Blood in the Ashes

“Slave revolt!” Cecil said, folding the paper and tucking it in his pocket. “Dear God. Slaves! I thought all that ended about 1865.”

“It’s a big land, Cec,” Dan Gray told him. “We really don’t know what is happening out there.” He waved a hand.

“Yes,” Cecil replied. He looked south. His eyes were bleak. “I can but wish the slaves the best of luck.”

“I wish we had the personnel to help,” Dan said.

“So do I, friend. So do I.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“No reply from any of our people up north,” Tony was informed. “And I’ve been trying to contact them all day. What do you think it means, Tony?”

“I think it means they’ve bought it,” Tony said.

“Yeah.”

Tony slumped back in his chair. That feeling of impending doom he’d been experiencing all day once more settled around him like a damp, stinking shroud. And he couldn’t seem to shake it. Not even liquor would dull the sensation.

“Any further word from north Florida?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. All bad. The big plantation down at Live Oak was completely overrun by the slaves. I don’t know how they got them guns. The last report we received, the guards had barricaded themselves in the radio building. You could hear all sorts of shootin’. Then the radio went dead. So I guess them guys bought it, too.”

“How bad’s our strength been cut?”

The man shook his head. “Well, if our guys up in South Carolina bought it, that means we lost sixty, seventy percent, Tony. But a full company got out of Perry. They’re headin’ up this way.”

“Ben Raines and his Rebs musta circled around,” Tony said.

“Yeah, boss. He’s a sneaky bastard, that one is.”

But Tony didn’t believe it was Raines who had wiped out his people and the troops of the Ninth Order. Tony did not possess second sight, but he could tell when things were going sour.

“It wasn’t Raines,” Tony said. “I been ki.in’ myself about that.”

“What do you mean, boss? If it wasn’t Raines, then who in the hell was it? You don’t think maybe it was them Russians, do you? Last word we got all them folks was out west.”

“No, I don’t think it was the Russians. We’ve had no reports of them being anywhere near here. But I sure would like to know who the son of a bitch was that zapped my men.”

“Why, my good fellow,” a voice came from the open doorway. “Regrettably, I did.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ike lifted the walkie-talkie and listened. From the strength of the transmission, he figured he and Nina must be practically sitting on top of the Ninth Order’s headquarters.

Together, they listened in silence. When the transmissions had concluded, Ike summed it up, speaking more to himself than to her. “So the soldiers sent down south were wiped out, to a man, along with several hundred troops of this guy Silver.” He looked at Nina. “You know anything about this guy named Silver?”

“He’s a whore-master. He is just as evil as Sister Voleta, in his own way. I’ve never seen him, but I’ve heard stones about him. He keeps slaves to work his farms. He has-was she pursed her lips-“oh, I heard about a half dozen farms and ranches down south, in Florida. And he likes young girls. I mean, real young girls. Eleven and twelve, that young. He likes to hurt them during the … sex. He has several hundred women of all ages in whorehouses around the country. Young boys, too. And he supplies women and girls and boys to warlords around the country, too.”

Ike looked at her, a dozen questions on his lips.

“Warlords, Nina? Tell me more. Where have I been to have missed all this?”

“You really don’t know about the warlords, Ike? You’re not just funnin’ me?”

“No, I’m not funnin’ you, honey. You see, we were kinda isolated-the Rebels-for almost a decade.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Isolated?”

“No. Decade.”

“About ten years.”

“Oh. Well, warlords is kinda like in some of them books I read. Back in the olden times, I mean. This one man, he gets hisself a bunch of other men together, and they stake out a certain parcel of land. So many miles thisaway, and so many miles thataway. Him and the men control all that by force. All the land is his’n.”

“His, baby. His. Not his’n.”

“His,” she corrected herself. “Anyways, all the people within the land claimed by the guy pay him for protection. Whether they wants to or not. They ain’t got no choice in the matter. If they don’t pay, the warlord kills them. They’s all kinds of them people spread out acrost the land. You really didn’t know, did you, Ike?”

“No,” Ike said softly. “No, I didn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me. I…” he sighed. “I guess I should have expected something like it. You’ve traveled around the country quite a bit, haven’t you, Nina?”

Her face brightened in recall. “Oh, yeah! I sure have, Ike. I been all over. I been all the way up to the big water the Indians call … what was it them

Indians called it? Oh, yeah, I remember now. Gitche Gumee. I been-was

“The what?” Ike looked at her, a very startled expression on his face. “What did you just say? Gitche Gumee?”

“Yeah. Ain’t you never heard of that before, Ike?”

“Why … sure I have! It’s from Longfellow’s “Song of Hiawatha.” Oh. OK. You must be talking about Lake Superior?”

She cocked her head and looked strangely at him. “I don’t know nothing about that, Ike. You see, there ain’t no white folks up where I went. It’s all Indians. That land belongs to them, so they said. And I sure as hell wasn’t gonna argue with “em none. They didn’t hurt me a bit. They was real friendly and kind. Give me a bed to sleep in and warm food. And then the next morning, they showed me around the lake and their camp. Tepees and all that. Just like the old times in the books I read. But they called the big water Gitche Gumee. I don’t know and never heard of nobody named Hiawatha. Why don’t you tell me about him?”

“Well.” Ike opened his mouth, then promptly shut it. No point in confusing her, and that would be just about all he would accomplish. Longfellow cast Hiawatha as an Ojibway. But in truth, he was based on the exploits of the Iroquois tribe. That in itself would probably boggle the girl’s mind. Ike sighed heavily. Shit! he thought. Hiawatha, you are just going to have to wait a spell.

Nina looked at the expression on Ike’s face. “You’re sad with me, aren’t you, Ike? I done something wrong.”

“No, no!” Ike looked at her and smiled. “No, I’m not sad or mad with you, Nina. Not at all. I’ll tell you the story of Hiawatha someday. I promise. Right now, though, I’d like for you to tell me about these warlords. How many have you seen or heard of?”

“Oh, golly, Ike.” She shrugged. “Bunches and bunches of them. That’s what this here Sister Voleta is, kind of. But she’s really weird. Up north of here, right on the edge of the big mountains, is a guy name of Joe Blue. He’s a mean bastard, but he ain’t evil like Sister Voleta. Blue’ll just shoot you if he takes it in his head. But he’ll do it clean. Blue claims … oh, four, five counties. All the way from Johnson City clear up into Virginia. There’s another feller named Henshaw over to Boone in North Carolina claims a lot of land, too. I mean, a right smart piece of ground. Up in Kentucky now, over to the Daniel Boone Forest, all that is claimed by a man and woman named Red and Nola. They’re crazy, I think. To the east, now, I traveled as far as the big water would let me. I got captured by these men call themselves the Brunswick Vigilantes. They claim all the land for miles up and down the big water. That’s the …8She was thoughtful. “Yeah! The Atlantic. Them men didn’t hurt me none, but they sure made it plain they wasn’t happy to see me. They gimme some food and told me to leave and don’t come back. And to warn others not to venture-that’s the word they used-over in that part of the country. Oh, Ike, I seen warlords near’bouts ever’where I been the past two, three years.”

Ike sat silent for a few moments, deep in thought. So Ben was right, he reflected. As usual. Ben said it would come to this. The survivors are spinning backward in time much faster than our ancestors progressed. Somehow, someway, we-and it’s going to be up to men and women my age-must put the brakes on this backward slide.

But how?

“Education,” he said aloud.

“What’d you say, Ike?”

“Education, honey. That’s the key. Education. Unlike what was advocated back in the sixties and seventies and eighties, there must be one type of education for everybody, regardless of race or religion or whatever. It’s that kind of shittiest-assed thinking that helped get us in the shape we’re in now. But if you said anything back then, you were immediately branded a racist,”

“Ike, what in the hell are you talkin” about? I don’t understand nothin’ you just said.”

“Let me put it this way, Nina. You know anything about mules?”

“Hell, yes. Horses, too.”

“Well, then, if you was to put two males in harness, and one wanted to go gee and the other wanted to go haw, you wouldn’t get a whole hell of a lot of plowin’ done, would you?”

“Any fool knows the answer to that. You sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“That’s the way it was with education when the country went liberal on us.”

“What’s liberal mean?”

Ike sighed and then laughed. “Honey, don’t get me started on that. Let’s just say that instead of trying to get a curriculum …”

She looked strangely at him.

“That means a course of study.”

“Oh.”

“A curriculum that would best educate all, regardless of color, some folks said that was unfair. Some among them-not all, certainly, but some-wanted to bastardize education. Instead of saying we are all Americans, we are going to live and work and speak in English, as set forth by men and women much more intelligent than me, we are going to call an object by its proper name, some wanted to twist and change all that. Some, again, not many, but some, wanted to bring the level of education down to their level, instead of really making an effort to climb upward. It didn’t work, Nina. One cannot regress, one cannot stand still. There is only one direction, and that is forward.”

“You sure do talk pretty when you want to, Ike. You know that?”

Ike laughed. “That’s the trick, honey. I can butcher the King’s English, but I have a solid base in good education. Some folks didn’t want that solid base.”

“I sure would like to have it. Anybody that wouldn’t must be next to a fool in their thinking.”

“That’s my opinion on the matter. And I’ll see that you get an education, Nina. I promise.”

“How much further to the lake?”

“We won’t make it today. We’re gonna have to take it slow and easy from now on. We’re right in the

middle of Ninth Order territory.” He got to his feet and slipped on his pack, picking up his M-16 and slinging the shotgun. “Let’s head out, Nina. And remember this: Before we stick our heads around a curve in the road, we quiet-like check what’s around the bend first. We’ve come too far to get caught now.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The man lifted his eyes and surveyed the smoky scene that lay before him. Lines of fatigue creased his face. His upper body was burned to a shade of mahogany from years of working shirtless under the harsh sun. He held a bloody knife in his left hand, a .38 revolver in his right hand. Bodies littered the yard of the old plantation home in Live Oak, Florida, that Tony Silver had called headquarters before pulling out for south Georgia.

It had been a terrible, bloody fight between the guards and the slaves, and the slaves had spared no one in their fight for freedom. Many of the guards had women with them, and the women had fought alongside their men-and died along with them.

Those women who had been especially cruel to the slaves, some of whom had performed acts of perversion that would have at least paralleled the atrocities committed by the legendary Bitch of Buchenwald, were dying especially hard. Their screaming echoed faintly over the dusty, bloody grounds.

The freed slave looked toward the big house as a harsh scream ripped the air. Some of the guards’ women had enjoyed acts of sexual perversion-performed upon the men slaves. Now they were getting

a taste of their own evil corruption. And they did not seem to be enjoying it.

A freed slave came out of the great, old plantation house, zipping up his trousers and fastening his belt. He turned to a friend, “Damned bitch liked to see men being sodomized, thought I’d see how she liked it.”

“And?” the man asked.

“You heard her yellin’.”

A single gunshot blasted the still air. The woman’s screaming ceased abruptly.

The man with the gun in one hand and the bloody knife in the other turned his face from the plantation house. He didn’t blame the men for seeking vengeance, but he wanted no part of it.

From the women’s slave quarters a hideous yowling seemed to float forever on the warm air. The male guards who had forced the women slaves into acts of perversion with both men and women-and sometimes animals-were dying hard at the hands of the freed women slaves.

He could not and would not blame the women for seeking revenge.

He turned at the sound of footsteps.

“Soon all will be dead, George,” the woman said, coming to his side. “We’re free.”

George Berger looked at the woman dressed in tattered, faded blue jean shorts and ragged T-shirt. She wore no bra, and her breasts were full and firm, the nipples jabbing at the thin fabric of the T-shirt. That she was part Indian was obvious: The thick, black hair and high cheekbones and wide, sensual mouth marked that heritage. But her eyes were an Irish green

and her body was slender and stately proud. Her name was Joni. She had been captured by Silver’s men in the south of Florida and held in slavery for more than a year. She had been beaten and chained and raped and brutally sodomized, but her proud spirit had never been broken. She had been stripped naked and chained under the hot sun; she had been put in harness and forced to pull a plow like an animal; she had been humiliated in every conceivable manner, but her captors could not break her. Joni was the leader of the slave rebellion.

“Free from the bonds of slavery, yes,” George replied. “But where the hell do we go and what the hell do we do when we get there?”

Joni laughed, her laughter not quite covering the screaming from the men in the women’s quarters. She narrowed her eyes and glanced toward the low building. She shook her head and looked at the man. “You don’t like that, do you, George?”

“Do you, Joni?”

“No,” she said softly. “But nothing the women could do would compensate for what was done to them over the years.”

“I suppose so, Joni. I repeat: What are we going to do?”

“I keep forgetting, George, that you have been a slave for a long time. Have you ever heard of Ben Raines?”

George smiled. Despite the years of backbreaking work and physical and mental abuse, he still wore laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Joni, I haven’t been a slave that long. Sure. Ben Raines. That’s the man who formed his own nation

out west-back in ‘89, I think it was. What about General Raines?”

“I think we should take the people and head north. There, we can join Ben Raines and his army of Rebels. The word I get is that he’s moved his people into north Georgia and is forming another nation up there. As far as I know, General Raines is the only person attempting to bring back civilization, with schools and businesses and law and order. I think we should do that.”

George sighed as he nodded his head in agreement. “You suppose the general would have room for an unemployed accountant?”

Joni touched his arm, hard and muscled after more than three years of backbreaking field work. The touch was surprisingly gentle in the midst of the bloody carnage surrounding the man and woman. “If he doesn’t, George, then you and I will just have to move on. We’ve come through too much together to be separated now.”

The man and woman standing in the middle of grotesque death, embraced and kissed.

The screaming from the women’s slave quarters and the howling of the women from the plantation house ceased. The immediate area was strangely silent. Other men and women, all wearing tattered rags of clothing, with many still bearing the savage marks of the blacksnake whip, joined George and Joni. They were armed with everything from kitchen knives to AK-47’S and M-16’s.

“It’s over, Joni,” a woman announced. “The bastards are all dead or dying.”

“And the bitches,” a man added.

Joni stepped from George’s embrace and faced the men and women gathered around the pair. She counted the heads. Just over sixty. They had taken fearful losses in their fight for freedom. Almost a forty percent loss.

“All right, people, was Joni said, her voice firm and strong with the conviction of one who is right. “There are other slave farms. And there are schools-so-called-where young girls are taught the art of prostitution. There are many elderly people who are forced to cook and clean and perform household chores for Silver’s people. The old are beaten and humiliated and sometimes put to death because they are old. All those people must be freed, all of them, before we can even begin to think of our own well-being. I don’t know how many farms Silver has, or where they are all located, but we’ll find out. And we’ll help free those imprisoned there. With each success, we’ll grow stronger in number. For right now, let’s bury our dead, gather up all the weapons and bullets, and get organized. We’ve got a lot to do.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Great jumping balls of fire!” Emil yelled. “What in the hell was that?”

Gunfire was ripping the mid-morning quiet of the cult. Emil ran to the picture window in the den, tripping on the hem of his robe only twice, and jerked open the drapes. He looked out at a motley crew of men, all heavily armed, and at his flock of followers, running in panic in all directions. Some of his people were lying on the ground, and they were not moving. Dark crimson stains were appearing on their robes, the blood leaking onto the ground.

“Worst than fucking Vietnam,” Emil muttered. “Oh, shit! What am I gonna do?”

An automatic rifle cracked, from the sound of it, Emil guessed it to be an M-16, and the window to his right erupted in a shower of broken glass and splintered wooden frames. Emil ran shrieking from the den into his bedroom. He jerked open the closet door, grabbing up his AK-47. Chambering a round, he slipped the weapon onto full automatic and ran back into the den.

Only Emil’s guards knew anything at all about guns of any type. For Emil’s was a peaceful cult. Rather perverted in many ways, but all that was

about to change. His followers smoked bunches of dope and fucked a lot, but when it came to guns, they were a bunch of schmucks. Emil remembered that word from a Jewish chick he used to ball when he sold used cars up in Chattanooga. For a few seconds, Emil wondered what had ever happened to that chick.

Emil stuck the muzzle of the AK out the broken window and pulled the trigger. Luckily for Emil, a dozen armed men were at the front of the house just as he pulled the trigger. He emptied the clip into the knot of men, knocking most of them to the ground. Emil quickly changed clips and ran out the back door of the house. He ran out into the yard, tripped over the hem of his robe, and fell on his face. It was a very good move on his part, for a hard burst of gunfire blasted over Emil’s head.

Emil jumped to his feet, leveled the AK, and chopped three more of the attackers to bloody bits. It was an awful sight.

“Yuk!” Emil said.

The sounds of hard gunfire reached Emil’s ears. That and the sounds of surrender.

“Don’t shoot no more!” a man’s voice reached Emil. “We give up.”

“Why, you son of a bitch!” Emil muttered.

Emil felt the muzzle of a weapon press coldly against the flesh of his neck. He peed on himself.

And he knew his little scam was over. No more tight, young pussies for Emil. No more young boys to entertain him. No more being waited on and pampered by his flock.

All gone.

“Git on your feet, funny man,” a hard voice told him.

Emil stood up.

“What the fuck is you people, monks?” the man asked.

A light bulb lit up in Emil’s brain. “Why, ah, yes, sir. That is exactly right. We are the, ah, Light of Life order of monks.”

The unshaven, smelly brute knocked Emil sprawling on his butt. “What you is, little man, is a liar. And what else you is,” he said with a grin, “is our prisoners.”

“Right nice spread they got here,” another man said, walking up. “Be a good place to hole up for the winter.”

“Oh, shit!” Emil muttered, from his position on the ground.

“Yeah,” another man said. He held one of Emil’s followers in his arms. The young woman could do nothing as his hands crawled over her body. “Lots of grub and lots of pussy. Some of these … whatever in the hell they is, got away, but we captured a bunch of them.” He lifted the woman’s robes, exposing her naked belly. “Jist look at the bush on this one, will ya? “Nough fuckin” material “round this place to last us all winter.”

“Father Emil!” the woman cried. “Do something. Evoke the powers of the great god, Blomm.”

“Yes!” some of the other captives cried. “Bring down curses on these barbarian’s heads. Use your mighty powers to call down the wrath of Blomm.”

Emil struggled to his hands and knees. He had a frightful headache where that brute had popped him

with the butt of his rifle. “Oh, blow it out your ear,” Emil muttered. “The game is over; the scam is through.”

“Game?” a man questioned. “Scam? Why … whatever in the world do you mean, Father Emil?”

“Father Emil!” one of the attackers said with a laugh. “Father Emil!”

Emil was jerked to his feet and held there by two brutish looking men. God! it was so embarrassing.

“Point your finger at these horrible men and slay them!” a young woman cried. “Evoke the powers of the mighty Blomm, Father Emil.”

Emil looked at her, disgust in his eyes. “Oh … fuck you, you ding-a-ling!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The morning dawned clear and cold, with patches of frost where the sunlight had not warmed and the winds of the night had not touched. Lake Chatuge, which lay in parts of what had once been known as North Carolina and Georgia, shimmered under the first rays of sunlight.

Ike and Nina stood on the crest of a hill overlooking the silver-blue waters of the lake. Using his binoculars, Ike scanned the trucks parked neatly on the west side of the lake, just off Highway 76.

“Well now,” Ike said. “Would you just take a look at that. Makes a body feel right at home.”

Nina watched as a huge smile began working its way across his face.

“You see something down there that makes you happy, Ike?”

“I sure do, honey.” He cased the binoculars and took Nina’s hand in his. “Come on. Let’s meet the gang. That’s Ben and his people down there.”

But Nina pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” Ike asked, not understanding any of this.

“I’m afraid of going down there.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what, Nina? Those are my friends down there.”

“Is Mister Raines among them?”

“I sure hope so. Is it Ben? You’re afraid of Ben?”

“Yes. For the past few years I have heard many people talk of Ben Raines. About how he is God. I have seen monuments built in his honor. I have heard talk of how he is immortal. I have heard about all the times he has been shot and blown up and stabbed and all sorts of things. Yet, the person called Ben Raines will not die. He has built nations, and mortal men do not do that. I have heard whispered talk of a man called the Prophet, and what that ageless one has said of Ben Raines. Yes, Ike. I am afraid of Ben Raines.”

Ike squeezed her hand. “Don’t be, Nina. Ben doesn’t want that. You’ll see, Nina. You’re wrong about Ben.”

She shook her head. “I am right about Mister Raines.”

Reluctantly, she walked alongside Ike, toward the silent camp.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Ike and Nina walked to within three hundred yards of the camp before a sentry spotted them coming down the center of the road.

“Halt!” he shouted, bringing his M-16 around to cover the pair.

“Hold it!” Ike shouted, stopping Nina with a quickly outflung arm. “Don’t anybody get trigger-happy down there. This is Colonel Ike McGowen and friend. We’re comin” in.”

The camp suddenly poured forth all its occupants, all running toward Ike and Nina. Ben’s harsh voice stopped them, roaring over their heads. “Halt, goddamnit!”

The crowd of men and women stopped still as if controlled by one central mind. No one among them moved.

“You all know better than that!” Ben yelled. “What in the hell is the matter with you people? It could be a trap. Guards, get back to your assigned posts and by God-stay put!”

The sentries raced back to their posts and, once there, did not turn around. The others looked at the sky, the earth, the lake, their boots-anywhere but in the direction of Ben Raines.

Ben walked out of the camp area and up the center of the old highway, striding toward Ike and Nina.

“The black gun!” Nina whispered. “I really see it. The enchanted weapon.”

Ike could detect real fear in her voice, and he could feel her trembling as she pressed against him.

Ben was still several hundred yards away from the pair.

“What are you talking about, Nina?” Ike asked. “What enchanted weapon?”

“From the big waters to the north, to the big waters to the south, and everywhere in between, monuments are built not only to Ben Raines, but to the black gun he carries. I told you, Ike, I am afraid of him.”

“But Ben’s not a god,” Ike protested. “I told you, he’s just a man.”

“You say. But many more say he is a god. I’m sorry, Ike.”

Then Ben stood before them, a smile on his face. “I knew no one could ever force you into setting me up, Ike. But a little reminder of discipline is good for the soul.”

“I heard that, Ben.”

Ben held out his hand and Ike shook it. It was much more than a gesture of deep friendship; it was more an act between two brothers.

Nina could not take her eyes from the old Thompson SMG Ben carried. The weapon was a newer model of the old Chicago Piano of gangster days. A .45-caliber spitter. Ben had taped two thirty-round clips together for faster reloading.

He had carried the weapon, or one like it, since the world blew up in nuclear and germ warfare back

Ben looked at Nina. “And this is?”

“Nina,” Ike said.

Ben extended his hand toward the lovely young lady and she shyly and very hesitantly took it. She seemed surprised the hand did not burn her or strike her dead with some magical powers. Such were the ever-growing myths concerning Ben Raines and his supposed immortality. Ben smiled at Nina and she relaxed just a bit.

Ben released her hand and looked at Ike, his expression hardening. “I just came from the communications truck, Ike. We’ve been in scrambler contact with Base Camp. I’ll … give it to you straight. Sally’s dead.”

Ike flinched as if hit by an invisible blow. He paled and then cleared his throat. “How “bout the kids?”

“They were killed with her. I’m sorry. Ike. Sally was trying to protect them with her own body.”

“I see,” Ike replied. When he again spoke, his voice was harsh. “Who did it, Ben?”

“Captain Willette and his bunch.”

“He’s mine, Ben. All mine. I want your word on that, ol” buddy.”

“Ike…”

“No! Give me your word, Ben.”

“You’ve got it.”

Ike nodded his head. He touched Nina’s shoulder. “She’s had a rough time of it, Ben, and not a whole lot of formal education. I said we’d see to that. But she’s one hundred percent Rebel material. She’ll do to ride the river with.” *Out of the Ashes

And that was the highest compliment Ike could give a person.

“You look like you could use a hot meal and about twelve hours sleep,” Ben said to Nina. “We’ll talk more later.” He smiled at her and this time she responded with a shy smile.

At a nod from Ben, one of the Rebel women stepped from the crowd and walked up to the trio. “Come on,” she said to Nina. “How about a hot bath and hot food and clean clothes?”

“That’d be great,” Nina said. She walked off with the woman.

“Let’s talk some now, Ben,” Ike said, when Nina was out of earshot. “What’re your plans? And why have you stopped here?”

“We’re right in the middle of Ninth Order territory,” Ben said. His eyes found Ike’s walkie-talkie. “But I suspect you already know that.”

“Yeah. The first transmission I heard like to have blown my ear off. So?”

“I’ve sent a coded message to Base Camp. Colonel Gray is sending out teams of his Scouts. I want the positions of all Ninth Order troops pinpointed. While that is being done, this afternoon, we’ll head for the deep timber, up in North Carolina, near Murphy. It’s not that far a jump-about twenty, twenty-five miles, and out of their territory. I’m hoping the Ninth Order will think we’re pulling out and away. When we get there, we’ll pull in deep and lay low, send out Scouts of our own. When we get it mapped out and coordinated, we’ll attack from the north, let the others come in from all other directions.”

He removed a map from his field jacket pocket and spread it out on the hood of a truck. “See this highway here, Highway 11, with Lake Nottely to its west?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve ordered Juan and Mark’s people to seal this road. When that is done, we’ll have the Ninth Order in a box. I think we can then wipe them out and forget them.”

“I want to pick my own teams, Ben,” Ike said. “Experienced guerrilla fighters.”

“All right.” Ben smiled, knowing what was coming. “I suppose you want to spearhead the attack, too?”

“You got that right, Ben.”

“Done.”

Ike relaxed. “We ran out of grub this morning. I’m hungry. Think I’ll wander down to the mess truck and rummage around some.”

Ben grinned.

“What’s so funny?” Ike asked.

“We have a lot of Crations left.”

Ike narrowed his eyes. “What… kind … of… Crations?” he asked slowly, bracing himself for Ben’s reply.

“Canned bacon and eggs.”

Ike shuddered. “Then I reckon I’ll just get me a cane pole and go catch some fish for breakfast. I just can’t eat that crap.”

“Ike? First come along with me. I’ve got something to tend to.”

The men walked to the center of the encampment. There, Ben nodded to James Riverson. “Bring him to me, James.”

James nodded silent understanding.

“Trouble?” Ike asked.

“A traitor,” Ben replied.

James and Captain Rayle walked toward Ben and Ike, a young Rebel between them. The man had been disarmed. His face was pale and he was scared as he faced Ben.

“You remember Larry Armstrong, Ike?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen him around.”

Ben fixed the young Rebel with a cold stare. “Some Indian tribes have a saying, Larry. That it’s a good day to die. You ever heard that?”

“Can’t say that I have, General,” Larry replied. He was sweating and his skin appeared clammy. His eyes were constantly moving from left to right, flitting like a snake’s tongue.

“You didn’t do much accurate shooting from the ridge, Larry,” Ben said. “Matter of fact, you didn’t hit anything except air and trees and grass. Care to explain that?”

“I reckon you already know the answer, General. Else you wouldn’t have brought me here unarmed.”

The camp had gathered around the men, standing silently. The staring eyes were cold and menacing.

Larry looked at the circle of men and women. He blurted, “Ya’ll are following a false god! You got no business comin’ in here, pushin’ people around and tryin’ to make others bend to your will. It ain’t right.”

“Who have we pushed around, Larry?” Ben asked. “And what “w”’ are you talking about?”

“We got a right to live the way we want to live,” the

young man said, his face sullen with anger and fear.

“Yes,” Ben told him. “As long as you don’t violate the basic rights of innocent people. But you Ninth Order folks don’t seem to want that.”

Gale almost dropped her sandwich. Almost. “Ninth Order!” she gasped. “You mean … Ben, you mean you’ve known he was part of them all along?”

“Since before we pulled away from the main column,” Ben said, not taking his eyes from the young Rebel. “Or at least I suspected. I wanted to see just how deeply Voleta had penetrated our ranks. How long have you been part of her group, Larry?”

The young man sensed the longer he talked, the longer he would live, for he had no illusions as to his ultimate fate. “Since last summer. I was on patrol when I ran into some of the Ninth Order people up in north Mississippi. Got to talkin’ with them. What they had to say sounded pretty good to me. Love and peace and all that. Sure beats fightin’ all the time, like it is with you, Raines.” Sure death had restored bravado.

Ben shifted his bleak eyes to a young woman. “Mary, take this traitor and shoot him.”

The young woman hesitated briefly. That was all that was needed for two Rebels to move close to her, effectively blocking any lethal moves on her part.

“Let her live,” Larry begged.

Mary spat at Ben, the spittle landing on the toe of one boot.

“Why?” Ben swung his eyes back to Larry.

“God, I hate you!” Larry hissed the words. “I hate everything you stand for.”

Again, Ben had to ask, “Why?”

But Larry would only shake his head. He refused to answer any further questions, from any of the Rebels.

Ben looked at Mary. “Why did you switch sides, Mary? That bothers me. What is it that we-the Rebels-are doing that is so … so repugnant, so evil, that would change you into a traitor? Why would you turn your back on your friends?”

But she would only shake her head.

Ben looked at James Riverson. “Dispose of them, James.”

“With pleasure, sir,” James said.

A minute later, two shots rang out from the edge of the camp.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Tony Silver had jumped to his feet, his hands balled into fists, his face flushed with rage. “What in the hell do you mean, you killed my boys? And who in the hell are you?”

Captain Jennings lifted the muzzle of his AK-47, the gesture stopping Tony cold.

“Steady now,” Sam Hartline said with a smile on his lips. “That’s a good fellow. You have my deepest apologies, Mister Silver. I assure you, it was an accident. I was operating under the assumption those were the troops of Ben Raines. We all make mistakes. Oh, excuse me. I’m Sam Hartline and this is my CO, Captain Jennings.”

Under the circumstances, there was little Tony could do except stand easy and back off. He calmed himself and looked at the big mercenary standing just inside the open doorway of the old motel. Tony sighed and shook his head. “Well, what’s done is done, I suppose.” Then he smiled, the smile very sarcastic. “So you and your boys blew it with General Raines, too, huh?”

Hartline caught the sarcasm. He shrugged his heavy shoulders. “That is … one way of putting it, yes, Mister Silver. However, I can assure you, there

will be a day of reckoning.”

I hope so, Tony thought. He waved the men to chairs. “Coffee?” he asked. “Or maybe something a bit stronger?”

“I never drink during the day,” Hartline said, as primly as a nun confronted with a stiff cock. “But some coffee would be very nice. I take mine black, with one sugar.”

“Hot and black,” Jennings said.

Tony smiled. “I like “em like that myself ever” now and then.”

Both Hartline and Jennings smiled at that. They sat down in chairs around a coffee table.

Steaming mugs of real coffee in front of the mercenaries, Tony sat opposite them across the low table. Tony looked at the men through slitted eyes for a moment, then dismissed his own men with a wave of his hand.

Hartline smiled. “Trust is so important between prospective allies, is it not, Mister Silver?”

Tony merely grunted his reply, not sure exactly what the mercenary meant. “Whatever,” he said. “All right, world conditions being what they are, I don’t think you boys came down here just to offer your heartfelt condolences for wasting my people. So let’s cut out all the bullshit and get down to brass tacks, huh?”

Hartline never took his cold eyes from Tony. “A man of most direct action,” he said. “I like that. Very well. How many men do you have left, Tony? Excuse me. May I call you Tony? Thank you. I’m Sam.”

Tony’s years as a streetwise punk in New York City loomed up strong within him. Something about this

mercenary fairly oozed confidence. And Tony fought down ithe bitter taste of fear that welled up within him. “You hit me pretty hard,” he admitted. “Pretty hard.”

“Yes, I suspected that,” Hartline said, after taking a sip of coffee. He smiled. “Just right. I do love good coffee. It’s becoming so difficult to get. You must have a good stockpile.”

It was not a question and Tony did not reply to it.

Hartline’s smile was knowing. “Tell me, Tony. What are your feelings toward black people?”

“Niggers? Shit, I don’t like “em. Don’t trust ‘em. What is there to trust about a jungle bunny? Sometimes you can find a high-yellow gal to fuck, but that’s about all they’re good for. Other than to do work that’s beneath a white man. I have-had,” he corrected with a grimace of distaste, “a bunch of ‘em workin” my farms down south. We’ve, ah, had some trouble down there.”

“Yes,” Hartline said, leaning forward. “We intercepted several radio messages-some of them quite frantic-indicating you had, ah, something of a problem on your hands. Something about a slave revolt, I believe it was.”

And Tony knew then his organization was laid wide open to the scrutiny of this hard-eyed mercenary. Hartline had missed nothing. And would miss nothing.

Tony reluctantly nodded his head in agreement, waiting for the other shoe to fall. “That’s right, Sam.”

“Very well, Tony,” Hartline said. “Let us strike a bargain. You see, I believe that together, you and I,

why, we could build an empire. You seem to be quite good at organization, while I am quite good at my profession. You are a businessman, I am a soldier. You take care of the business end, and I shall, ah, take care of the more, shall we say, physical problems that might arise. What do you think about that, Tony?”

Tony stared at Hartline for a short moment and then rose from his chair. He walked to the motel window and looked down at Hartline’s men. Hundreds of them, They looked like Tony imagined professional soldiers might look: lean and mean and menacing, capable of handling any situation that might confront them. He slowly turned to face Hartline.

“What choice do I have, Sam?”

Hartline smiled that totally disarming smile of his. “Well,” he laughed. “Actually, none. But consider this: Why should we fight each other? All that would accomplish is both of us taking physical losses. However, my way would guarantee us both enormous profit.”

Tony was anything but a fool. His mind was now racing hard. Hartline was right, of course. With the mercenary backing him, Tony could expand his operations tremendously. But could he trust the mercenary? His smile was hidden at that. Trust? Between two crooks?

Hartline seemed to pick upon the thought. “Trust is something one has to consider, isn’t it, Tony?”

“Yeah.”

“I am not really a trusting man,” Hartline admitted with a smile. “Except where women and power are the ultimate goal. Then one must trust. On the

other side of the coin, Tony, there is this: Can I trust you?”

“Just as long as you play it straight with me, yeah,” Tony said. “You do that, and I’ll play it straight with you.”

“That seems reasonable to me.”

“All right,” Tony said. “We have the cards on the table, face up. We have a deal.”

Hartline rose to his booted feet with the fluid movements of a man in the peak of physical condition. “Very good, Tony! A decision I am sure you will not regret. Now then, let’s discuss this slave revolt down south, and then I’ll take my men and settle matters on your-was he smiled- “our farms.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

When the code word came down the line and out of the speaker, Ben keyed his mic and said, “Confirmed. Report.”

The voice of Col. Dan Gray popped from the speaker. “Juan and Mark are moving into position, General. From the north. They left under darkness last night. It will be go at 0600 tomorrow.”

“We’ll be in position,” Ben said.

“Ten-four to that, sir. I have Rebels moving to beef up your contingent. They should rendezvous with you late this afternoon. The code word is Tiger.”

“I copy that. Luck to you, Dan.”

“And to you, sir. Base out.”

Nina and Ike stood just outside the door of the communications vehicle. Nina tugged at Ike’s sleeve. “What is to prevent the people of the Ninth Order from listening to that conversation?”

“The message is scrambled, Nina,” Ike told her.

She cocked her head and looked at him, confusion in her eyes.

“Both Colonel Gray’s and Ben’s words, while they are going through the air, are unintelligible until they come out of the speaker. There is a little-was he paused, choosing his words carefully-“box inside

the transmitter that puts the words all in the right order and then, a split second later, spits them out so the person on the receiving end can understand them.”

Nina’s mouth formed an O. “Like magic?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Ike’s eyes held a touch of sadness. He thought: She is so very much like a child. “Kinda like that, Nina. But it’s … well, I will explain it to you, I promise.”

“OK,” she said brightly. “But you sure have got a lot of expla*’ to do, Ike.”

Ben looked at Ike and he smiled. Turning to Nina, he said, “Feel free to ask any questions you like, Nina. For that is the only way anybody ever learns anything.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, standing very close to Ike, for she was still very much afraid of Ben.

Gale, sensing the young woman was fearful of Ben, put an arm around her shoulder. “He doesn’t bite, Nina. But he sure can snore.”

Nina looked horrified.

“I do not snore!” Ben said.

“Like an elephant trumpeting,” Gale countered.

“There are people in this world who would kill you for saying things like that, Miss Roth,” Nina told her.

That stopped Gale for a few seconds. She blinked and said, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. There are places of worship all over the nation, built to honor General Raines.”

Ben smiled. “Now, then, woman. Show a bit more respect for me, will you?”

She looked at him. “I wonder if those people ever

read any of those cheap sex books of yours?”

“I did not write sex books! Well …” Ben was thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe one or two.”

“Uh-huh,” Gale said dryly. “And the truth shall set ye free.”

“You wrote books, too?” Nina blurted. “I love to read books. But I have a lot of trouble with real big words.”

“We’ll take care of that, Nina,” Ben assured her. “We’ll have schools operating in just a few weeks where you can learn all sorts of things.”

Ike and Nina walked away, holding hands. Gale watched them and said, “I think Ike is in love, Ben.”

“That and a guilty conscience, Gale. Sally’s death hit him a lot harder than he let on. He told me several months ago that it wasn’t working between them, but he didn’t know what to do about it.”

“I still say he’s in love.”

“Or in heat.”

“Raines …” She looked up at him. “I give up.” She walked off, Ben’s voice halting her. She turned around. “Raines, what do you want?”

“I said you’re going in the wrong direction,” Ben called with a smile. “The food truck is that way.” He pointed, then smiled at the gesture she flipped him.

“The one universal sign that will never die,” Ben said with a laugh.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The guard, Lennie, unlocked the door to the girls’ bedrooms and stood for a moment, looking at them, an evil grin on his unshaven face. “Well, babies, I got news. Yes, indeed, this is gonna be a real kick. Tony just linked up with Sam Hartline, and I hear Hartline’s got him a dick like a horse. And he likes his chickie-babies young and tender. I sure would like to be around when he tries to get that salami of his’n up one of you babies’ pussy.”

Lilli began crying.

“Shut up, Lilli,” Ann told the young girl. “That won’t help none.” She looked at Lennie. He was the one who had made her perform oral sex on him the other night. “Fuck you!” Ann told the man.

Lennie laughed. “That’s the spirit, kid. Hey, what’s the matter, anyways? I thought you liked lickin’ my pole the other night?”

Ann stuck out her tongue at him and hissed her revulsion.

Lennie grinned. “I’m gonna be sure to suggest you to Sam Hartline, baby. Then I can listen to you scream.”

Ann spat at him.

Lennie laughed and closed the door, locking it

from the outside. His footsteps faded down the balcony floor.

“Please don’t let “em hurt me no more, Ann,” Lilli begged, tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t stand no more. One of them the other night tried to get his thing up my behind. I thought I was gonna die it hurt so bad.”

Ann sighed, wondering how all of a sudden she had been elected leader of the young group. Both Peg and Lilli looked to her for advice and leadership. It was a job she did not want.

“Look, kid,” she said to Lilli. “This is get tough or die time, now. I mean it. You heard what Lennie said about this guy Hartlink, or whatever the hell his name is. He likes his girls young. And the bastard probably likes to hurt women, too. The more the women fight him, the more he likes it, ‘cause that means he can hurt them that much more.” Unknowingly, the young girl had pegged Hartline as accurately as anyone ever had. “You follow all that, Lilli?”

Lilli nodded her head glumly. But still the tears fell.

Ann said, “Now I still ain’t got no plans for gettin” us out of here, but I’m thinkin’ hard on it. But I got to have both of you helpin’ me. I can’t do it by myself.”

“You got something on your mind, though,” Peg said.

“Yeah, for a fact. Listen. Lennie likes you, Peg. So I want you to try to get him in that bedroom in yonder and give him some.”

“No!” Peg hissed.

Ann slapped her, the force of the blow leaving finger-marks on the girl’s face. “Listen to me, damn

you. I got to get that knife outta his pants pocket. And I can’t get to it with him in them britches. So that means his pants has got to come off. You follow me?”

“y-yes,” the girl stuttered.

“Look, Peg,” Ann softened her words. “I ain’t sayin’ you gotta like it when he puts it in, but you gotta do it. And all of it’s gotta be done before Tony gets back. I’m the one’s gonna get picked by Hartline, girls; I’m the one’s gonna get hurt no tellin’ how bad outta this deal. You heard what Lennie said. So’s the least you two can do is help me out just a little bit. OK?”

Peg and Lilli nodded their agreement.

“OK,” Ann said. “Now then. All of us get naked. Then you, Peg, go tap on that door and get Lennie’s attention.” She turned to Lilli. “You go wash your face and get them tears outta your eyes. “Cause if this don’t work, girls, I don’t know what in the hell we’re gonna do. Ya’ll heard them guys talkin” the other night. Pussy’s gettin’ old. They gonna roll us over next; and you all know what that means, don’t you?”

The fear of being sodomized wiped out all other fears. The girls moved quickly. They washed their face and combed their hair and stripped. Peg tapped softly on the motel room door.

“Lennie?” she called. “You still out there, Lennie?”

A moment’s silence, then footsteps moving closer to the locked door. “Yeah, pretty, I’m here. What’d you want?”

“I… we’ve got a surprise for you, Lennie. Come on, open the door.”

Another pause. The silence deepened. “What kind of surprise you talkin’ about?” There was open suspicion in his voice.

Ann thought very quickly. She leaned close to Peg and whispered, “Tell him we’re sorry for being so mean and want to make it up to him.”

Peg relayed the message.

“Stand away from the door,” Lennie growled.

The girls stepped back into the center of the motel room. Ann called, “OK, Lennie, we’re away from the door.”

A key ground into the lock. The door swung open, and Lennie stood grinning at them. He licked his lips at the sight of the young, just-budding, naked bodies.

“Well, now,” Lennie said, his voice no more than a whisper. “Well now. Just what do we have here, pray tell?”

“We decided to give you a present,” Ann said, her eyes flirting with him. “You know, for bein’ so mean to you and all. I mean, if you want it, that is, Mr. Lennie.”

“You birds are finally gettin’ some smarts, ain’t you?” Lennie asked. His eyes touched them all, but as Ann had guessed, they settled on the slimness of Peg. Her little breasts were just beginning to bud. Lennie scratched his crotch and carefully closed the door, after taking a quick look up and down the deserted corridor. He walked to Peg and ran his hands over her slim body. “You and me, little bird. You and me.”

Peg shyly touched his swelling crotch and Lennie groaned. “Yeah. That’s the ticket, kid.” He took her

slim arm and led her into a bedroom, his other hand working at the buttons of his dirty shirt. Muted, murmuring sounds drifted out the bedroom door. The sounds of boots dropping onto the old carpet, followed by the soft jangle of belt buckle hitting the floor.

“Gimme some head first, baby,” Lennie said, his voice more a pant.

A few moments of silence, then Lennie said, “That’s good, baby. Come on up here and spread them pretty legs.”

Peg groaned as the man’s weight covered her young body.

“Goddamn, baby,” Lennie said. “You so tight I can’t hardly get it in. Come on, baby, help me. Ah! That’s it. Goddamn, that feels good.”

Peg cried out softly as Lennie penetrated her.

“Ain’t that good to you, baby? Sure it is. Come on, kid, move your ass.”

Then there came the sounds of hard breathing, and the slap of naked flesh onto naked flesh. Lennie muttered filth into the girl’s ear, and Peg cried out as he fully penetrated her.

Lennie began making animal, grunting sounds as he rutted on the young girl.

Ann slipped into the semi-darkened bedroom on her hands and knees, crawling low. But there was no need for that much caution. Peg had positioned herself on the bed so the man’s back would be toward the door. Lennie’s naked, hairy, pumping buttocks faced Ann as she crawled into the room.

Quickly, Ann felt for Lennie’s dirty, stinking jeans. Her fingers found the heavy clasp knife in one

pocket. She removed it and edged her way back toward the door.

“Oh, baby,” Lennie groaned. “That’s the tightest little box I ever had. Ain’t that good to you, baby? Sure it is.”

Ann showed Lilli the knife and together they grinned.

Step one toward freedom was complete.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Sister Voleta knew she should pull what remained of her forces out. Just get out and regroup and then, when she had rebuilt to full strength, when she had once again inflamed her people with her twisted interpretation of the gospel, then attack Ben Raines and wipe the bastard from the face of the earth.

But her hatred for Ben Raines was so intense, so mottled and hairy and scaly from years of smoldering within her, she could not do that. Never. She was prepared to risk all in one final attempt to see Ben Raines dead.

She thought of her son and wondered if he was still alive. She felt certain he was-somewhere. She hoped he was well and happy. He had been such a beautiful child. So full of life. She pushed those thoughts from her. It was unhealthy to dwell too much in and on the past.

She thought of the warlords around her area, and of her pleas for them to join forces with her. It had been a good plan, but they were so shortsighted, men of such little minds, they had, to a person, rejected her plans. Fools!

And then she allowed her hatred of Ben Raines to wash over her in waves of furious and dark acrimony. She allowed this even though she knew in her heart the man was not really to blame. Even though the boy had looked something like Raines. Still she wondered about it.

Calming herself with a visible effort, Sister Voleta began to think in a more rational manner. All that day she had attempted to make contact with Tony Silver. No reply from his base down south. She wondered if he was dead, or had turned traitorous?

Probably the latter.

She walked out of her house and motioned for her commanders to come to her. They had been squatting in the street in front of her home, smoking and talking in low tones.

She faced the men. “You are certain-all of you-that Ben Raines has only a hundred or so troops with him at Lake Chatuge?”

“Positive, Sister. And our scouts report there has been no unusual movement from the camp of the Rebels down in Georgia.”

Ben’s Rebels had all moved out the night before, silently, rolling without lights on their vehicles. Juan and Mark were almost in position, as were Colonel Gray’s people. Cecil was personally leading the assault from the west.

Sister Voleta gave the order she was certain would bring victory to her and ensure the death of the man she hated and blamed for all her misfortune. She was

certain that Ben Raines had somehow managed to kill her chances of becoming a singing star. Although she wasn’t real certain how he could have managed that.

“Move our people out,” she ordered. “Death to Ben Raines.”

CHAPTER FORTY

“We intercepted these messages, Joni,” George said, looking at a notepad. “Somebody named Sam Hartline is moving this way, with a lot of armed men. Who in the hell is Sam Hartline?”

Joni felt a chill crawl up and down her spine. She once had a friend who had been taken by Sam Hartline. Back when the United States was struggling to pull itself out of the horrors of germ and nuclear warfare. Back when VP Lowry was running the country. She had seen what Hartline had done to her friend. Hartline and his men had broken the man. They had sexually abused him and tortured him and broken not only his body but his mind.

Joni shook off the hideous memories. “You must have been captured just as Hartline came to power,” she said. “He’s a mercenary. He was one of Also Cody and VP Lowry’s bully-boys. He’s worse than Tony Silver ever thought about being. If Hartline is heading this way, that probably means he’s linked up with Tony Silver. We’ve got to get our people together and move out. We’ve got to get over to Perry and assist those slaves in the fighting. Let’s move, George. We don’t have much time.”

Some of the slaves were still wearing the remnants

of leg irons when George began shouting out the orders to work faster. The banging of hammers intensified, and finally the last ankle-shackle was broken free. Every man and woman there wore the scars of the leg irons.

The former slaves of Tony Silver left the bodies of the captors and guards where they had fallen in the battle for freedom. Left them to stiffen and stink and bloat under the Florida sun.

The work camp and plantation house and guards’ quarters had been thoroughly searched for more weapons and ammunition. The trucks and cars and vans were gassed up and containers filled with fuel for their journey. Food and water were stored in the vehicles. Now they were ready to move out.

When the last vehicle had rattled over the cattle guards at Tony Silver’s old HQ, the small convoy of armed ex-slaves heading for another slave plantation just outside of what used to be known as Perry, Florida, they were only three hours ahead of Sam Hartline and his mercenaries. Sixty-odd men and women, armed with a mishmash of weapons, against the hundreds of trained, combat-seasoned, and well-armed troops of Hartline.

But the slaves possessed something not even Sam Hartline had ever known: a burning desire for freedom and an equally fierce inner flame for revenge and justice. And that is an awesome combination for any army to fight.

The vultures had been slowly circling, high in the blue skies of Florida, watching and smelling the food that lay sprawled on the ground. Now, as the men and women pulled out, the carrion birds began their

slow drift downward, their huge wing span carrying them ever closer to food.

On the ground, the grotesque birds began feasting, their sharp, fierce beaks ripping and tearing at dead human flesh. They worked at the small of the back first, tearing at the choicest and tastiest food: the kidneys.

The carrion-eaters feasted throughout the day, until they were so bloated with dead meat they could not fly. They waddled off and allowed the wild dogs and wolves and coyotes to snarl and tear at what remained.

Then the dusty grounds became as silent as the scattered skeletons that lay in the torn dirt, small bits of red meat still hanging from bones that would soon be picked clean.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The morning of the day that would forever wipe from the face of the earth the troops of the perverted rule of the Nine Order dawned misty and cold in the mountains. Fall was ebbing in its season in this section of the battered and war-torn earth, the chilly winds of winter blowing close on the waning season’s heels. Breath became white steam in the predawn hours.

Ike and his hand-picked teams had pulled out in the early hours of the morning. By now, they would be moving silently and deadly, deep inside the territory of the Ninth Order, killing quietly and swiftly as they went.

Ike had kissed Nina’s sleeping lips, andwiththe image of Sally and the kids, broken and torn by gunfire, etched in his brain, the ex-Seal had dressed silently and linked up with his waiting teams.

Ike had noticed Ben standing tall and silent in the gloom of predawn. Ben had walked over to his longtime friend.

“What happened to Sally was not your fault,” Ben had spoken softly, so only Ike could hear. “You do not have to go off on what might be a suicide mission simply because you met and made love to

another woman-while the both of you were running for your lives. You know that, Ike.”

“That’s not it, Ben. It really isn’t. Me and Sally had already made up our minds to split the blanket. It’s … hell, I don’t know. It’s the way Sally and the kids bought it that I can’t seem to shake. I talked with Lieutenant Bolden last night. I practically had to drag the story out of him, but I got it all. Damnit, Ben. Killing unarmed women and kids is just too much for me to take.”

“And there is this: Nina told me about meeting warlords wherever she traveled. Warlords, Ben. The country is spinning backward fifty years with every passing month. This has to be reversed, somehow, or we’re going to be in ever-deepening trouble. Willette and Hartline and Silver and this fruitcake Voleta … hell, they’re all one and the same. Put “em in a big sack and shake ‘em up and you couldn’t tell ‘em apart.” Ike caught his breath and his temper and gripped Ben’s arm. “I gotta go, buddy. Luck to you.”

“The same to you, Ike. Let’s put an end to the terror in these mountains today, friend.”

“I heard that, buddy.” Ike turned and walked toward his waiting teams. They vanished silently into the deep timber.

Now, as the first silver fingers of light fought to open against the misty horizon, painting the east a deep gray, Ben stood alone in the center of the encampment, listening. The sergeants had rolled their people out an hour before. The men and women of Raines” Rebels had awakened and become active with the same noises troops had made for thousands of years. Coughing, clearing their throats,

hacking and spitting, grumbling and bitching. Caesar’s Legions probably sounded much the same as they rolled out of their blankets and reached for swords and shields and spears.

Ben looked around him. No light betrayed their position. “I want a cold camp,” he had ordered. “No lights.”

Two full combat companies had quietly joined Ben’s ranks as his people had moved into position just south of Murphy, North Carolina the afternoon past. Two more full combat companies were waiting at Murphy for the general. It brought his strength up to a short battalion.

Cecil and his command were spread out north to south, from Ducktown in North Carolina, to just west of Higdon in Georgia. Mark and Juan had their people covering north to southeast along Highway 11, from the junction of 19 and 129, down to Blairsville in Georgia. The remainder of the Rebels, under the command of a Major Woodward, which included Abe Lancer and his people and the older of Wade and Ro’s young people, were covering the area running west to east in Georgia, from Higdon all the way over to Blairsville.

Colonel Gray and his Scouts, and Colonel McGowen and his teams would engage the enemy in a guerrilla type action, while acting as spear-headers for the main forces, moving in from three directions, slowly pushing the troops of the Ninth Order toward Juan and Mark, who by now had their troops dug in deep and heavily fortified with .50-caliber machine guns, M-60’s and mortars.

The Ninth Order, without realizing, had stepped

into a box, and the doors were closing around them.

Ben’s troops were mounted, in full battle gear, ready to roll, when Ben’s radio crackled. Cecil’s voice was firm and strong. “We have the enemy in sight and are engaging them.”

“Luck to you,” Ben said.

Ben’s radio crackled again. “Have found the enemy and driving them northward,” Major Woodward reported.

“Good luck,” Ben said.

“In position and dug in,” Juan’s radio operator said. “Waiting for the enemy to show.”

“Good luck,” Ben told him. “Move out,” he told his troops.

Cecil’s troops slammed through the line of Ninth Order defenders. They took no prisoners. His troops, with Cecil leading them, moved through Higdon, Copper Hill, and McCaysville simultaneously: one long, hard, coordinated, violent punch. They struck the enemy and hit them totally without mercy.

After the Ninth Order had fled eastward in panic, and Cecil’s troops rolled in with APC’S and light battle tanks and Jeeps and trucks filled with troops, many civilians slowly came out of their homes, relief and welcome in their eyes.

“Are you people the army of the United States?” a woman asked. “God, I hope so. Who is president? Will there be help in here soon?”

“There is no government of the United States,” Cecil said. “It collapsed two years ago and has never been reformed. I’m doubtful it ever will. We are from

the army of Ben Raines. I’m Colonel Cecil Jefferys.”

“That’s even better, Colonel,” a man said. “At least Ben Raines had more than his share of common sense in running a nation. I’ll be more than happy to follow his rule. Those people from the Ninth Order been holding us virtual slaves in here for near’bouts two years. Them and their damned off-the-wall religion. If that’s what you want to call that mess.”

“Which way did the bulk of the Ninth Order troops go?” Cecil asked.

“They split up. “Bout half of them went thataway, to the east. The other half went thataway.” He pointed north. “Toward the gap and the Fields of the Woods.”

“Which group was Sister Voleta with?”

“The one headin” due north. Toward the Fields of the Woods.”

Cecil’s smile was grim. “Straight into Ben.” He turned around, held his arm straight up, and began pumping it up and down. He ended in a pointing motion, due east.

The column lunged forward.

“Luck to you boys!” a man shouted. He took a closer look at the Rebel troops. “And, uh, you girls, too.”

About three hundred men and women of the Ninth Order decided to cross Highway 11 at a small, deserted town just north of Lake Nottely. They made it as far as the old city limits sign. There they died in the single street leading into the town. They were not expecting an ambush; indeed, their scanty

intelligence reported no Rebels from Ben Raines’ army this far east.

About eighty of their members made it out alive and set up positions just west and north of Ivy Log. They dug in and sent word they were prepared to fight to the death.

“How noble of them,” Juan’s brother, Alvaro said. “I see no point in losing anymore troops to this nonsense, Juan.”

Juan and Mark looked at the tough little ex-street fighter from Tucson turned Rebel.

“Yes,” Alvaro said. “You see, the troops of the Ninth Order have further placed themselves in a most unenviable position. They are-was he smiled- “dug in in deep timber. In approximately one hundred acres of timber. The wind is quite brisk today, blowing from south to north. Why not just set it on fire and let nature take care of the rest?”

Mark smiled, teeth flashing very white against his dark face. “You have a cruel streak in you, my friend.”

Alvaro shrugged and smiled. “No doubt my Aztec heritage coming to the front.”

“We don’t want a raging forest fire on our hands,” his brother cautioned. “It could burn unchecked for weeks.”

“Of course not, hermano,” Alvaro replied indignantly. “I plan to set backfires to contain the main blaze. I have nothing against nature. Only the troops of the Ninth Order.”

“A splendid idea, Alvaro,” Mark said. “Why don’t we do just that?”

Raines’ Rebels shot the troops from the Ninth

Order as they ran screaming from the man-made inferno. General Raines had said no prisoners, and that was the order of the day.

When the killing was over, and the fires had been contained, Juan turned to Mark.

“I cannot understand why we have to fight. Why can’t we all just live in peace? What is it within the beast called man that prevents that?”

“When that question is solved, my friend,” Mark replied, “we will be entering the gates of heaven.”

“Here they come,” Colonel Gray said, removing his headset. “It’s Captain Willette and his bunch.”

Ike and his teams had linked up with Dan Gray and a small contingent of Scouts at the ruined and deserted town of Mineral Bluff. Tina Raines was among Gray’s Scouts.

Gray said, “They’re about three miles outside of town, traveling south on Highway 245. A full company of the bastards.”

“Haulin’ their asses, huh?” Ike said with the contempt of the professional soldier. Or, as in his case, the professional sailor.

“That would appear to be the case,” the Englishman replied calmly. “And heading south intrigues me. Preparing to link up with Silver, perhaps?”

“We’re gonna have to deal with that scumbag someday,” Ike said.

“Quite,” Dan said.

Ike turned to a young Rebel. “I want Captain Willette alive, son. Pass the word down the line.”

“Yes, sir,” the Rebel replied, lifting his walkie-talkie. He spoke softly, then looked at Ike. “Done, sir.”

Gray clicked his weapon off safety and onto full auto. He glanced at Ike. “What do you propose doing with Willette, Ike?”

Ike’s eyes were cold. “I propose to hang the son of a bitch-slowly.”

“Rather a nasty business, what?” Gray said with a slight smile.

“Quite,” Ike mimicked the Englishman.

“Closing,” the radio operator said. “Be in the center of town in a minute and a half.”

The Rebels waited motionlessly. They were concealed in old buildings, on the rooftops, behind junked and ruined cars and trucks, behind packing crates and in alleys. They softly clicked weapons off safety and onto full auto. The Rebels would be outnumbered three or four to one, but that was something they were accustomed to; it had helped sharpen their fighting skills. They waited.

The lead Jeep in Willette’s convoy swung onto the street. A man sat in the back seat, an M-60 machine gun at the ready. They were too confident, and that had led them into carelessness.

Ike figured Willette would be in the center of the column, for safety’s sake, and he had figured correctly. The Rebels let the column stretch out before they opened fire at the front and rear of the column.

Willette’s people never had a chance. They were more bully-boys than professional soldiers; only a few among their ranks had ever served in any hard military unit. And that worked against them. They did manage to trigger off a few wild rounds, which

hit nobody. But the ambush was so expertly done, it lasted only a few moments.

“Cease firing!” Gray yelled.

Several Jeeps and trucks were burning at the rear of the column. One gas tank exploded, and that triggered a chain reaction among the last few vehicles in the convoy. The gas tanks blew, sending smoke spiraling into the sky. Debris rained down on the street, adding its crashing noise to the moaning and screaming of the wounded and dying. Willette stumbled out of a car, his hands raised over his head.

“Don’t shoot!” he yelled, panic in his voice. “I surrender. I demand treatment as a prisoner of war.”

Ike walked toward him, a coil of rope in one hand. “Oh, you’ll get proper treatment, all right, Willette,” he snarled at the frightened man. “The same goddamn treatment you gave those unarmed men and women and kids back at home base. You do remember all that, don’t you?”

Willette threw up on himself at the sight of the rope in Ike’s hand. A dark stain appeared at the man’s crotch. “I was under orders!” he screamed. “I had my orders the same as any other soldier. Just like any soldier, I obeyed them.”

“Shit!” a woman Rebel said, contempt in her voice. She spat at Willette’s feet.

Willette glared at her. “You slimy fuckin’ cunt,” he said.

“You wanna swing, Willette?” she said with a grin.

Willette wiped puke from his mouth and cursed the woman.

She laughed at him.

Ike approached Willette. He stopped two steps from him and swung the heavy rope, hitting the man in the face. Willette’s feet flew out from under him and he landed on his butt. His teeth clicked together and blood spurted from a bitten tongue. The rope had opened a gash on his cheek and bloodied his nose. Ike hooked the noose of the rope around Willette’s dirty neck and dragged him down the street to a windowless store front. Willette was screaming and cursing. Each time he would get to his feet, Ike would jerk the rope and Willette would slam to the street to be dragged another few yards, howling and protesting.

Ike stepped up and inside, looping one end of the rope over a support beam. He hauled Willette up, until the man’s boots were a full twelve inches off the littered floor. Ike secured the loose end of the rope and stepped out of the store, leaving Willette gagging and choking and slowly spinning and jerking. Ike did not turn around as he walked off. The act of hanging Willette would not bring Sally or the kids back to life, but it would ensure that Willette never committed another similar atrocity.

Only when the horrible gagging sounds had ceased did Ike look around. He looked at the swollen, blackened face of Willette. The man’s bowels had moved and the stench was as foul as Willette’s living character. Or lack of it. Ike spat on the concrete and walked back to his team.

Tina walked to Colonel Gray’s side. “What do we do with the rest of the prisoners, Colonel?”

“Shoot them,” Gray said.

First intercepted radio reports, picked up from walkie-talkies of the Rebels, indicated Sister Voleta’s troops were getting pasted by the Rebels. Sister Voleta and her troops had been running hard, pushing their vehicles as fast as road conditions would allow. They now stood at the end of an old firebreak road just south of Angelico Gap, listening to the reports filter in. None contained any good news for Sister Voleta.

AH the troops of the Ninth Order had discarded their robes for clothing more practical. Only Voleta wore a robe.

“We’ve had it,” a man told her softly. “Those men who tried to take cover near Lake Nottely were either shot to death or burned to death.”

“Barbarians!” Voleta spat the word. It did not occur to her that she had ordered the deaths of countless men and women and children by burning at the stake.

And the man reporting to her did not bring it up.

The man continued his depressing report. “We’ve lost contact with Captain Willette and his company. There are teams of Raines’ Rebels working all over the area. Ben Raines-was “I don’t want to hear that name again!” Voleta shrieked.

“Yes, sister.” The man bowed. He was faithful to the end, and the end was only moments away.

He opened his mouth to speak and Sister Voleta waved him silent. “I know, I know,” she said. “I thought we were strong enough to defeat… that pig. I was wrong. I shall be big enough to admit it. Very well. We are not beaten. Far from it. We shall someday emerge stronger than ever. But for now,

we’ll head for the gap and the highway just north of it. We won’t be able to take the vehicles any further. We’ll have to leave them here and walk the rest of the way.”

“Yes, Sister. I’ll take the point.”

“No, Lester.” She put a hand on his arm. “You and a few others stay with me. I have a feeling about this.”

“As you wish, Sister.”

They walked straight into a deadly ambush. Ben and his people were hidden in the gap and chopped the men and women of the Ninth Order to bloody rags with machine gunfire. After only a minute, Ben called for a cease fire.

The Rebels picked through the carnage, gathering up all the weapons and ammo and usable equipment. They stripped boots from the dead and any clothing that wasn’t ripped by slugs.

Sister Voleta was not lying among the dead and dying.

“That yo-yo got away,” Captain Rayle reported to Ben. “I don’t know how she managed it, but she did.”

I’ll have to contend with her someday, Ben thought. This isn’t over. Her hatred for me is so intense, she’ll keep trying to kill me, one way or the other.

I wonder if that baby was mine? he concluded. I guess I’ll wonder all my life. Unless I run into him someday.

Ben walked among the dead and dying, picking his way carefully among the bloodstained rocks and brush.

Will this never end? Ben silently questioned the force that controls the destiny of every living thing.

Will those who follow me ever be allowed to live in peace? Must we, for the remainder of our lives, go constantly armed, forever doomed to wage one battle after another, simply for the right to exist?

He thought of Gale and muttered, “I wonder how many times so many Jews wondered the same thing?”

A cold rain began falling, chilling the earth and those who still lived upon it.

Is that your reply? Ben pondered, remembering the savage night on the motel balcony.

Ben stopped his aimless wandering along the battlefield and looked down, looking into the eyes of a man who lay dying at his booted feet. The man spat at him and cursed him, the hate within overpowering the pain within and without. His voice bubbled from a chest wound and the rain that fell into his open mouth.

“It ain’t over,” the man gasped his promise. “You won this fight, but a lot of us got out. They’ll get you, Raines. And you’ll die hard, I can promise you that.”

“Why?” Ben asked.

““Cause …‘cause America didn’t work, that’s why. You … said so yourself, back in “89. All we was tryin’ to do was live our own way.”

“But your society was based on a twisted religion from the mind of a woman so overcome with hate it defied normal thinking.”

“Our right,” the man gasped, blood, pink and frothy, bubbling past his lips.

Lung shot, Ben thought.

“We’ll get you, Raines,” the man once more

uttered the death threat. “I wish I could be there to see Sister Voleta burn you at the stake. Listen to you scream and beg for mercy.”

“Why did you follow her?”

The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered several times, his boots drumming on the wet earth. His final reply was a sighing of air leaving his dead body.

Ben looked at the men and women gathered around him. His Rebels. His.

I’ve got to get away from this, Ben thought. These people must learn to cope without me. They have to do that, for future generations. I must leave. And not just for their sake, but for my own, as well.

Ben sighed. “Let’s go home, people.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Joni and George arrived at the slave camp just outside what used to be known as Perry, Florida just as the slaves were finishing with their former captors. It was not a pretty sight. Bodies were hanging from tree limbs, sprawled in death on the dusty grounds, and some had been staked out, spread-eagled naked under the sun, and covered with baby oil. The sun was slowly roasting them to death, in a most painful manner.

This was a much larger plantation, a combination cattle and farming operation, so there were almost twice as many slaves and almost four times the guards that had been at Live Oak. The fight had been savage and bloody, and the slaves, of all races and creeds and religions, had taken a number of casualties; but they had killed all the guards.

Joni introduced herself and George, asking, “How many more slave farms did Tony have, and where are they?”

“Four,” the leader of the Perry group said. “But we only have to worry about two of them. At the plantations in Clarksville and up in Graceville, the guards won. They killed all the slaves. Just lined them up and shot them down.” The speaker’s name was Lou,

a middle-aged man, but one who looked as though he had made his living as a stevedore prior to slavery. His chest was huge and his shoulders and arms padded with muscle.

“We’ve got to get to the rest of the plantations as quickly as possible, ” George said. “Some mercenary named Hartline is on his way down here.”

“Sam Hartline!” Lou said, his face paling as he spoke. “Oh, God! That’s a bad one. I remember him from three, four years ago. You’re right. We’ve got to get rolling in a hurry.”

Joni looked at the cheap wrist watch on her wrist. “Can we make it, Lou?”

“I think so, miss. We’re pretty well armed all the way around and radio reports from the other two plantations indicated the revolt was on the side of the slaves. What do you have on your mind, Joni?”

“Linking up with Ben Raines.”

Lou nodded. “I think that’s a good thought, Joni. I was on my way out to the old Tri-States with a bunch of people back in “93 when we were ambushed in Iowa. Forced us to turn back. I always regretted we didn’t make it.”

“How long before your people can move out?” Joni asked.

Lou looked around him. “Give us an hour. You folks can get on Highway 27 and move on south until you reach Cross City. Wait for us there. Once we link up, we’ll move against what’s left of the guards at Chiefland, then head on over to Newberry. Do you know which route Hartline is taking down here?”

“Yes. Interstate 95.”

“All right. Just as soon as we clear Newberry, we’ll

take 41 up to the intersection of Interstate 75 and pour it on. That will take us right up to the ruins of Atlanta. You folks shove off. Weil link up with you in about two hours.”

“You think we have God on our side in this one, Lou?” Joni asked.

“There is no God,” Lou replied bitterly. “I gave up believing in that a long time ago. As far as I can tell, we’ve got only two things left to believe in.”

“Oh?” George looked at the man.

“Ourselves and Ben Raines.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Tony grinned at Ann. His grin was anything but nice. “I don’t trust you, baby,” he said. “I think you’re up to something.”

Ann said nothing. She crouched naked in the center of the bed. The knife she had stolen from Lennie was under her pillow, the blade open.

“I don’t know what,” Tony said. “But I’m gettin’ bad vibes from you. So you and me, baby, we’re gonna get it on one more time. Then I’m gonna give you to Sam Hartline.”

This time, Ann could not prevent a hiss of fear and revulsion.

“Yeah.” Tony grinned. “Hartline’s gonna split you wide open. It should be interestin’ listenin’ to you squall.”

There was nothing Ann could say, so she remained silent.

Tony checked his watch. A gold Rolex he had stolen years before. “Hartline ought to be back in two days. So you and me, baby, we’ll get it on tomorrow for the last time.” He grinned, exposing soiled and rotten teeth. “You rest up tonight, baby. “Cause tomorrow, I’m gonna roll you over and take a whack at you from that direction.”

He laughed and walked out the door, carefully locking it behind him.

Ann turned on the bed and looked at Peg and Lilli, “You heard him. I get it tomorrow. I got to do it tomorrow, or it’ll never get done. Ya’ll pack, and keep it light for fast travelin”. Spare shirt, jeans, socks and panties. Any food you might have hidden back. This time tomorrow, we’ll either be free, or dead.”

The girls hurried from the room. Lilli looked back. “Can I take one of the dollies, Ann?”

“Yeah,” Ann said. “You can take one of your dollies.”

“You gonna take one of your dollies, Ann?” Peg asked.

Ann shook her head. “No.”

“Why?”

““Cause I think, after tomorrow, I will have outgrown dolls.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Ben stood alone at the mass grave site. His face wore a grim expression.

“All this,” he muttered. “For what? All these lives, snuffed out. For what?”

But only the silence of the grave greeted him. And graves do not speak.

Gale was surprisingly cheerful when Tina visited her while her father was at the grave site.

“You’re pretty chipper today, Gale,” she said. “What’s up?”

Gale smiled at the young woman; they were about the same age. “Oh, I guess I’m just happy to be getting settled in one place. It’s a nice house, don’t you think?”

“It’s lovely.”

The home she had chosen was on the outskirts of what had been known as Dalton, Georgia. It was not a large home, for Gale knew Ben was probably only days, maybe hours, from taking off on his quest, and she didn’t want too large a house to look after.

“Tell me the rest of it?” Tina prompted, taking the cup of tea Gale fixed for her.

“I’m happy because Ben is happy. Well, as happy as he ever is.”

“Because he’s leaving?”

“Yes, as odd as that sounds.”

“I understand,” Tina said. “Believe me, I do.”

“I knew you would. When are you and Robert going to marry?”

“Probably never,” Tina said matter-of-factly. “You know that marriage has become, is becoming, kind of old hat.”

“One more long-accepted social institution gone,” Gale replied with a smile. “Perhaps it’s time for that.”

Tina shrugged. “Who knows? Dad doesn’t seem to object. Least he’s never said anything about it.”

Gale grinned at her. “How could he?”

Both young women chuckled.

“You going to live here all by yourself, Gale?”

“Yes. I’ll be all right. You and Bob are right down the street. Ike and Nina have settled in a house right behind me. So I’m not afraid.”

Tina finished her tea and rose. She said, “Lots of women would be pitching a fit right about now, Gale. They wouldn’t put up with Dad leaving.”

Gale shook her head. “Ben would never have chosen that type of woman.”

“You’re right. You know him pretty well, don’t you, Gale?”

“Well enough to let him go,” she said with a smile, and the smile was not at all forced.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

How degrading! Emil Hite thought, as he shuffled along, carrying dirty clothes to the women to be washed. One day I’m king of the mountain, the next day I’m a fucking gofer.

“Hurry up with that laundry, you asshole! “one of the women squalled at him.

Just think, Emil pondered the frailties of being a god. One day they are groveling at my feet, the next day, they are shrieking at me like a bunch of fishmongers.

Oh, woe is me! Emil thought.

“Get your stupid ass over here with those dirty clothes!” a woman howled at him. “And be quick about it.”

Emil stumbled on the hem of his robe and the laundry basket flew from his hands, dirty clothes spilling out onto the ground.

Everybody started yelling at him, calling him the most awful of names.

Emil got to his knees and looked upward. “Why me, Blomm?” he said aloud. “Why me?”

One of his captors put a number twelve sized boot on Emil’s ass and that put an end to any questioning of the Great God Blomm.

As Emil hurriedly picked up the dirty clothes, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the young girl, Lynn, being led into what had once been Emil’s house. She was giggling and simpering and allowing the man to touch her in the most intimate of places.

Lynn had been Emil’s favorite. She gave great head for someone barely in her teens,

Oh, well, Emil philosophized. Easy come, easy go. “Hite!” one very large lady squalled. “Get over here with those clothes, you stupid prick.”

“Yes, Sister Hilary,” Emil said.

“And knock off that ‘Sister” shit, you phony,” Hilary yelled in a voice that made Emil’s head sting.

Bitch had a voice that would crack brass, Emil thought.

“And you better not wear yourself out, either,” Hilary warned. ““Cause tonight it’s my turn with you.”

Jesus! Emil thought. And again, Why me?

Emil fervently wished he was back in Chattanooga, selling used cars.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

“Got a new truck for you, General,” Colonel Gray told Ben. “My Scouts found this one up in Knoxville.”

“Looks brand new,” Ben remarked, as he walked around the Chevy pickup. No doubt about it, the truck was a nice one. Everything that could be put on a truck was on this one. It was a long wheel base, four-wheel-drive Chevy. The camper top was new and bolted down securely. The cab held enough radio equipment to transmit anywhere in the continental U.s., Ben reckoned. Bucket seats, with new clamps bolted between the seats for Ben’s Thompson. The truck had two gas tanks and two spare tires bolted inside the camper.

“It is new,” Dan said. “Well … the last model made, back in “88. My people found it in a private garage out in the suburbs.”

“Uh-huh,” Ben said. He wondered how many tracking devices Dan had hidden in and on the truck. Several, he concluded.

“We, uh-was the usually eloquent Englishman seemed at a loss for words-“well, we just thought you needed a new vehicle before you, ah, left us, sir.”

“Thank you, Dan,” Ben said quietly. “It is, ah,

common knowledge that I’m taking off soon?”

Dan nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

“I see. I won’t be nurse-maided, Dan.”

“I know that, sir.”

“But you’ll probably send teams out to try and keep an eye on me, won’t you?” Ben asked with a smile.

“Oh … probably, sir.”

“Good luck, Dan.”

The Englishman smiled. “Thank you, sir.” He patted the hood of the truck. “Enjoy, sir.”

As Dan was walking off, Doctor Chase walked up.

“Hello, you old goat,” Ben greeted him.

“Old goat to you, too, King Raines,” the old doctor fired back. “When are you planning to leave on your idiotic odyssey?”

“Soon.”

“I see. Gale is not going with you, I hope.”

“No. She’s staying.”

“Who are you leaving in charge?”

“Cecil. I’m going to call all the troops together tomorrow sometime and pin general’s stars on Cecil’s shoulders. I suggested I do the same with Ike, but he rather bluntly informed me he never wanted to be any type of fucking officer to begin with.”

Doctor Chase laughed. “That sounds like Ike.”

“While I’m gone, Lamar, I’m going to lay out the route for outposts. I discussed that with you. I’ll be back next year and we’ll start heading westward, setting up forts as we go. I think, Lamar, that is the only way we’ll ever have a chance for any type of civilization.”

“I agree. Well-was he cleared his throat-“you

bastard, I’ll miss you.”

The two men shook hands.

Doctor Chase returned to the overseeing of his new clinic, and Ben walked to the quartermaster’s new area and began drawing supplies.

“Be sure to put an old portable typewriter in with the other gear, Sergeant,” Ben instructed. “And round me up several boxes of white paper. Good bond.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he left, Cecil fell in step with him. “You do plan on keeping in touch, don’t you, Ben?”

“You know I will, Cec. But you’re not going to run into any problems you won’t be able to handle easily.”

I hope, Cecil silently prayed. “I’ve instructed everybody to be in formation at 1200 hours tomorrow, Ben.”

“Good.”

Cecil still did not know what Ben planned to do at the formation. Ike had been sworn to secrecy. “You going to make a speech, Ben?”

“A very short one. I plan to be up in Kentucky by nightfall.”

“Well … see you tomorrow, Ben.”

“Tomorrow, Cecil.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Tony Silver stood naked over the girl who whimpered in pain and fear on the bed. Ann was naked. The marks of the belt vividly crisscrossed her flesh. Tony tossed the belt to the floor and slapped her viciously across the face, rocking her head and bloodying her mouth.

“Bitch! I wanna know what the hell you’re up to.”

“Nothing, Tony,” the child cried. “I swear it. Nothing.”

“Then how come I don’t believe you?”

In reply, Ann rolled over on her back and spread her slender legs. She watched Tony’s face change and heard his breathing quicken.

Tony hefted his growing erection and smiled at her. “Come over, here, baby, and kiss this for me.”

Ann scooted across the bed and put her small, bare feet on the carpet. Her right hand slipped under the pillow and gripped the handle of the sharp knife. When she looked up at Tony, he was slowly masturbating himself, his eyes closed.

Quickly she moved to him, and faced his hardness, one slender leg on either side of Tony’s hairy legs.

He pushed the head of his penis against her mouth. “Suck it for me, baby,” he said.

Ann gripped the knife with both hands and drove it into Tony’s soft lower belly, just a few inches above his pubic hairline. She savagely jerked the blade upward, for she had driven it in with the sharp edge facing upward.

Tony made a low choking sound and opened his mouth to scream. Ann jerked the knife out and, using all her strength, drove the blade as deep as it would go into the center of his chest. The blade tore into his heart and Tony fell backward onto the carpet, dying soundlessly in his own blood.

Peg and Lilli came into the bedroom. They looked at the sight, no emotion at all registering on their young faces. They were survivors; they had seen far worse than this in their young lives.

“It’s dark out,” Lilli said.

“Get your stuff together,” Ann said as she hurriedly dressed.

The girls raced for their slim bundles. Each girl had packed her favorite dolly inside.

All except Ann. She looked at her small collection of dolls scattered on the floor and shook her head. She looked at the blood on her hands.

“Too late for that,” she muttered.

She picked up Tony’s .38 snub-nosed Chief’s Special and checked it as she had seen him do many times. All five chambers were filled. Ann knew something about guns, although she was far from being an expert shot.

Ann gave the knife to Peg with this warning, “Don’t hesitate to use it.”

Lilli darkened the lights and pulled back the drapes. “Only one guard, and he’s clear down

at the other end. No, wait! He’s walkin’ off down the corridor. He’s around the corner and out of sight. Come on!”

The girls raced down the corridor and within seconds were on the ground level. Ann looked toward Patsy’s room.

“You two wait for me down on the corner. Right over there.” She pointed. “Go on. I got something to do. If I’m not there in fifteen minutes, you two take off. Head north. That’s where Mr. Ben Raines is. Find him. Shove off!”

They ran and were soon out of sight in the dark night. Ann walked silently toward Patsy’s room. She stopped once, to pick up a brick from the ground. She knocked softly on the motel room door.

The door opened. Patsy had only a second to register her shock at seeing the young girl before the brick smashed into her face, knocking her backward. She fell to the carpet, her face broken and bleeding. Ann hit her several more times with the brick, hearing and feeling her skull pop. She tossed the brick to the floor.

“Bitch!” she said.

Then she was gone in the night, joining her young friends.

The trio headed north. Toward the Base Camp of Ben Raines.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

“We’re too late,” Captain Jennings told his commanding officer.

Sam stood in the middle of what was left at Live Oak.

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “We’ll drive over to Perry, but I have a hunch we’re going to be too late to do any good over there, as well.”

Had Sam not elected to take the interstate for faster traveling, and chosen the southern route instead, he would have intercepted Lou and his bunch of freed slaves just as they were pulling out from Perry. As it was, the two groups remained miles apart.

When Lou caught up with Joni and George at Cross City, they traveled on to Chiefland, only to find the battle was over. The slaves were victorious.

Now more than two hundred strong, the group traveled to Newberry. There, they assisted in mopping up what was left of Tony’s guards, and without stopping to take a rest, immediately left, heading north on Highway 41. They followed that until it intersected with Interstate 75, and continued north, only stopping for refueling and bathroom breaks.

By the time Sam and his mercenaries finally reached what was left of the plantation at Chiefland,

Joni and George and Lou and the freed slaves were a full seventy-five miles up into Georgia. And rolling northward toward freedom.

Sam told his men to stand down and camp for the night. He walked to his communications van to call in to Tony. When he learned Tony was dead, and the three young girls gone, Sam chuckled. He relayed the story to his officers and noncoms.

Captain Jennings summed it up. “So now we got controlling interest of the only game in town, eh, Sam?”

“That is correct,” Sam said, lighting a long, slim cigar. His men never asked where he got the cigars, and Hartline never offered any explanation, “Such as the game has turned out to be.”

“Who killed Tony?”

“Who gives a shit?” Hartline replied, puffing smoke to the slight breeze that wound through the trees. He was thoughtful for a moment. “We can forget the slaves that were here,” he said. “Come daylight, I want a full platoon to stay in this area, and start picking up anyone who comes wandering through here. Start getting these places back in shape. The crops are harvested for this season, so we’ll have some months to rebuild. Fuck Tony Silver.” He smiled. “I was going to kill him first chance I got, anyway.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Ben pinned the silver stars of a general on Cecil’s jacket. He smiled at the man and shook his hand.

“I wish you had warned me about this, Ben,” Cecil muttered so only Ben could hear.

“If I had, you’d have run off and hidden,” Ben replied.

Cecil joined Ben in laughter.

Ben turned to face his people, now more than three thousand strong, counting Abe Lancer and his mountain people and Dave Harner and his group from Macon. Ben lifted a bullhorn to his lips.

“There is a lot I could say, but I never liked long speeches. But let me say I am so very, very proud of you all. I’ll be leaving in a few moments, heading out to at least start what I had planned on doing back in ‘88. That is to chronicle the events leading up to and just after the great war that brought this nation to its knees.

“I am leaving in charge a man I have the utmost faith in, General Cecil Jefferys. I don’t want any emotional goodbyes. For I will be back. And when I return, I want to see permanent homes, schools, farms, and an orderly, productive society. You’ve all done it before, you can do it again. And you don’t

need me standing over you telling you what to do.

“Call this a small vacation for me. Just getting away from the office for a time. I’ll see you people in about six months. That is all. You have duties to attend to, get to it.”

Ben lowered the bullhorn, handed it to Cecil, and walked toward his new pickup.

The cheering behind him lasted for more than five minutes before Cecil shouted them down and sent them back to work. To rebuild something out of the ashes.

Gale was waiting for him at the truck. She smiled and said, “Well, Raines, if you’re expecting me to get all mushy and sentimental, you’re going to have a long wait.”

“Heaven forbid, Gale. That would destroy my image of you.”

“Uh-huh,” she said dryly. She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “You take care of yourself, Ben.”

“I’ll do that, kid.”

She slipped from his hands and walked away to where Tina was standing. Tina flipped her father a salute and Ben returned it. He got into the pickup, and drove off, heading north into Kentucky.

“You handled that rather well,” Tina said.

“Damned if I was going to cry,” Gale said. “One thing I learned about Ben, he doesn’t like weepy women.”

“Well, you can have a good cry when you get behind closed doors at your house.”

“No,” Gale said. “Ben wouldn’t want that. I’ve got him growing within me, and that is enough. He’ll be

back. Whether to me, or to someone else, only time will tell. I think this, Tina: Ben is a man whose destiny is carved in stone. And he’ll see that in a few months. He will see where his duty lies. And he’ll come back. His destiny is not to wander the earth like a nomad, but rather to build, to bring order out of chaos, civilization out of anarchy, towns and cities out of rubble. He knows all that. He’s just got to clear his mind. And when he does that, he’ll be back.”

Tina smiled. “You know him pretty well, Gale.”

“Knew him,” she corrected softly.

Both women looked up at the sounds of engines drawing closer. White flags flew from radio antennas on each vehicle.

James Riverson walked up. “The slaves from down south,” he said. “They radioed us they were coming in.”

“Survivors,” Tina said.

“From out of the ashes,” Gale softly said. “More men and women looking for order in a world gone mad.”. She looked toward the north, toward the now-empty highway Ben had taken. “Good luck, Ben.”