Chapter Twenty-eight.
Ben stood firm with his initial orders: no prisoners from among any IPF troops.
The order was really not necessary, for no IPFtroops offered to surrender. Now Ben's Rebels had the unenviable task of mopping up after the swift victory.
And any combat vet can tell you that mopping up can be pure hell.
And nothing was heard from Sam Hartline. It was as if the mercenary did not really give a damn what happened south of the Oregon border.
But Ben wasn't buying that. He knew-felt, rather-than Hartline was up to something. Trouble was, Ben didn't know what.
Ben wasn't about to knock heads with Hartline ... yet. Hartline's mercenary army was just about as large as Ben's force of Rebels. And they were well-rested and just as well-equipped as the Rebels.
So what were they waiting for? Why didn't they strike and strike hard?
Ben didn't know.
As Ben stood by the stone fence on the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, his thoughts kept turning away from impending war to the sight of the raging ocean. Huge waves battered the coastline, smashing with a seemingly organized fury. Ben wondered what had caused such climatic changes in the Pacific; and where did all this fury originate?
Standing by the stone fence, it was impossible to carry on any type of normal conversation. So when Ike approached him, Ben stepped away from nature's frenzy and walked with his friend to a spot where they could talk without having to scream at each other over the howling winds.
"That's a hell of a sight back there, isn't it, Ben?"
"Yes. And if it keeps up, that writer who predicted the fall of California is going to be correct. The coastline can't take many more years of this."
"The babies are gone, Ben," Ike said quietly.
"When?"
"Early this morning. Wade and Ro each came to a center and asked that all personnel leave. When the personnel returned, the babies were gone. What do you reckon the underground people will do with them?"
"Raise them, I suppose, Ike." And once again, the thought came to Ben that in a hundred years, the inhabitants of earth would surely be a sight to see. And he wondered if, at that time, it would be called the Ashes of Peace, or the Ashes of Silence?
He would like to view it.
"The areas clean, Ike?"
"Clean as a whistle. All the way from the Bay area to the Oregon line. If there are any pockets of IPF folks left, damned if we can find them." "Probably in the heavy timber. Hell with them,"
Ben said. "Any word from the girls I sent into Hartline's territory?"
"The original three are okay. One of the kids they picked up got taken prisoner.
By Hartline's men."
"A girl?"
"Yes. And a boy. The boy first. The girls think the boy betrayed them. They're not leaving until they get the girl back and see the boy dead."
Ben sighed. "How old was the girl taken?"
"Twelve, maybe thirteen. Cute kid, so Kim radioed back."
"You can bet that Hartline has used her badly."
"I'm sure."
"Ben?"
Ben cut his eyes.
"Cecil just sent word that Sylvia is in cahoots with some IPA people. It's firm."
"I suspected as much. It's the why of it that puzzles me."
"Me, too. But I have no idea."
"I'll deal with her very shortly. Lora?"
"Learnin' her ABC'S. Some of Doc Chase's people took her in. Ben, you know she's gonna go back with her own kind, don't you?"
"Yes." But the word came hard; Ben had grown terribly fond of the child.
"I damn near forgot what I came over here to tell you, Ben. The civilian leaders are here. You wanted to talk to them, remember?"
"Yes. Come on, walk with me. We'll talk along the way."
Walking along, Ben said, "We lucked out again, Ike."
"I know. We'd have had a hell of a battle on our hands if the Russian hadn't of flipped out.
Or whatever happened to him."
"We're not going to be so lucky with Hartline.
I feel that in my guts."
"You ain't alone. That plus all those bikers and warlords between us and Base Camp One."
"We're going to stay right here until we can figure out what Hartline has on his mind. I want our people rested and ready to go." He smiled.
"As soon as we can determine where we're going, that is."
Ben met with the civilian leaders in the warm open air of California summer. He was mildly surprised to see George Williams from Chico in attendance. The man looked fit, was dressed in decent clothing, and was standing a little taller than the last time Ben had seen him.
George shook hands with Ben, away from the others.
"I guess you got to me, General Raines," George admitted. "I don't agree with all you say or stand for, but for a time, yours is the only way. I finally got that through my thick head." "Good to have you with us, George."
Ben shook hands with the other George, from Red Bluff; Harris from Redding; Pete Ho from Ukiah; and John Dunning from Santa Rosa.
"We'll be leaving this area in a short time," Ben told the gathering. He watched their faces closely. No one seemed at all surprised by the announcement.
"By now you all know that General Striganov is gone. We have reason to believe he and what is left of his IPF went to Canada. It's doubtful that he'll return. But Sam Hartline is still very much around.
We're going to deal with Sam in due time. But let me warn you all of a new danger. Colonel Khamsin and his Islamic Peoples Army have landed in South Carolina. And I mean his army.
He has thousands of men and women. You may think because you're all some three thousand miles away, you have nothing to fear.
"You're wrong."
Ben let that soak in.
"We have reason to believe Sam Hartline and his people have linked up with this Khamsin. My people will deal with Hartline. Most of you are not ready to join us as regulars. Not yet. But in time you'll be called upon to assist us. I'm not going to fight all your battles for you.
"I'm going to leave a small force of Rebels behind. They will train you. And people, you'd better goddamn well get ready for some hard training.
What you'll be receiving is a combination of Ranger, SEAL, Marine Force Recon, and Green Beret training, with a touch of Special Air Service and French Foreign Legion training tossed in for good measure. When my people get through with you, you'll all be able to fight a grizzly with a stick ... or you'll be dead. One or the other."
Pete Ho raised his hand. Ben nodded at him.
"General, some of my people might not want to take part in this. What happens then?"
"Are you referring to able-bodied men and women, Pete?"
"Yes, sir."
"That won't cut it, Pete. We don't allow shirkers. One is either one hundred percent for the movement, or one hundred percent against it. It has to be that way. That answer your question?"
"And those who won't fight?" Pete persisted.
"You run them out," Ben said flatly.
"That's pretty hard, General."
"Hard times, Pete."
The warlords and outlaws had gathered in Colorado. Calling them a motley crew would be understating the matter. This gathering was the largest meeting of malcontents, trash, scum, and human filth to come together in years. One would be hard-pressed to find one redeeming quality in the entire force. Their names were what one might expect from men of such low degree: Booger, Utah Jack, Pisser, Stud, Big Luke, Flash, Long Tongue ...
and so it went.
Some had roamed the country together for more than a decade, raping, robbing, killing, having their way wherever they chose and however they wanted it.
But they were always careful to abide by one hard and fast rule: Stay away from areas controlled by Ben Raines and his Rebels.
Now they felt they were strong enough to tackle Ben Raines and his Rebels-and come out on top.
"You trust Sam Hartline?" Piano asked Grizzly.
"No. Least not no hundred percent. He knows that we know he's usin' us. He also knows he can't do much of nothin' about it. We got to have him; he's got to have us."
"How "bout these here Arabs you was tellin" us about?" Buck asked.
"Colonel Khamsin. A Hot Wind."
"So's a fart," Booger said.
"Lemme put it another way," Grizzly said.
"Khamsin impresses Sam Hartline."
That was enough to sober the outlaws. Sam Hartline might be a mercenary, but he was no dummy. If Khamsin had enough beef behind him to impress Hartline ... well, that was good enough for the outlaws.
"And now we do what? ..." Booger asked.
"We contact Hartline and wait for word. Way I figure it is Hartline will use us to mop up what's left of Raines's Rebels."
"Sounds good to me."
The rest of the outlaws gathered around laughed. "Just think," one said, straining his brain. "There must be four or five million pussies left in the States."
"So?" Skinhead asked.
"Without Ben Raines and his people standing in our way, hell, man! They're all ours!"
"Yeah!" they breathed.
"I like it!" Skinhead slobbered.
"I don't like it, Ben," Cecil said. "You're deliberately setting yourself up for a lot of trouble."
"Reading between the lines, Cec," Ben replied, smiling, "it would be a good plan if I weren't planning on leading it. Right?"
Cecil muttered something extremely vulgar under his breath.
"I must concur with General Jefferys, sir,"
Dan said. "You are needed here. Not traipsing about the countryside, shooting outlaws."
"I got to go along with them, Ben," Ike said.
"Let me take the unit out after the outlaws." "I shall go!" Dan said.
"No, I'll go!" Cecil said.