Blood in the Ashes (11 page)

“I sure would like to find some wheels,” Ike said. “I have never been a fan of hikin'. Swimmin', yeah—walkin', no, thank you, ma'am.”

“You said you were a Shark?”

Ike laughed. “No, Nina! Not a shark, a SEAL. Navy. Means sea, air and land. Back in my day we were the bad boys of the Navy—so called, that is.”

“How come, Ike?”

“Oh,” he replied with typical modesty. “I guess ‘cause our trainin' was so rough and the dirty jobs that was always handed to us.”

“You mean you guys wouldn't run from anything?”

Ike again laughed. “Only a fool won't haul his ass out of some situations, little one. Hell, yes, I ran at times. Run like a thief in the night.”

“But I bet you won medals for being brave,” she said.

“I won a few. Some I guess maybe I deserved, others I didn't. Ever'body that sees combat oughta win medals.” Ike stepped on a rock in the old road.
“Ouch
! Shit! Goddamn walkin'!”

Nina laughed at him. “Getting old, Ike?”

Ike's grin was rueful as it transformed his face, the years fading away with the smile. “You bet, I am, Nina. I'm pushin' hard at the half century mark.”

“No! I don't believe that.”

“It's true, kid.” Except for the gray in his close-cropped hair, Ike looked about thirty-five. “I don't feel it, but it's true.”

They walked down the center of the highway.

“You got any kids, Ike?”

Ike was flung back in time. Back to the original Tri-States, and to Megan, his first wife. “Yeah, but I lost 'em in the battle for Tri-States. Me and Sally adopted a whole brood later on.”

“You and Sally been married long?”

“Not long. I lost my first wife, Megan, in the big battle for Tri-States. Me and Sally got hooked up a couple years ago.”

“You love her, Ike?”

“I like her,” he replied, and Nina knew the subject was closed.

“Was you and General Raines in the SEALs together?”

“No, Ben was a Hell Hound.” He saw the confused look on her face. “The Hell Hounds was the closest thing the U.S. ever had to a full-fledged mercenary unit. Mean bunch of cutthroats. I did a year with 'em, but that was long after Ben was wounded and got out. He was probably over in Africa at that time, fightin' with the five or six Commandoes. I don't know. We don't talk much about those days anymore. Brings back too many bad memories; too many good men died over there, Nina. The war got all turned around in the minds of people back home. Hell with it.”

And the subject was closed.

The faint sounds of engines reached them. Ike grabbed Nina's arm and jerked her off the road. They climbed up the embankment and hid in the thick timber and brush. The engine noise grew louder.

The first truck came into view. “It's them!” Nina hissed. “The Ninth Order. That's the bunch that's been chasing me ever since I got away from them. I recognize the pickup. That's the one Sister Voleta always rides in.”

Ike slipped the M-16 off safety and onto full auto as the drag vehicle came into view. “Two of them,” he muttered.

“There will be two men in the back of each truck,” Nina said. “Sister Voleta's personal guards. And they know what they're doing.”

“That bunch over where they had me captive damn sure didn't know much,” Ike countered. “Matter of fact, they were a bunch of amateurs.”

Just as Ike was raising the M-16, two more trucks appeared from the opposite direction. A woman got out of the lead pickup to stand in the road.

The other cars and trucks stopped, their passengers getting out. A dozen men and women now lined the road, with guards facing in all directions, armed with M-16s.

“Shit!” Ike whispered. “I could take 'em, but they might take us, too. Can't risk it. They're too spread out.”

“I agree,” Nina returned the whisper. She clutched at his arm and Ike could feel the fear in the woman transmitting to him at her touch.

“Take it easy, kid,” Ike said. “We're gonna make it. ”

“Promise?”

“You betcha.” He looked at the robed woman. “I know that woman.”

“That's Sister Voleta. She's head of the Ninth Order. She is evil and perverted and crazy to boot.”

“Sounds like ya'll real fond of one another.”

“I'd like to jam this .38 up her butt and pull the trigger. ”

“Listen.”

“Captain Willette is not performing up to his capabilities,” Sister Voleta said, her voice reaching Ike and Nina. “And those fools at the warehouse deserved what they received for allowing Colonel McGowen to escape. That fat worshipper of a false god is not to leave these mountains.”

Ike's face reddened with anger and Nina had to stifle a giggle at his expression.

Sister Voleta said, “We have over five hundred people, with that many more coming in, some with tracking dogs to search for that lard ass.”

Ike gripped his M-16 so hard his knuckles turned white from the strain.

Despite the seriousness of the situation—they were only about fifty feet from the roadbed—Nina almost groaned suppressing a giggle at the expression on Ike's face. Sister Voleta, Nina thought, didn't know Ike very well at all. True, the ex-SEAL was built like a fireplug, but he was muscular, not at all fat.

Ike stuck out his tongue at Sister Voleta. He muttered, “I'm gonna shoot your ass off, bitch! And enjoy doing it.”

“Tell our people within the ranks of Ben Raines' Rebels to step up their activities,” Sister Voleta gave the command. She did not elaborate as to what those “activities” might be. “Already, many of the younger Rebels are swaying toward our side—even if they don't yet realize it. But, for now, recapture McGowen. He is sure to head either south or east. If so, he is ours.”

The group split up, returning to their vehicles. The guards were the last to go, backing up all the way, weapons at the ready. Ike agreed with Nina: They knew what they were doing. In a moment, the road was clear, the sounds of engines fading into the distance.

Nina's fingers clutched at Ike's forearm. “What are we going to do, Ike?” There was panic in her voice. “We can't fool
dogs
!”

“Easy, kid. We can fool the dogs if we don't run into them.” He smiled at her. “So we're headin' straight north. I'm bettin' they'll expect us to cut ‘cross country, but we ain't. We're gonna backtrack on this road 'bout fifteen miles.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out an old map of the Chattahoochee National Forest. “See this park road? We cut northeast on it and it'll lead up to Highway 76. Don't you worry, little one. We'll make it. And we might just raise a little hell of our own along the way.”

“We're due to raise a little hell of our own,” she replied. “Bastards been after me for what seems like forever.”

“Can you use a rifle?”

“I damn sure can. You're looking at a girl who can do most anything.”

Ike laughed. “I believe it, Nina. Well, then, we'll just have to find you a rifle.”

“One of those flat-shooting .270s, if you can. I like that rifle.”

He glanced at her, amusement in his eyes. “Damned if you don't talk a good battle.”

“I do more than talk, buddy. Believe it.”

 

 

“Do we chase them, General?” Ben was asked.

“No. Let them go. No telling how many men he's got as backup. We could be heading into more trouble than we could handle.” He looked at his map. The column was just a few miles away from the intersection of Georgia Highway 121. “We'll cut due north here,” Ben said, thumping the map. “We want to give this old nuclear plant a wide berth. Here.” He pointed out the location. “It experienced a meltdown back in '88. Still might be hot around there. We'll stay with 121 to this point, then cut northwest, come up under Fort Gordon. We'll see if we can salvage something there. Although I imagine it's been picked clean by now.”

“What's a meltdown, General?” one of the younger Rebels asked.

Ben smiled sadly. So young, he thought. He was maybe ten years old when the balloon went up back in '88. Since that point in the earth's future, nuclear energy had become a thing of the past.

Ben explained, using layman's language, what a meltdown was.

He looked at the young faces around him. They don't understand, he thought. Even the best educated among them have such a deficiency in the sciences and math.

That simply must not be allowed to continue. For the sake of the future generations, it must not continue.

Yet another problem to face.

Ben sighed. “OK, gang. Finish up with those punks left alive and let's roll it.”

They were the younger of the Rebels and the ones with the least education. They had no idea they were being duped and manipulated by Willette and Carter and Bennett. What the three men and those with them said seemed to make sense. If you thought about it. It just wasn't right for the general to go off like he'd done. And yes, even though they didn't like to think about it, they reckoned that gods get old just like everybody else. Kind of. How old was General Raines, anyway?

Nobody seemed to know.

Most just shrugged the question off, saying he was ageless.

Ageless? What did that mean? Most of the younger Rebels had been no more than six or seven years old when the bombs came, back in '88. Most could barely read and write. Some could do neither. And they had no desire to learn. It was just too much of a bother. Too time-consuming. Who needs it?

Ignorance is the father and mother of superstition, the breeder of far-fetched legends, the sperm of ghostly tales, the lover and creator of myth. And these new, young Rebels were prime candidates.

Ageless. Whatever that meant. So . . . it figured that Ben Raines must be tired.

But they were convinced that all this, all this talking, all this planning, all this was for General Raines' welfare.

But who would be in charge while General Raines was resting? Not Cecil. He was kind of like General Raines . . . in a way. Ike? Naw. Ike was a fighter, not a decision-maker. Then . . . who?

Captain Willette was pretty smart, and an easygoing kind of guy. Up on all sorts of things. Read big books all the time.

Yeah. Captain Willette could handle the job.

 

 

“You're in a good mood, Ben,” Gale observed. “Cecil must have had some good news.”

The column was rolling toward Millen. And Ben always felt good when traveling, seeing new country. He had just spoken with Cecil. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. Gray's Scouts reported a lot of activity in the mountains. Near the area where a big fire and a lot of shooting took place. The searchers are bringing in bloodhounds.” He smiled. “Ike got away from them.”

Gale shook her head. “Poor Ike. Chased like an animal. I feel so sorry for him. And why did you just grin?”

Ben laughed, and she could not understand the laughter.

“I fail to see the humor in the situation, Ben.” There was indignation in her tone.

“You don't understand, Gale. Don't feel sorry for Ike—feel sorry for the people who are chasing him.”

“You're right, Ben. I am confused. Ike's being hunted and you sound like you're happy about that.”

“Ike is the hunter, Gale. Ike is a master at survival. He knows more dirty tricks than I do. He'll turn those woods into a death trap for those chasing him.”

“Jesus, Ben. You act like you'd like to change places with him.”

Ben grinned. “Ike's probably found him a woman by now. Might be interesting, all right.”

“Very funny.
Would
you like to be up there, Ben?”

“Yes. I think it would be fun.”

“Fun
! Raines, you have the damnedest idea of fun I have ever encountered. Fun?”

“Warriors are seldom understood, Gale. But they are—or were—much maligned. Warriors are not only molded, Gale, they have to be born with that streak within them. Either one has it, or one does not.”

“Fun, huh? Well, I hope Ike is having . . . fun.”

Ike and Nina had rummaged through an abandoned old home and found a trunk the rats had not chewed through. The large trunk contained old clothing from members of the whole family. Ike and Nina had found clothing that fit them. They had taken a very quick bath in the icy waters of a rushing mountain stream.

Then they lay wrapped in a quilt from the old home, locked in love-making. Both knew it was a very foolish thing to do, surrounded as they were by danger. But that knowledge only made the love act that much more spicy.

Later they lay by the stream, listening to it gurgle and bubble and race past them, a happy sound to its passage.

“Ike? You really think we're going to get out of this mess with our skins on, don't you?”

“You just watch ol' Ike go into action, Nina. I'm a mean motor scooter when I get my dander up.”

She giggled at him. “Well ... you may get your dander up, Ike, but that's about all you're gonna get up at the moment.”

Ike thought about that for a second. He took her tanned hand and placed it on his penis. “Famous last words, darlin'.”

She felt him thicken under her fingertips. “Why, you old goat!”

 

 

Midmorning of the next day found Ben and his contingent of Rebels prowling through the rubble of what had once been Fort Gordon. The post had been picked clean of anything that might be of use to anyone. Litter covered the broken streets; tin cans rolled unchallenged in the buildings as the breeze, coming through the broken windows, pushed the cans along, bouncing them off walls.

“There's nothing here,” Ben said. “Let's roll it. We can be in Lincolnton by early afternoon.”

Not wanting to take a chance on the big bridge over the Clark Hill Reservoir being out, the column headed west until reaching Thomson. There they connected with Highway 78 and followed that to the junction of 378 and 47, cutting east to Lincolnton.

Captain Rayle answered Ben's radio call. “Waiting just west of the first town on Highway 43 South, General. Everything is secure. And we have fresh-caught fish for supper.”

“Sounds good to me, Roger. OK. Coming in.”

An old-time fish fry was underway when the two contingents of Rebels met. Ben was amused at the name of the town.

“Loco, Captain?”

“We thought you'd get a kick out of it, General. Sure isn't much else amusing about the situation back at the base camp, though.”

“Give me a thumbnail briefing, Roger. And don't spare me a thing.”

“Yes, sir. Willette and his men have taken in a lot of the young troops, sir. Several hundred of them, at least. Probably more. General, those young troops are not doing it as any act of defiance toward you. Willette has convinced them that you are tired, you need a rest, that you are becoming senile, that that you are so old no one really knows how old you are. The list is staggeringly long.” Rayle sighed. “And a lot of people are buying that garbage.”

“I know the young Rebs aren't doing this to harm me, Captain. What concerns me is this: What are the odds of us putting this coup attempt down without spilling a lot of blood?”

Rayle shook his head negatively. “Very slim, sir. It's fast becoming a divided camp. And, sir? Colonel Gray is convinced Willette and his crew are somehow tied in with this Ninth Order business.”

“I have entertained that thought more than once myself, Roger. And I believe this Tony Silver is somehow tied up in it.”

“I read a slim dossier on that one, General. He's pure evil. The dossier stated that Silver is not only into slavery and murder and forced prostitution, but that he is starting up a pornography business down in north Florida. Mostly kiddy porn and snuff films.”

“Among other things,” Ben added.

“Yes, sir.”

“What's a snuff film?” Gale asked, walking up to the men. She had a huge plate of catfish, piled high with french fries.

“Is that for me?” Ben asked.

“Hell, no. It's for me. Get your own. What am I, your servant?”

“Like I said: eats like a horse.”

Gale ignored that. She bit into a piece of crisp-fried fish, then fanned her mouth as she made little oohhhing sounds.

“Hot?” Ben asked innocently.

She nodded her head vigorously.

“Watch the bones,” Roger cautioned.

“Nothing deters her from food,” Ben said, smiling at Gale's antics with a mouthful of steaming hot fish. “She'll kill for a hamburger.”

Gale swallowed the fish and took a long drink of water. She sighed and wiped her eyes. “I repeat: What is a snuff film?”

Roger looked at Ben, clearly dubious about telling her. “Tell her,” Ben said. “She asked.”

“Just at the moment of climax,” Roger said, avoiding Gale's eyes. “One of the performers kills the other.”

Gale looked at the plate of food, looked at Ben, and grimaced. “You might have had the decency to warn me, Ben.”

“You asked.”

She handed him her plate of food. “Here, you eat it. Probably did it just to get my food. Be like you.” Before she walked away, she grabbed a large piece of catfish from the plate. She walked away, munching and fanning at her mouth.

“They using kids in the snuff films, Roger? And who is buying the goddamn things? And with what?”

“They're not using too many kids, way I hear it. Mostly women in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties. As far as buying them, sir, it's not so much buying as it is bartering for territory and guns and slaves. Silver is using slave labor on his farms and small factories.”

“Blacks?”

“All races, sir. If a woman gives him much trouble in prostitution, Silver whips her into submission. And charges admission for people to see the beating. He sounds like a real nice fellow.”

“It's difficult for me to believe this Sister Voleta would be involved with a punk like Tony Silver.”

“She's as twisted in her own way as Silver. Sexually bent all out of shape. That young kid, Claudia, told Doctor Chase Sister Voleta gets her jollies from watching people tortured—the torture, more often than not, has sexual overtones. I thought the world was bad, General, but nothing like this.”

“Those types have been around for as long as we've stood upright, Roger. They began crawling out of holes in the ground, so to speak, back in the sixties, when the nation's courts became liberal. Liberal means permissive, and that's exactly what happened.”

“You wanna know something, General?” Roger asked, an embarrassed look on his face.

Ben smiled. “You weren't even born then, right?”

Roger's smile met Ben's. “Yes, sir.”