.

“Let’s patch these people up and get the hell out of here,” Ben ordered. “I feel sorry for the kids and the elderly-but losers don’t impress me.”

“You have no right to judge us so harshly, General,” a man said.

Ben turned. The man facing him was dressed in a business suit. Ben found that just slightly less than ludicrous, considering the surroundings. “I lost

good man in your town, mister. And I’m not real sure his death was worth it-considering the fact that you people refuse to stand up and be counted in a fight.”

“We are peaceful people, General Raines.”

“That’s fine, mister,” Ben countered. “All well and good back when you could pick up a phone and. call the police, back when law and order and rules and codes of conduct were the norm. That is no more. And I seriously doubt-except in isolated pockets of this world-it will ever be again. At least not in our lifetime. Now, mister,” he said, lifting the old Thompson, “this is the law.”

“We refuse to take a human life,” the man said.

Ben frosted him with a look. “Then you’re a goddamned fool. I’m not advocating mass murder, mister. Just telling you to protect yourselves.”

“The Lord will provide.”

Ben smiled grimly. “Then I suggest you find yourself the jawbone of an ass. Or, in your case, the backbone might be a better choice.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nina lay in Ike’s strong arms. The morning sunlight was beginning to filter brightly through the dusty windows of the old home. Nina’s bare breasts pressed against Ike’s naked chest. It had been quite a sex-oriented night. Ike smiled, recalling an old saying from his boyhood days down in Mississippi: Girl could do more with six inches of cock than a monkey with a mile of vines.

He laughed softly at the crudeness of the old expression.

Nina opened her eyes and yawned in his face. “What’s so funny, Ike?”

He told her.

“Jesus! What an awful saying.” But she laughed as she said it.

“What’s for breakfast, Nina?”

“Canned eggs and bacon.”

“Thanks just the same, but I think I’ll pass.” Ike disengaged himself from her warm nakedness and dressed, conscious of her eyes on him.

“You got a few scars on you, Ike,” she observed.

“More than my share, I reckon,” he replied. “Got a few in Vietnam. Rest of them came from my days as a Rebel, following Ben.”

“This really the first time you’ve been unfaithful to your wife?”

“Yep. Not countin” the mental times.”

She laughed. “I can relate to that.” She rose from the pallet on the floor, totally unashamed of her young lush nakedness. “Your wife been faithful to you, you think?”

“I think so,” Ike said thoughtfully. “But I’ll tell her about us. Even though I don’t have to. She’d guess. She knows me pretty well.”

Nina shook her head. “What is it with you people who follow General Raines? You’re so … well, I guess, dedicated is the word. And Ben Raines … is he really a god like I’ve heard a lot of people say he is?”

“The Rebels?” Ike shrugged. “We’re just kinda like that ol’ boll weevil, I reckon. Lookin’ for a home. Ben a god?” Again he shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes,” his reply was very soft, “sometimes I believe he really is. Others?” Ike shook his head. “How old are you, Nina?”

“I … I think I’m twenty-one, Ike. But I really don’t know for sure. I was either seven or eight years old when the bombs came.”

And I was in my mid-thirties, Ike thought. And already fought a war this girl has no memories of. “You get dressed,” he told her, picking up his M-16. “I’m gonna check out the area.”

“Ike?”

He turned.

“I’m very glad it was you who come along last night.”

Ike grinned. “You did some of that yourself, Nina. Last night.”

She laughed. “Get outta here!”

Ike stepped out of the old house, using the creaking back steps. The mountains of north Georgia loomed all around him, the area thick with brush, having grown wild and unattended for more than a decade. It was a peaceful dawning, the birds singing and calling to one another, the calling a sound of joy, of being alive on this cool early fall morning in the mountains. And, Ike thought, shivering, winter is just around the corner.

“Got to find some clothing for the both of us,” he muttered. “Damn feed sack would be better than that stinking robe.”

Nina stepped out on the back porch, a can of Crations in one hand, a spoon in the other hand. Ike looked at the contents of the can and shuddered.

“I just never did develop a taste for that crap,” he said.

“I wish I had a real cup of coffee,” Nina said wistfully. “And some bacon and eggs and toast. And some jelly.”

“Smucker’s?” Ike asked with a grin. He backed away from the odor of the eggs.

Nina cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Yeah? Well … it used to be a brand of jams and jellies.”

“Smucker’s? With a name like that, it had to be good, I betcha.”

Ike laughed as the young woman pegged the company’s old slogan right on the button. In the brightening morning, standing in God’s light, Ike could

see the young woman was really quite lovely. “Yes, that’s true, Nina.” He cleared his throat. Shook his head as he thought of all the things this young lady had missed out on: the fun of college, the Saturday afternoon games, the dances; the joy of living in the most affluent and powerful nation in the world; daily breakthroughs in medicine; fine perfumes and designer jeans. God! the list was almost endless.

Now she had only a world gone savage to look forward to.

Maybe he could help ease that transition.

“Let’s get our gear together, Nina. We’ve got a long way to go.”

“I’m with you, Ike.”

James reported to Ben. The big sergeant had a disgusted look on his broad face. “These people want us to stay and protect them, General.”

“What did you tell them, James?”

“I told them to forget it, sir.”

“Good. Get the people ready to pull out.” He looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes, James.”

“But you can’t leave us!” a woman’s voice came from behind the men. “You’re our president. You have to protect us.”

Ben turned to face the source of the complaint. The woman was in her late twenties, Ben guessed. Nice looking, a pixie with a dirty face, and a misguided view of reality.

“I am not your president,” Ben informed her. “And I don’t owe any of you a damned thing. You owe it to yourselves to learn weapons and how to protect yourselves.”

“But that is against our religious beliefs!”

“Then I would say you people definitely have a problem.”

Tears cut twin paths down the woman’s grimy cheeks. “Do you have any idea what those animals did to us? No-how could you? They were filthy and perverted and evil and godless. And if you leave, they’ll return. And this time, they’ll kill us after they … use us as vessels of their depravity.”

“Get a gun,” Ben told her. “The first one who shows his head in this town, shoot him.”

“We can’t do that!” she screamed.

“Won’t,” Ben contradicted her. “How did you avoid being shipped out with the other younger women?”

She wiped her eyes. “I’m a nurse. They-those animals-had some medical problems. That’s how. You can’t just drive off and leave us here, defenseless.”

“I am sorry to inform you, miss, but that is precisely what we intend doing. If you would like for us to show you weapons and how to use them, we’ll stay and do that. The choice is yours.”

The woman’s eyes glowed with hate. “You’re just as cruel and heartless as Silver’s men. I hope Silver’s people get you.”

“They won’t,” Ben told her.

“You can’t know that for a fact.”

“Yeah, lady, I can. We’re just something you people will never be.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Survivors, ma’am.”

“But we have a right to our religious beliefs!” she

shouted at Ben. “A God-given right.”

“That is probably true,” Ben agreed. “But you do not have the right to expect others to die for your lopsided beliefs.”

“God will strike you dead, General Raines.”

“Perhaps,” Ben replied solemnly. “But I rather think God likes His warriors. “Cause He damn sure made a lot of us.”

“That’s blasphemy!” the woman yelled at him.

The crowd of men and women began yelling threats at Ben, shaking their fists at him, calling him Judas.

Ben laughed at them and walked away, to his pickup, Gale by his side.

“You’re a hard man, Ben,” she said.

“Hard times, kid,” Ben replied.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Tony’s convoy met the men from Dublin on the interstate, one group heading west, the remains of Tony’s Dublin contingent heading east as fast as they could go. The lead vehicle of Tony’s group flagged them down.

Tony stood in the middle of the interstate, growing angry as the men tried to explain what had happened.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Tony shouted. “You mean you guys just cut and run out? What the hell does Raines have, trained tigers with him?”’

“Uh, that’s about the size of it, Tony,” the leader of the Dublin contingent said. “Them Rebels is all trained better than us. They got them military weapons and they know how to use them.”

Tony fought his temper under control. “Awright, awright,” he finally said, clenching and unclenching his big hands. “Jesus, I don’t wanna hear no more of your excuses. How many troops does Raines have with him?”

There was a lot of shuffling of feet and eyes that would not meet Tony’s hard eyes. “Uh … “bout forty, boss.” “Forty!” Tony screamed. “Forty fucking guys

caused you people to turn tail and run?”

“Uh … they wasn’t all guys,” a man said, making matters much worse. “There was some cunts with ‘em, too.”

“Cunts! Pussies?” Tony sputtered. “You mean to stand there and tell me you tough guys ran from a bunch of broads?”

“Jesus, Tony. These broads had guns!” “I don’t care if they had pussies that fired torpedoes!” Tony screamed, jumping up and down in the center of the highway. “A broad is a broad. Shit! Goddamnit. What is this gonna do to my image, you crapheads?” He once more fought his temper, finally winning. “Well … come on, then, damnit. Let’s go find this Ben Raines. I’ll show you guys how to kick the ass off him.”

Several of his people looked dubious at that last remark from Tony. But for the time being they were more afraid of Tony than of Ben Raines.

A condition that would not prevail much longer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ike worked on the old pickup all morning. Finally he threw the wrench aside in disgust. “No good, Nina. I can’t fix it. Been settin” here just too damn long.”

“So what do we do, Ike?”

“Shank’s Mare,” he told her with a quick grin.

“What?”

“We hoof it.”

“Oh, goody. Ike? When it warms up some, let’s find a stream and take a bath. I feel like I got bugs crawling around on me. I itch.”

“After wearin’ that damn stinkin’ robe, I know I got fleas hoppin’ around on me. Probably gave “em to you. You got any soap?”

“Yeah. Found some bars in that old house.”

“You ready to go?”

“Too windy to stack BB’S,” she said with a smile.

“Ain’t heard that one in years. Let’s go, little one.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

In his comfortable new quarters in northern California, General Striganov smiled at Colonel Fechnor. “So a cheap hoodlum is going to challenge General Raines, da?”

“That is what our intelligence reports, General, And this Captain Willette is somehow involved with some religious group called the Ninth Order. They are rather barbaric, according to the reports we have received.”

“Aren’t all religious orders barbaric to some degree, old friend?” Striganov said with a smile. “Well, I wish Mr. Silver all the luck in the world.” He dismissed Tony’s chances of doing any real damage to Ben Raines with a curt slash of his hand. “Tell me some good news about our breeding program, Colonel. I need some cheering news.”

“Everything is progressing quite well, General. We did lose a number of women due to General Raines” raids on our breeding farms in Iowa. But we picked up more than we lost on the way west. Those women who have birthed, and those mutant females who birthed are doing quite well. And, even more good news, the offspring appear to have much more intelligence than we first hoped.”

“Good, good!” General Striganov rubbed his hands together and smiled. “That is good news indeed. We are standing on the brink of a marvelous new day for the world, Fechnor. Our doctors have solved the problem of workers for the menial tasks any civilization faces. Thus freeing the masses for positions befitting their natural abilities. I gather, since nothing to indicate it has passed my desk, your people have not met with much resistance from the minorities?”

“Very little, sir. We crushed the initial thrust upon arrival. It was as you predicted, sir. Many of those with a pure Aryan background stood back and did not interfere.”

“But, of course, they did. It’s been that way since the beginnings of time. All one has to do is study history. Equality cannot be forced upon a race. It must be earned. Just as respect must be earned, all in accordance with the existing mores of the ruling society. Only stupid people think otherwise.” He leaned back in his chair. “So much for that. I have been reluctant to view the … newborn for fear I would see monsters. How do the babies look?”

“Some of those crossbred look … well, rather hideous, General. But most appear normal, as normal as can be expected, that is, when one takes into consideration each baby has either a father or mother who is a mutant. We’ve had to destroy several, because of, ah, certain physical abnormalities. But a full ninety percent of the children-and it’s incorrect to call them children because of the rapid growth patterns-are coming along splendidly.”

“Good, good, Colonel Fechnor. Now, the people in the regions we’ve claimed as our own-discounting the minorities, of course-how are they responding to our overtures?”

“Very well, sir. We have encountered surprisingly little armed resistance. Many of the people appear to welcome our presence. Most were in rather sad shape.”

General Striganov nodded his head. He seemed to be paying only polite attention to his second in command. He seemed preoccupied with another matter. “Smoothly, then,” the general said. “Everything is progressing quite smoothly and orderly. Is that how you would sum it up?” “Yes, sir.”

Fechnor had been standing. He was waved to a chair. Tea was brought in by an aide. Both men sipped in silence for a moment, enjoying the fragrance of the tea. Striganov’s eyes touched Fechnor. “You do realize, Colonel Fechnor, that I greatly admire General Ben Raines?”

The colonel shook his head. “No, sir. I did not know that, General.”

“Oh, it’s true. I won’t deny it. What we must use force and lies and half-truths to accomplish, General Raines gains through trust and respect. Not that I have any intention of imitating any of Ben Raines’ tactics, mind you,” he added quickly. “I still feel our way is the most productive to our system of government. But Ben Raines worries me. He is going to be a constant thorn in our side. I wish the man would listen to reason. I wish he would understand that our respective forms of government could exist side by

side.” The general shook his handsome head. “Wishful thinking on my part, I suppose.”

“Our intelligence reports that Ben Raines is making no moves toward us, General.”

“He will,” Striganov said softly. “He will, old friend. Bet on it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“A large force of heavily armed men moving toward the column, General,” the forward Scout radioed to Ben.

“How many?” Ben asked.

“A hundred, at least. Looks like some of those we just kicked out of Dublin.” She took a closer look. “Yes, sir. It’s part of the same bunch, all right. But beefed up.”

“OK, Susie. Lay low until you receive further instructions.”

“Ten-four, sir. We’ll keep our heads down until I see those ol’ boys retreating with their peckers hangin’ low.”

Gale looked at the radio in the truck. She shook her head. “Jesus. Susie certainly has a way with words, doesn’t she?”

Ben grinned. “Susie’s a good ol’ Southern gal. “He keyed his mic. “All right, gang-you all heard her. Set up ambush positions. Let’s do it right the first time.”

“A good ol’ gal?” Gale questioned. “What a dubious compliment.”

Ben laughed at her.

The short column pulled off the interstate at the

first exit. It was no trick for them to hide their vehicles in the thick timber and brush that had grown wild and unattended along most of the nation’s highways for years. Ben did not worry about airborne spotters. As far as Ben knew, his Rebels and the troops of the IPF* were the only organized forces that still utilized any type of aircraft.

“Here they come,” a Rebel said, looking through binoculars. “Cars, not trucks. Long line of them. Three to four men per car. Hard-lookin’ crew. Lots of guns.”

“OK,” Ben said. “Let’s make sure we’re about to waste the right bunch. Where’s the volunteer?”

“Here, sir.” A young woman stepped forward. She had changed into jeans and civilian windbreaker. She carried a knapsack.

“Jane?” Ben asked. “You’re sure about this, now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“OK. Get into position, and be ready to act very quickly. That ditch is deep; it’ll give you good protection.” He keyed the talk switch on his walkie-talkie. “All right, people. Get ready to blow them to hell if they make any funky moves toward Jane. One mistake on our part means Jane gets shot up. Let’s don’t let that happen.”

Jane took her position on the shoulder of the interstate.

Tony’s lead vehicle rounded the curve in the interstate. “Goddamn, Pete,” the driver said. “Look at that cunt up there.”

“Yeah, I see her. Looks pretty good from here.”

“Pretty good? Man, you need glasses. That’s prime gash.”

The man on the passenger side radioed Tony, who was in the center of the column.

“Stop here,” Tony ordered his driver. “It could be a trap.” He radioed to the lead cars. “Rest of you guys go on up there and check it out.”

A half dozen cars approached the lone woman standing by the side of the interstate. The lead car stopped, the others grinding to a halt behind him. The driver rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “Hello, sweet thing. You waitin’ for a bus, maybe?”

“Could be,” Jane replied. She smiled. The windbreaker was draped over her right hand and forearm, hiding the cocked .45 semi-automatic pistol in her hand. Her finger was on the trigger.

“Well, now, ain’t you the lucky one, though. No point in you standin’ out there, baby. Why don’t you just hop your pretty ass in here with us. We’ll take you to the nearest bus station. We might decide to have some fun along the way.”

“I think I’ll just wait for the Trailways, if you don’t mind,” Jane told him. “One should be along any time.”

“Honey, there ain’t been no buses on this road for a long time. Now get your ass in here like I tol’ you.”

Jane offered no reply. She stood alone on the windswept shoulder of the road, matching the man look I for look.

The driver’s features hardened. “I said, baby, get your ass in here and get ready for a good fuckin’. I’m gettin’ a bone just lookin’ at you.”

“And if I don’t?” Jane asked. Her smile had turned grim. Before joining Raines’ Rebels, Jane had been taken captive by a group of men and sexually abused. She had been left for dead by the side of the road. She had no patience or mercy for rapists.

The driver could not know it, but he was gazing into the pretty face of death.

The driver laughed and got out of the car. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his thickening penis. “Don’t that look good to you, baby? Now why don’t you just come to Daddy and grab hold my tool? You can skin it back and get it up real hard for the both of us.”

“No thanks,” Jane said. “Fucking animals has never been my thing. And you look like a cross between an ape and a pig.”

The men still in the cars laughed at that.

The man with his cock hanging out of his jeans flushed with anger. “You gonna know some pain for that smart-mouth crack, girlie.” He stepped toward her.

Jane slid back her windbreaker and shot the man in the groin. The heavy .45-caliber slug, from a very close range, separated penis from man. The slug tore through the man’s lower belly, slamming him to the ground. Jane lifted the .45 and emptied it into the car, the booming of the pistol not masking the man with the missing pecker’s howling as he rolled and began the dying process on the shoulder of the interstate.

Jane leaped for the ditch just as automatic weapons fire cracked and roared and lanced death from both sides of the interstate. The slugs turned the lead vehicles into death traps. Glass splintered and metal

howled as slugs whined and sparked and tore through flesh and bone.

A quarter of a mile back, Tony Silver yelled his commands. “Get outta here! It’s a fuckin’ ambush.”

Tony’s boast that he’d show his men how to kick the ass off Ben Raines blew into the air like the thin emptiness it was as the cars squalled around and retreated down the interstate. Two miles down the road, they were forced to run the gauntlet of Susie and the other Scouts as they pot-shot from the brush along the roadway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Tony yelled. He was crouched on the floorboards, trembling in fear and rage-the rage directed at himself for showing his fear in front of his men. But he did not need to worry about that; his men were more frightened than him. One had shit his pants and one had pissed his pants. Glass showered Tony as slugs slammed the car. Blood splattered him as one of his men took a round through the head and fell forward, his blood and brains and fluid leaking onto the front seat and dripping onto Tony in a red river.

“Floorboard this mother!” Tony squalled. “Get me the hell outta here!”

“Finish it,” Ben told his people. “Take a few of the men alive for questioning-if you can find any alive. Get as much information from them as possible then shoot them.”

“My pleasure,” Jane said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“I sure would like to find some wheels,” Ike said. “I have never been a fan of hikin’. Swimmin’, yeah-walkin’, no, thank you, ma’am.”

“You said you were a Shark?”

Ike laughed. “No, Nina! Not a shark, a SEAL. Navy. Means sea, air and land. Back in my day we were the bad boys of the Navy-so called, that is.”

“How come, Ike?”

“Oh,” he replied with typical modesty. “I guess “cause our tra*” was so rough and the dirty jobs that was always handed to us.”

“You mean you guys wouldn’t run from anything?”

Ike again laughed. “Only a fool won’t haul his ass out of some situations, little one. Hell, yes, I ran at times. Run like a thief in the night.”

“But I bet you won medals for being brave,” she said.

“I won a few. Some I guess maybe I deserved, others I didn’t. Ever’body that sees combat oughta win medals.” Ike stepped on a rock in the old road. “Ouch! Shit! Goddamn walkin’!”

Nina laughed at him. “Getting old, Ike?”

Ike’s grin was rueful as it transformed his face, the

years fading away with the smile. “You bet, I am, Nina. I’m pushin’ hard at the half century mark.”

“No! I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true, kid.” Except for the gray in his close-cropped hair, Ike looked about thirty-five. “I don’t feel it, but it’s true.”

They walked down the center of the highway.

“You got any kids, Ike?”

Ike was flung back in time. Back to the original Tri-States, and to Megan, his first wife. “Yeah, but I lost “em in the battle for Tri-States. Me and Sally adopted a whole brood later on.”

“You and Sally been married long?”

“Not long. I lost my first wife, Megan, in the big battle for Tri-States. Me and Sally got hooked up a couple years ago.”

“You love her, Ike?”

“I like her,” he replied, and Nina knew the subject was closed.

“Was you and General Raines in the SEAL’S together?”

“No, Ben was a Hell Hound.” He saw the confused look on her face. “The Hell Hounds was the closest thing the U.s. ever had to a full-fledged mercenary unit. Mean bunch of cutthroats. I did a year with ‘em, but that was long after Ben was wounded and got out. He was probably over in Africa at that time, fightin” with the five or six Commandoes. I don’t know. We don’t talk much about those days anymore. Brings back too many bad memories; too many good men died over there, Nina. The war got all turned around in the minds of people back home. Hell with it.”

And the subject was closed.

The faint sounds of engines reached them. Ike grabbed Nina’s arm and jerked her off the road. They climbed up the embankment and hid in the thick timber and brush. The engine noise grew louder.

The first truck came into view. “It’s them!” Nina hissed. “The Ninth Order. That’s the bunch that’s been chasing me ever since I got away from them. I recognize the pickup. That’s the one Sister Voleta always rides in.”

Ike slipped the M-16 off safety and onto full auto as the drag vehicle came into view. “Two of them,” he muttered.

“There will be two men in the back of each truck,” Nina said. “Sister Voleta’s personal guards. And they know what they’re doing.”

“That bunch over where they had me captive damn sure didn’t know much,” Ike countered. “Matter of fact, they were a bunch of amateurs.”

Just as Ike was raising the M-16, two more trucks appeared from the opposite direction. A woman got out of the lead pickup to stand in the road.

The other cars and trucks stopped, their passengers getting out. A dozen men and women now lined the road, with guards facing in all directions, armed with M-16’s.

“Shit!” Ike whispered. “I could take “em, but they might take us, too. Can’t risk it. They’re too spread out.”

“I agree,” Nina returned the whisper. She clutched at his arm and Ike could feel the fear in the woman transmitting to him at her touch.

“Take it easy, kid,” Ike said. “We’re gonna make it.”

“Promise?”

“You betcha.” He looked at the robed woman. “I know that woman.”

“That’s Sister Voleta. She’s head of the Ninth Order. She is evil and perverted and crazy to boot.”

“Sounds like ya’ll real fond of one another.”

“I’d like to jam this .38 up her butt and pull the trigger.”

“Listen.”

“Captain Willette is not performing up to his capabilities,” Sister Voleta said, her voice reaching Ike and Nina. “And those fools at the warehouse deserved what they received for allowing Colonel McGowen to escape. That fat worshipper of a false god is not to leave these mountains.”

Ike’s face reddened with anger and Nina had to stifle a giggle at his expression.

Sister Voleta said, “We have over five hundred people, with that many more coming in, some with tracking dogs to search for that lard ass.”

Ike gripped his M-16 so hard his knuckles turned white from the strain.

Despite the seriousness of the situation-they were only about fifty feet from the roadbed-Nina almost groaned suppressing a giggle at the expression on Ike’s face. Sister Voleta, Nina thought, didn’t know Ike very well at all. True, the ex-Seal was built like a fireplug, but he was muscular, not at all fat.

Ike stuck out his tongue at Sister Voleta. He muttered, “I’m gonna shoot your ass off, bitch. And enjoy doing it.”

“Tell our people within the ranks of Ben Raines” Rebels to step up their activities,” Sister Voleta gave the command. She did not elaborate as to what those “activities” might be. “Already, many of the younger Rebels are swaying toward our side-even if they don’t yet realize it. But, for now, recapture McGowen. He is sure to head either south or east. If so, he is ours.”

The group split up, returning to their vehicles. The guards were the last to go, backing up all the way, weapons at the ready. Ike agreed with Nina: They knew what they were doing. In a moment, the road was clear, the sounds of engines fading into the distance.

Nina’s fingers clutched at Ike’s forearm. “What are we going to do, Ike?” There was panic in her voice. “We can’t fool dogs.”

“Easy, kid. We can fool the dogs if we don’t run into them.” He smiled at her. “So we’re headin’ straight north. I’m bettin’ they’ll expect us to cut “cross country, but we ain’t. We’re gonna backtrack on this road ‘bout fifteen miles.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out an old map of the Chattahoochee National Forest. “See this park road? We cut northeast on it and it’ll lead up to Highway 76. Don’t you worry, little one. We’ll make it. And we might just raise a little hell of our own along the way.”

“We’re due to raise a little hell of our own,” she replied. “Bastards been after me for what seems like forever.”

“Can you use a rifle?”

“I damn sure can. You’re looking at a girl who can do most anything.”

Ike laughed. “I believe it, Nina. Well, then, we’ll just have to find you a rifle.”

“One of those flat-shooting .270’s, if you can. I like that rifle.”

He glanced at her, amusement in his eyes. “Damned if you don’t talk a good battle.”

“I do more than talk, buddy. Believe it.”

“Do we chase them, General?” Ben was asked.

“No. Let them go. No telling how many men he’s got as backup. We could be heading into more trouble than we could handle.” He looked at his map. The column was just a few miles away from the intersection of Georgia Highway 121. “We’ll cut due north here,” Ben said, thumping the map. “We want to give this old nuclear plant a wide berth. Here.” He pointed out the location. “It experienced a meltdown back in “88. Still might be hot around there. We’ll stay with 121 to this point, then cut northwest, come under Fort Gordon. We’ll see if we can salvage something there. Although I imagine it’s been licked clean by now.”

“What’s a meltdown, General?” one of the younger Rebels asked.

Ben smiled sadly. So young, he thought. He was maybe ten years old when the balloon went up back in ‘88. Since that point in the earth’s future, nuclear energy had become a thing of the past.

Ben explained, using layman’s language, what a meltdown was. He looked at the young faces around him. They

don’t understand, he thought. Even the best educated among them have such a deficiency in the sciences and math.

That simply must not be allowed to continue. For the sake of the future generations, it must not continue.

Yet another problem to face.

Ben sighed. “OK, gang. Finish up with those punks left alive and let’s roll it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

They were the younger of the Rebels and the ones with the least education. They had no idea they were being duped and manipulated by Willette and Carter and Bennett. What the three men and those with them said seemed to make sense. If you thought about it. It just wasn’t right for the general to go off like he’d done. And yes, even though they didn’t like to think about it, they reckoned that gods get old just like everybody else. Kind of. How old was General Raines, anyway?

Nobody seemed to know.

Most just shrugged the question off, saying he was ageless.

Ageless? What did that mean? Most of the younger Rebels had been no more than six or seven years old the bombs came, back in ‘88. Most could barely and write. Some could do neither. And they had no desire to learn. It was just too much of a bother, too time-consuming. Who needs it?

Ignorance is the father and mother of superstition, the breeder of far-fetched legends, the sperm of ghostly tales, the lover and creator of myth. And these few, young Rebels were prime candidates. Ageless. Whatever that meant. So … it figured

that Ben Raines must be tired.

But they were convinced that all this, all this talking, all this planning, all this was for General Raines’ welfare.

But who would be in charge while General Raines was resting? Not Cecil. He was kind of like General Raines … in a way. Ike? Naw. Ike was a fighter, not a decision-maker. Then … who?

Captain Willette was pretty smart, and an easygoing kind of guy. Up on all sorts of things. Read big books all the time.

Yeah. Captain Willette could handle the job.

“You’re in a good mood, Ben,” Gale observed. “Cecil must have had some good news.”

The column was rolling toward Millen. And Ben always felt good when traveling, seeing new country. He had just spoken with Cecil. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. Gray’s Scouts reported a lot of activity in the mountains. Near the area where a big fire and a lot of shooting took place. The searchers are bringing in bloodhounds.” He smiled. “Ike got away from them.”

Gale shook her head. “Poor Ike. Chased like an animal. I feel so sorry for him. And why did you just grin?”

Ben laughed, and she could not understand the laughter.

“I fail to see the humor in the situation, Ben.” There was indignation in her tone.

“You don’t understand, Gale. Don’t feel sorry for Ike-feel sorry for the people who are chasing him.”

“You’re right, Ben. I am confused. Ike’s being hunted and you sound like you’re happy about that.”

“Ike is the hunter, Gale. Ike is a master at survival. He knows more dirty tricks than I do. He’ll turn those woods into a death trap for those chasing him.”

“Jesus, Ben. You act like you’d like to change places with him.”

Ben grinned. “Ike’s probably found him a woman by now. Might be interesting, all right.”

“Very funny. Would you like to be up there, Ben?”

“Yes. I think it would be fun.” “Fun? Raines, you have the damnedest idea of fun I have ever encountered. Fun?”

“Warriors are seldom understood, Gale. But they are-or were-much maligned. Warriors are not only molded, Gale, they have to be born with that streak within them. Either one has it, or one does not.”

“Fun, huh? Well, I hope Ike is having … fun.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Ike and Nina had rummaged through an abandoned old home and found a trunk the rats had not chewed through. The large trunk contained old clothing from members of the whole family. Ike and Nina had found clothing that fit them. They had taken a very quick bath in the icy waters of a rushing mountain stream.

Then they lay wrapped in a quilt from the old home, locked in love-making. Both knew it was a very foolish thing to do, surrounded as they were by danger. But that knowledge only made the love act that much more spicy.

Later they lay by the stream, listening to it gurgle and bubble and race past them, a happy sound to its passage.

“Ike? You really think we’re going to get out of this mess with our skins on, don’t you?”

“You just watch ol’ Ike go into action, Nina. I’m a mean motor scooter when I get my dander up.”

She giggled at him. “Well … you may get your dander up, Ike, but that’s about all you’re gonna get up at the moment.”

Ike thought about that for a second. He took her tanned hand and placed it on his penis. “Famous last words, darlin’.”

She felt him thicken under her fingertips. “Why, you old goat!”

Midmorning of the next day found Ben and his contingent of Rebels prowling through the rubble of what had once been Fort Gordon. The post had been picked clean of anything that might be of use to anyone. Litter covered the broken streets; tin cans rolled unchallenged in the buildings as the breeze, coming through the broken windows, pushed the cans along, bouncing them off walls.

“There’s nothing here,” Ben said. “Let’s roll it. We can be in Lincolnton by early afternoon.”

Not wanting to take a chance on the big bridge over the Clark Hill Reservoir being out, the column headed west until reaching Thomson. There they connected with Highway 78 and followed that to the junction of 378 and 47, cutting east to Lincolnton.

Captain Rayle answered Ben’s radio call. “Waiting just west of the first town on Highway 43 South, General. Everything is secure. And we have fresh-caught fish for supper.”

“Sounds good to me, Roger. OK. Coming in.”

An old-time fish fry was underway when the two contingents of Rebels met. Ben was amused at the name of the town.

“Loco, Captain?”

“We thought you’d get a kick out of it, General. Sure isn’t much else amusing about the situation back at the base camp, though.”

“Give me a thumbnail briefing, Roger. And don’t spare me a thing.”

“Yes, sir. Willette and his men have taken in a lot of the young troops, sir. Several hundred of them, at least. Probably more. General, those young troops are not doing it as any act of defiance toward you. Willette has convinced them that you are tired, you need a rest, that you are becoming senile, that that you are so old no one really knows how old you are. The list is staggeringly long.” Rayle sighed. “And a lot of people are buying that garbage.”

“I know the young Rebs aren’t doing this to harm me, Captain. What concerns me is this: What are the odds of us putting this coup attempt down without spilling a lot of blood?”

Rayle shook his head negatively. “Very slim, sir. It’s fast becoming a divided camp. And, sir? Colonel Gray is convinced Willette and his crew are somehow tied in with this Ninth Order business.”

“I have entertained that thought more than once myself, Roger. And I believe this Tony Silver is somehow tied up in it.”

“I read a slim dossier on that one, General. He’s pure evil. The dossier stated that Silver is not only into slavery and murder and forced prostitution, but that he is starting up a pornography business down in north Florida. Mostly kiddy porn and snuff films.”

“Among other things,” Ben added.

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s a snuff film?” Gale asked, walking up to the men. She had a huge plate of catfish, piled high with french fries.

“Is that for me?” Ben asked.

“Hell, no. It’s for me. Get your own. What am I, your servant?”

“Like I said: eats like a horse.”

Gale ignored that. She bit into a piece of crisp-fried fish, then fanned her mouth as she made little oohhhing sounds.

“Hot?” Ben asked innocently.

She nodded her head vigorously.

“Watch the bones,” Roger cautioned.

“Nothing deters her from food,” Ben said, smiling at Gale’s antics with a mouthful of steaming hot fish. “She’ll kill for a hamburger.”

Gale swallowed the fish and took a long drink of water. She sighed and wiped her eyes. “I repeat: What is a snuff film?”

Roger looked at Ben, clearly dubious about telling her. “Tell her,” Ben said. “She asked.”

“Just at the moment of climax,” Roger said, avoiding Gale’s eyes. “One of the performers kills the other.”

Gale looked at the plate of food, looked at Ben, and grimaced. “You might have had the decency to warn me, Ben.”

“You asked.”

She handed him her plate of food. “Here, you eat it. Probably did it just to get my food. Be like you.” Before she walked away, she grabbed a large piece of catfish from the plate. She walked away, munching and fanning at her mouth.

“They using kids in the snuff films, Roger? And who is buying the goddamn things? And with what?”

“They’re not using too many kids, way I hear it.

Mostly women in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties. As far as buying them, sir, it’s not so much buying as it is bartering for territory and guns and slaves. Silver is using slave labor on his farms and small factories.”

“Blacks?”

“All races, sir. If a woman gives him much trouble in prostitution, Silver whips her into submission. And charges admission for people to see the beating. He sounds like a real nice fellow.”

“It’s difficult for me to believe this Sister Voleta would be involved with a punk like Tony Silver.”

“She’s as twisted in her own way as Silver. Sexually bent all out of shape. That young kid, Claudia, told Doctor Chase Sister Voleta gets her jollies from watching people tortured-the torture, more often than not, has sexual overtones. I thought the world was bad, General, but nothing like this.”

“Those types have been around for as long as we’ve stood upright, Roger. They began crawling out of holes in the ground, so to speak, back in the sixties, when the nation’s courts became liberal. Liberal means permissive, and that’s exactly what happened.”

“You wanna know something, General?” Roger asked, an embarrassed look on his face.

Ben smiled. “You weren’t even born then, right?”

Roger’s smile met Ben’s. “Yes, sir.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Stay in the water, Nina,” Ike warned her. “I know it’s uncomfortable as hell, but it’ll help throw the dogs off our scent.”

“It’s cold!” Nina responded. “Jesus Christ! My toes are frozen.”

“Better numb than having the dogs chew them off,” Ike reminded her. “Along with other parts of your anatomy.”

“Thanks, Ike,” Nina said, slopping along behind him in the center of the stream. “You’re a real comfort to me.”

Ike grinned. Nina was one hell of a spunky kid. No, he thought, not a kid. A grown woman. And he knew he was getting very much attached to her. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. But he couldn’t help his feelings.

They both heard the baying of the dogs, far in the distance. The baying changed as the animals picked up their scent.

Ike stopped in the center of the stream. He put an arm around Nina’s shoulders. “And the chase is on, kid.”

“I’m scared, Ike.”

“Well, honey, you’d be a prime idiot if you weren’t scared.”

“You’re not scared.”

“No,” Ike admitted. “Scared isn’t the right word. I’m … concerned. But you gotta understand something: I went through this many times in “Nam, workin” behind the lines up in the North. Believe me, I’d rather have those dogs after us than Charlie.”

“Charlie? Who the hell is Charlie?” Nina asked, as they began once more wading up the stream.

Ike looked back at her. That war, he thought, isn’t even a part of her memory. She wasn’t even born when that misfought, misunderstood conflict came to its disgraceful conclusion. So long ago. “The Viet Cong, baby. The bad guys.”

“I’ve heard some about that war. I think.”

“Well, now,” a man’s voice rang out from the bank above them and to their right. “You two just hold it right where you is,”

Ike and Nina stopped, both looking up. They looked into the muzzle of a shotgun, pointed at them. The man stood flanked by other men, all carrying weapons. One of the men looked at Nina and licked his lips. “Ain’t that a fine-lookin’ piece of ass, boys?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“My friends and fellow worshippers of the great god, Blomm, the ever-knowing and all-seeing Blomm. I have spoken with our supreme ruler. Blomm has instructed me to join with another of his disciples to the north, Sister Voleta and the Ninth Order. Now, we will not have to leave our fine and comfortable homes to do this. All I had to do was pledge our allegiance to Sister Voleta.” What Emil did not tell his followers was that some brutish types from the Ninth Order paid him a visit late one night. They told him if he didn’t cooperate, they would cut his pecker off and stick it in his ear. Emil had almost peed his BVD’S at that.