William W Johnstone - Ashes 23 - Slaughter in the Ashes (txt)

A GOOD CHANCE

The surrendering gang members were getting to be a real pain in the

butt. Ben walked over to the ragged line of punks, all standing with

their hands tied behind them. Ben pointed to one man, and gave an order:

"Cut him lose."

The man rubbed his wrists for a few seconds, then asked, "You gonna hang

me now, general?"

"No. I'm going to talk with you. Come on."

Ben sat down on what remained of a windowsill, dug in his pack and came

up with the Rebels' version of die old MRE-Meals Ready to Eat-and tossed

the package to the man.

"I thought a condemned man got his choice of food for his last meal,"

the man said.

"Be glad you're getting that," Ben said, then went on, "You're old

enough to remember what it was like before the Great War. So tell me why

you chose a life of crime."

The man glared at him. "The whole damn world fells apart, Raines," he

said bitterly, "and you go out and build yourself a friggin' nation. No

big deal for you. You just do it Well, let me give you a news flash.

There are some people, Raines, who just can't, or won't, live under your

rules and laws."

"Millions of them," Ben agreed. "But while they choose not to be a part

of the Tri-States philosophy, they do Bve under a basic set of rules and

laws. You and your kind won't even do that much."

"Maybe not, Raines. But you can't kill us all."

Ben chuckled. "You want to bet?"

3 WILLIAM W.JOHNSTONE THE ASHES SEMES

OUT OF THE ASHES (#1) BLOOD IN THE ASHES (#4) ALONE IN THE ASHES (#5)

WIND IN THE ASHES (#6) VALOR IN THE ASHES (#9) TRAPPED IN THE ASHES

(#10) DEATH IN THE ASHES (#11) SURVIVAL IN THE ASHES (#12) FURY IN THE

ASHES (#13) COURAGE IN THE ASHES (#14) VENGEANCE IN THE ASHES (#16)

TREASON IN THE ASHES (#19) D-DAY IN THE ASHES BETRAYAL IN THE ASHES

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4

William W. Johnstone

Pinnacle Books Kensington Publishing Corp.

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5 This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are

products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as

real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is

entirely coincidental.

PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

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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 mat this

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First Printing: April, 1997 10 9876543

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6 I don't like you, Sabidius, I can't say why; But I can say this: I

don't like you, Sabidius.

-Martial

7 Prologue

In the waning days of the last four years of the administration of the

most liberal president in the history of the union, the once greatest

nation in the world collapsed. The United States could have shrugged off

and emerged stronger after the limited nuclear and germ warfare that

very briefly engulfed Planet Earth; could have, but didn't.

America just fell apart. As the clouds of smoke began drifting away, a

large percentage of its citizens looked around them and cried, "But

where is the government? Why doesn't the government send people in to

help us? We need food. We need clothing. Above all, we need someone to

tell us what to do. We just don't know what to do. Big Brother promised

to care of us. What are we going to do now?"

Around the battered nation that was once called America, certain men and

women who had refused to bow down and kiss the socialistic ass of the

liberal Democrats in Congress viewed it all with dark humor.

8

These men and women didn't fall down in a hanky-stomping snit after the

collapse. They just dug up the guns they'd been forced to bury-rather

than turn them in- during the frenzied gun grab. For a dozen years,

these much maligned groups of men and women had been forced to endure

the barbs and blather of half-truths and sometimes outright lies from

the liberal-controlled press, left-wing extremists in elected and

appointed positions of government power, and hanky-waving, blubbering,

snot-slinging stiffs who wouldn't recognize reality, or know how to cope

with it if it reared up and bit them on the ass. (One must remember that

these are the people who believed that if you left the keys in your car

and a thief stole it, it wasn't the fault of the thief, it was your

fault for leaving the keys in the ignition). No one with a modicum of

common sense could ever find any logic in that statement.

Left-wing extremists openly belittled and ridiculed those who practiced

the art of surviving in any type of emergency. The government sent

infiltrators in to spy on the survivalists and the militias that sprang

up during the final years before the collapse. Many in the news media

were openly scornful of those who quietly stockpiled weapons and

ammunition and food and water and emergency gear, calling them

conspiracy freaks.

"Gun nuts!" others ridiculed.

"Right-wing kooks!" still others jeered at them.

But when the end came, those who had taken the time to prepare and had

endured the hostility of the biased press, the spying and snooping from

government agents, and the derision of often well-intentioned but badly

misinformed liberal groups, fared the best. They were able to fend off

the rampaging hordes of punks and thugs and human vermin that always

seem to lurk on the fringes of society, waiting for some type of

disaster to befall the law-

9

abiding public before they slither in to rape and assault and loot.

One of those who believed in speaking his mind (most of the time very

bluntly) and being prepared as much as possible was a man called Ben Raines.

For years, Ben Raines had spoken out against the growing socialistic

movement of big government in America. And, as so many thousands of

other heretofore law-abiding Americans had done when Congress finally

pushed through the infamous gun-grab bill, Ben hid his few guns rather

than turn them in.

But in the end, the disarming of American citizens came to naught, for

anarchy became the king of America. And as has been predicted by many,

when the United States fells, so goes the world. Within days, there was

not one single stable government anywhere on earth.

After months of roaming around the battered nation, and seeing no real

effort being made toward rebuilding, Ben and a few others linked up and

started talking about a dream they shared: the formation of a government

that would be based truly by the people and for the people.

The Tri-States philosophy of government was born, and since it was based

on a commonsense form of rule and law, the liberals could not understand

it. When it comes to common sense, denned simply as sound practical

judgment, liberals as a rule, are left out in the hinterlands, wondering

what in the hell is going on.

A commonsense form of government, with its laws and rules, is really

quite simple to understand: it means that each citizen is responsible

for his or her own actions, deeds, and destiny.

Liberals will usually respond to that with an expression of utter

confusion and by saying, "Huh?"

Attempting to explain common sense to a liberal is much

10

like trying to teach a pig to fly. It is a waste of time for all

concerned and is quite annoying to the pig.

Liberals believe that big government should be involved in every aspect

of a citizen's life. Tri-Staters believe that the primary responsibility

of government is to protect our shores, make sure trains and planes and

buses leave and arrive on time, and deliver the mail. That is, of

course, an over-simplification, but not by much. Tri-Staters must be a

special breed of person. They must respect the rights of others,

regardless of race, religion, or creed. They must accept full

responsibility for their own actions and deeds and by doing so

understand that honor and truth must play a large part in day-to-day

living. Con artists, slick-talking flim-flam operators, and people who

misrepresent the truth in any type of business dealing don't last long

in any Tri-State society. Bullies and people with abrasive and

argumentative personalities quickly learn to back off and temper their

emotions. In any community embracing the Tri-States philosophy, citizens

have the right to protect their lives, the lives of their loved ones,

and their personal property without fear of arrest, prosecution, and/or

civil lawsuit.

Right and wrong and morality is taught in public schools, and if parents

don't like that, they can take their children and leave. And don't come

back. Right and wrong is not up for debate.

Living in any Tri-States society is not a right, it is a privilege. And

for many people it proves to be not just difficult, but impossible. Ben

Raines correcdy calculated diat only three out of every ten people could

live in such an open society. It took a special person to live where

they controlled their own destiny.

Nearly everything in the Tri-States is low-key. High-pressure

salespeople and boiler-room operators quickly

11

learn that the Tri-States is not for them. In the Tri-States, no means

no, not maybe.

Eventually, the United States government outside die Tri-States

staggered to its feet and began whipping its citizens into line. Then it

threw all its might against the Tri-States and those who had chosen to

live as free people.

After days of fierce fighting, die Tri-States was overwhelmed and die

government of die United States (once again in the pretty little hands

of left-wing liberals) declared victory against Ben Raines and his

followers.

That declaration was a tad premature, for while die president was

patting himself on die back and proclaiming victory, Ben Raines was busy

putting togedier a guerrilla army. Widiin weeks he declared war on die

government of the United States.

It did not take long for diose in power to offer die olive branch of

peace to Ben and his Rebels. For a full-scale, all-out guerrilla war had

never really been fought on American soil... at least not in anyone's

memory, and certainly not against forces who fought as savagely as Ben

Raines's Rebels.

After a handshake and a promise of cooperation between die two nations

widiin a nation, and as die Tri-States was rebuilding and hopefully

setding down into a peaceful period, die government of die United States

once more collapsed and die world again followed suit.

Brush wars spread like wildfire and governments diat were attempting to

stabiuze disintegrated into bloody civil war. The United States was no

different.

That collapse could have been expected, especially in what had once been

called die United States. For in what had once been called die United

States, millions of people had been conditioned to expect die government

to do everydiing for diem: house diem, clodie them, feed diem,

12

provide them with free medical care, and give them money for doing

nothing except laying up on their lazy asses.

These types joined with other malcontents and went on a rioting,

looting, burning, killing rampage.

When the smoke cleared, punks and other more or less human street shit

controlled the cities, self-proclaimed warlords and their gangs of

worthless human vermin prowled the countryside, preying on the innocent,

and only one man and his small army stood between order and anarchy: Ben

Raines and the Rebels.

13 One

How many times are we going to have to do this?^en questioned silently.

How many times must we fight others' battles for them? When do I call a

halt to it?

His eyes were on the passing landscape but his mind was pondering many

issues as the long convoy began their pull-out of West Virginia. For the

most part, the state was clear of large bands of thugs and oudaws. Ben

knew a few small bands remained, as they did in every state the Rebels

had cleared outside of the SUSA-the Southern United States of America.

But in the SUSA, any band of thugs remaining diere would not last long,

for Raines's Rebels and Rebel supporters had a very short tolerance for

lawbreakers of any kind.

After the Rebels had pulled out of Europe, returning to North America to

once more clean it out of thugs, punks, warlords, oudaws, creepies, and

other bits of more or less human crap, Ben had found the nation cut in

half. Simon Border, a self-proclaimed religious leader and his

14

Army of the Democratic Front, with the help of several left-wing

senators and representatives representing the New Left Party, had staged

a coup against President Blan-ton, and the result was the nation was

once more leaderless and in chaos. When Ben and the Rebels returned from

Europe, Simon and his people beat it across the Mississippi River. Simon

now claimed much of the Western United States: 16 states, with the

exception of Texas, which was a part of the SUSA. The new capital of the

United States, Charleston, West Virginia, has been destroyed by looters

and other lowlifes, and was nothing but a shambles. Simon Border, whose

face bore a striking resemblance to a cot-tonmouth snake, wanted to be

king of America.

On the eastern side of the Mississippi, America would, again, have to be

rebuilt from the ground up, once the Rebels cleaned out the nests of

outlaws. And it was solely up to the Rebels to do it. Again.

Ben began by clearing out the SUSA and starting his factories running 24

hours, seven days a week, pumping out medicines, munitions and field

rations and all other necessities needed for a protracted war.

After his Rebels once more reclaimed their old Base Camp One, Ben got in

touch with President Homer Blan-ton-who was now out of a job-and offered

him the position of Secretary of State of the SUSA, a position that

Blanton quickly accepted. Then, after the Rebels began their push to

once more clean out America, Senator Paul Altman, at Ben's urgings, was

sworn in as President of the NUSA-the Northern United States of America.

Many of the states that would make up the NUSA had yet to be cleared.

With a smile, Ben assured Altman that they would be cleaned up ... be

patient.

"Do I have a choice?" Altman asked.

"Not really," Ben replied. "Where would you like your new capital to be?"

15

Altman sighed. Ben Raines moved very quickly. "As a matter of fact, I've

given that some thought. How about Indianapolis?"

"Fine with me. Consider it done."

Ben did not believe in wasting time.

As often as it takes, I suppose. Ben answered his own question, as he

pulled his eyes from the passing landscape and brought his mind back to

the present.

"Word must have spread fast," Jersey spoke from the second seat of the

big wagon. "I can't believe all the punks have left the state."

Word had indeed spread fast about the Rebels. They had encountered no

resistance as the long convoy snaked its way through West Virginia. They

had received some very hostile looks from a certain type of person as

they moved northward, but no shots had been fired at them.

Cooper moaned in dismay as the wagon lurched over a particularly bad

spot in the cracked old highway.

Highways all over the nation were in rough shape, having received no

maintenance for years. Only in areas controlled by the Rebels were roads

in good shape. There, any new people who had applied for resident status

and were not yet qualified to do anything else, and were physically

capable of hard work, Ben put to work assisting road crews during the

day. Then they went to school for several hours at night and all day on

Saturday to learn a trade. If they objected to that schedule, they were

escorted to the nearest border and kicked out and told not to come back.

In the SUSA, for years called the Tri-States, everybody capable of doing

so worked at something. Nobody laid up on their asses and did nothing.

There was just too much to do to put up with shirkers.

"They haven't all run away, Jersey," Ben said, unfolding

16

a map. "A lot of them are hiding in the timber and the hills and

hollows. They'll surface as soon as we clear the state. But they're

going to be in for a very rude surprise when they do surface with

stealing and raping and killing on their miserable little minds."

Now, when the Rebels left an area that had agreed to align with them,

they left behind them local men and women who had sworn to uphold the

Tri-States philosophy of law and order. That meant that the life

expectancy of criminals was about 20 minutes, max. Under the Tri-States

form of government, law-abiding citizens have the right to protect and

preserve life, loved ones, and personal property by any means at hand,

including deadly force, without fear of arrest, prosecution, or civil

lawsuit. Citizens were certainly not required to use extreme measures in

protecting what was theirs, but they were encouraged to do so.

"We keep chasing these assholes and pushing them back and back," Corrie

said. "And when we get them into the northeast part of the country,

they'll cut up into Canada and scatter. Seems like we've done this before."

"Yes, we have," Ben said with a sigh. "This is certainly covered ground.

Most of it anyway. We've been fighting to restore order in this beat-up

nation for years. We clear one area, and I'll be damned if the citizens

don't allow the thugs and punks to move right back in with near

impunity. Tell you the truth, I'm getting weary of it."

There was a finality in Ben's voice that his team had not heard before.

The boss was getting tired of fighting other peoples' battles for them.

As Ben was found of saying: Enough is enough and too much is an

amplitude of sufficiency.

"When this push is over," Jersey asked, "are we going to stand down?"

Ben smiled. "Now, I didn't say that, Jersey. As long as I

17

have the stamina to stay in the field, the field is where I'll be. But

the next time we're asked to trace old footsteps ... well, hell, I don't

know what decision I'll reach."

Ben's team relaxed. With the exception of Anna, the blonde, pale-eyed

young lady Ben had brought back from Europe and adopted as his own, the

rest of the team- Corrie, Beth, Jersey, and Cooper-had known nothing but

the field for years. All of them had joined Ben while still in their

teen years. Corrie, the communications expert. Cooper, the driver. Beth,

the statistician. Jersey, Ben's personal bodyguard.

"Don't scare us like that, boss," the usually quiet Beth spoke from the

rear seat of the big wagon, where she had her nose stuck in a book, as

usual. She was reading a novel written by Robert Vaughan. "You'll make

us think you're sick, or something."

Ben smiled. "I never felt better in my life," he informed them. And that

was the truth. Ben always felt like a million bucks when a push began.

He loved the field, even though he was middle-aged and knew he was

approaching the time when he should think of getting out of the field

... or at the very least, slowing down some.

But he wouldn't seriously entertain that thought. For years he had

known, somehow, perhaps as a premonition, that when his time came to

face the Almighty, he would die in the field, in combat. That was his

destiny, and Ben realized it

Corrie broke into his thoughts. "Receiving from Scouts, boss," she

announced. "What is left of Pittsburgh is filled with creeps. And

fly-bys confirm that the punks have broken up into small groups and have

taken to the countryside."

Ben nodded his head. "Just like we figured. What about the citizens?"

18

"Militia and survivalist groups are holding in spots around the state.

But they need to be re-supplied ASAP."

"I bet they do." Intelligence had informed him that a few of the militia

and survivalist groups were racist-some even aligned with notorious

anti-Semitic and anti-black organizations-but not the majority. However,

right now, Ben and his Rebels needed all the help they could get. He

would sort it all out later. Besides, it sure as hell wouldn't be the

first time he'd shaken hands with the devil in order to complete a

mission, nor, he was sure, would it be the last time. "All right, Come.

Find out what they need and arrange for airdrops. I want to know the

exact location of each militia group and I want to meet with the leaders

head-to-head later on."

"Right," Corrie responded. A moment later: "Bivouac area one hour ahead.

We'll be right on the Ohio line. Approximately 50 miles from Pittsburgh."

The long column pulled off the interstate just outside of what was left

of a small town on the West Virginia side of the state line. Before the

Great War, the town had boasted a population of about 700. Now there was

nothing except looted, trashed, picked-over homes, and a few burned-out

hulks of what once were businesses.

Scouts had inspected the ghost town and declared it free of hostiles.

"Hell," Cooper remarked. "It's free of everything. Place is spooky."

"Be sure and look in your sleeping bag before you crawl in there

tonight, Coop." Jersey stuck the needle to him. "There might be a

creepie in there just waiting to give you a great big sloppy goodnight

kiss."

Cooper flipped her the bird and otherwise ignored her. Then he shuddered

and said, "Yuck!" at just the thought of the Night People. He walked away.

Some years back, after the dust had settled from the first

19

collapse of civilization and the Rebels were just getting organized,

bands of what the Rebels would eventually refer to as "creepies" began

surfacing. They were the most disgusting people the Rebels had ever

encountered, and the Rebels hated them with a passion that was

unequaled, for the Night People were cannibals. The adults either could

not or would not allow themselves to be rehabilitated, and the children

simply could not be rehabilitated. Ben's scientists were still trying to

determine why the creeps lived as they did. But so far, no luck.

The Rebels learned about the offspring of the Night People the hard way.

After several Rebels had been killed and more than a dozen maimed by

vicious attacks, the Rebels were forced to cease their attempts to rehab

die kids they captured. Since none among them wanted to shoot a child,

the Rebels, if they could possibly do it, just let die kids escape,

knowing full well diey would someday have to face diem in combat as

adults. Ben just didn't know what else to do with them.

And now the Rebels knew for sure diat within die ruins of Pittsburgh die

creepies were waiting for a fight to die finish, for die creeps never

surrendered. Retreated yes, surrendered no.

As dusk began spreading over die land, Ben sat outside die large motor

home he had begun using as his CP. His team sat away from him, knowing

without being told diat he did not wish to be disturbed.

Just give it up, Ben, a quiet voice spoke inside his head. You and the

Rebels don't owe these people anything. They 're adults, they can fight

their own battles. Just stand everybody down and go on back to the SUSA

and let everybody else fight their own battles.

You can't do that, anodier voice said. You can't let one area of the

country tear itself apart with anarchy while another section prospers.

20

Give me one good reason why not ? the first voice demanded.

Because if you allow the creeps and the punks and the gangs and the

human vermin to flourish, it will only be a matter of time before they

'U be strong enough to attack the SUSA and those areas aligned with the

Rebel philosophy.

They might be strong enough to attack, but they won't be strong enough

to defeat the Rebels.

Perhaps not the first time, or the second time, or even the third time.

But how long can the SUSA stand alone and hold out?

The second voice was silent, having no reply to diat. Ben angrily shook

his head, momentarily clearing it of the arguing voices only he could

hear. He stood up and walked around the motor home several times, taking

long strides, his big hands balled into fists.

His team watched in silence for a time, then Cooper said, "The boss is

pissed about something."

"I don't think so," Beth said. "I think he's waging some sort of inner

conflict."

Cooper cut his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"For once, I agree with Coop," Jersey said. She looked at him. "Don't

let that go to your head, Coop. What do you mean, Beth?"

"I'd guess the boss is trying to make up his mind whether to go forward

or stand us down and head on back home. I think."

"Now I am confused," Cooper said.

"Your normal state," Jersey told him. She looked at Beth. "He's maybe

wondering if going on is worth it?"

"That would be my guess."

"Fight the creeps and the punks and the assholes now, or fight them

later," Corrie spoke up. "Either way, we're going to take losses. But

this way it isn't little Rebel kids who will be dying. If the boss pulls

back and we bunker in, sooner or later we'll be attacked and Rebel kids

and elderly will suffer."

21

Those who subscribed to the Tri-States philosophy never thought of

themselves as anything other than Rebels.

"I have never known anything but fighting," Anna said. "I would think it

would be very strange to live in peace."

"Tell the truth," Jersey replied, "I been scrapin' for survival ever

since I was a little girl. I remember very little else. If we weren't

fightin', what the hell would we do?"

"You could always come live with me and we could have lots of litde

Apaches," Cooper said hopefully. He was ready to leap up and head for

parts unknown should Jersey make a move toward him.

But the diminutive Jersey only smiled. "Coop, what do you figure the

odds are of any of us living long enough to settle down and have a family?"

Coop's returning smile was sad in the quickly gathering night. "Not too

damn high, Jersey."

"Then we won't bring up the subject of family again, Coop," Jersey spoke

softly. "It's just damn depressing."

"Yes," Beth said. "I never think about that."

"Me either," Corrie said. "Anna?"

The teenager cut her wise and young-old eyes to Corrie. "I have never

thought about anything like that. In my country, it was a day-to-day

struggle just to stay alive. Nobody really planned for die future."

William W Johnstone - Ashes 23 - Slaughter in the Ashes (txt)

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