Ashes - Survival In The Ashes Part 17

Jerre asked sweetly.

Ben almost popped right back at her, but changed his mind as he realized that's what she wanted him to do. "Yes the general did, Lieutenant," he said just as sweetly. "Why don't you be a sweet girl and make a fresh pot . . . and then pour us all some fresh coffee?"

Sitting in a chair, Jersey looked heavenward and her beret fell down, covering her eyes. She made no attempt to pull it back up. She really wasn't sure she wanted to see the rest of this exchange -- hearing it might be volatile enough.

Corrie and Beth moved out of the deadly, eye-locked shooting gallery between Jerre and Ben.

Cooper quietly left the room. The others froze in their boots. "Oh, it would be a pleasure, General," Jerre said, enough ice in her voice to air condition all of Mississippi in August. She moved to the door, turned, and mouthed the silent words f.u.c.k you! She shut the door behind her.

After the dust in the room had settled from the impact of door into frame, Ben muttered, "One for me.

I think," he added.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Ike said.

"You do enjoy living dangerously, don't you, friend?"

Georgi said with a smile.

"I gotta go to the John," Jersey said, and left the room.

Beth moved and Ben said, "You stay. I need you in here. You're the only one in here that makes legible notes."

"Lucky me," Beth muttered.

Ben gave her a dirty look that had about as much impression on her as it would on a porcupine.

"Oh, h.e.l.l," Ben said. "Everybody take a break. d.a.m.n, can't anybody take a joke anymore?"

Ben sat down at his desk and told Beth to take off with the others. Be back in fifteen minutes.

He was going over maps when Jerre came back in and set the coffeepot down on the grill of the portable burner, only bending it a little.

Rolling a cigarette, Ben said, "You used to be able to take a joke better than that, Jerre. I recall that we used to insult each other a h.e.l.l of a lot rougher than that. Alone and in a crowd."

She stared at him for a very long minute until finally some good humor came back into her eyes. "Yeah.

But you caught me off guard that time, Ben. You want an apology?"

He shook his head. "No. You want a transfer out of here."

She shook her head. "No. That wouldn't accomplish anything. We're becoming friends again, Ben. It's just going to take some time, that's all."

Ben stood up and poured two mugs of coffee, handing one to her. "Have you heard any word on how the twins are doing?"

"Yes. They're fine. I don't think they miss me at all."

"That's bulls.h.i.+t, Jerre, and you know it."

"I'm not the world's greatest mother, Ben. I have too much wanderer in me."

"Well, stay with us, kid. We're d.a.m.n sure going to do a lot more wandering."

She nodded her head and sipped her coffee. "Yeah, Ben. I plan on doing that."

One by one, the others wandered back into the big room.

They were wary at first, until they saw Ben and Jerre joking with each other.

They watched as Ben spread clear plastic over the table map and began making small black X's on the plastic. "What Malone and his people did when they settled in here was very smart. After our fly-by's charted each smoke they saw, I compared the smoke with an old tourist guidebook and a map.

Back before the war, there were over fifty lodges and guest ranches in this area, ranging in size to accommodate anywhere from twenty to five hundred guests. Malone just put his people into those quarters. And it was a good move on his part. For many of these lodges and their outbuildings are way to h.e.l.l and gone from paved roads and civilization ... as we once knew it.

"Now then, with the addition of Villar and those with him, the use of PU!'S is out of the questions. They'd just knock them out of the sky with missiles. But," Ben held up a finger and smiled. "We can get our one-o-five's in d.a.m.n close to these places, and make it awfully uncomfortable for Malone and Villar. So everybody has their jobs to do. Let's get to it." He smiled. "I would like to get to Alaska before winter."

Villar was the first to put it together.

A week had pa.s.sed since Ben laid out the battle plans, and Villar had personally driven over as many roads in the so-called wilderness area-actually much of it was referred to as glacier country -- as could be driven over in the time he'd spent in the area.

It was beautiful country. Even a man such as Villar, with all the compa.s.sion of a cobra could see that. Whether or not he appreciated the beauty was something he never revealed. What he did reveal were his thoughts on defending the area.

"It's a death trap," he told Malone.

"Whatever in the world do you mean?" Malone looked at him. "There is no way Ben Raines is ever going to flush us out of here."

"Ben Raines can do just about anything he sets his mind to," Villar bluntly told the man. "I've had rec patrols out since one hour after I got here, Malone. It didn't take me long to put together what Raines is doing."

"And what might that be?"

Villar bit back his anger. Malone was more and more reminding him of video tapes he'd seen -- years back comof certain TV preachers and those who wanted to set the moral standards of others: smug, arrogant, and self-centered. "He's putting us in a box, Malone."

"Nonsense! Villar, do you have any understanding of the thousands of square miles we control?"

"Let me tell you something, Malone. All along our west side there are rivers. To cross rivers, one must use bridges. The explosions you asked me about? Ben Raines's troops blowing certain bridges. At all the other bridges? Rebels backed up by battle tanks and heavy artillery.

He's effectively sealed off that route. To the north, the same problem: rivers and bridges. To the south lies the Continental Divide, with mountains ranging from six thousand to eleven thousand feet.

Raines has blocked every access route out. To the north, going into Canada, he's placed the Russian, Striganov, and his army. Ben Raines and Ike McGowan and their troops are to the east.

Do you understand, Malone, that Raines has artillery that can drop rounds in on top of our heads from twenty-five miles away? All he's going to do, to soften us up, is take control of several roads comwh he has the people to do comand then tear the guts out of us with long-range artillery." Malone was sitting quietly. The smugness was gone from his face.

Meg Callahan was seated beside him. Meg had been a part of the Rebels for a time, until Ben had flushed her out of his ranks, after learning that she was a spy. She knew from firsthand experience what the Rebels were capable of doing; and she knew that Villar was telling the truth.

Ashley nodded his head in agreement with Villar and Malone took note of the nod.

"Is there no place on the face of this earth that is safe from that heathen?" Malone practically screamed the words.

"I'm beginning to think not," the terrorist replied.

"Besides, what good would that knowledge do us now?"

"What do you mean?" Malone demanded.

"He means," Meg told him, "that we're trapped in here. Ben Raines has sealed us in.

Right, Villar?"

"To a degree, yes. We could get out; but it would have to be on foot. We'd have to march out, leaving anything we couldn't carry."

"Ben Raines has no right to do this!"

Malone screamed, spittle spraying from his mouth.

"He has no right to displace us from our homes."

"Fine," Villar said. "Then do you want to tell General Raines that you will live under the Rebel rules?"

"Certainly not! Don't be ridiculous! I will not allow genetically inferior people into this area. That's why we came out here in the first place, to get away from n.i.g.g.e.rs and Jews and wops and spies and polocks and the like. There used to be a couple of Indian reservations in this area. Those we didn't kill we ran out. Oh, there are some still in this territory. We use them for houseboys and maids and cooks.

Menial jobs." He waved that off. "You know all that, Villar. I'm not leaving, Villar. I will order my people to gear up for a sustained battle, and we'll fight to the bitter end."

Villar's smile was void of humor. "With your philosophy, Malone, you don't have a great deal of choice in the matter." But I do, he silently added.

Trucks had rolled into the area from Base Camp One, carrying supplies and instruments of war. They rolled in twenty-four hours a day. Planes were landing around the clock, off-loading their cargoes of ammunition, food, medical supplies, generators, and boots, bras, and fresh BDU'S. Inside the wilderness area, Malone had set up his CP at a once beautiful resort near the Pinkham Mountains, some thirty-five miles from the Canadian border.

Satan and his odious crew had personally inspected many of the roads leading out of the area, roaring around on their motorcycles, disturbing the animals and fouling the pristine air.

When they tried to cross over into the Bitterroot Range, they came under heavy fire from the Rebels stationed along Highway 200, 135, and Interstate "s.h.i.+t," Hogjaw said. "We in a h.e.l.l of bind in here, man."

"Yeah," Moosemouth agreed. "I ain't likin"

this worth a d.a.m.n."

"I think I'll kill that G.o.dd.a.m.n Ashley for bringin' us in here," Satan said. "It's all his d.a.m.n fault."

"No, it ain't," a biker called Axehandle said.

"It's our fault. If I git out of this mess, I'm hangin' it up, boys. I'm fixin'

to find me a good woman, git me a little farm and settle down."

"What d.a.m.n woman that's any good would have you?" Satan fixed him with a baleful look.

Axehandle shrugged. "Plenty of "em, once I git shut of the likes of you?" j Satan wanted to slap him 6ff his Hog. But Axehandle was just about as big and just about as mean as Satan, so the leader of the outlaw bikers held his temper in check. Instead, he said, "I don't want you in my bunch no more, Axe. Carry your funky a.s.s."

"With pleasure," Axehandle said. "But you ride out first. I don't wanna git shot in the back."

Satan grimaced, kicked his Hog into life, and roared off, the others with him.

Axe rode south, down the Ninemile Divide to within shouting distance of the Interstate. "That's it!" he yelled across the expanse of concrete. "I'm quittin." I done broke with Satan and them others. Y'all hear me?"

"We hear you," Leadfoot hollered from the other side. "Is that you, Axe?"

"In person. That you, Leadfoot?"

"In the flesh. You wanna join us?"

Axehandle thought about that for a moment, then sighed.

Anyone with any sense ought to know there wasn't no way Ben Raines was gonna be stopped. Him and his Rebels was like a steamroller.

"Did you have any trouble adjustin' to the Rebel way of life, Leadfoot?"

"Not a bit, Axe. We enjoy it. It's pretty good over here."

"Beerbelly joined us," Wanda hollered. "The Rebels fixed up his teeth and he looks almost human."

"You don't say? All right, Leadfoot, I'll give her a whirl."

"There ain't no givin' nothin' a whirl, Axe.

You either in, or you on your own, boy. Ben Raines don't cut n.o.body no slack."

Axehandle turned in the saddle at the sounds of half a dozen motorcycles coming up behind him. It was Danny and Corrigan and a few others. "You boys pullin' out?" he asked.

"You got that right, Axe," Corrigan said. "I'm tarred of bein' a loser. I wanna get on the right side for a change."

"Me, too," Axe told him. "That's Leadfoot and Wanda over yonder," he said, pointing across the Interstate.

"You don't say? How they likin' the Rebel way?"

"Said it's fine. The Rebels fixed up Beerbelly's teeth. Wanda said he looks sorta normal now."

"That'd be a sight to see. Beerbelly never did resemble nothin." his "Leadfoot?" Axe hollered. "Right here, boy.

With you in gunsights." Axe swallowed hard.

"Lower your guns, Beer. We's comin" acrost to join up!"

Ben Raines impressed the outlaw bikers.

There was nothing physically overpowering about the man.

While he looked to be in middle-age he also looked in picture-perfect health. Which he was, except for a knee that bothered him from time to time and reading was a lot easier when he remembered to use his gla.s.ses.

There was just something about the man . . . the way he carried himself, maybe. Maybe it was some invisible aura lingering about him. For sure it was those cold gunfighter eyes.

"Why do you want to join us?" Ben finally spoke, his words soft. He was beginning to spook the bikers just sitting there staring at them.