Blood in the Ashes (10 page)

Tony's convoy met the men from Dublin on the interstate, one group heading west, the remains of Tony's Dublin contingent heading east as fast as they could go. The lead vehicle of Tony's group flagged them down.

Tony stood in the middle of the interstate, growing angry as the men tried to explain what had happened.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Tony shouted. “You mean you guys just cut and run out? What the hell does Raines have, trained tigers with him?'

“Uh, that's about the size of it, Tony,” the leader of the Dublin contingent said. “Them Rebels is all trained better than us. They got them military weapons and they know how to use them.”

Tony fought his temper under control. “Awright, awright,” he finally said, clenching and unclenching his big hands. “Jesus, I don't wanna hear no more of your excuses. How many troops does Raines have with him?”

There was a lot of shuffling of feet and eyes that would not meet Tony's hard eyes. “Uh ... 'bout forty, boss.”

“
Forty
!” Tony screamed. “Forty fucking guys caused you people to turn tail and run?”

“Uh ... they wasn't all guys,” a man said, making matters much worse. “There was some cunts with 'em, too.”

“Cunts! Pussies?” Tony sputtered. “You mean to stand there and tell me you tough guys ran from a bunch of
broads?”

“Jesus, Tony. These broads had guns!”

“I don't care if they had pussies that fired torpedoes!” Tony screamed, jumping up and down in the center of the highway. “A broad is a broad. Shit! Goddamnit. What is this gonna do to my image, you crapheads?” He once more fought his temper, finally winning. “Well . . . come on, then, damnit. Let's go find this Ben Raines. I'll show you guys how to kick the ass off him.”

Several of his people looked dubious at that last remark from Tony. But for the time being they were more afraid of Tony than of Ben Raines.

A condition that would not prevail much longer.

Ike worked on the old pickup all morning. Finally he threw the wrench aside in disgust. “No good, Nina. I can't fix it. Been settin' here just too damn long.”

“So what do we do, Ike?”

“Shank's Mare,” he told her with a quick grin.

“What?”

“We hoof it.”

“Oh, goody. Ike? When it warms up some, let's find a stream and take a bath. I feel like I got bugs crawling around on me. I itch.”

“After wearin' that damn stinkin' robe, I know I got fleas hoppin' around on me. Probably gave 'em to you. You got any soap?”

“Yeah. Found some bars in that old house.”

“You ready to go?”

“Too windy to stack BBs,” she said with a smile.

“Ain't heard that one in years. Let's go, little one.”

In his comfortable new quarters in northern California, General Striganov smiled at Colonel Fechnor. “So a cheap hoodlum is going to challenge General Raines,
da
?”

“That is what our intelligence reports, General, And this Captain Willette is somehow involved with some religious group called the Ninth Order. They are rather barbaric, according to the reports we have received. ”

“Aren't
all
religious orders barbaric to some degree, old friend?” Striganov said with a smile. “Well, I wish Mr. Silver all the luck in the world.” He dismissed Tony's chances of doing any real damage to Ben Raines with a curt slash of his hand. “Tell me some good news about our breeding program, Colonel. I need some cheering news.”

“Everything is progressing quite well, General. We did lose a number of women due to General Raines' raids on our breeding farms in Iowa. But we picked up more than we lost on the way west. Those women who have birthed, and those mutant females who birthed are doing quite well. And, even more good news, the offspring appear to have much more intelligence than we first hoped.”

“Good, good!” General Striganov rubbed his hands together and smiled. “That is good news indeed. We are standing on the brink of a marvelous new day for the world, Fechnor. Our doctors have solved the problem of workers for the menial tasks any civilization faces. Thus freeing the masses for positions befitting their natural abilities. I gather, since nothing to indicate it has passed my desk, your people have not met with much resistance from the minorities?”

“Very little, sir. We crushed the initial thrust upon arrival. It was as you predicted, sir. Many of those with a pure Aryan background stood back and did not interfere.”

“But, of course, they did. It's been that way since the beginnings of time. All one has to do is study history. Equality cannot be forced upon a race. It must be earned. Just as respect must be earned, all in accordance with the existing mores of the ruling society. Only stupid people think otherwise.” He leaned back in his chair. “So much for that. I have been reluctant to view the . . . newborn for fear I would see monsters. How do the babies look?”

“Some of those crossbred look . . . well, rather hideous, General. But most appear normal, as normal as can be expected, that is, when one takes into consideration each baby has either a father or mother who is a mutant. We've had to destroy several, because of, ah, certain physical abnormalities. But a full ninety percent of the children—and it's incorrect to call them children because of the rapid growth patterns—are coming along splendidly.”

“Good, good, Colonel Fechnor. Now, the people in the regions we've claimed as our own—discounting the minorities, of course—how are they responding to our overtures?”

“Very well, sir. We have encountered surprisingly little armed resistance. Many of the people appear to welcome our presence. Most were in rather sad shape.”

General Striganov nodded his head. He seemed to be paying only polite attention to his second in command. He seemed preoccupied with another matter. “Smoothly, then,” the general said. “Everything is progressing quite smoothly and orderly. Is that how you would sum it up?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fechnor had been standing. He was waved to a chair. Tea was brought in by an aide. Both men sipped in silence for a moment, enjoying the fragrance of the tea. Striganov's eyes touched Fechnor.

“You do realize, Colonel Fechnor, that I greatly admire General Ben Raines?”

The colonel shook his head. “No, sir. I did not know that, General.”

“Oh, it's true. I won't deny it. What we must use force and lies and half-truths to accomplish, General Raines gains through trust and respect. Not that I have any intention of imitating any of Ben Raines' tactics, mind you,” he added quickly. “I still feel our way is the most productive to our system of government. But Ben Raines worries me. He is going to be a constant thorn in our side. I wish the man would listen to reason. I wish he would understand that our respective forms of government could exist side by side.” The general shook his handsome head. “Wishful thinking on my part, I suppose.”

“Our intelligence reports that Ben Raines is making no moves toward us, General.”

“He will,” Striganov said softly. “He will, old friend. Bet on it.”

“A large force of heavily armed men moving toward the column, General,” the forward Scout radioed to Ben.

“How many?” Ben asked.

“A hundred, at least. Looks like some of those we just kicked out of Dublin.” She took a closer look. “Yes, sir. It's part of the same bunch, all right. But beefed up.”

“OK, Susie. Lay low until you receive further instructions.”

“Ten-four, sir. We'll keep our heads down until I see those ol' boys retreating with their peckers hangin' low.”

Gale looked at the radio in the truck. She shook her head. “Jesus. Susie certainly has a way with words, doesn't she?”

Ben grinned. “Susie's a good ol' Southern gal.” He keyed his mic. “All right, gang—you all heard her. Set up ambush positions. Let's do it right the first time.”

“A good ol' gal?” Gale questioned. “What a dubious compliment.”

Ben laughed at her.

The short column pulled off the interstate at the first exit. It was no trick for them to hide their vehicles in the thick timber and brush that had grown wild and unattended along most of the nation's highways for years. Ben did not worry about airborne spotters. As far as Ben knew, his Rebels and the troops of the IPF
⁴
were the only organized forces that still utilized any type of aircraft.

“Here they come,” a Rebel said, looking through binoculars. “Cars, not trucks. Long line of them. Three to four men per car. Hard-lookin' crew. Lots of guns.”

“OK,” Ben said. “Let's make sure we're about to waste the right bunch. Where's the volunteer?”

“Here, sir.” A young woman stepped forward. She had changed into jeans and civilian windbreaker. She carried a knapsack.

“Jane?” Ben asked. “You're sure about this, now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“OK. Get into position, and be ready to act very quickly. That ditch is deep; it'll give you good protection.” He keyed the talk switch on his walkie-talkie. “All right, people. Get ready to blow them to hell if they make any funky moves toward Jane. One mistake on our part means Jane gets shot up. Let's don't let that happen.”

Jane took her position on the shoulder of the interstate.

Tony's lead vehicle rounded the curve in the interstate. “Goddamn, Pete,” the driver said. “Look at that cunt up there.”

“Yeah, I see her. Looks pretty good from here.”

“Pretty good? Man, you need glasses. That's prime gash.”

The man on the passenger side radioed Tony, who was in the center of the column.

“Stop here,” Tony ordered his driver. “It could be a trap.” He radioed to the lead cars. “Rest of you guys go on up there and check it out.”

A half dozen cars approached the lone woman standing by the side of the interstate. The lead car stopped, the others grinding to a halt behind him. The driver rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “Hello, sweet thing. You waitin' for a bus, maybe?”

“Could be,” Jane replied. She smiled. The windbreaker was draped over her right hand and forearm, hiding the cocked .45 semi-automatic pistol in her hand. Her finger was on the trigger.

“Well, now, ain't you the lucky one, though. No point in you standin' out there, baby. Why don't you just hop your pretty ass in here with us. We'll take you to the nearest bus station. We might decide to have some fun along the way.”

“I think I'll just wait for the Trailways, if you don't mind,” Jane told him. “One should be along any time.”

“Honey, there ain't been no buses on this road for a long time. Now get your ass in here like I tol' you.”

Jane offered no reply. She stood alone on the windswept shoulder of the road, matching the man look for look.

The driver's features hardened. “I said, baby, get your ass in here and get ready for a good fuckin'. I'm gettin' a bone just lookin' at you.”

“And if I don't?” Jane asked. Her smile had turned grim. Before joining Raines' Rebels, Jane had been taken captive by a group of men and sexually abused. She had been left for dead by the side of the road. She had no patience or mercy for rapists.

The driver could not know it, but he was gazing into the pretty face of death.

The driver laughed and got out of the car. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his thickening penis. “Don't that look good to you, baby? Now why don't you just come to Daddy and grab hold my tool? You can skin it back and get it up real hard for the both of us.”

“No thanks,” Jane said. “Fucking animals has never been my thing. And you look like a cross between an ape and a pig.”

The men still in the cars laughed at that.

The man with his cock hanging out of his jeans flushed with anger. “You gonna know some pain for that smart-mouth crack, girlie.” He stepped toward her.

Jane slid back her windbreaker and shot the man in the groin. The heavy .45-caliber slug, from a very close range, separated penis from man. The slug tore through the man's lower belly, slamming him to the ground. Jane lifted the 45 and emptied it into the car, the booming of the pistol not masking the man with the missing pecker's howling as he rolled and began the dying process on the shoulder of the interstate.

Jane leaped for the ditch just as automatic weapons fire cracked and roared and lanced death from both sides of the interstate. The slugs turned the lead vehicles into death traps. Glass splintered and metal howled as slugs whined and sparked and tore through flesh and bone.

A quarter of a mile back, Tony Silver yelled his commands. “Get outta here! It's a fuckin' ambush.”

Tony's boast that he'd show his men how to kick the ass off Ben Raines blew into the air like the thin emptiness it was as the cars squalled around and retreated down the interstate. Two miles down the road, they were forced to run the gauntlet of Susie and the other Scouts as they pot-shot from the brush along the roadway.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Tony yelled. He was crouched on the floorboards, trembling in fear and rage—the rage directed at himself for showing his fear in front of his men. But he did not need to worry about that; his men were more frightened than him. One had shit his pants and one had pissed his pants. Glass showered Tony as slugs slammed the car. Blood splattered him as one of his men took a round through the head and fell forward, his blood and brains and fluid leaking onto the front seat and dripping onto Tony in a red river.

“Floorboard this mother!” Tony squalled. “Get me the hell outta here!”

“Finish it,” Ben told his people. “Take a few of the men alive for questioning—if you can find any alive. Get as much information from them as possible then shoot them.”

“My pleasure,” Jane said.