Ashes - Fury In The Ashes Part 25

"Hold it!" Bull yelled, as the gang leaders started to panic. "Just hold it for a second. If it's gas, and I'll bet it isn't, there ain't no way any of us could get far enough away to do any good.

So just calm down and wait this out. Let's see what develops."

They waited. They were jumpy and wide-eyed but they waited.

"The Rebels is s.h.i.+ftin' people around," the radiooperator said. "They're pullin' back to the east of us. They've left Highway 107 south wide open."

"That don't make no sense," d.i.c.ky of the Blades said.

"Yeah," Ishmal of the Boogies agreed. "Why would they do something stupid like that?"

"The Russian son of a b.i.t.c.h is pullin' out too," the radioman yelled. "They're gettin'

into trucks and leavin'. The Rebels is all s.h.i.+ftin' around. The Russian is headin' back east on the freeway. What the h.e.l.l's goin'

on?"

Leroy's lips peeled back in a snarl as his eyes touched Rich, who was smirking at him. "Why don't you tell us, white boy?"

"Okay, I'll do that. But if you're thinkin' gas, forget it. Unless you fart. Look here, boys. The Rebels is tryin' to sucker us south. They've left a buffer of ten or twelve blocks of no-man's-land between us and them, all the way around.

And a line of Rebels north of us, stretched out west to east. And it has to be a thin line. That's our ticket out of here, boys. That's where we slide through."

"For a honky, you ain't but half stupid,"

Leroy said. "You right. We got no choice in the matter. We got to head north."

"But not all of us," Bull said, speaking the d.a.m.ning words.

"What you mean?" Ishmal asked.

"All of us pulling out would be a dead giveaway,"

Brute said. "But it isn't as dismal as it sounds."

"It ain't?" Sally asked.

"No, dear, it isn't. The fair way to do this is to draw lots."

"I don't need no property," Junkyard said.

Brute sighed. "Dear G.o.d," he whispered. "I have cast my fate to the winds, and am on a vessel crewed by cretins." He cleared his throat. "We will draw straws, cut cards, or toss pennies to see who goes north and who heads south."

"Oh," Junkyard said.

"Now then, any move we make had best be started tonight," Brute continued. "Those of us heading south will pretend to be taking the bait offered by the Rebels.

When you get halfway between L.a. and San Diego, cut straight east, break up into small groups, and disappear. Get rid of your gang colors and bury them. Forget them. Occupy farm houses and chew tobacco, hum hillbilly music, scratch at yourselves and look outdoorsy if Rebel patrols find you. There is a good chance many of us will make it. All who elect to go to the barren and hostile wilderness, a.k.a. Alaska, will rendezvous ... oh, let's see ... in Central Nevada as quickly as possible. Everyone agreed on that?""We got short-wave equipment," Bull said.

"Our rendezvous code word will be ... what? Come up with something, Brute."

Brute smiled. "Miami."

"That's a good one. Let's start cuttin' the cards."

"What are we gonna do out there?"

Ruth of the Macys asked, waving her hand toward the countryside. "I ain't been out of the city in years.

What the h.e.l.l is out there?"

"Ben Raines," Josh said glumly.

Chapter Two.

The Rebel planes had taken off, some of them to resupply Rebel units, most of them to take freed prisoners to Base Camp One for medical treatment. The Rebels loosely surrounding the small area of the city still in hands of the street punks took a break to bathe, eat hot food, change into clean uniforms, and rest. Rest the body and the ears, now that the artillery had fallen silent.

"You know that a lot of them will bust out of the city tonight,"

Buddy said to his father.

"It can't be helped, son. We're down to only a few artillery rounds per gun. We've used thousands of rounds during this a.s.sault and the factory back at Base One can't keep up with the demand.

It'll be at least a week before the supply can be built up."

"Take a guess, Father. How many of the punks who bust out of the city will settle down and stop their lawless ways?"

"Not many. Percentage-wise? Five to ten percent, maybe. These are hardcore punks."

"They're sure to find out about the outlaws gathering in Alaska."

"We'll have a fight up there, for sure. But we'll have all winter to gear up for it. When we pull out for Northstar, we'll be fully prepared. Even better prepared than we were for this a.s.sault."

Darkness had settled softly over the land, and the Rebels camped between Yuma and Mexicali rested.

Ben sat outside his tent, waiting for Corrie to tell him the punks were bugging out of the city ... and in which direction they were heading. He'd made a mental bet with himself that some would head south, and some would head north. How far south they would go was something he could not know. But if he were in their shoes, he would take the bait and wait until they were in a very isolated area, then cut hard to the east and try to find a hidey-hole.

Using a flashlight, he studied a map. They would break east between Oceanside and Del Mar, splitting up into small groups and taking that maze of county roads that led over to 78 and I-15.

"Punks are bugging out, General," Corrie called. "Heading south."

Ben did not ask for numbers; there was no wayto tell. "Corrie, have Seven and Eight Battalions stay in position and order West to leave immediately. Head straight down I-15.

Tell him we are leaving within the hour and by dawn will be in position just east of Escondido on Highway 78. He is to leave the Interstate at the junction of 76 and spread his people along that route.

I'll spread my forces on either side of Santa Ysabel. Advise General Payon of our plans and order all personnel to break camp."

The Rebels were accustomed to abrupt changes in plans, and in thirty minutes they were ready to go.

"Take the Interstate to El Centro, Coop,"

Ben told him. "Then north to Brawley and west on 78. Are the Scouts out, Corrie?"

"Should be five miles ahead of us now. West is on his way, pus.h.i.+ng hard."

"Let's go, Coop."

They had just over a hundred miles to travel, on roads they were unfamiliar with, and through territory that was unknown but presumed hostile. They could make no more than thirty-five miles an hour, and in many instances, much less than that. Tanks spearheaded the drive and tanks brought up the rear. Scouts reported a barricade at the junction of I-8 and "Blow it," Ben ordered. "Blow any that you find.

We're coming through."

The column rumbled on through the night.

"Scouts asking if you want them to check out Calexico, General," Corrie said.

"Ten-fifty. Get us through to our immediate objective."

"General Ike is on the horn, sir. He wants to know what the h.e.l.l you think you're doing."

"Tell him to worry about his own sector. If I need a nursemaid I'll pick my own."

"Yes, sir." She relayed the message.

Waited. "There is no way I'm going to tell General Raines that, sir," she said. "Fine," she said hotly. "The same to you! Eagle out!"

Ben chuckled. He could just imagine what Ike had said. "Ike get a little profane, Corrie?"

Corrie muttered something under her breath and Jersey burst out laughing.

The column rolled on through the night. "Right along here is where Hollywood used to film a lot of desert scenes for movies," Ben told his team.

"Hollywood," he murmured. "Gone forever."

"Hold it up," Corrie said. "Scouts reporting an overpa.s.s is blown just west of El Centro. They advise take a county road to Brawley. It's not numbered but they'll mark it for us."

Cooper nodded his head.

The county road slowed them down to an infuriating crawl.

"Brawley is occupied by thugs, General,"

Corrie told him.

"Tell the Scouts to hold up and wait for us. Wehave no choice in the matter. We'll have to blow our way through. All tanks up front."

The convoy pulled over to the side of the road, allowing those tanks in the rear to join the spearheading armor.

"Close it up, Coop," Ben said. "Stay with them."

Brawley had been a town of about fifteen thousand when the Great War enveloped the earth more than a decade past. Since it was full dark, and the age of street lamps had come and gone except in towns controlled by the Rebels, there was no telling what condition the town was in now, but Ben knew what condition it was going to be in when the Rebels left it behind: in ruins.

Ben got out of the wagon and walked to a group of Scouts, helping position the tanks. "Any guesses as to the number of crud in the town?"

"I'd guess a couple of hundred, General.

They've got some big .50's in there too. They opened up on us too soon, though, and we were able to hit the ditch banks. We told them who we were and they told us to kiss their a.s.s."

"Commence sh.e.l.ling whenever you people are ready" Ben told a tank commander. "HE and incendiary. We don't have time for politeness. Punch us through."

The armor opened up with cannon fire and the Gatlings and Vulcans began howling. Mortar crews had set up and began dropping rounds in. Very soon, the entire eastern end of the town was burning.

"Advance," Ben ordered just as Buddy called out.

"They're bugging out, Father."

"Take some people, son. Find us a way through."

"Yes, sir."

Ben returned to his vehicle and rummaged around until he found a candy bar. He was munching on that when he noticed Smoot's ears perk up and the puppy's eyes s.h.i.+ft to the darkness to Ben's right.

"Stay, Smoot," Ben said softly, closing the door and dropping to the dewy gra.s.s beside the road.

His M-14 was propped up against the wagon and Ben didn't want to risk exposing an arm reaching for it.

Belly down on the gra.s.s, he pulled his .45, carried c.o.c.ked and locked, from leather and eased the autoloader off safety.

Ben slowly wormed his way deeper into the dry ditch. He had one hostile spotted, and figured there was at least one more, possibly two.

He heard the very faint snick of a pin being pulled from a grenade, and put three .45-caliber hollow-nosed rounds in the direction of the sound.

A scream reached his ears just a couple of seconds before the grenade blew. Ben saw two human shapes lift off the ground and a third shape come charging toward the muzzle blasts.

Still on his belly, Ben triggered off two fast shots, both rounds catching the man in the chest. He stopped abruptly and sat down hard in the gra.s.s.

He cussed once and then toppled over and was still.

Ben ejected the nearly empty clip and slipped in a full one, jacking in a round.His team was running toward him. "Get down!" Ben yelled. "Flood this field with light."

Trucks and Jeeps and Hummers backed up and illuminated the old field just in time to see fifty or sixty men running toward them.

It was a slaughter. The Rebels cut them down to a man, then swept the bodies with more fire to insure there would be no more surprises from that bunch of outlaws.