Blood in the Ashes (2 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Must have been a serious violation.”

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

“An outsider? Where is she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have been in contact with Father Hite. We might join forces with him.”

“Father
Hite!” Ben laughed at her. “All right, lady, you do that. It's just as easy for me to cut the string on two yo-yos as one.”

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

“Nice people,” Ben muttered.

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

“What is your name?” Ben asked.

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

“Claudia ... ?” Ben prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben sighed.

“How much schooling do you have, girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What to do?

He didn't know. Yet.

 

 

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

“Where are you going, Ben?”

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

“Ben . . .”

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

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

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

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

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

“But of course,” Dan said, returning the smile. “Besides, with Ben gone, we can get a more accurate picture as to the next moves from Carter, Willette and Bennett. Those three and their followers are up to no good.”

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

 

 

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

So Ben didn't go to Atlanta.

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

It finally reached the point of irritation.

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

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

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

“Thank you for your concern. However, there is another reason for my devious behavior.”

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

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

“Yeah. So what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to explain the word?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, crap, Ben. Your analogy is all twisted. That's not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In five minutes it was over. No prisoners.

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

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

“Weapons?”

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

“Let's roll it.”

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

 

 

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

“Couldn't be what?” a Rebel asked.

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

“At least tell us where it came from.”

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