William W Johnstone - Ashes 30 - Tyranny in the Ashes (txt)

WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE Tyranny in the Ashes (#30)

Tyranny in the Ashes (#30)

NOTICES REQUIRED FOR COPYRIGHT WORKS DISTRIBUTED IN THE UNITED STATES

UNDER 17 U.S.C. Sec. 121

The information which follows is important since it describes the

copyright ownership and legal restrictions on the use of this

Bookshare.org digital material which govern your lawful use of it.

Copyright Notices

The owner of the copyright on this digital material is William W.

Johnstone and this edition was published during 2000. The title of this

material is 'Tyranny in the Ashes (#30)', and the author is 'WILLIAM W.

JOHNSTONE'.

This material may only be lawfully used and possessed in this form by

Bookshare.org individual or institutional members who have previously

signed a Member Agreement and provided Bookshare.org with satisfactory

written proof of a print disability, within the meaning of 17 U.S.C.

Sec. 121, and who qualify to receive books and other publications

produced in specialized formats in compliance with the relevant

copyright laws of the United States. If you are not in this class of

persons, you are not authorized to access or use this material and

should destroy this copy at once since possession or use of it is a

violation of copyright law. Copyright owners agreed to this special

exception to assist the blind and reading disabled, and their rights

should be respected in return for this important exception.

This material is made available under 17 U.S.C. Sec. 121, which provides

that: "it is not an infringement of copyright for an authorized entity

to reproduce or to distribute copies of a previously published,

nondramatic literary work if such copies are reproduced or distributed

in specialized formats exclusively for use by blind or other persons

with disabilities."

Bookshare.org is an authorized entity under this law. This exception

applies only to distribution within the United States, whether over the

Internet or otherwise.

Your use of this special digital form of the material is subject to the

Member Agreement you previously signed. For the full text of the current

version of this Member Agreement, please visit

www.bookshare.org/Agreements. This information does not in any way

change the terms of your Agreement with Bookshare.org; it is placed here

to remind you of your obligations and those of persons who might

subsequently obtain a copy of this digital form of the material.

Limitation of Liability; Indemnity by User

By downloading and using this material, you agree that neither

Bookshare.org nor the authors or original publishers of the materials

shall be financially responsible for any loss or damage to you or any

third parties caused by the failure or malfunction of the Bookshare.org

Web Site (www.bookshare.org) or because of any inaccuracy or lack of

completeness of any content that you download from the Web Site,

including this material. Similarly, neither Bookshare.org nor the

authors and publishers of the content make any representations as to the

accuracy, completeness, etc., of the materials available on the Web

Site. The authors and publishers have no editorial control over this Web

Site.

BOOKSHARE.ORG, AND THE AUTHORS, PUBLISHERS AND COPYRIGHT OWNERS OF THE

MATERIALS, SHALL NOT IN ANY CASE BE LIABLE FOR DIRECT, INDIRECT,

SPECIAL, INCIDENTAL OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES, WHETHER BASED ON CONTRACT,

TORT OR ANY OTHER LEGAL THEORY, IN CONNECTION WITH OR ARISING OUT OF THE

FURNISHING OF CONTENT, THE FUNCTIONING OF THE WEB SITE, OR ANY OTHER

ASPECT OF YOUR USE OF THE WEB SITE AND THE CONTENTS PROVIDED HEREUNDER.

You agree to indemnify and hold Bookshare.org and Benetech, the Web Site

provider, harmless from any liability, loss, cost, damage or expense,

including reasonable attorney's fees, that result from any claim made by

any author, publisher or copyright owner that you, or any one acquiring

copies of copyrighted materials downloaded from the Web Site through

you, is not visually impaired, disabled or otherwise entitled to

download and use the digital materials from the Bookshare.org Web Site

under the provisions of 17 U.S.C. Sec. 121 and related laws. This

indemnity includes any claims arising out of any breach of your

obligations under your Member Agreement, whether by reason of misuse,

negligence or otherwise.

Permitted Use; Limited Waiver of Privacy Principles and Laws

You are permitted under the "Fair Use" principles of the copyright laws

to use this digital copy for your own personal use. However, any further

reproduction, distribution, or any commercial usage requires the

express, prior consent of the copyright holder.

This material contains digital watermarks and fingerprints designed to

identify this material as a Bookshare.org digital material that was

specifically downloaded by you. It is illegal to delete or modify these

watermarks and fingerprints under the terms of the Digital Millennium

Copyright Act. Bookshare.org has an active monitoring system in place to

protect against this, which includes maintaining records of the identity

of the persons downloading books and materials from the Web Site. We do

so to protect this valuable exception in the copyright law that permits

the Bookshare.org and similar services. Your Member Agreement expressly

authorizes us to include these security devices, solely for this use, as

an express exception to current and future privacy laws relating to

protection of personal information data. Should any future privacy law

or regulation preclude the use of this personal data for purposes of

tracking the downloading and use of these materials and enforcing the

limitations of 17 U.S.C. Sec. 121, your right to use these materials

will terminate on the effective date of any such law or regulation.

The Bookshare.org id of this book is Bookshare-33536-1-1. This material

was downloaded by Robert Riddle (captinlogic@hotmail.com) and is

digitally fingerprinted in the manner described above.

Begin Content

OUTA LUCK?

Ben and his team looked like something out of a space movie as they

gathered near the door of the C-130 transport plane. They were dressed

all in black, with faces enclosed in Plexiglas hehnets to give them

oxygen until they fell far enough to be able to breathe on their own.

Harley had said they would be at terminal velocity, 120 miles per hour,

for several minutes prior to their chutes opening.

"It's almost impossible to breathe at that speed, so leave your helmets

hooked up until your chute opens. After that, if the shock of the sudden

deceleration doesn't knock you out, you can jettison your helmets and

get your weapons ready to fire. We don't know what we're gonna find when

we land."

"What if we get hung up in the jungle canopy too far to drop from our

chutes?" Ben asked.

Harley pointed to Ben's chest. "That's what that nylon cord on the front

of your HALO suit is for. Just attach it to your harness, hit the

release button, and climb down the rope to the ground."

"And if the rope doesn't reach the ground?" Corrie asked.

"Then you're SOL," Harley replied with a grin.

"SOL?" she asked.

"Shit outa luck," he replied, and turned to watch the lights at the

front of the transport, waiting for the jump light to turn from red to

green.

3 BOOK YOUR PLACE ON OUR WEBSITE

AND MAKE THE READING CONNECTION!

We've created a customized website just for our very special readers,

where you can get the inside scoop on everything that's going on with

Zebra, Pinnacle and Kensington books.

When you come online, you'll have the exciting opportunity to:

View covers of upcoming books

Read sample chapters

Learn about our future publishing schedule (listed by publication month

and author)

Find out when your favorite authors will be visiting a city near you

Search for and order backlist books from our online catalog

Check out author bios and background information

Send e-mail to your favorite authors

Meet the Kensington staff online

Join us in weekly chats with authors, readers and other guests

Get writing guidelines

AND MUCH MORE!

Visit our website at http://www.pinnaclebooks.com

4

William W. Johnstone

fSSA

Pinnacle Books Kennsington Publishing Corp.

http://www.pinnaclebooks.com

5 PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp. 850 Third Avenue New York, NY 10022

or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher,

excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that

this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed"

to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received

any payment for this "stripped book."

All Kensington Titles, Imprints, and Distributed Lines are available at

special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotions,

premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use. Special book

excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific

needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington special

sales manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 850 Third Avenue, New York,

NY 10022, attn: Special Sales Department, Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

Pinnacle and the P logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

First Printing: September, 2000 10 987654321

Printed in the United States of America

6 In every tyrant's heart there springs in the end This poison, that he

cannot trust a friend.

Aeschylus (525-456 BC)

No government power can be abused long. Mankind will not bear it ...

There is a remedy in human nature against tyranny, that will keep us

safe under every form of government.

SamuelJohnson (1709-1764)

7 Prologue

If a war had not engulfed the entire world, plunging every nation into

bloody chaos, the theory was the government of the United States would

have collapsed anyway. Personal income taxes had been going up for

years, and the hard-working, law-abiding citizens were paying well over

half their income to the government. The left wing of the Democratic

party had taken over and passed massive gun-grab legislation,

effectively disarming American citizens-except for the criminals, of

course, and about three quarters of a million tough-minded Americans who

didn't give a big rat's ass what liberals said, thought, or did. Those

Americans carefully sealed up their guns and buried them, along with

cases of ammunition. When the collapse came, those Americans were able

to defend themselves against the hundreds of roaming gangs of punks and

thugs that popped up all over what had once been called the United

States. The great nation would never again be accurately referred to as

the United States of America.

Slowly, an ever-growing group of people began calling for a man named

Ben Raines to lead them. But Ben didn't want any part of leadership. For

months he disregarded the ever-increasing calls from people all over the

nation, until finally he could no longer ignore the pleas.

Months later, thousands of people made the journey to the northwest part

of the nation and formed their own nation out

8

of three states. It was called the Tri-States, and those who chose to

live there based many of their laws on the Constitution of the United

States: the original interpretation of that most revered document.

Basically, it was a commonsense approach to government, something that

had been sadly lacking for years with liberals in control of the old

United States of America. But after only a few months in their new

nation, Ben knew that only about two out of every ten Americans could-or

would was more to the point-live under a commonsense form of government.

Under this form of government, everyone, to a very large degree,

controlled his or her own destiny. The Rebels, as residents of the

Tri-States were named by the press, took wonderful care of the very old,

the young, and those unable to care for themselves. But if a person was

able to work, he worked . . . whether he liked it or not. There were no

free handouts for able-bodied people. If they didn't want to work, they

got the hell out of the Tri-States. Very quickly.

The first attempt at building a nation within a nation failed when the

federal government grew powerful enough to launch a major campaign

against the Tri-States. The original Tri-States was destroyed and the

Rebel Army was decimated and scattered. But the federal government made

one major mistake: They didn't kill Ben Raines.

Ben and the few Rebels left alive began rebuilding their Army, and then

launched a very nasty guerrilla war against the federal government that

lasted for months: hit hard, destroy, and run. It worked.

But before any type of settlement could be reached, a deadly plague

struck the earth: a rat-borne outbreak, the Black Death revisited.

When the deadly disease finally ran its course, anarchy reigned over

what had once been America. Gangs of punks and warlords ruled from

border to border, coast to coast. Ben and his Rebels began the long,

slow job of clearing the nation of punks and human slime and setting up

a new Tri-States.

9

This time they settled in the South, first in Louisiana, in an area they

called Base Camp One. Then they began spreading out in all directions as

more and more people wanted to become citizens of the new nation called

the Southern United States of America: SUSA.

I Ben and the Rebels fought for several years, clearing the I cities of

the vicious gangs and growing larger and stronger I while the SUSA

spread out.

I In only a few years, the Rebel Army became the largest land most

powerful army on the face of the earth . . . with I the possible

exception of China. No one knew what was going Ion in China, for that

nation had sealed its borders and cut I off nearly all communication

with the outside world. I A few more years drifted by while the Rebels

roamed the I world at the request of the newly formed United Nations, I

kicking ass and stabilizing nations as best they could in the I time

allotted them.

I But back home, the situation was worsening. Outside the I SUSA, the

nation was turning socialistic with sickening I speed. The old FBI was

gone, in its place the FPPS: Federal I Prevention and Protective

Service. It was a fancy title that I fooled no one. The FPPS was the

nation's secret police, and I they were everywhere, bullyboys and thugs.

Day-to-day ac-I tivities of those living in the USA were highly

restricted. The I new Liberal/Socialist government of President for Life

Claire I Osterman and her second in command, Harlan Millard, was now

firmly in control.

There were border guards stationed all along major crossings in every

state. But now many of them had been moved south, to patrol along the

several-thousand-mile border of the SUSA.

A bloody civil war was shaping up between the USA and the SUSA. Rewards

had been placed on the head of Ben

I Raines: a million dollars for his capture, dead or alive. But Ben was

accustomed to that. He'd had rewards-of one kind or another, from one

group or another-on his head for years.

10

Anna, Ben's adopted daughter, had been kidnapped by the FPPS. She was to

be tried as a traitor against the Liberal/Socialist government and

executed. A very highly irritated Ben knew the taking of Anna was

intended to draw him out, for the FPPS was certain Ben would come after

her . . . which he damn sure did, with blood in his eyes. That abortive

move cost the FPPS several dozen agents and accomplished nothing else

for Osterman and her henchman. But it further heightened the already

monumental legend of Ben Raines . . . and made Claire Osterman and her

government look like a pack of incompetent screwups . . . which they

certainly were.

After Claire completely lost her temper and what little rational

judgment she had, she started a civil war with SUSA, using hired

mercenaries when half of her own USA troops refused to fight their

neighbors. All along a battle line that stretched for thousands of

miles, from Texas to Georgia in the Old South, federal troops faced

Rebel forces across no-man's lands.*

Once again the SUSA, led by Ben Raines and his team, kicked her federal

troops' butt in battle after battle, driving her into a fury that knew

no bounds.

When Sugar Babe Osterman got word from her field commanders that Raines

had killed Commanding General Walter Berman, head of her entire Army, in

a hand-to-hand combat, she almost had a stroke. In a fit of pique, she

notified Cecil Jeffreys, President of the SUSA, that if he and his

leaders, especially that bastard Ben Raines, didn't surrender, she was

going to launch an all-out missile attack against the SUSA at 0600

hours. The missiles were to contain a highly effective, ancient strain

of anthrax bacteria developed by a USA scientist, Yiro Ishi. The

vaccinations the SUSA had given their troops against anthrax would be

useless due to the ancient nature of this new strain.

12

11

However, Ishi double-crossed Claire Osterman and gave I the formula for

an effective vaccine to Ben Raines and a I fake formula to Osterman's

government. As the plague began Ito decimate the USA, Otis Warner, one

of Claire Osterman's Icabinet officers, conspired with General Joseph

Winter to [have Claire Osterman killed in a plane crash.

When the plane went down, Warner and Winter, sure Os-Iterman was dead,

took over the government of the USA, then (contacted SUSA president

Cecil Jeffreys and began to discuss |a peace accord.*

However, Claire Osterman survived the plane crash and vas taken in by a

family in the Ozark Mountains of Tennes-Isee . . .

13 One

Claire Osterman looked up into the inky blackness of the night sky as

the plane she'd just jumped out of exploded in a fiery ball of flame.

The cold air rushed past her face and she flailed her arms, falling at

120 miles an hour toward the Tennessee mountains below.

She opened her mouth and began to scream . . .

"Wake up, lady," a voice said, pulling her from the depths of the

nightmare she'd had every night since her plane crash four weeks ago.

Claire Osterman looked up into Bettye Jean Holt's face, fighting to come

fully awake and put the horrible dream behind her. She glanced around at

the small bedroom where she'd been staying since hobbling through five

miles of wooded Ozark mountain forest with a broken jaw, broken left

arm, and severely sprained left ankle to finally find refuge in the

Holts' small wooden shack a month before.

Bettye Jean Holt was carrying a bowl of what could only be described as

gruel. She'd told Claire it was oatmeal, that being the only thing

Claire could manage to eat as her broken jaw healed, but if there were

any oats in it, they were few and far between.

"What time is it?" Claire mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes to erase

the picture of General Willford Hall being blown to bits above her.

"Heck," Bettye Jean said in her thick backwoods accent,

14

"h'it's almost five in the mornin'. Billy Bob's gone out to feed the

chickens an' hog." She grinned, exposing yellowed teeth with several

black gaps where malnutrition had caused them to fall out.

Claire reached for the oatmeal, wincing as pain shot down her left arm,

restricted by the crude splint Bettye Jean had taped on it after setting

the broken bones.

"He said to git yore lazy butt up an' fer me to git his breakfast 'fore

he came back, Mary," Bettye Jean said, using the fake name Claire had

given them when she found out they hated Claire Osterman and the entire

government of the USA.

"He said it was about time you started earnin' yore keep around here,

but"-and Bettye Jean's voice changed to a conspiratorial whisper as she

continued-"I tole him yore arm weren't healed enough jest yet."

As Claire took the oatmeal from her, Bettye Jean pulled a folded-up

newspaper out of her apron pocket. "I also brung you a paper Billy Bob

got when he drove the ol' pickup into town yesterday. H'it's a couple'a

weeks old, but I figgered you'd like to know what was goin' on in the

world since you fell outta that tree."

"What... oh, yeah," Claire said, remembering she'd told the Holts that

she'd received her injuries when she climbed a tree to get her bearings

after getting lost in the woods. Billy Bob had said he thought she

looked like Claire Osterman and if she was, he was going to shoot her.

Her cover story had been a quick attempt to save her life until the

search party from USA headquarters could find her.

Claire took the spoon and bowl and began shoveling the soupy mixture

into her mouth, wondering why they hadn't already come for her.

As she left the room, Bettye Jean lit a small kerosene lantern on a

table next to the door. The cabin had no electricity or running water,

and the bathroom was in a small shed fifty yards down the path.

15

Claire's face flushed and her heart pounded as she read the headlines of

the two-week-old paper: "President Warner and President Jeffreys Make

Progress toward Peace Agreement."

President Warner? Why that backstabbing son of a bitch, Claire thought.

When I get back I'll show him who's President! I'll personally put a

bullet in the bastard's mouth!

She finished the cereal and struggled out of the bed, hobbling on a

still-sore left ankle toward the kitchen. She had to get to a phone so

she could let them know at government headquarters she was still alive.

She'd be damned if she was going to let this peace proposal go any further!

"Bettye Jean," she said from the door to the kitchen.

Bettye Jean looked over her shoulder from the sink where she was washing

dishes. "Oh, you scared me, Mary."

"Bettye Jean," Claire said, handing her the bowl and spoon, "I've got to

get to a phone. How far is it to the nearest one?"

Bettye Jean pursed her lips, thinking. "Oh, 'bout five mile down the

road. There's a gas station there that has a phone on the wall." She

shook her head. "Course, they don't often have any gas to sell, since

that crazy Osterman lady done started this here war."

"But she had to," Claire said, exasperated that this simple country

woman couldn't understand the dangers the country faced from Ben Raines

and his Rebels. "She had to protect the country against the Rebel Army."

Bettye Jean put her finger to her lips. "Shhh, don't you let Billy Bob

hear you takin' up fer that bitch. He's liable to take a switch to you,

or worse," she said, naked fear in her eyes.

"Do you think he'll take me down to the gasoline station in your pickup?"

"I doubt it, Mary. He says we don't got no gas to waste on foolishness,

what with it costin' five dollars a gallon now, when they got any."

Claire was getting awfully tired of the crap this hillbilly

16

named Billy Bob was always spouting. She sighed. It was time to take

matters into her own hands before it was too late and Otis Warner and

his crowd screwed everything up beyond repair.

"Okay, Bettye Jean. You go on back to your dishwashing and I'll go out

back and ask him myself."

" 'Member now, don't go sayin' nothin' 'bout that Oster-man woman, or

you'll git a beatin'."

Claire's lips curled in a sneer. "Oh, I think Billy Bob's beating days

are over."

She left the kitchen, Bettye Jean staring at her back with a worried

look on her face. Claire went down the hallway to the Holts' bedroom and

opened the closet door. Leaning in a corner was a double-barreled

shotgun. Bettye Jean had told her Billy Bob always kept it loaded with

00-buckshot.

Claire picked it up, broke open the barrel, and checked the loads. Both

barrels full. She clicked it shut, put it over her shoulder, and headed

out back to where the hogs and chickens were.

"Here, chick, chick, chick," Billy Bob was saying as he scattered a few

meager handfuls of grain for the hens. A bucket of slops was next to his

feet, intended for the rather skinny hog in a makeshift pen a few yards

away.

"Billy Bob," Claire called to his back. "I need a ride down the road to

the gas station. I need to make a phone call."

Without turning around, he answered, "I ain't got gas to waste on you

and yore foolishness, woman. Now git back to the house and hep Bettye

Jean with her chores."

Claire's face flushed in anger. No one had talked like that to her in

ten years, and she wasn't about to let this inbred idiot do it now.

"I don't think so, Billy Bob," she said in a low, dangerous voice.

"You sassin' me, woman?" he said as he turned around, eyes widening as

he saw the long-barreled shotgun cradled in her arms.

17

"What you doin' with my scattergun?" he asked.

"Thanking you for your hospitality, you dumb son of a bitch," she said,

her eyes sparkling with excitement as she pulled the trigger.

The shotgun exploded, twisting her half around as the heavy load blew

Billy Bob backward to land half in the hog pen.

"You'll have something special to eat tonight, hog," she said as she

turned and walked up the hill toward the house.

Bettye Jean came running out of the door, her hands to her mouth when

she saw what Claire had done.

"Oh, Mary," she screamed, tears running down her cheeks. "What'd you do

that, fer?"

"I'm sorry, Bettye Jean, but I can't let you tell anyone I'm here until

my people have a chance to come get me. It would be too dangerous with

the attitude you mountain people have towards the government."

"Huh?" Bettye Jean asked.

"I'm truly sorry, Bettye Jean. You were really nice to me, but you had

the misfortune to become involved in things more important than your

miserable life."

The shotgun exploded again, knocking Bettye Jean backward through the

screened-in rear porch, dead before she hit the ground.

Claire took the keys to their battered pickup truck off a nail on the

kitchen wall. She reloaded the shotgun, just in case, and started toward

the gasoline station down the road. It was time to call in the troops.

18 Two

Virgie Malone, Otis Warner's new secretary and "gal Friday," stuck her

head in the door to the President of the United States' office and

called, "Mr. President!"

Otis glanced up from the latest communique from President Cecil

Jeffreys, surprised at the urgent tone in Virgie's voice. He was

interested to see what could make the usually unflappable Virgie so excited.

"Yes, Virgie? What is it?" he asked.

"There's someone on line one," she said, a little breathless since she'd

run the twenty feet down the hall from her office to give him this

message personally rather than trusting the interoffice intercom.

"Who is it?"

William W Johnstone - Ashes 30 - Tyranny in the Ashes (txt)

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: