Ashes - Ambush In The Ashes Part 17

But what bothered them all, even though it was mentioned in quiet whispers, was the absence of people.

"Scouts report they found a boneyard," Corrie told Ben softly, after moving to his side. "Just outside of town. Hundreds of skeletons. Men, women, and children."

"Let's go take a look." Ben struggled into his poncho and picked up his CAR.

"All of them shot, General," the doctor said, standing up from his inspection upon Ben's arrival. "You can see the slugs in some of the skulls."

"Tribal warfare," Ben said softly, squatting down and sticking the muzzle of his CAR into a gaping eye socket. He shook the skull and the slug rattled about. "Probably. But I don't imagine we'll ever know forsure. How many you estimate here, Doctor?"

"Five or six hundred, give or take a hundred. Hard to tell the way the bones have been scattered by foraging animals."

Ben stood up. "Well, at least here we know what happened to the people.

Perhaps never the why, but at least the what."

Ben walked off, muttering about ignorance, butchery and barbarism. For once, the press had nothing to say as they gathered around in the rain, standing silently, filming the scene for their viewers back home.

146.

At Port Loko Ben told the press about the conditions in Freetown. "Any of you who wish may go to Freetown if that is your desire. I won't stop you."

"You will provide escort?"

"No. I will not."

A silence greeted Ben's statement, then a few members of the press protested. But the older hands said nothing. They understood that Ben was under no mandate to provide them security. He had not asked for the press and considering that, Ben and the Rebels had been very accommodating thus far.

Four members of the press stood up, one stating, "We feel it is our obligation to visit the city and report on the events here."

"Good luck," Ben told them.

The four press types took their crews and pulled out the next morning.

They were never heard from again.

From Port Loko, the column crossed the Rokel River and headed for Moyamba Junction. The Rebels found a few people still in the town and the doctors went to work. Ben and team, trailed by several members of the press, walked around the town during a break in the rains. There wasn't that much left to see in the battle-ravaged town.

"General," Stan Travis asked, as they strolled along.

147.

"How many people would you estimate have died on this continent since the Great War?"

"Stan, I have absolutely no idea. But I would guess several million at least. Perhaps as many as ten times that number. I doubt that anyone will ever really know. And we really don't know what has happened in Asia, China, South America, or what used to be known as Russia."

"Do you plan to visit those areas?" Marilyn asked, in a surprisingly civil tone of voice.

"Yes, if I live that long, Ms. d.i.c.kson. Of course, a lot hinges on what happens back home.""You're speaking of the reunification of the States, General?" Ford asked.

"Yes."

"Your section is the last holdout," a reporter Ben didn't know stated.

Ben smiled as they continued strolling along through the deserted town.

"The SUSA is a sovereign nation, sir. We have our own const.i.tution and bill of rights, both patterned after the original doc.u.ments; indeed they are almost identical-except ours give the law-abiding citizen a lot more rights. We will not rejoin the Union."

"Under any conditions, General?" Alex Marsh asked. It was the first question he'd asked since Ben got all over his case miles back.

"We are a separate nation, Mr. Marsh. We intend to remain that way."

"The United States of America might use force in order to preserve the Union, sir," another reporter said.

"They might, indeed," Ben replied, never stopping his walking. "But when they do it will be the end of America as any of you know it."

"Is that a threat, sir?"

"That's a fact, son. A fact."

148.

William W. Johnstone * * *

Within twenty-four hours, newspapers all across the reunited USA hit the streets with the glaring headlines: GENERAL RAINES PROMISES WAR IF USA USES FORCE AGAINST SUSA.

SUSA THREATENS WAR AGAINST AMERICA.

WAR TALK BETWEEN SUSA AND USA DEEPENS TENSIONS.

WAR LOOMS ON HORIZON.

"Horses.h.i.+t," Ben said, after hearing the news. "The only way there will be a war is if the reunited states start it. We won't."

"You think the reunited states really want a war with us?" Anna asked.

"Some politicians do. But they won't be the ones to fight it. They never are. Cecil says a recent poll shows the people outside the SUSA fairly evenly split about it... which sort of surprises me. You would think after suffering through the worst war ever fought on American soil and several years of all sorts of deprivation, the last thing any of them would want would be more war. It shows how much the rest of the nation hates the South . . . and how much they hate me."

"And our way of life," Beth added.

"Oh, yes. Let's don't forget that. They hate it because we have full employment, almost zero crime, a laidback way of life,easy-to-understand laws, a workable healthcare system, no bureaucracy .

. . and that's just hitting a few points." Ben laughed aloud as the column rolled along through the rain.

The Rebels had pa.s.sed through towns of varying sizes and had seen few signs of life. The old festering tribal hatreds and years-long civil war had just about wiped out the population except for the towns along the coast, which the Rebels had decided to avoid. Rebel a.n.a.lysts 149.

had concluded that at the present rate, the country would be finished in a few more years.

Ben studied a map for a few moments, then folded it and stuck it back in a map case. "We've got to be resupplied with food, water, and medical supplies. But Liberia is out of the question for flights in or out or for docking facilities along the coast. The country's been torn apart by civil war for a decade or more. Fly-bys show the old international airport at Monrovia unusable. Docking facilities are nil. Warlords have been controlling the country for years and have wrecked it. That's why we're taking the northern route, and will link up with Nick Stafford and his 18 Batt. We'll crawl along the top of the nation until we reach the border of Cote d'lvoire, the old Ivory Coast. That will probably be the most stable country we'll find anywhere. And won't that be a relief."

"Then we travel south to Abidjan?" Cooper asked.

"Right. We have no choice in the matter. It's our best bet for a port and they have a good airport."

"But getting through Liberia is going to be a tad hairy, right?" Jersey asked.

"I think you'd be safe in saying that."

Ben spat out a mouthful of mud and wiped his muddy face with an equally muddy hand. All in all it was a futile gesture.

"s.h.i.+t!" he cussed, then wiped a sleeve across his face. That helped.

Ben's 1 Batt had linked up with Nick's 18 Batt between Foya and Kolahun and within minutes had come under attack from a large force, pinning down the Rebels and splitting the columns. The roads were a mess: tanks bogging down every few miles, trucks getting stuck along with them.

Everyone in the column was 150.

William W. Johnstone soaked through and through, with mud all over them. Several thousand highly p.i.s.sed-off Rebels were in no mood to f.u.c.k around with anybody.

Ben was under a deuce and a half filled with supplies, on his belly in the muddy road, his team left and right of him.

"How many d.a.m.n people hit us?" Jersey asked. "The two columns together must be five miles long. That's a h.e.l.l of a force.""Somebody's throwing everything they've got at us," Ben said, raising his voice to be heard over the hammering rain and the yammer and clatter of weapons on full auto.

Cooper cut loose with a burst from his SAW and out of the corner of his eyes, Ben saw three or four figures fold up and go down.

"Stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Cooper said, his words just audible over the sounds of weather and battle.

"18 Batt just dragged a wounded prisoner in," Corrie said, working her way close to Ben in the mud. "They say the man is nothing but skin and bones. Doctors say the prisoner is suffering from malnutrition. The prisoner says all they want is food."

"Tell the doctors the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds might be hungry, but they're still strong enough to pull a f.u.c.king trigger," Ben replied.

A wide grin split Corrie's mud-streaked face. "I will relay your message."

"You do that."

A long burst of gunfire kicked up mud and water and small stones very close to the truck, flinging the debris into Ben's face. Ben wiped his face and cussed, then out of sheer frustration, he leveled his CAR and gave the brush and jungle close to the road a full magazine of 5.56 rounds. He doubted he'd hit anything, but the 151.

action made him feel better. He ejected the empty and fitted a full magazine into place. He waited.

"Nick's 18 Batt coming under what appears to be a suicide charge,"

Corrie said. "They're holding."

A couple of minutes later, the sounds of battle faded, leaving only the drum of rain. "Maintain positions," Ben ordered. "No pursuit. Scouts out."

Five minutes ticked past without a shot being heard. Corrie said, "Scouts report the enemy has withdrawn. They left their wounded behind."

"Ask the Scouts how the dead and wounded are fixed for ammo."

"Scouts report all weapons and ammo were taken by the enemy."

"They're low on ammo as well as food," Ben said, crawling out from under the truck. "Bet on it. This was a desperation attack."

Ben began walking toward the front of the column, his team slogging along with him on the muddy road, the mud clinging to their boots in great globs, making their feet appear to weigh fifty pounds each.

"The enemy," Ben said, "at least this bunch, don't have rockets. We didn't sustain a single rocket hit. Corrie, ask Nick if they received any grenades."

"Not a one," she quickly reported.

"Whoever they are, they're out of nearly everything. Okay. Let's getthis show on the road. There's a village or town just up ahead. We'll patch up the prisoners and leave them there. The Scouts should be near the town now."

"They're stuck in the road just outside of the village," Corrie reported. "Both vehicles mired up to the axles."

"Wonderful," Ben said wearily. "All right. Tell them we'll be along as quickly as possible. How about our wounded?"

"Two dead. Five wounded."

152.

William W. Johnstone "Let's get moving." Ben stamped his feet, trying to dislodge the clinging mud. "If at all possible."

It wasn't much of a town, but most of the buildings were still standing and the doctors quickly set up shop and began working on the wounded . .

. Rebel wounded first, then the enemy. That was a Rebel rule, adhered to hard and fast, without exception.

The Rebels played by no rules other than their own. They were bound by no convention or treaty. Just another reason why so many around the world, who had studied the Rebels, did not want to tangle with them.

Ben stuck his head inside a small house and almost burst out laughing.

Marilyn d.i.c.kson and Paula Preston were sitting on the bare floor in a side room, out of sight of the male reporters, who were behind the house, naked, soaping as they stood in the rain. Both of the women were covered head to feet with mud.

"Enjoying the trip, ladies?" Ben asked.

Marilyn solemnly lifted her right hand and gave him die finger.

Ben laughed at her and walked on.

"Hoity-toity b.i.t.c.h is human after all," Jersey remarked.

"I think she is, Jersey."

Ben turned into the building Lamar Chase had set up for a hospital.

Lamar looked up from his inspection of a case of some sort of medicines, carefully packed against breakage. "We lost one of our people, Ben. The other four will make it. But we're going to have to hole up here for a couple of days."

"Suits me, Lamar. How about the prisoners?"

"A couple of them will make it. The others died."

"Other than their wounds, what about their physical condition?"