Bunches. Marvelous. "Before the IPF arrived-bearing in mind they only got here about a year ago-did you have school for the young?"
"Never got around to it. Always something else to worry about." Harry was finding his balls and beginningto stand up to Ben-verbally and in his stance.
For when he had tried to sit down, when first entering the house, Ben had told him to get up and remain standing.
"Do you have gardens ... vegetable gardens?"
"Some folks do. I never had much luck with them, myself."
*Out of the Ashes "What do you do with your time?"
"Scrounge around."
"Before the IPF arrived?"
"Same thing. Why you asking me all these questions?
I ain't your enemy."
"I don't know whether you are, or not. I am trying to determine if you're worth my attention."
"Say what?"
"Harry, give me a couple of reasons why I should help you."
"We're human bein's."
"Is that a reason or an excuse, Harry?"
Harry's eyes became hard as they locked with Ben's eyes. "I don't think I like you very much, Ben Raines."
"I don't think I'll lose much sleep over it, Harry."
"You was a writer before you became what you are now, right, Ben Raines?"
"That is correct."
"And before that?"
"Some people called me a mercenary. I was not. What I was, was a soldier of fortune."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes." Ben had no desire to discuss that great difference. People who didn't know the difference between the two were very naive.
"And before that?"
"I was a paratrooper, a Ranger, a Green Beret, then a member of the Hell-Hounds."
"I never was even a Boy Scout."
"That's your problem."
"Sir?"
"We're about the same age, Harry. Give or take a few years. We both grew up in the days of the draft and the volunteer military. If you didn't elect to serve, don't blame me for it. If you chose not to learn weapons-as a civilian-that's your problem, not mine. How did you feel about guns back when the U.s. was flourishing ... back when you and others like you had somebody else to do your fighting for you?"
"You ... to was Harry bit off the unspoken scathing.
"Go ahead and say it, Harry. I'm not going to shoot you for it."
"Fuck you, Raines!"
Ben laughed at him.
Harry picked up a straight-backed chair, slammed the legs to the floor, and sat down, glaringat Ben, daring him to say something about his being seated.
Instead, Ben said, "Answer my question, Harry."
"I despised guns, Raines."
"I bet you didn't like cops either, did you, Harry?"
"I didn't have much use for them."
"But you'd call one if you got in trouble, wouldn't you, Harry?"
"I did on several occasions. What's the point of all this, Raines?"
"You, Harry. How long have you lived in this area?"
"I came here just after the bombings. I was in business in Davis."
"And you just scrounged around for food and clothing?
No gardens, no schools for the kids, no organization, no forming of any type of defense?
Is that right, Harry?"
"Yeah."
"And now you people want me and my Rebels to pick your asses out of the ashes of war, dust you off, feed you and fight your battles for you, right, Harry?"
"I've heard for years what a horse's ass you really are, Raines. I guess the rumors were true."
"They may be, Harry. I may well be a horse's butt. But I haven't been sitting around feeling sorry for myself."
"So what are you going to do with us, Raines?"
"Nothing," Ben said softly. "Except take every kid I can find and all the helpless and elderly and transport them back to our base camp. The rest of you people can go straight to hell."
"You're just going to leave us?"
"Yeah."
"But you're supposed to be some sort of savior!
You're supposed to be ... to be going around the country, helping people!"
"Who want to help themselves," Ben corrected.
"And I don't recall running for this so-called position of mine, Harry. I never asked for this job."
Harry stared at Ben for a long moment, his expression unbelieving. "Will you arm us, at least?"
"With a gun, Harry?" Ben said, his words laced with sarcasm.
The red crept up Harry's neck, coloring his face.
"What are you going to do with a gun, Harry? Shoot yourself in the foot?"
Lora walked into the room, a pistol belted around her waist. She leaned her carbine against a wall and sat down in a chair.
Harry looked at her, then at Ben. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. "Yeah, Harry," Ben said. "She's carrying guns."
"Will you arm us?"
"I'll leave some of the IPF'S weapons and ammo for you, Harry. But when push comes to shove, you people will never use them. The next time some crazy warlord and his men roll through, you'll all run and hide.
You'll let your women get raped and you men will drop your pants and bend over. I would help you, Harry.
But there are too many obstacles in the way. You don't like authority, Harry. People like you question every order given you by people who are trying to help. You want lots of things, Harry. But you don't want to work for them. I saw that the instant I drove into town. The place is filthy. You don't look like you've had a bath in a month."
"There isn't any goddamned soap!"
Harry flared.
"Then make some."
"Make it? How?"
Ben rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "Can you read, Harry?"
"Of course I can read! I was a very successful businessman back in Davis."
"There is a library in town, Harry. I drove past what is left of it. It looks like it hasn't been used in years."
Harry's face was flushed a deep red.
"When did you last read a book, Harry?"
Harry looked like he was ready to explode. He stuttered and sputtered and managed to say nothing.
Ben momentarily forgot Lora was in the room.
"You're a dumb mother-fucker, Harry."
Lora laughed.
"Harry, you can make soap by boiling plain oFrom ordinary kitchen fat with wood lye; you can get that from leaching ashes of hard wood. You go scrounge around and find coconut oil, or linseed oil, soybean oil, or other vegetable oil. Add that, it'll take the sting out of it. Then take a bath, Harry. You stink!"
Harry was crying as he rose from his chair and stumbled to the door. He turned around and said, "You ain't got no right to treat me like this, Ben Raines.
The Good Book says the meek will inherit the earth."
"Six feet of it, Harry." Ben winked at him. "Hang in there, Harry."
Chapter.
Eighteen Ike's Rebels were now in firm control of everything south of Highway 20 down to the Bay area of San Francisco. And Ike was just as tough as Ben in his treatment of those who would not help themselves.
He had no pity for them.
He was highly compassionate toward the very young and the very old; but anything in-between who groveled and allowed themselves to be enslaved, he brushed aside withcontempt.
In Santa Rosa, a once thriving city, Ike found that cults had sprung up, worshipping everything from salt and pepper shakers to billy goats-and anything and everything in-between.
But out of every bad situation, there is usually some good-if one looks for it.
Ike and his Rebels looked.
Just a few miles northeast of the city, Scouts reported a large colony of people, living in well-kept houses, with neat fields, huge gardens, and herds of cattle and sheep and hogs.
And a lot of guns.
"Say again," Ike spoke into his mike.
"Guns, sir. Lots of guns. And the people look like they know how to use them."
"How many people?" Ike asked.
"Countin" the kids, close to a thousand, I'd guess."