Standoff in the Ashes William W Johnstone

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was carefUlly holding the spoons down. She had already concluded that being around Ben Raines was nothing less than exciting … and decidedly unpredictable.

Freed prisoners began exiting the nuthouse. “Get the hell away from the parking lot!” Ben yelled at them. “This whole damn area is about to blow. Move, damnit!”

The freed prisoners scattered in all directions.

Ben waved at Lara. She pulled the truck alongside him and Ben opened the door. He popped the spoons and chunked the grenades under the cars; they splashed in the gathering pools of gas.

“Go!” Ben yelled.

Lara pulled away. Three seconds later the grenades blew and the entire parking lot lit up like a major volcanic eruption. The concussion waves of the explosion rocked the pickup truck. Lara hit the highway and picked up speed.

“Where the hell are we, Lara?”

“Northeast New York State. About forty miles south of the Canadian Border. Vermont is only a few miles to the east. You want to try for Canada?”

“No. They have troubles of their own. Let’s head for the Adirondacks. Do your people have food and clothing cached in there?”

“You bet we do. Everything we’ll need to stay alive and make one hell of a fight of it if we’re cornered. I was going to suggest we head there.”

“You’re driving, Lara. You know this country. I don’t. How far is it?”

“The way the roads are, plus the roads we’ll have to take once we leave the hard surface highways, five or six hours at least. Probably longer. That is, if we don’t get caught. And that may be one big if.”

“Not as big as you might think. By the time the Feds get everything sorted out, three or four or more hours will

have passed. By then we should be close to wherever the hell it is you’re taking us.”

She laughed. “Deep in the brush, Ben. This truck has four-wheel drive on demand. That’s good. ‘Cause we are sure going to need it.”

“You know they’ll come after me, in force. They won’t stop looking for me. They will never stop searching for me. And anyone who helps me is subject to be hanged. You might consider telling me to hit the road.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! I’m not about to dump you out on your own. Listen, you can put new life into a movement that has almost been wiped out by the Feds. And believe me when I tell you that we have no informants in our bunch. We’ve gone as high-tech as finances will allow. We have polygraph and PSE equipment, and everyone, everyone, gets tested occasionally, with no notice given beforehand.”

“Good move. Did you find any Federal plants after the first test?”

“Unfortunately, yes, we did. We were hoping we wouldn’t, but we found two.”

“What did you do with them?”

“We shot them and buried their bodies deep. Then we changed meeting places, and still do every now and then.”

“How many people can you muster?”

“About fifty. And we’re all hard-core, Ben. We can do it all, from machine guns to C-4. And we have it all. I gather you have something in mind?”

“Maybe. Just maybe. I think perhaps getting back to Rebel lines would be taking a big chance … odds of us making it are slim, and getting slimmer, the more I think about it. I think that perhaps I might be more useful organizing local units to fight. What do you think?”

“I agree. We’ve got to take back our country town by town.”

“Lara, none of you are involved in the killing of abortion clinic doctors, are you?”

“Oh, no. Personally, I’m pro-choice. I’ve never had anything to do with those types who advocate violence to stop abortion. We’ve got some people in our group who are opposed to abortion, but not so much they support the bombing of clinics and the killing of doctors.”

“And not racist?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.”

“You’re certain of all that?”

“One hundred percent certain, Ben. My group is racially mixed, and has just one goal in mind-to restore this nation to a constitutional form of government.” She smiled. “Along the lines of the SUSA.”

They rode in silence for a few miles, passing through one small town that appeared to be deserted. Ben questioned Lara about that.

‘ ‘A number of the smaller towns in this area are deserted, or very nearly so. There simply is nothing to keep them going … economically speaking. Tourism is gone, and will probably remain that way for years to come. People just don’t have the money to spare.”

“Osterman’s government has raised taxes?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. I’ve been out of the country, Lara. I really don’t know what’s been happening.”

“Taxes are nearly sixty percent now. And will go higher if Osterman has her way. The liberal/socialist/democrats have so damn many programs to support.”

“But the people are being taken care of from cradle to grave, right?” Ben asked with a smile.

“That is one way of looking at it,” Lara said after a few seconds pause. “If you close one eye and have impaired vision in the other.”

Before Ben could respond the bright lights of a vehicle

illuminated the cab of the truck as a car suddenly appeared behind them, pulling in close.

“I don’t like this,” Lara said.

“Let’s see what he does next,” Ben suggested. “Before we do something stupid.”

The driver of the car behind them cut on his red and blue warning lights.

“State cop,” Lara said, disgust in her voice. “We sure didn’t get very far.”

“Haven’t they been federalized up here in the USA?” Ben asked.

“Yes.”

“Then they adhere to Osterman’s policies, right?”

“As far as I know. Why?”

“Then he’s dead,” Ben said flatly. “There is no fence-straddling in this war. No one sits on the sidelines. You are either one hundred percent for us, or one hundred percent against us.”

“That’s the way it’s going to be, Ben?”

“That’s it. That’s the way it’s got to be. You in or out?”

“I’m in,” she replied without hesitation. “All the way. It’s what I’ve been telling my group for months.”

“We’ll talk about the foot-draggers in your group later. Keep driving. Let’s see what he does.”

What he did was cut on his siren. The whooping and whining seemed to fill the night.

“Pull over, Lara.”

“How do we play this?” she asked.

“That’s entirely up to the cop behind us.”

Lara pulled over and stopped on the side of the road, leaving the motor running.

A man’s voice coming over a loudspeaker cut the night. “Get out of the truck, both of you. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

“When I get out, I’m going to shoot out his headlights,” Ben told her. “You get to the front of the truck, pronto.”

“All right.”

“We’ll get out together. That way his attention will be split. On three.”

Ben counted to three, and he and Lara opened their doors and stepped out together. He dropped into a crouch and brought up the 9mm. He blew out both headlights, then shot out the warning lights. The night suddenly became a lot darker. He jumped into the ditch that ran along the shoulder of the road.

“I’m down in front,” she called in a stage whisper.

“Stay there. And get ready to return his fire.”

Ben shouted, “Get out of your unit! Do it if you want to live. Right now.”

“You’re in a lot of trouble, mister!” the state cop shouted. His voice sounded very young; maybe twenty-two years old, at the most.

“Just a kid,” Lara said.

“If he isn’t careful he isn’t going to get any older,” Ben responded.

Ben was slowly working his way up the ditch and then up the slight bank, coming in behind the state police car. He stayed low, to avoid being seen in the glow of the taillights. He could see the silhouete of the policeman sitting in the front seat. Ben suddenly raised up and said, “Keep your hands on the steering wheel, buddy. Or die where you sit. It’s all up to you.”

“Don’t shoot, mister. I’m doing what you tell me to do.”

“Turn off the taillights, then sit right where you are.”

The cop did as ordered.

“Get back in the truck, Lara. And lead us out and down the first gravel road we come to.” Ben got in the passenger side of the squad car.

The young cop’s eyes widened as the interior lights came on and he got a look at Ben’s battered face. “What the hell happened to you, mister?”

‘ ‘It’s a long story. Follow the truck and don’t do anything cute. And don’t say a word until I tell you to.”

Fifteen minutes later, after spending ten minutes on a winding gravel road, Lara pulled over. The cop pulled in behind her.

Laura walked back to the car. “There’s a dirt road just ahead that leads off to the right,” she said. “Looks like it runs into a stand of timber.”

“All right,” Ben said. “Wait here for us. Drive down that road, boy,” he told the cop.

“I know that road. It doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll get mired up to the axles!”

“That’s the general idea, boy.”

A hundred yards later, the car was sunk up to the frame in the mud.

“Strip,” Ben said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Take off your clothes. Right down to the skin. Do it!”

Ben handcuffed the naked man to the steering wheel. He then destroyed the radio with several 9mm slugs. Ben bundled up the cop’s clothing and boots and fought the door until he got it open. The car was mired up that deep.

“Man,” the young cop hollered. “Are you going to leave me here? Like this?”

“That’s right.”

“But this isn’t decent!”

‘ ‘You work for Osterman, and talk about decency? You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”

Ben stepped away from the car.

“Wait! I know who you are now. You’re General Ben Raines. You damn traitor!”

Ben paused and looked into the car. “You’re calling

me a traitor? How many freedom loving people have you arrested and stuck in reindoctrination camps?”

“It was for their own good.”

“Boy, you have really been brainwashed, haven’t you? You’re just about a hopeless case.”

Lara tapped on the horn, urging Ben to hurry up. “Got to go, boy.”

“This is embarrassing!”

“But you’re alive.”

The young cop thought about that for a few seconds. “You killed all those fine officers over at the hospital, didn’t you?”

“You call that house of torture a hospital? Do you really know what goes on over there? Take a look at my face, boy. What do you think happened to it? You think I fell out of bed and landed on my head?”

“I’m sure you resisted being placed under arrest,” the naked socialist/democrat insisted. “The officers were fighting to protect themselves. You certainly can’t blame them for doing that. That is a fine facility where you were being held. I knew Officer Bradford. He is … was, a fine officer. He’ll be buried with full honors.”

“Incredible,” Ben muttered, and turned to start slogging through the mud back to the gravel road.

“I won’t forget this treatment, Ben Raines,” the young cop hollered. “What you’ve done to me is unforgivable. It’s … it’s perverted. That’s what it is.”

Ben shook his head and slogged on through the mud back to the road. He got in the pickup. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“You left him alive?”

“Sure. It’ll be hours before anyone finds him.”

Lara’s eyes were full of amusement as she looked at the bundle of clothes Ben laid on the floor of the truck. “You left him naked?”

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“As the day he was born.”

Lara chuckled as she headed back toward the highway. “Ben Raines on how to win friends and influence people.” “He’ll have a story to tell his grandchildren.” “Would you tell that story to your grandchildren?” Ben laughed. “Hell, no!”

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About an hour later, Lara cut off the main highway onto a secondary road. “I know where I am, Ben. Don’t worry.”

“You’re driving.”

She glanced down at the instrument panel. “This thing sure gets good gas mileage. The needle has barely moved.”

“Yeah. I like it, too. Rides very well. But we’ve got to get rid of it soon as we can. That cop radioed in, and unless he was a complete fool he gave dispatch the license number and description.”

“I was thinking about that, looking for something to steal. Haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Nor have I. People must lock up their vehicles at night.”

“Oh, they do. You know that car theft is no longer a felony in the USA?”

“It isn’t? What the hell is it, then?”

“Oh, just a misdemeanor, if you’re below a certain age.”

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Lara smiled and glanced at Ben. “It isn’t the thief’s fault, you know?”

“Oh, shit!” Ben muttered. “Not that crap.”

” ‘Fraid so. It’s society’s fault, never the individual’s.”

“Let me guess-the coach wouldn’t let the punk play, so he vented his rage on an uncaring society by stealing.”

‘ ‘Or worse. Yes, that’s right. Or the prettiest girl in school wouldn’t date him.”

“Or the kid next door had a new bike.”

She laughed. “Or they were poor.”

“Or his mother was frightened by a goat. Yes, I know. It’s all a crock of crap. It always has been. We’ve practically done away with crime in the SUSA simply by teaching right and wrong in public schools … starting at a very early age. For die few who are born bad, we have long prison terms, if they’re not killed by property owners while attempting to steal.”

“And you’ve done it all in a very short time.”

“In less than a decade. Through education and strict law enforcement. That’s all it takes. Plus a little help from home, if it’s available.”

“And if it isn’t available?”

“That’s where society does come into play. Through sponsor programs and one on one buddy systems. Those are big in the SUSA. People aren’t required to take part, and they aren’t criticized if they don’t do so. That’s not the way it is in the SUSA. Stick your mouth into someone else’s business down there and the nosey person is very likely to get a fat lip. It’s just that people care about each other in the SUSA.”

Lara smiled. “That sounds very much like an oxymoron.”

Ben returned the smile. “I guess it does, at that. But that’s the way it works, and the people like it that way.”

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“And the liberals hate it because it does work.”

“Exactly.” Ben caught a glimpse of a battered old road sign. “How big is this town we’re coming to?”

“It’s deserted. Used to be a tourist town. Quite a few lakes around here, but nobody’s lived here since shortly after the Great War and the collapse.”

“Let’s find a place to pull over and stretch our legs and answer a call of nature.”

“I’ll certainly go for the latter. Your legs stiffening up on you?”

“A little. I’m a bruise from my head to my toes. Bastards really worked on me.”

“They will never work on anyone else,” Lara commented drily.

“Amen to that.” Ben looked around as they pulled into the edge of town. “Nice looking little town.”

“Used to be. When I was little, my dad used to bring the family here on vacation. We’d fish and swim, and hike and cook out every day. There were ranges where kids could learn archery, and others where gun safety classes were taught. That’s where I first got interested in shooting.”

“Any of your family still living?”

“No,” Lara said softly. “My dad was a member of a militia group. This was several years before the Great War and the collapse. I was gone, in college. One night the Feds raided our house looking for illegal weapons. Well, there weren’t any. I don’t believe anyone in the entire group had any illegal weapons. My dad was a strong believer in the right of privacy, due process, the right to own and bear arms, the Constitution in general. Dad fought the Feds that night-unarmed, in his pajamas. One of the Feds hit him with the butt of a rifle. Fractured his skull. Dad died a few days later. He never regained consciousness.

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Of course, since Dad was an open member of a militia-he never denied it-the press painted him as a right-wing nut. He was anything but. No illegal weapons were found in the house, naturally. There were never any illegal guns there. The government never did apologize for killing my father. My mother and two younger brothers then became very active in the militia movement. So did I. My mother died shortly after the Great War. My brothers were both killed by the Feds two years ago.”

“Who reported your father had illegal weapons in the house?”

“A noesy neighbor. A democrat/socialist left-winger all the way. When the collapse came, a gang of roaming thugs hit what was left of our town, on a rampage. My brothers and I fought them off, away from our house. Killed several of them … using guns my father had buried just before the gun ban and national confiscation went into effect.”

“And the neighbor? What happened to him … or her?”

“Him. Mister Warner. That gang of rampaging punks killed him.”

“Could you have prevented it?”

“Sure. At least I think so. But we didn’t. My brothers and I just looked at each other and shrugged. I remember Warner calling out for us to help him. I also remember the tirades Warner would throw about guns and how everyone who owned a gun was a right-winger, especially anyone who belonged to the Republican Party. I remember how he never even came over to apologize for being at least partly responsible for my father’s death. I also remember thinking with sort of a grim satisfaction ‘To hell with that left-wing bastard.’ I’m sure God will punish me for that. But I don’t think the punishment will be too severe. I seem to recall from bible lessons that God liked His warriors.”

Lara turned down a road and drove for several miles, the road running alongside a pretty lake. “Some old tourist

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cabins out this way. It’s a fairly isolated place. But there is more than one way out.”

Lara pulled in behind a row of log cabins and parked in a garage that looked as though it had seen better days … which Ben was sure it had. Behind them were dense woods. The truck could not be seen from the road or from the air.

“I brought several blankets from the storeroom of the nuthouse,” Ben said, getting out and stretching. His joints popped and creaked, and his muscles screamed silently.

Lara looked at him. “You sound like the Tin Man in need of a good oiling.”

Ben laughed and nodded his head. Damned if his neck didn’t creak with the movement. “At this moment, I certainly feel like him, too.”

Lara lit a small candle Ben had taken from the storeroom of the nuthouse and looked at the back room of the cabin. Then she looked at Ben in the flickering light.

“Oh, crap, no way!” Ben said, looking around him. Then they both started laughing.

The place was ankle-deep in trash.

“Let’s just sleep outside,” Lara suggested. “The temperature is mild.”

‘ ‘That will sure beat the hell out of trying to clean up this mess.”

The two of them slept outside, on die ground. Ben was very tired, still a long way from full recovery from the beatings he’d taken, and he slept deeply and straight through until after dawn.

When he awakened he was still stiff, but some of the soreness was gone. He stretched and groaned and looked over at Lara. She was still sleeping.

Then Ben heard the faint sounds of vehicles, and the sound was growing louder. He reached over and shook her.

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“Wake up, Lara. We’ve got company coming. Sounds like several vehicles.”

There was a large bruise on the side of her face and a mouse under one eye from the savage beating at the hands and fists of Bradford, marks Ben had noticed during the night. The whipping she took from the heavy belt must be painful, Ben thought. Lara had yet to utter a single complaint. Tough lady, Ben concluded.

She sat up and rubbed her face, rubbed it very gently, Ben noticed. “I hear them. But there is no way they could have tracked us.”

“No. It’s just an all-out search. I’ll bet you they’re spread out all over the state. I told you this is how it would be.”

“I wonder if the Feds have upped that million dollar reward on you.”

“Possibly. But I’d guess this is just part of a massive search for us. Let’s get inside that cabin and get ready to make a fight of it.”

They grabbed their blankets and rifles and headed for the cabin. Ben looked back at the weed-filled yard. There was no trace of tire tracks from their pulling in hours back.

“Take the back of the cabin,” Ben told her. “I’ll take the front. If they spot the truck, open fire.”

“We don’t have a chance in here, Ben. They’ll blow this cabin apart.”

“Yeah. I know. You have a better plan?”

She grinned at him, then shook her head. “I wish.”

Ben paused for a second, then walked over and kissed her. “Good luck.”

She smiled. “Is that a promise of things to come?”

“Damn right.”

“You sure you can handle me?”

“I can try.”

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She laughed softly and pushed him toward the front of the old cabin. “I can hardly wait.”

The command reached them: “Check out those old cabins over there!”

“Here we go,” Ben said.

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Ben had his CAR on full auto, and he had watched Lara do the same with her weapon. They each had taken two 9mm pistols from their rucksacks and they were loaded up full and ready to bang. Each had several grenades within arm’s reach. The Feds might kill them, but they would pay a terrible price before that happened.

Ben peeped out through what was left of the broken and very dirty panes. Four vehicles. One HumVee, one big nine-passenger wagon, and two Ford Broncos. He figured between fifteen and twenty people.

Ben counted seven people all strung out along the road in front of the cabins. The rest were working their way behind the row of cabins. Only a few seconds were left before they would spot the pickup parked under the open-ended carport.

“Get ready to start the music,” Ben called in a stage whisper.

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“What the hell was that?” one of the Feds asked, stopping along the side of the road.

“What?” another asked.

“I heard somebody say something.”

“Probably somebody in the back.”

“Hey!” The shout came from behind the cabins.

Ben lifted his CAR.

“What?”

“There’s a pickup truck back here. Parked under the carport.”

He never said anything else. Lara opened up with her CAR, and a half second later Ben did the same. The men and women who made up this small contingent of Osterman’s army went down like pins in a bowling alley.

Sixty rounds later, Ben and Lara ejected empties and rammed home full mags.

One Fed made a run for the HumVee. Ben cut him down. Another started running for the big wagon. Lara stitched him, turning him around and around twice, and he dropped lifeless to the ground and did not move.

“Goddamn you!” a woman shouted from the outside. “Damn you all. You filthy, right-wing militia scum!”

“Fuck you!” Lara shouted.

Ben smiled and decided to stay out of this fight. It was getting very interesting.

“I knew it had to be militia!” the woman Fed shouted. “You cowardly, back-shooting Republican whore!”

Ben chuckled. His breath blew out gunsmoke.

Lara’s CAR stuttered. There was no reply of any kind from the Fed in the yard.

“Have you ladies concluded your conversation?” Ben called.

“I just ended it,” Lara said. “The bitch isn’t moving.”

“I would certainly say it was over,” Ben muttered.

“Help me!” a man called from the back of the cabin.

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Ben waited to see what Lara would do. He did not have to wait long. Her CAR clattered, and there were no more cries for help from the outside.

“One tough lady,” Ben muttered. “I’m glad she isn’t my enemy.”

“You object to taking no prisoners in this war, Ben?” Lara called.

“He picked his side, Lara. He knew what he was doing.”

“That’s the way I see it. Is anyone moving out front?”

“No. No one.”

“Same back here. I count nine people down.”

“Seven here.”

“I figure maybe one or two more.”

“Yeah. That’s the way I see it.” Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Ben said, “I want those two Broncos. They look new to me. If at all possible, keep your fire away from them … OK?”

“OK. You know that the big vehicles like the Broncos, Blazers, and Dodge Rams are made only for the government now. No one else is allowed to have them… well, some selected civilians, of course.”

“Of course. That’s the way socialism works. A Russian philosopher summed up a socialistic form of government this way-What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is negotiable.”

Just then a man made a wild run for the vehicles. Ben stopped his running in mid-stride.

“You get him, Ben?”

“I got him.”

Ben and Lara waited for a long five minutes, Lara finally saying, “I think that’s it.”

“All right. Keep a sharp eye out in the back. I’m going straight out the front.”

“OK.”

Ben opened the front and quickly stepped to one side,

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staying inside the cabin. No shots split the early morning. He stepped out onto the porch. Bodies lay sprawled in the front and on both sides of the cabin. Ben could not believe they were all dead, but none were moving or showing any other signs of life.

Ben stood for a moment, his eyes shifting from body to body. “Lucked out again,” he muttered. Raising his voice, Ben called, “It’s clear out here, Lara.”

“Same back here.”

“I’m going from body to body to make sure. Moving out now.”

“Same here. Moving now.”

Ben found two that were still alive, but they were not long for this world. All those in front of the cabin had taken bursts in the chest and belly.

“One left alive back here,” Lara called. “But he’s badly wounded. He’s not gonna be alive long.”

Ben walked around the cabin. “Let’s hide the big wagon and the Hummer under carports. We’ll put the bodies in a cabin. Somebody will find them … eventually.”

The vehicles were hidden. After anything they might be able to use had been taken, Ben and Lara began picking up weapons and stripping the bodies of ammo and grenades. Lara took the boots off the dead woman and found they were a perfect fit. She changed into a set of BDUs she found in a vehicle and laced up the boots.

They found several cases of field rats and sleeping bags in the big wagon, more ammo and grenades in the Hummer. Field radios and cans of water in one of the Broncos. 40mm grenades for the Bloop Tubes under the standard sized M-16’s in the other Bronco.

“Here is a fuel transfer kit,” Ben said. “Complete with pump that operates off the cigarette lighter or dashboard power point. We’ll top off both tanks in the Broncos and then get the hell gone from here.”

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“We take both vehicles?”

“Yes. We’ll get out of here and stop a few miles down the road. You can show me on a map exactly where you have in mind to take us. That’s in case we get separated.”

“I checked the spares on both Broncos. They’re new and aired up.”

“Good thinking. What are we missing? Anything?”

“I can’t think of a thing.”

“OK. I’ll top the gas tanks while you walk around …” He paused.

“What’s the matter?”

“Did you take the wallets from the bodies?”

She grimaced. “No. I’ll do that while you’re topping the tanks.”

Fifteen minutes later, everything had been done.

“Let’s get out of here, Ben,” Lara said. “I didn’t see anyone radio in, but we don’t know for sure they didn’t.”

“You’re right about that. You ready?”

“Let’s roll.”

“Take the lead. I’ll be right behind you.”

The Broncos were almost new, and handled well. Ben was feeling much better. The day had dawned bright and sunny, and the temperature was pleasant. They now had enough field rats to last them several weeks. They had sleeping bags and blankets, and a portable water purification system. Things were definitely looking up.

Of course, all that could change around the next curve in the road.

And it did.

Ben saw Lara’s brake lights flash on and he hit the brakes in the middle of the curve.

She stuck her head out the window and yelled, “Roadblock up ahead. I don’t think they saw us. It’s at an intersection, and there are several cars and trucks ahead of us … coming from the other direction.”

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Ben didn’t know what direction she was referring to, not that it really mattered. He jerked the Bronco into reverse and began backing up, then turned around and waited for Lara. She pulled ahead of him and they both headed back in the direction they’d just come. A mile later, Lara pulled over and stopped. Ben pulled up alongside her.

“I think I know another way, Ben. But I won’t make any promises.”

“We’ve got to do something. We damn sure can’t stay here. Lead us out of here.”

A couple of miles later, Lara turned off on a gravel road, Ben right behind her. They drove for fifteen minutes, making several twists and turns a^id road changes, before she pulled into the driveway of a long-deserted house. They both got out.

“I think I’m lost,” she admitted.

Ben smiled at her. “You think?”

“OK. I’ll admit it. I don’t know where in the hell we are.”

“Well, this road has to lead somewhere, even if it’s to a dead end. Are we in the park yet?”

“Oh, hell, we’ve been in the park for a long time. Ever since we left the hospital. The park is almost six million acres. About half of it wilderness. We’re almost in the center of it. If I can lead us out of this maze, we’ll be only a few miles from real wilderness, and home free.”

“Which way?”

Lara looked at the sun and then pointed. “That way. But the road leading off in that direction sure doesn’t look very promising to me.”

“Beats getting captured and tortured, or shot to death, doesn’t it?”

“You do have a point. OK, Ben. Let’s go. We can’t get any more lost than we are right now.”

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“I wouldn’t bet on that. Let’s don’t get separated. Take it slow.”

“Will do.”

Luck returned to the pair. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled onto a hard-surfaced road and Lara stopped and walked back to Ben.

“I’m pretty sure I know about where we are, Ben. If I’m right, a few miles down this road and we’ll take a blacktop off to our right. That’ll be to the northwest. Well, more west than north. If I’m right, we’re home free.”

“Then get us out of here. I’m right behind you.”

Lara was right on target: a few miles later a potholed road led off to the right. She turned off on it, and Ben followed. Almost as soon as they did, Ben felt swallowed up by the silent majesty of the wilderness. Hills thick with timber lay on both sides of the road. Off to Ben’s left, which was south, several very respectable mountains-Ben figured at least twenty-five hundred feet high-jutted up not too far away. There were deep ravines on both sides of the road.

They crossed a lake, over a bridge that Ben figured had only a few more years left before spans of it collapsed. Then, a few miles farther on, they entered what was left of a tiny village. Lara drove on to the road’s end and pulled over.

“Another tourist town that died a number of years ago,” she explained as Ben leaned against a Bronco and lit a cigarette. “No one has lived here for years. As you can see, punks and looters have just about destroyed the place.”

“The government has no plans to rebuild?”

“No.”

“That seems odd to me.”

“The park is filled with empty villages just like this one. Nobody can afford a vacation anymore. Well, let me amend

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that. The majority can’t afford anything resembling a real vacation.”

Ben’s smile was sad. “The left-wing liberals’ dream of Utopia has finally arrived. No one has more than anyone else… except for those in power and their friends. But the government takes care of everyone from cradle to grave. Right?”

“That’s about the size of it, but in reality no one really has proper health care. Unless they are absolutely life-threatening, major operations have a waiting period of one to three years. There just aren’t enough doctors and hospitals for all the people who want care … and not enough money, really. Not for adequate care.”

“With all the taxes on you people, where the hell is the money going?” Ben paused and grimaced. “As if I didn’t know.”

“Government programs-“

“Naturally. How silly of me to ask.”

“Programs the likes of which you have never seen,” Lara continued. “The government is taking care of drug addicts and drunks. They’re taking care of the so-called homeless-which in this time of thousands and thousands of homes just sitting empty is ridiculous. They’re taking care of the whiners and the crybabies and the thieves and punks, and God only knows who and what else. The government has made work programs … sort of.”

“You want to explain that?”

“No one is forced to work in this society. If they don’t work, the government will take care of them. Ten times worse than before the Great War.”

Lara fished in her shirt pocket and came out with a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She lit up.

“Where’d you get those?”

“Off one of the dead Feds. He had a whole carton in his rucksack.” She grinned. “Bootleg cigarettes are a

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booming business in the USA, Ben. As is bootleg booze from Canada, and from moonshiners.”

“But the government puts smokers in jail!”

“If they catch them, yes. But not the first time. The first time is just a warning. Same with drinkers and people who eat forbidden food.”

“Forbidden food? Oh… you mean like fried foods, and snacks that aren’t considered healthful?”

“That’s right.”

Ben started laughing. He couldn’t help it. He recalled an episode of an old TV program about disc jockeys, one of them fearful of the ‘phone cops.’

“What is so funny?” Lara demanded.

‘ ‘This crazy form of government now in power. It really doesn’t have a name. In some ways it’s unique. The bottom line is totalitarian … but on the fringes, all around the edges, it’s something else.”

“It sucks!”

Ben started laughing once again. Even though the laughing hurt his bruised ribs, the expression on Lara’s face was priceless.

“Damn, Ben!” Lara stamped a boot and stood facing him, hands on her hips.

That broke Ben up even more. God knows, he needed a good laugh, and now he was getting one. He finally managed to contain his laughter, and held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you … more at the situation, I suppose.”

“You had me worried there for a few moments.”

Ben wiped his eyes and said, “Let’s tuck these vehicles out of sight and prowl this little village. While we’re doing that, you can tell me how we’re going to travel the final miles to our destination.”

They found parts of a garage and lean-to still standing to hide the Broncos, and then began walking what was left

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of die silent village. There was nothing left of any value diat immediately met the eye. Punks and thugs and odier people who could best be described as human trash had picked over the town many times, leaving nothing of value behind them.

“How many times have you seen this?” Lara asked, waving a hand at the looted buildings.

“More than I care to remember, over die long years,” Ben replied. “It began within hours, perhaps moments, after die fall of government. When I recovered from the illness, it had already spread all over die nation.”

“I remember it well. I was just out of college, and home for a few weeks before I started a new job. I stepped out of the house one morning, looked around, and thought die air smelled funny. Then I don’t remember anything else for a couple of days. Sure didn’t take long for the whole damn world to fall apart,” she added sofdy.

“No, it sure as hell didn’t.”

Ben cocked his head to one side and listened for a few seconds. “We’ve got company coming, Lara. Let’s find us a good ambush spot. And do it quickly.”

“Damn! You take the woods to the left. I’ll take die right. That’s about die best I can do on die spur of die moment.”

“See you later, darlin’,” Ben drawled, and took off for die timber.

*Out Of The Ashes

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Ben made it to the edge of a building and bellied down in some brush. He smiled when he saw the first vehicle approach-a beat-up old pickup truck. For a fact, the visitors were not soldiers or the police.

The second vehicle was a car of nearly ancient vintage, and the third vehicle was a Jeep that looked as though it might be from the World War Two era.

Three people in the pickup, four in the car, three in the Jeep.

“Only five to one odds,” Ben muttered. “Things are definitely looking up.”

The three-car caravan stopped, and eight men and two women got out to stand and stretch in the street. The women looked as rough as the men.

They were all armed with rifles or shotguns, and Ben suspected that under their jackets they all carried pistols. These did not appear to be average law-abiding citizen

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types. Ben suspected they were bounty hunters, probably sanctioned by the government.

“He ain’t here, Red,” one of the men said, his voice carrying clearly to Ben.

“You don’t know that for a fact, Johnny.”

“Son of a bitch could be anywhere,” one of the women said. “Maybe hooked up with one of the survivalist or militia groups around here.”

“Hell, most of them are busted up and scattered,” another of the men said. “Or dead or in prison.”

“For a fact,” another man piped up. “We don’t have to worry none about those people anymore.”

“Don’t make a mistake and sell Ben Raines short,” the man called Johnny said, taking a slow look around him. “Bastard’s got more lives than a sack full of cats, and more luck than anybody I know.”

“And diat whore with him,” die other woman in the bunch. “Don’t forget about her. She’s a top leader in die militia movement. She won’t be no piece of cake.”

“No,” anodier man said with a laugh. “You’re right about that, Jean. Just a prime piece!”

“Get your mind off pussy, Mack,” the woman said.

“Why?” Mack questioned.

“Knock it off!” Johnny ordered. “There’s a reward out for the woman, too. And don’t forget, if we take them alive they’re worth more.”

“Oh, I intend to take Lara Walden alive,” Mack said. “I got plans for her.”

Both women looked disgustedly at him, but said nothing.

“You really want to screw some militia whore?” a man asked. “She’s probably got some horrible disease.”

Mack looked at him. “Jeff, you’ve got shit for brains, you know that?”

“Why?” Jeff demanded. “How come you to say something like that, Mack?”

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“Because you’re stupid, that’s why. Isn’t that right, Pete? He’s dumb as a post, isn’t he?”

“That’s enough!” Johnny said. “Good God. Knock it off. If you want to fuck that whore, Mack, fine with me. But first we’ve got to take them alive. So let’s start looking and knock off all the jabber.”

“I agree,” Jean said.

“Who the hell asked you?” Mack challenged.

Ben lifted his CAR and gave the knot of bounty hunters half a magazine. A second later, Lara opened fire from across the street. Four bounty hunters went down, spinning and jerking from the impact of .223 rounds. The others hit the ground and scrambled behind their vehicles for cover.

“Harry!” Johnny yelled. “See if you can get to the grenades in the Jeep.”

The man called Harry jumped up and tried to make the Jeep. Ben and Lara’s CARs spat together, and Harry went down in a bloody heap.

“Any other bright ideas?” Jean called.

Johnny said nothing.

“They’re on both sides of the street,” Sally said, her voice carrying clearly to Ben and Lara. “And we can’t move.”

“I say we give it up,” Pete called. “It’s better than stayin’ here and dyin.’ “

“And if we do, you think Ben Raines is just gonna let us go?” Johnny asked. “Don’t be a fool. That man’s as coldblooded as a damn snake.”

“Johnny’s right,” Sally said. “We’ve got to fight our way out of here.”

“OK,” Jeff said. “I’ll sure go along with Sally on that. But how do we do it?”

No one had a ready reply to that question. Ben and Lara waited, neither of them making a sound.

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“Help me!” one of the wounded men called. “My belly’s on fire. I’m hurt bad. Help me.”

“He’s gut-shot,” Jeff said. “I seen him take the slugs. We can’t do nothin’ for him.”

“You bastards!” the wounded man groaned. “You’re just gonna let me die, ain’t you?”

“Can’t none of us get to you, Cal,” Sally called. “I’m sorry. But that’s the way it is.”

“We would if we could,” Jean added. “You know that.”

“All right,” Cal moaned. “But try to kill that son of a bitch who shot me, will you?”

“You bet we will,”Jean called. “You can count on that.”

Both Ben and Lara held their fire as they listened to the conversation.

“Red, you’re closest. How ‘bout Benny?” Johnny called.

“He’s dead. I seen him take a round in the head like to have blowed one side of his head clean off. It was an awful thing to see.”

Ben could see part of what he thought was a man lying behind a truck tire. He lifted his CAR and gave the man a quick squirt of lead.

“Oh, Sweet Jesus!” the man hollered. Then he was still.

“Mack?” Jean called. “Mack! Answer me.”

“He can’t, not now or ever,” Jeff called. “That burst of lead took him in the top of the shoulder and must have traveled on to his heart or something. He hollered once, and then was still and quiet. He’s gone.”

“Shit!” Johnny said. “Raines? You hear me, Raines? Is that you?”

Ben said nothing.

“You on the other side of the street!” Johnny yelled. “Whoever you are. Answer me.”

Lara said nothing.

“Goddamn ‘em to hell,” Johnny cussed.

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“It’s Raines and the whore,” Sally said. “Has to be. Who else could it be?”

“Goddamn militia people, is who,” Jeff said. “Those bastards hate us, you know that.”

“Or survivalists,” Red opined.

“Listen to me!” Johnny yelled. “You people shooting at us. Let’s talk about a deal here. How about it?”

Neither Ben nor Lara replied.

“They ain’t gonna deal, Johnny,” Jean said. “They got us cold, and they know it.”

“Where the hell is Red? Red?” Johnny called. “Red! You answer me, now. Red!”

Red could not utter a sound, now or ever again. He was dying with two bullets to the head. One of them had shattered his jaw. The other had struck him in the back of the head and mangled his brain.

“Red’s layin’ in a pool of blood,” Pete called. “I can just make him out from where I am. He ain’t movin’, don’t look like to me.”

“Bastards have pretty well cut us down,” Johnny said, his words just audible.

“Hey, you Rebels!” Sally yelled, startling those around her. “Talk to us. What do you want to let us live?”

Silence from both sides of the street.

“You sons of bitches!” Sally squalled. “Back-shooting, cowardly scum.”

“That kind of talk ain’t likely to help us none, Sally,” Jeff cautioned the woman.

“To hell with it, Jeff,” Sally came right back. “If we’re gonna live, we’ve got to fight our way out of this mess. They won’t deal.”

“I’m sure open to suggestion,” Jean called.

“Pete?” Johnny called. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I think he’s praying,” Sally called.

“That’ll be a first for him,” Jeff said.

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“Don’t knock it,” Jean said. “If I thought it would do any good, I’d be trying it, too.”

Ben carefully worked his way up to his knees and pulled a grenade from his battle harness. It was going to be a long toss, but he thought he could do it. If nothing else, it would damn sure get their attention.

He pulled the pin, and with a grunt of effort chucked the pineapple. It landed just in front of the Jeep and then slowly rolled under it.

“Shit!” Jeff squalled. “It’s a grenade!”

The grenade blew, and the old Jeep disintegrated into many pieces. Two seconds after the grenade exploded, the gas tank went up with a roaring swooshing sound.

Ben and Lara watched as the burning body of the bounty hunter called Jeff was lifted into the air and dumped about twenty feet from the blazing Jeep. Sally jumped up screaming, her clothing on fire, her hair a burning torch, engulfing her entire head. Lara shot her, to put her out of her misery.

Pete jumped up and made a run for it, away from the inferno in the center of the street. Ben chopped him down with one burst, and Pete ended his life kicking and screaming in the middle of trash and litter.

“Goddamn you both to the hellfires!” Jean screamed. She jumped up, yelling and cussing. Firing her rifle from the hip, she advanced toward Lara’s side of the street.

Lara shot her. Jean sat down in the street, still firing her rifle and cussing. Lara finished her with another burst. Jean toppled over, and was quiet.

Ben chucked another grenade into the blazing mess. It must have landed directly at Johnny’s feet. When it blew, bits and pieces of the last bounty hunter in this group went flying out of the smoke and fire.

The old deserted town grew quiet except for the snapping and cracking of the flames, which were now slowly burning down into nothing.

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Ben stood up from behind cover and watched as Lara stood up. “Let’s find something to smother the flames and smoke,” Ben called. “If those tires start burning, the smoke will be sure to attract unwanted company.”

“Entrenching tools in the Broncos,” she said. “We’ll toss dirt on the flames.”

“Let’s get to it. I don’t feel like another war today.”

“Personally, I’d like to have a bath.”

“There’s a creek right over there,” Ben said, pointing. “If you’re not bashful.”

“What do I have left that you haven’t seen?”

“Not a thing, Lara.”

She smiled at him.

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The fires were eventually doused with shovels of dirt and with water carried from the creek in collapsible canvas camp buckets. When they finished, both Ben and Lara were filthy from the ash and soot.

“Bath time,” Lara said. “God, do I need one.”

“Take it, and take your time, enjoy yourself. I’ll stand guard and then you can keep a lookout while I bathe.”

“Wonder if this soap we got from die nudiouse will lather.”

“One way to find out.”

Lara looked toward the creek. “That water is going to be cold.”

“We have two choices-we can stink, or we can shiver for a little while and be clean.”

“You do have a way with words, Ben. Be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be here.”

There was no need to hurry. There had not been much

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smoke, and what there had been apparently had not drawn anyone’s attention. No planes or choppers appeared in the sky, and no ground troops made an appearance.

While Lara took her time in the cold waters of the creek-Ben occasionally heard a shriek from her-he dragged the bodies out of the street and dumped them into a ravine behind a row of decrepit old stores. He then shoved dirt over them, covering them as best he could. The animals would eventually get to the bodies, but that was nature’s way, and there was nothing else Ben felt like doing with the bounty hunters.

At Lara’s call that she was finished, Ben wandered down to the creek. “Your turn, Ben. But let me warn you-that water is cold!”

Very lovely woman, Ben thought, watching Lara dry her hair with a clean shirt. “You feel better?”

“One hundred percent. And the soap does lather.”

Ben didn’t linger in the creek as long as Lara, but he got his body clean and washed his hair, then dressed in clean BDU’s while waiting for his underwear to dry in the sun.

“Is there underwear in the supplies you have cached?” he asked Lara.

“You bet.”

“The one thing we forgot to get back at the nuthouse.”

“Believe me, I know. Mine is still drying over there on a rock.”

Ben and Lara spent the next hour prowling the ruins of the town. They found a couple of old fishing rods and reels and some assorted tackle. Lara showed Ben the faint track of an old logging road that led off into the timber and another track that led to a nearby lake.

“How far is the lake?” Ben asked.

“About five miles.”

“Should be jumping with fish.”

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“Oh, yes.”

“Let’s put this town behind us, then. What do you say?”

“I’m for it. After we pull the vehicles down this old road a few hundred feet, we can toss some brush over the entrance here. It might fool anyone who comes looking.”

“You don’t think the Federals will?”

“It’s doubtful, Ben. Feds diat come into the wilderness don’t generally come back out … if you know what I mean.”

Ben knew. The freedom fighters in die USA had gone underground, and were waging a guerrilla type of war. They were in control of a lot of die wilderness areas. “How about troops from Fort Drum?”

She shook her head. “Nothing there anymore. The military has all been shifted down to the border with your nation.”

Ben nodded his head. “And they’ll stay down there, too. Before this war is over, every man and woman Osterman can draft into service will be along our borders.”

“She still has the thousands of mercenaries under contract,” Lara reminded him.

“As long as the money holds out, they’ll stay. But how much is that costing the taxpayers? Several millions of dollars a day, I’m sure… probably more than that. When die money runs out, the mercenaries will leave. The currency in the SUSA is the strongest in die world. The USA’s dollar is weak, widi no hope of getting stronger. We have trade agreements widi many of die world’s nations. This is not dieir fight, and diey’ll stay out of it. Many of diem have signed agreements to that effect. This is strictly a civil war between Americans, Lara. And until die socialist/ democrats up here in the USA learn to compromise and live and let live, this civil war will drag on forever.”

“Can die SUSA stall long enough for die money to run out?”

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Ben shook his head. “No. Not stall. Hold out, yes. And we will. We’ll lose some territory and then regain it. Ground will pass back and forth several times before the worst of it is over.”

“And the SUSA will be victorious?”

“We’ll win the fight. Victorious? I guess that will depend on the individual’s point of view.”

“I … think I know what you mean.”

“We’ll talk more about it. I’ve got a few ideas about this civil war that we need to discuss. Right now, let’s get out of here. Head for the lake.”

“Damp underwear and all, hey?”

Laughing, they headed for the Broncos, Ben pausing long enough to grab his still slightly damp drawers from a rock.

The road out to the lake had not been used in a long time, and the going was very slow. The road, never a hard surface road, had long since grown over, and several times they had to break new ground through the brush because of trees that had fallen and were blocking the road.

“Forget about hiding our tracks,” Ben said.

“The Feds don’t come into the wilderness, Ben, as I said. Once we get past the lake, there are booby traps all over the place. Too many Federal patrols, have been caught in here, too many times.”

“That means you know the way, though?”

‘ ‘Oh, you bet I do. That was one of the reasons Bradford was torturing me, trying to get me to tell him the way to our camps.”

“What about spotter planes and choppers? Don’t they ever fly over?”

“Not anymore. Not since the war began with the SUSA.

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Even when they did, they didn’t get too low.” She smiled at him. “We have shoulder-fired missiles.”

“How much farther to the lake?”

“Just about a mile. We’ll get there in plenty of time to catch a mess offish for supper.”

“If they’re biting.”

“Oh, they always hit a lure. Lake hasn’t been fished in a long time.”

“Lead on, Lara.”

They broiled fish for supper, and they were delicious. They finished washing up just as night was casting its darkness over the land, creating silver shadows over the lake. A light cooling wind was blowing.

“Peaceful time,” Ben said, looking out over the quiet lake. “It’s lovely.”

“Yes, it is. I remember when it was always like this,” Lara replied, a wistful quality in her voice.’ T sometimes wonder if those times will ever come again.”

“Oh… someday. Maybe not in my lifetime, but certainly in yours.”

“You’re not that old, Ben.”

“Maybe not. But I sure feel like it often enough.”

“Years of war will do that. I’ve been fighting the socialists ever since they came in power. Hiding and living out in the wilderness. Before that it was the gangs of punks and warlords all over the nation. I know a little something about it.”

“I’m sure you do, Lara. Freedom never comes cheaply, does it?”

“Nothing worth having ever does. Especially freedom. We took it for granted for too long, I think.”

“Yes, we did. And we forgot how damn sneaky the left wing can be, especially when the print and broadcast media

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was overflowing with those types, aligning with them in sometimes not too subtle ways.” Ben paused for only a few seconds as his ears picked up very faint sounds not normally associated with the forest. “I think we’ve got company, Lara.”

“Yes. I figured they would come in before long. Relax. Those are my people.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“The way they move. We’ve had to become expert in the woods, Ben. We had no choice in the matter. It was either that, or die.”

“They’re good. They were right on top of us before I heard one of them.”

“That would be Jimmy Smathers. He’s just a kid, just learning. They brought him along this time because they knew it was us.”

“How old is this boy?”

“Seventeen.”

“Hello, the camp!” The voice came out of the gathering darkness.

“Come on in, Chuck,” Lara called. “And meet General Ben Raines.”

There was a long silent pause. “General who did you say, Lara?”

“Ben Raines. He was a prisoner there in the nuthouse with me. Hadn’t a been for him, I’d be dead right now … or wishing I was. Come on in.”

Ben stood up and heard someone say, “Jesus Christ, Chuck. It’s really him.”

Shadows in the gloom suddenly became human as men and women began stepping out into the clearing. Ben counted seven men and four women. Lara stood up and put her arms around one older man-just a few years younger than Ben, he guessed. “Good to see you, honey,”

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the man said. “We’ve been worried about you, but didn’t know for sure where those damn Feds had taken you.”

“I’m all right, ‘cept for a few bumps and bruises. Ben, this is the commander of our militia unit, Chuck Harris. Chuck, General Ben Raines.”

Ben shook the man’s hand, then was introduced all the way around. There was Dave, Ed, Marty, Dan, Louis, and Jimmy. Then he was introduced to the women: Nora, Lou, Belle, and Val.

They were all armed with M-16’s and 9mm sidearms. They all had grenades hooked onto their battle harnesses and carried half a dozen extra magazines for the M-16’s and two for the sidearms.

After a few minutes of small talk, most of it about how Ben and Lara got away from the hospital, Lara fixed another pot of coffee and Ben said, “Let’s get down to it, people. We have a civil war to fight, and I need you all on the side of the SUSA. What about it?”

Without a heartbeat of hesitation, Chuck said, “You’ve got it, General. You tell us what you want, we’ll do it.”

“I don’t want elderly people or children harmed … if at all possible. That’s the first thing. If an adult works for Osterman’s government they’re the enemy, and I don’t give a damn what happens to them.”

Chuck and the others smiled and nodded their heads. Chuck said,’ ‘That is exactly how we feel about it, General. Of course, I felt that way about the people who worked for the IRS-to name just one agency of the government-back before the collapse and the Great War.”

Ben laughed. “I know a lot of people who felt the same way. Now then, supplies. I can get us supplied by air drop. It’ll be the long way around, but I can get it done. What do you need?”

“Medical supplies, for a start,” Chuck said quickly. “All kinds. How about if I make out a list?”

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“Great. Can you get me a radio hookup?”

“No problem. I’ll have it set up for you tomorrow at our base camp.”

“Good enough. Have the list ready for me, and we’ll get things moving.”

“Coffee’s ready,” Lara announced. “The first pot, that is. It’ll take about three pots for this crowd.”

“I’ll fix the second one,” Dave said.

“General,” Nora said. “The only news we get worth a damn is on shortwave. The other news is all bullshit …”

Everyone laughed at that. Ben knew that for the past couple of years the news in the USA had been controlled by the government. It had been somewhat lopsided and biased before the collapse and the Great War. Ben, along with millions of other people who did not have their heads up their asses had believed for years the press was controlled by the left wing. Now that was a fact. The news now was pure crap.

“How is the war going down along your borders?” Nora asked. “The press up here is reporting great victories for the Federals. I just don’t believe that.”

“Well,” Ben said. “There certainly had been no great victories on either side a few days ago. I haven’t heard a newscast since I was taken prisoner several days ago, but I doubt seriously the Feds have made any significant advances into Rebel territory. I’ll know for sure tomorrow when I talk to my people.”

“Then you’ll be going back?” Dan asked.

Ben smiled. “This war has gotten very personal for me, very quickly. I think we need an advisor up here.” He chuckled. “And since I am the commanding general of the Rebel Army, I can pick any person I want for the job. So, I pick me.”

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“Anybody awake down there?” Ben spoke calmly into the mic. “This is the Eagle.”

“General!” The communications tech yelled the word so loudly that the speaker distorted it. “Where the hell are you? Ah … I mean, sir.”

Ben threw back his head and laughed at the tech’s excitement. “Patch me through to President Jefferys, please.”

“Right away, sir. Hang on.”

There was about half a minute of silence, then Cecil’s voice came booming out of the speaker. “Ben! Thank God, you’re alive.”

“I have a few bruises, ole’ buddy, but soon it’ll be payback for the Eagle.”

“How do you want to be picked up, Ben?”

“I don’t, Cec.”

Another short pause, then: “You, ah, want to run that by me again, Ben?”

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“I’m staying right here. I’m going to be working with a militia group from this end.”

“I suppose there is no point in my trying to dissuade you, is there?”

“None at all.”

“All right. Then I won’t try.”

“But I do need supplies, Cec, and it’s going to have to be a precision drop, at night.”

“We can handle that. Give me the coordinates and what you need.”

“Better tape this. The list is long.”

“OK. You want any help up there? Your team, I mean.”

“As much as I’d like to see them, no. They’ll understand, I’m sure of that. Maybe later, after we get cranked up and running smoothly, I’ll call in some people. But not now.”

“OK, Ben. It’s your show. Tape is rolling. Go.”

“How are your people going to get all that up here without being spotted and shot out of the sky?” Chuck asked after Ben had finished speaking with Cecil.

“They’ll come up under heavy fighter escort. Tankers will be up to refuel them when needed. They’ll fly over the Atlantic until cutting west over Canada. The Canadians won’t bother my people. The Canadian government might not like us using their air space for this purpose, but they won’t attack my planes. They’ll make their drop here and then head back the same way.”

“I’ve notified my people all over the park to be on the alert for stray ‘chutes.”

“Good enough. Now all we have to do is wait.”

“You turned down your president’s offer to send troops in, General. Why?”

“Because we don’t need them for the type of war I plan to wage up here, Chuck.”

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“We can handle it?”

“Easily. You’ll see.”

“Civilians are going to get hurt, aren’t they?”

“Probably. But those who get hurt will be supporters of Osterman and her government. It’s as I said before-people are either with us, or they’re against us. There are no fence-straddlers or so-called moderates. Moderates, in my opinion, don’t stand for anything. They’re wishy-washy.”

Chuck smiled at that. “You’re as hard as people say you are, General.”

‘ ‘My people and I-millions of us-have fought for years for the right to live in peace, under our own form of government. Governments all over the world have recognized us and signed trade agreements with us. Some nations have even adopted our way of governing. The Tri-States philosophy works. We’ve proved it. It won’t work for everybody. It wasn’t meant to. But we’ve shown that we can live in peaceful coexistence with our neighbors. And we’ll fight for our way of life, Chuck. If any government threatens us, we’ll get mad dog mean and down and dirty to preserve that way of life. You all-all your people-know our system. It’s so simple a form of government, so workable, it scares the shit out of liberals. But I’m preaching to the choir here, Chuck. You know all this.”

“Yes, I know. We all do,” the leader of the local militia agreed. The group of men and women he headed was a mixture of militia and survivalist people. “But I’m asked often if it would work outside the SUSA. Alongside and with other forms of government?”

“No. Not fully. Besides, we never planned that it would. We don’t try to force our way of life on anyone else. All we want is to be able to live under our own government and be left alone. We’ve proven we can. Time and again.” Ben sighed and shook his head. “Frankly, we’re running

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out of patience with those who want to destroy us. If other governments want to play kick ass, we’ll damn sure play it with them,”

“President Osterman sure plans to kick our ass.”

“She’ll never succeed, Chuck. All she’ll succeed in doing is ripping North America apart.”

“Let’s play worst case scenario, General. What happens if the Feds do get the upper hand, and you sense we’ve lost the war?”

When Ben looked at Chuck, the militia leader felt as if an icy knife had been plunged deep into his guts. He had never seen eyes so cold and mean. “I’ll destroy North America,” Ben said, his words causing another chill to wriggle snake-like through Chuck’s body. “I’ll turn loose every goddamn germ-warhead missile I have and stand there during their flight and curse into the fires of Hell every fucking liberal socialist/ democrat that ever took a breath.”

The militia members and Ben loafed around for the next two days. Ben rested, bathed his bruised body in hot water (which Lara heated in a huge iron pot over an open fire for him), ate well, and slept a lot. He was at about ninety percent recovery at mid-morning of the third day in the militia camp when more of Chuck’s people began coming in. They would assist in the retrieving and the distribution of the supplies to be dropped in late that night.

Ben was introduced all around, and many of the new people were in open awe of the man. It was a feeling that Ben had never liked, and had never gotten used to, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it… except live with it.

Several hours before dark, the entire camp began mov-

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ing out toward a long and wide valley several miles away, hoping the supplies would be dropped there.

The planes would come in low, guided in by Chuck’s people forming two wide lines of light provided by powerful flashlights.

“No wind,” Ben remarked as they arrived in the valley. “Let’s hope it stays that way. My people will put the supplies right on target, but it’ll be a hell of a lot easier for them if there is no wind.”

“Will this supply drop run you people short down in the SUSA?” Jimmy asked.

Ben smiled, as did others within earshot. “No, son,” Ben replied. “Not at all. We have enough supplies stored to run us about twenty years.”

“Twenty years!” the young man blurted.

Ben laughed. “At least twenty years, my friend. We believe in staying prepared. We have dozens of crews down in the SUSA that do nothing but build and stock and restock supplies from underground storage areas. We seldom throw away anything that can be used. We have millions of tons of everything you could possibly name, from commodes to panty hose and from dried beans to powdered milk.”

“Good God,” Jimmy breathed.

Ben smiled again as the young man walked off, shaking his head. He checked his watch. He had deliberately given Chuck and the others the wrong time for the drop. The drop would not be made at 2000 hours. It would be at 2020 hours.

During one of the conversations with Cecil, down at Base Camp One, Cecil had dropped a one-word warning to Ben, several times. That one word told Ben that the militia movement had been recently infiltrated, and warned him to be very careful. A little bit of double talk

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between the two men had altered the time for the supply drop.

Ben felt certain that if the Feds-or some other group-were going to strike, it would be right before the drop was made, for the traitor would know the procedure. There would be no radio contact between the ground and the planes; the signal would be by strobe lights.

Ben was 99.09% certain the infiltrator was not Lara. She was still carrying the marks of the beating she’d received from Bradford. That sure as hell had not been faked. Nor had her killing of the guards or the ambushes.

Nor did he believe the traitor was Chuck.

Ben had not been able to ask Cecil how he knew about the infiltrator in this particular militia group, but the Rebels had people in place all over the USA, planted there months and even years before.

At 1930 hours, Ben motioned Lara and Chuck off to one side and told them what was taking place. Both were shocked speechless for a few seconds.

“Thatcan’tbe, General!” Chuck protested. “My people were just polygraphed a couple of months ago. They all passed the tests without a hitch.”

“Then perhaps the contact was made after the last test,” Ben told him. “The Feds lucked out, that’s all. We might never know why one of your people was turned, but it happens. It’s happened with my people … more than once.”

“Ed Morris,” Lara said softly.

“What?” Chuck challenged. “That can’t be, Lara. I’ve known Ed all my life!”

“Why do you suspect him?” Ben asked.

“His kid,” Lara replied. “His boy was just accepted at a very prestigious university … full scholorship paid for by the government. You remember, Chuck, we wondered about it.”

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“Yeah,” the militia leader said. “No kid of a known militia member-a man on the run-was ever accepted by any high tone school like that. Ed said it was because of his son’s grades. But other kids with high scores-whose parents are Osterman supporters-have been rejected. It just didn’t sound right to me,”-he looked at Lara-“us. But we had no reason to doubt Ed. Until now,” he added softly. “Damn! But it’s hard to believe.”

“It might not be Ed,” Ben cautioned. “We’ll just have to wait and see. I’m betting they’ll make their move just minutes before the drop. I’ll fake a radio message and announce that the planes are on schedule. If they make their move, we’ll have plenty of time to handle it and get ready for the actual drop.”

“And if we take the traitor alive?” Lara asked.

“There will be very advanced drugs included in this drop,” Ben said, “several generations advanced from sodium pentothal. We’ll find out who the traitor’s contact is, and deal with them later.”

“That I’ll be looking forward to,” said Chuck. “With a great deal of anticipation.”

“You know,” said Lara, “Ed and that new fellow in Chris’s unit, Nolan, are real buddy buddy. They talk a lot when the two units are together. And Ed said he didn’t know the guy before he joined up.”

Chuck nodded in the darkness. “Yeah. That’s right. He sure did.” Chuck sighed. “So we’ll watch both of them.”

“Who gave this Nolan person the polygraph?” Ben asked.

“Why… damned if I know,” Chuck admitted.

“I can find out in about one minute,” Lara said. “I trust Bob Odell with my life. He’s saved it several times over the years. I’ll ask him. Be right back.”

She was back in a couple of minutes. Even in the gloom

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Ben could tell her face was grim. “Ed administered the polygraph to Nolan. Or says he did, anyway.”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Chuck said.

“It still isn’t conclusive proof,” Ben said. “Butwe’llkeep an eye on them. And pass the word to only those in your group you know you can trust-men and women with no families or kin on the outside. I’ll make the announcement in a few minutes that the planes are on the way.”

“Then the shit hits the fan,” Lara said.

Ben smiled. “My, my, darling. You do have such a way with words. You have the soul of a poet.”

Lara smiled sweetly and flipped Ben the bird.

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A couple of minutes after Ben made the announcement he noticed that both Ed and Nolan were gone. “Down!” he called first to Chuck and Lara. Then Ben yelled, “Everybody get down. We’ve been set up. It’s a trap.”

The night became pocked with flashes as the turncoats aligned with Ed and Nolan opened fire on the men and women they had called friends for years.

Ben saw several of Chuck’s group buckle and go down under the gunfire. Chuck’s immediate group had been warned that something was up, though, and they hit the ground at the first shouted warning.

Ben leveled his CAR at unfriendly flashes coming from the edge of the clearing and gave them half a mag. He couldn’t tell if he hit anything, but die firing abruptly ceased.

“Rotten bastards!” Belle yelled, on her knees and firing into the pockmarked timber and brush around die clearing.

On his belly behind part of a rotted log, Ben checked

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the luminous hands of the expensive watch he’d taken from one of the guards back at the funny farm. The planes would be making their drops in twelve minutes.

“Abort it! Abort it!” someone yelled from the darkness of the timber. “Get out of here!”

Chuck’s group had already pinpointed the locations of many of the turncoats, and they had worked close. They now increased the fire and began tossing grenades. Suddenly the situation changed, and Chuck’s people were on the offensive. The turncoats panicked and began running. Chuck’s militia cut them down.

The fire from the timber abated, then ceased altogether. Ben yelled, “Throw up security lines around the clearing. Then take a head count and find out who turned. Alert your people in the park.”

Chuck began yelling orders. Ben again checked his watch. When Chuck finished, Ben called, “Planes here in seven minutes. Form up the light lines.”

Chuck walked up, cussing. “Dirty traitorous sons of bitches! I’ll have every damned one of them shot.”

“Check the dead and wounded in the timber,” Ben told him. “Any alive might be persuaded to tell us something.”

“Bet on that,” Chuck said grimly.

“Rest of us get the light lines formed up. We’re running out of time.”

It took four minutes to get the DZ lit up. In the timber the sounds of an occasional gunshot could still be heard as Chuck’s people found turncoats and the traitors put up a fight … very brief fights, in most cases, for Chuck’s people were pissed off to the max and not interested in any sort of niceties.

“Planes!” someone yelled, and Ben turned toward the east just as the lights of the first big transport could be faintly seen coming in low over the hills and mountains.

“Lights on!” Ben yelled.

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Two long lines of light flashed on, marking the wide DZ in the valley.

The lead transport flashed its flight lights, signaling they had the DZ in visual.

Thousands of feet above the transports fighters circled, in case of trouble, but there was no more trouble in the huge park that night.

Dozens of parachutes suddenly blossomed in the night sky as the supplies were dropped. Chuck’s people raced to retrieve the supplies. There was very little wind that night, and the supply drop went off without a hitch. Several tons of much needed supplies floated soundlessly into the valley, and then the night grew quiet as the huge transports made their turn and headed back toward the east.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Ben called.

They had rockets and launchers, M-60 machine guns and M-16’s. Machine pistols with sound suppressors. Cases and cases of various types of grenades. Thousands of rounds of ammo. Boots and BDUs, socks and underwear. Berets and helmets and body armor. Medical supplies for every need and emergency. Cases of field rations. Water filtration systems and purification tabs. Portable stoves and heat tabs.

There were supplies strung out from one end of the valley to the other.

“Good God Almighty!” Chuck exclaimed. “When you call for a supply drop you don’t kid around, do you, General?”

Ben chuckled. “I didn’t call for a lot of this. But my people want me to be prepared for any eventuality.”

“Well, we damn sure are now!”

“For a fact,” Lara said.

“Let’s get this stuff cached and take a head count,” Ben suggested.

“I can tell you we’ve got four dead and several wounded,”

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Chuck told him. “How many turncoats we had is still up for grabs. But I will find out. Bet on that.”

There was no more time for conversation as men and women started coming in and picking up the supplies and loading them in small trailers hooked to three-wheelers and four-wheelers. They would diwy up the supplies come daylight, and discuss the fates of the turncoats and how to deal with them.

“I know how to deal with them,” Lara said, considerable heat in her words.

Several other members of the militia groups in the park standing nearby nodded their heads in agreement, a couple of them adding some very earthy descriptive phrases along with the nods.

There was no way the turncoats were going to live very long after this night, not unless they moved out of North America.

Sad, Ben thought. The conditions in the USA had come to this: neighbor pitted against neighbor, father against son, brother against brother. Ten times worse than during the first civil war, a hundred and fifty years back.

The supplies were cached and the men and women of Ben’s new command in the northeast got a few hours sleep. At dawn they were up and taking stock of what they had and how many men and women had turned on them.

“I’m getting reports in,” Chuck said. “Ed was the ringleader. Nolan was in on it, too. There were fifteen others. Three of them are dead, four wounded, and we have them. One of them isn’t going to make it … if he hasn’t died already.”

“Why did they do it?” Belle asked. “My God, I’ve known Ed for years.”

“Money and power was Nolan’s reason. Money and college for his kid was Ed’s reason.”

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“I thought under Osterman’s government anybody who wanted to could go to college.” Ben said.

“That was the claim,” Lara replied. “And still is. But it didn’t work out that way-as was predicted by a lot of us when it was first brought up. There just isn’t enough money, or teachers or schools.”

“Anyone with half a brain should be able to see that not everyone is college material,” Ben said.

“Osterman wants a nation of intellectuals,” Chuck said. “I guess that’s what she wants,” he added with a shrug of his shoulders. “Hell, everything is so screwed up I don’t think anyone knows anymore.”

“She wants power,” Ben told the group.’ ‘And her way in all matters. There is nothing wrong with being a dreamer. I had a dream, too. The trick is not letting that dream turn into a nightmare.”

“Weland just died,” a man called from the area where the turncoat wounded were being cared for. “He never regained consciousness.”

“John Weland,” Lou said. “I always thought he was with us a hundred and ten percent.”

“It’s times like these that could make a person get real discouraged,” Chuck said. He stood up from his squat and shook himself like a big dog. “But I’m not going to let that happen. The group is solid again, way I see it. So let’s get on with the job at hand and try to get this mess straightened out. The sooner we do, the sooner we can all start living some sort of normal life.”

Those gathered around looked at Ben.

“My turn?” he asked with a smile.

“Your turn, General,” Chuck said.

“That’s easy.”

“Easy, Ben?” Lara asked.

“What’s next, that is.”

The others waited.

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Ben lit a cigarette and took a sip of coffee. “What’s the nearest town?”

“In the park?” Belle asked.

“Might as well be.”

“Saranac Lake,” Belle answered.

“The police force there?”

“Solid Fed trained and solid Osterman supporters,” Lara answered. “Ben, every police force in the USA is that way now. Any officer who thought differently is long gone-weeded out, forced out. The police have absolute power now. And you know what’s said about absolute power.”

“It corrupts.”

“Right, and it sure as hell has done just that with these sorry bastards and bitches who now wear the badges in the United States.”

“What about Saranac Lake?” Dave asked.

Ben grinned. “We take control of it … tomorrow night.”

Ben had not shaved in about a week, and his beard was naturally heavy. He was well on the way to having a full beard-a sculptured one. A few hours before the assault on the park town was to take place, he carefully trimmed and then shaved his upper cheeks and neck: the beard was coming along nicely. He didn’t think it would fool anyone up close, but it might cause them to hesitate, and that would be all the time that Ben needed to get in the first punch, or shot, as the case might be.

He had asked and had been pleasantly surprised to find that Chuck’s people had a comprehensive list of people with conservative leanings and those who were solid left wing. Militias and survivalist groups had begun compiling those lists several years back, and the lists were long.

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“But those with conservative leanings have been disarmed, and are watched,” Ben was advised.

“Well, they’re about to be rearmed,” Ben replied. “And they’ll be taking over the policing of the communities we free from Osterman’s rule. Once we’re successful in half a dozen of these raids, other groups around the USA will start following suit. We’re going to reclaim the USA, folks. One community at a time.”

President Claire Osterman sat in the Oval Office in the new White House and silently cursed. The war with the SUSA was not going well. Not going well at all.

Her Federals had one minor victory to their credit, in Tennessee. They had captured Ben Raines. After that, Raines’s Rebels had toughened up and started kicking ass all along the border.

Now Ben Raines had escaped from custody and was somewhere in the huge Adirondacks Park with a bunch of ragtag, idiotic, militia types.

“Shit!” Madam President Osterman muttered.

Her intel people had informed her about the supply drop in the park the past night-a massive drop of equipment. Her small, ill-equipped and poorly trained Air Force had scrambled a squadron of fighters to mix it up with the Rebels. Not a single Federal plane had returned. The goddamn Rebels had shot down every one of her fighters.

“Bastards!” she muttered.

She had to hire more mercenaries to fight the Rebels. She had no choice in the matter. One of her advisors had proposed bringing back the draft, and Claire had been horrified at just the thought. Good God! Decent people don’t grub about in the military. That was something one hired done. If they got killed, well, society hadn’t lost much of anything. Her own father had evaded the draft during

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that debacle in Vietnam years back, skipping off to Canada with a group of others from the university. She remembered how proud of that he had been. He had often told her that only people of very dubious intelligence served in the military; certainly not people of quality.

In order to hire more soldiers Claire would have to raise taxes. Just had to be done. Couldn’t help it. People had to sacrifice in order to maintain a perfect society where everyone was equal. The citizens would understand. She was sure of that. Defeating Ben Raines and returning the SUSA to the Union would be worth it.

Of course, once all that was accomplished taxes would probably have to be raised just a teeny weeny bit more, for the reindoctrination of those misguided people who lived in the SUSA would be costly. It was certainly something that had to be done. Couldn’t have a bunch of people running around believing diat the average citizens had a right to own guns. Heavens, no!

Unthinkable.

Allowing a moment of silence in public school could certainly not be allowed, either. Absolutely not! Those foolish people who mumbled prayers to some mythical being would soon be contaminating the minds of truly intelligent people who knew the Bible was nothing but a good yarn, pure fiction.

And who knew what that damned Ben Raines was up to in the wilderness? For sure the goddamned troublemaker was plotting something against the government … that much was a given. But what? And why did he want all those supplies that were parachuted into the park? What kind of supplies were they, and what was he going to do with them?

Madam President Osterman leaned back in her massive leather chair, a frown on her face. As much as she hated Ben Raines, she could not allow herself to underestimate

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the man. She had done that several times in the past, and had soon regretted it. The bastard was smart, she had to admit that-albeit very, very reluctantly.

The problem with that damned park was that it was hugel When her State Police or Federal troops did go in after those miserable militia types, they never came back out. The park was booby-trapped, and very dangerous.

Claire pushed back her chair and stood up. She paused for a minute, looking out the window. What a lovely day. Then the face of Ben Raines entered her mind and spoiled everything. God, she hated that arrogant bastard.

She sure wished she knew what he was going to do next. She frowned again. Whatever it was, it would be destructive, that was for certain. Bastard enjoyed blowing things up.

Claire sat back down. She had developed a raging headache just thinking about him.

“Ben Raines, you rotten, right-wing son of a bitch!” she blurted.

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1935 will go down in history! For the first time a civilized nation has full gun registration! Our streets will be safer, our police more efficient, and the world will follow our lead in the future!

-Adolf Hitler

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When a majority of a nation’s population elects to support a socialist/communist regime, those opposed to such a form of government (the minority) have few options left them. They can revolt against the ruling government, but if the entire civilian population has been disarmed, their weapons confiscated (taken by force under threat of death or imprisonment) by government agents, their options become rather slim. Under such a form of government, block wardens, or watchers, suddenly rise to the fore. Neighbors, men and women and young people who were once friends, become suspicious and very wary of each other, for who knows who is reporting what to the town’s central committee?

Once the entire civilian population is disarmed (except for certain selected individuals fanatically loyal to the democrat/ socialist/communist regime) the normally law-abiding citizens are much easier to control with less manpower (excuse me, all you feminists: person power).

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Those types who choose to wear or carry badges under such a restrictive and oppressive form of government also tend to get a bit cocky-very much impressed with their own self-importance.

Ben Raines and his new northeast command of militia and survivalists took all the steam out of the local federal police force just after sundown.

The dispatcher and the one person working the desk looked up and found themselves staring at a dozen heavily armed men and women, all wearing camo BDUs.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Ben warned the pair. “And you’ll live. Screw up and you’re going to get seriously dead in a hurry. Understand?”

They both nodded their complete understanding of the situation and the ramifications involved. They were only too happy to comply.

Several of Chuck’s people quickly disarmed the pair of Federal police and then emptied the gun racks and the small arsenal of the police station.

“Call your patrols back here,” Ben ordered the dispatcher. “If I sense a code word being used to warn them, I’ll kill you where you sit, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the dispatcher said. “I sure do.”

“Do it.”

Ten minutes later, the night shift of the town’s police force were locked in their own jail. Twenty minutes after that, the other members of the town’s federal police force had been rousted out of bed and were locked down.

“By God, I’ll see you all hang for this!” the police chief blustered.

It was an empty threat coming from a man standing in his drawers.

“My, my, he sure has skinny legs and knobby knees, doesn’t he?” Belle said.

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“You dirty, rotten, filthy militia whore!” the police chief yelled.

“Got a mouth on him, too,” Val observed.

“To hell with you, bitch!” the chief hollered. “I’ll see all of you hang, you … you … traitors!”

Ben stepped closer to the barred door of die cell and the chief squinted and paled. “Ben Raines,” he whispered. “You damned fascist!”

‘ ‘You certainly are in a mood for name calling this evening, aren’t you, Chief?” Ben questioned. Ben lifted the muzzle of his CAR and poked the chief in the belly with it. “Not too smart for a man in your predicament, I would say.”

“I’m not afraid to die!” die chief yelled.

“You’re a damn liar,” Ben told him. “Everyone is afraid to die, whether they’ll admit it or not.”

“I’m not!” the chief hollered.

“OK,” Ben said. He turned to Belle and Val. “You two take this bastard out back of die jail and shoot him.”

“What?” the chief said. He began backing up in the cell. “Now you just wait just a damn minute here!”

Ben stuck the big key in the lock.

“Whoa!” the chief said. “I don’t want to die. I changed my mind. What the hell do you people want here in my town?”

“Your town,” Ben told him. “That’s all we want.”

The chief blinked a couple of times. “My town? Well … you can’t have it! That’s absurd!”

Ben turned as other members of his group herded in the mayor and half a dozen others of the town’s leading citizens… including several females. None of those being prodded along by gun barrels looked very happy about the situation.

“The gang’s all here,” Dave announced cheerfully. “The town’s leading socialists.”

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Ben pointed to a row of cells and smiled. “Take your choice of rooms.”

“Now see here!” the mayor protested. “What’s going on here? Who are you people?”

“Ben Raines,” the police chief said. He pointed a finger at Ben. “Him.”

“Oh, my God!” the mayor breathed as he and the others were being herded into two of the jails’ four-bunk cells. “The Rebels have invaded us.”

“Bread and water for thirty days,” Lara said. “For all of them.”

“Bread and water!” one of the female council members screamed. “Nobody can live on that. That’s inhuman.”

“Ah, hell, lady,” Belle said, taking in the lady’s rather rounded shape. “You can stand to lose a few pounds. It’ll be good for you.”

‘ ‘How dare you!” the woman squalled.’ ‘Just who do you think you are?”

“Well … I suppose freedom fighters is a good way to describe us,” Belle said.

“Freedom!” the council member hollered. “A bunch of damned terrorists is what you are.”

Ben laughed. “One man’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter, lady.”

“You’re nothing but a damned, right-wing, fascist Republican!” she hissed at Ben.

“That’s not quite true,” Ben replied. “Actually, I was an independent for years before the Great War, lady. Hell, I actually voted for several Democrats.”

The woman sneered at him and said nothing.

Ben motioned his people out of the cell block area and closed the door. He turned to Chuck. “You’ve gathered together some people who support our movement?”

“We’ve got a dozen or so at a lodge on the outskirts of town. No one else in town knows what’s going on. Everyone

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else is home watching TV or reading or getting ready for bed.”

“Good deal. All right. Let’s go see these people.”

The meeting was short, with Ben telling those present to wait for his signal before arming themselves with the weapons taken from the police and other ‘selected citizens’ who were supporters of the Osterman regime.

The weapons had been hidden outside of town; well hidden, but easily accessible.

“How long do we wait, and what are the odds of us failing?” Ben was asked.

“The wait won’t be long. The odds of failing are high. If we do fail, and there is a good chance we will, you’ll probably all be killed during the attempt, or tried and convicted as terrorists and shot or hanged.”

“Under this liberal regime that doesn’t believe in the death penalty?” a woman asked, a slight but very sarcastic smile on her lips .

“Don’t ask me to explain Osterman’s philosophy,” Ben replied, shaking his head. “The best I can come up with is it’s a massive fuck-up with one hand not having the vaguest idea what the other is doing.”

“That’s not a bad explanation,” a man said. “It’s as good as any I’ve heard.”

“What do you want us to do while the police and the other town officials are in jail, General?”

“Nothing, until others can join us in this minor rebellion,” Ben explained.

“That’s already happening in towns in and around the park,” Chuck said. He lifted a small walkie-talkie and smiled. “I just heard from several people. The other groups didn’t want to wait. The revolt is on!”

Everyone present smiled. Ben said nothing for a moment. He looked at each of the men and women for several seconds, wondering if many of them really knew

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what they were getting into. Well, he thought, they ‘re damn sure about to find out.

“I guess it’s fish or cut bait time, ladies and gentlemen,” Ben said. “If you’re in now, there’s no turning back.”

“Point of no return, General?” an older man said with a smile.

“That’s it.”

“Suits me,” a woman said. “I’d rather die than go on living under a socialist regime. This isn’t just our country, we all live and work here. We’re not trying to run the lives of those who politically disagree with us, but we don’t want them to run our lives, either.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying this right. But everyone here knows what I mean.”

Lara touched the woman’s hand. “Yes, we do, Pattie. All of us do.”

“Get the weapons we just cached,” Ben said. “And be ready to use them … and I mean use them to kill without hesitation. And bear this in mind-there will be no turning back for any of you who take part in this revolt. Once you’re committed, it’s going to be all the way. Think about that. Give that a lot of thought. Take a few minutes to talk it over among yourselves. I’m going to walk over there by myself and smoke a cigarette while you talk. You’re putting your lives and the future of your families’ lives on the line.”

“We know that, General,” a man said. “We’ve talked it all out at dozens of quiet little meetings over the past couple of years. What you see here is the, well, hard-core, if you will. And this is not all of our little resistance group. There will be about fifty or so more people joining us as the night wears on-from eighteen years of age to men and women in their seventies. There will be about a hundred of us to begin with. Others will, of course, join in if they see we’re going to win. You know those types.”

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“Oh, yes,” Ben said. “I know the type very well.”

Those types who complain about this, that, or the other thing, but refuse to do anything positive about it, Ben thought. They would never join any organization or group who would actually consider taking up arms against the government… as a final act, after all else has failed. Oh no! Why … that would be unthinkable. Oh, no, is their thinking. Better to live under a near dictatorship than to actually fight and run the risk of getting wounded or killed.

However, if a group of people were to actually fight the government and it appeared that group was going to win, well, now, that’s different. Those constantly complaining, do-little-or-nothing types would be only too happy to join in the final stages of any campaign. After the shooting and all the personal risk-taking is over, of course.

Oh, yes, Ben knew those types quite well.

“It’s going to be a sleepless night, folks,” Ben said. “And it could very well turn out to be a bloody one. So give that latter note some thought for a couple of minutes while I walk over there and grab a smoke.”

Ben walked over to a parked car, leaned against it, and had a cigarette while the group of men and women on the corner talked in low tones.

He wanted them to talk it all out-get it settled-because when all the resistance people were gathered Ben had final words to drop on them, and that was going to separate the sheep from the goats.

An hour later, Ben looked over the group, now numbering just under one hundred men and women. They had gathered in a local church. Those guarding the jail and manning the checkpoints on the roads leading into town were from Chuck’s group, all of them wanted men and

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William W. Johnstone

women with rewards on their heads. Ben didn’t have to talk to them. They would stand.

Ben stood up in front of the group, but not behind the pulpit. Talking about killing from the pulpit seemed a bit hypocritical to Ben. “In about an hour, folks, we’re going to start rounding up hard-line socialists. We’re probably going to have to kick some ass while doing it. That means shooting. And when there is shooting, someone is going to get killed. People you know. People you have perhaps known all your life. A person who was once-before politics got in the way-your best friend. They might be your brother or sister, mother or father, son or daughter, aunt or uncle, niece or nephew, cousin. But when they point a gun at you, or come at you with a club or a knife …” Ben shrugged. “What happens next is up to you. But I warn you of this, and it is a warning, if you cause the death of a fellow Rebel-and from this moment on that’s what you are, Rebels-because of your hesitation or outright refusal to act in a swift and decisive manner … I’ll personally see that you are put in front of a firing squad and executed.”

No one in the audience so much as blinked. Ben knew then he was dealing with men and women who were ready to lay down their lives for a cause, a belief.

“I’ve just received word that many of the towns within the boundaries of the park are now under Rebel control… at least for the moment. As soon as the park is firmly secure, we’ll start moving out and keep moving until the entire upper section of New York State is free of this damn socialistic rule. The next step is to seize an airport, so we can be resupplied when the time comes. I’ve got a site in mind. That’ll be my job. Your job is to wrest control from the current powers-that-be and bring at least this part of the nation back under Constitutional rule. We can do it. I know we can. I’ve done it. It’s a hell of a lot easier than it sounds.”

Ben paused for a moment, looking over the men and

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women gathered in the church. “Any questions before we start kicking ass and taking names?”

One woman stood up. “General?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Let’s cut the talk about it and do it!”

Ben laughed. “All right, ma’am. Let’s do it!”

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The resistance fighters began moving in all directions inside the park.

“We’ve got to move fast tonight,” Ben had told the men and women just before they moved out. “We’ve got to hit hard and seize control of as many towns as possible before the state or federal government can react and send in help.”

“And we won’t be able to hold all the towns we take, will we, General?” Ben was asked.

‘ ‘Probably not. We’ll lose a few. But other groups around the nation have already begun to form up and strike. More will follow with each success we have.”

“And if they don’t?” a man asked Ben.

“We’ll be in trouble and we’ll have to pull back, regroup, and make new plans.”

“Federal police!” a sentry outside the church yelled. “Coming in by helicopters. A lot of them.”

“Go, people!” Ben said. “Get out of here. You know

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what to do. Drive without lights until you’re clear. Don’t get taken alive. Shoot your way in and out of blockades. Do it, folks. Go, go.”

“Here they come, Ben!” Lara yelled from a side door. “It’s the FPPS.”

“Those goddamn Black Shirts!” Belle said. “Don’t let those Federal bastards take you alive.”

The Federal Secret Police, who usually came in by black helicopter and wore black jumpsuits when staging a raid, had become known as the Black Shirts.

The sounds of at least a dozen or more helicopters roaring in and over the town became louder.

“Attack!” Ben yelled, grabbing his CAR and heading for the door. “Take the offensive, people. Open fire now, damnit! Open fire on the bastards!”

Gunfire split the night, the sounds of the gunfire muffled down to nearly inaudible by the roaring of the helicopters.

The door gunners in the choppers opened fire with what sounded like M-60 machine guns, and one long burst tore into the side windows of the church and splintered the floor where Ben had been standing just seconds before.

“Shoot out diose fucking searchlights on the choppers!” Ben yelled.

He lifted his CAR and gave the nearest chopper half a mag, the 5.56 rounds blowing out the high beam searchlight on the front of the helicopter.

“Shoot for the open side doors,” Ben yelled to Lara. “Pass that word. Kill tfiose gunners first. The cockpit on diese new jobs is heavily armored.”

Dozens of CARs-the chopped down version of the M-16-in the hands of resistance fighters on the ground opened up and began yammering. Several M-60 side guns on the choppers abruptly fell silent and one gunner toppled half in, half out of the door, held there by his harness.

Chuck ran to Ben’s side. “Hell of a good move outfitting

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everybody from the supply drop, General. I think we can more than hold our hold now.”

“We’d damn well better do more than that,” Ben yelled over the noise of battle.

“I hear you,” Chuck said.

Then there was no more time for conversation as a dozen of the choppers landed and began spilling out Black Shirts. Ben jerked a grenade from his battle harness and held it up so those around him could see. They nodded and grabbed grenades.

Ben pulled the pin and held the spoon down until those around him had time to do the same. “Now!” he yelled, and chucked the grenade.

One of the grenades-no one would ever be sure who threw it-landed inside a helicopter door just as the chopper was settling down in an empty lot alongside the church. It blew, and so did the chopper. The chopper must have been carrying a lot of explosives, or its fuel tanks had just been topped off. When it blew, it colored the evening skies, shattered nearby windows, and dotted the landscape with hot metal and various body parts. The concussion caught a second chopper and flipped it, landing the chopper upside down. The second chopper didn’t explode, but it sure ruined the evening of those Black Shirts who were inside-the resistance fighters on the ground further complicated their evening by opening fire on those who tried to escape the wrecked chopper.

The Black Shirts had not anticipated so great a number of resistance fighters, nor had they suspected the men and women would be so well-armed. They had landed smack in the middle of a firestorm.

And the firestorm was gathering strength as the fires of hate were fanned-the hatred of those opposed to living under any type of socialistic government had been intense,

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and had grown hotter as time passed and more and more personal liberties were taken away from citizens.

The resistance fighters were taking out their discontent on the Black Shirts.

Half a dozen of the pilots wisely aborted attempts to land in the middle of the maelstrom and roared off into the night skies. Those Black Shirts who were just unassing the choppers and had not found cover were cut to pieces by the resistance fighters.

One more chopper was damaged by several grenades and was forced to set down hard. Ben and those grouped with him opened fire on the chopper with everything they had. Several rounds finally punched-or somehow made their way-through the impact-loosened windshield and hit the pilot. In his panic, or final death throes, the pilot managed to really screw up matters for those on board. The chopper surged upward violently for fifty or so yards, slowly turned onto its side, and came crashing down to the ground.

Scratch one chopper and all the Black Shirts on board.

“Let’s get out of here, Ben!” Lara urged.

“No!” Ben’s reply was sharp. “We finish it. We don’t leave until it’s over. Pass the word.”

“OK, Ben. You’re the boss.”

The town’s residents wisely stayed inside while the shooting was going on. They knew the area’s resistance groups had gathered, and were aware that the town’s police were locked in their own jail, but there was very little that any of them could do about the situation. Most of the residents were members of the socialist/democrat party, and didn’t believe in any private ownership of firearms.

They were, one might conclude, victims of, and prisoners in, a situation of their own doing.

Those residents of the town who were moderately conservative in their thinking but for whatever reason did not

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wish to take part in the revolt sat in their homes and wondered what this night would bring.

It was bringing death to any Black Shirt who refused to lay down his weapons and pack it in.

“Got some here who want to surrender, General!” a member of Chuck’s group called as the gunfire was winding down.

“All right,” Ben returned. “Stick them in the jail and get someone to see to any wounded.

“Ben Raines!” The shout came from behind a small building a few seconds later. “We know that’s you out there. Listen, we’ve had it. We give up!”

‘ ‘Suits me,” Ben shouted.’ ‘Come on out with your hands in the air. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“We won’t. I promise. Don’t shoot.”

The fight was over. The Black Shirts were confined to a two block area of the town in the park and they began wisely giving up, calling out to the resistance fighters.

“Get the town’s doctors and nurses out here,” Ben told Chuck. “Let’s see to the wounded.”

“That’s a hell of a lot more than they would do for us,” Chuck told him.

“You serious?”

“You bet I am. I’ve seen it.”

“So let’s show them we’re better people.”

“If you say so, General.”

“I say so. Lara? While we’re doing that, you find out how the other groups are doing, how many towns have been taken by our people.”

“Will do.”

Ben walked over to the group of Black Shirts and looked at them under the glow of a streetlamp, slowly and one at a time. It made them very nervous. They were scared, and none of them were making any effort to hide their fear. They had all studied extensive dossiers on Ben Raines and

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the Rebel philosophy, and knew that once a person or group had been declared an enemy of the state one’s life expectancy could be very short. There was no middle road with Tri-Staters. You were their friend and you stayed the hell out of their business, or you were their enemy.

“You men and women have a choice now,” Ben finally said after several minutes of walking up and down the line of Black Shirts. “You can quit your jobs and stop being an enemy of the SUSA, or I will turn your names over to my people and we will send teams in to hunt you down and kill you. No matter how this war goes-win, lose, or draw-if you continue to work against us you’re dead. Think about it.”

The Black Shirts stared at him in silence. The resistance fighters stared at him in silence. Both sides wondered if Ben really meant it.

“A decade ago,” Ben continued, “the federal government tried to smash us out of existence. They failed, and most of those who took an active part against us were killed by members of what were called Zero Squads. They were called Zero Squads because the odds of their returning from their assignments were just about zero. Those who fought against us died. The killing went on for months. Think about it.”

“Then what our government says is true-you people are nothing but thugs and murderers,” a woman Black Shirt said. “That isn’t war.”

Ben smiled at her. “War is a matter of winning or losing, lady. It isn’t nice. But I have to laugh at your suggestion of us being thugs and murderers. That’s ridiculous! What do you people think you are, angels in black? You damn government agents kick in doors in the middle of the night and shoot citizens for merely attempting to exercise their constitutional rights. And you have the unmitigated gall

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to call us thugs and murderers? That’s laughable and absurd!”

“We’re obeying the direct orders of the Congress of the United States,” a male Black Shirt said. “They make the laws, we enforce them.”

“Just obeying orders, huh?” Ben asked. “Sure, you are. That’s the same things Nazi war criminals said at the trials right after the Second World War. You people should read some history. It’s being repeated here.”

“Are you comparing us to Hitler’s SS people and the Gestapo?” a Black Shirt asked.

“Hell, yes, I am! What’s the difference? The government you work for has been trying for several decades to rid the United States of men and women who believe in the true interpretation of that document called the Constitution of the United States.” Ben held up a hand. “I’m not going to stand here in the middle of the night and argue with you. You’ve all been brainwashed by the left-wing, your minds warped by the babblings of Osterman and her supporters. When we pull out of here, you’re all free to go-after we take your ID’s. Just remember what I told you. This is your only chance. You continue to fight us, you’re dead.” He looked over at Chuck. “Take their ID’s and escort them out of here, please.”

Ben walked down the block, very much aware of the citizens of the town peeking out through the curtains at him.

“Son of a bitch!” a citizen yelled, throwing open the front door of his house.

Ben hit the ground behind a tree.

The citizen opened fire, the shotgun blast tearing bark off the tree.

Ben crawled up on his knees just as the man fired again. This time the pellets blew a side window out of a car parked by the curb.

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“You goddamn, right-wing bastard!” the local shouted.

Ben gave him a burst from his CAR and the man screamed and fell halfway back into his house, the shotgun falling onto the porch, his legs bloody from the slugs.

A half-dozen freedom fighters ran up to Ben, another half dozen onto the porch, a couple of them kneeling down beside the fallen man.

“Are you all right, General?” a woman called from the porch.

“I’m fine,” Ben said, getting to his boots. “How is the citizen?”

“He caught lead in both legs. But he’ll live to vote for Osterman… again.”

“You’re damn right, I will!” The wounded man moaned the words. “Claire Osterman is the greatest president this nation has ever had.”

“He must have fallen on his head,” Ben muttered. “The man is delirious.”

Those freedom fighters standing around Ben laughed.

“Tom Dickson,” a man said. “I’ve known him for years. And for years he’s been an asshole.”

“A little higher, and I would have given him a new one,” Ben replied.

That brought another laugh from those standing around Ben.

“Secure the town,” Ben ordered. “Disarm all Osterman supporters, and arm all those who support freedom-but warn them they might die for supporting freedom.”

“Most are ready to do just that,” Chuck said. “So the second civil war has begun, right, General?”

“It’s really begun, Chuck.”

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By noon of the next day dozens of small towns all over the USA had been seized by various groups of men and women who were weary of being dictated to by the federal government. The federalized police, the mayors, and the town councils had been locked up. For a while, at least, the yoke of federal oppression had been cracked. Osterman sent in hundreds of federal agents, and by dark on the second day of the revolt about half the communities had been retaken by federal agents. A lot of blood had been spilled, on both sides of the political issue. In those communities that had been retaken by Osterman’s goons, retribution against the freedom fighters was swift and terrible, but in most areas it did not have the effect Osterman had hoped for. Instead of crushing the spirit of those who desired to be free of federal control over their lives, it served only to strengthen their resolve.

Small groups of men and women who heretofore had been standing on the sidelines suddenly elected to step

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forward and be heard, to arm themselves with whatever they could find and take an active part in the growing and increasingly violent revolt.

Madam President Claire Osterman suddenly found she had a lot more than Ben Raines to deal with: she had a building revolution in every state that made up the USA. She and her socialistic allies were now facing a very nasty guerrilla war.

“A guerrilla war cannot be contained in a nation this size,” some of the cooler thinking of Osterman’s advisors warned her. “Just a few determined individuals can wreak havoc.”

“Nonsense!” said those advisors who knew as much about warfare as they did the mating habits of the troglodyte. “We just catch the leaders of the revolt and execute them … publicly. That will take the steam right out of the movement and it will die. That’s all there is to it.”

The room erupted into a shouting match between the advisors… none of whom really knew what the hell they were talking about.

Those military leaders who were in attendance remained stoically silent. They knew the present administration hated the military (loathed was the word once used by the president). Not a single civilian present had ever served in any branch of the military. Guns frightened them.

Someone called for coffee and sandwiches to be sent in. It was going to be a very long afternoon.

Ben read the latest reports from around the nation and smiled. “It looks pretty damned good,” he said, laying the reports to one side. “Better than I anticipated.” He took a sip of coffee and lit a smoke. “We’ve got the Feds in a box, in a way. If they pull any units off the border with the SUSA, my people will pour across and do an end-172

around and really give Osterman’s people a good butt kicking. Osterman just doesn’t have enough Federal agents to handle all the hot spots in the USA. Lara, how is it looking as far as the individual units getting together?”

“Really good,” she replied, smiling and holding up a thick folder of communiques received over the past twenty-four hours. “The groups in ten states so far have come together under a loose bond of cooperation. But what they need is some real professional leadership.”

“Someone to kick their asses and make them see they can’t go it alone,” Chuck said.

“I could arrange for people to go in,” Ben said. “But if they do, they’re going in as commanders, not advisors. That has to be understood up front.”

“Many of the groups won’t go for that,” Lara told him. “That’s been the problem for years. They all want to be independent.”

“If they insist on staying independent, each with their own uncompromising ideas of how a government should be run, then they’ll lose this fight. Hell, no one in the SUSA agrees with our philosophy one hundred percent. But it’s the most workable form all of us could come up with and still have a government. Some are opposed to a national driver’s license, others to a national health plan, others to this, that, or the other thing. But the pros still far outweigh the cons.”

“I’ll talk to as many groups as I can,” Lara said. “See what they think.”

“Do that. But advise them the Constitution is the document we base our government upon. I don’t give a damn if it’s five hundred years old, or was written day before yesterday. The original document and the philosophies of the signers and framers stand.”

“Ben, many of the people up here just don’t agree with

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your ideas about using force to defend personal property,” Lara reminded him.

“It’s the oldest personal right in history,” Ben said. “Probably been in existence since humankind crawled out of the caves or climbed down out of the trees. That fresh-killed dinosaur tail belongs to me and my mate, and if you try to take it I’m going to take this club and bash your head in. Lara, no one has the right to take anything from anybody-if they don’ t want them to-without due process of law. Many of the problems society faced before the Great War and the following collapse were created because we got away from the basics. Many in power began making excuses for those who broke the law. That will not happen in the SUSA.”

“All of us here agree with it, General,” Dave said. “We’re with you a hundred percent.”

“Fine. Now let’s go take us an airport.”

“Now?” Chuck asked, astonishment in his tone.

“Why not?” Ben asked. “It’s as good a time as any.”

The airport in Plattsburg lay just a few miles outside the park boundaries. It had been repaired and updated and reequipped, and the new runway was long enough to handle Rebel aircraft.

“Perfect,” Ben said, studying the layout through binoculars. He lowered the long lenses and looked at Chuck and Lara. “We’ll take it tonight.”

“Just like that?” Chuck questioned.

“Sure. All it takes is a little nerve and a few people.”

“And how do we hold it?” Lara asked.

“The same way. It’ll just be for a few hours. I’ve got a unit of Rebels standing by to join us. As soon as we launch our attack, planes already in the air and over the Atlantic will turn west and be on the ground within two hours.”

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“And those militia people over in Vermont you spoke with this afternoon?”

“They’ll be seizing some territory of their own. Relax, folks. It’ll go smooth as silk and honey.”

“That’s easy for you to say, General. You’ve done this a thousand times,” Chuck said. “Or more. An op this big is something new for us.”

“It’ll be good practice for you,” Ben told them. “With any kind of luck we can pull it off without shedding a drop of anybody’s blood.”

Chuck looked very dubious. “Osterman has beefed up security around every airport in the nation, General. That’s the very first thing she did when the war started.”

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “No big deal. If the security people have any sense at all, they won’t put up a fight. I hope they don’t. If they fight, they’ll die. It’s just that simple.”

“Simple for you, General,” Marty said.

“No,” Ben said. “That’s the way you win battles, Marty. Fighting a war with complicated ‘rules of engagement’ is not the Rebel way. We go in to win. Period. That’s why we’ve been so successful over the years. Anything less is a stupid way to fight a war.”

“When do we go in?” Belle asked.

‘ ‘At full dark. The planes are airborne now. Tankers are up ready to refuel. Right now, let’s grab a bite to eat and get a bit of rest.”

Ben and seven other people, including Lara, walked into the main terminal building at full dark. They had confronted and disarmed three security people outside without any trouble. As soon as the airline employees behind the counter spotted Ben and his team they stepped

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back and put their hands in the air. They were not armed, and wanted no trouble.

One young uniformed security guard had other ideas, though. He had visions of being a hero, and grabbed for his pistol. Those ideas got his legs knocked out from under him by a burst from Lara’s CAR.

“The rest of you stand easy,” Ben said. “Do that, and nobody else will get hurt.”

“You’re Ben Raines,” a civilian blurted.

“That’s right, mister.”

“My God!” a woman said. “He’s going to kill us all!”

Ben laughed at that. “Oh, I don’t think so, lady. Not unless you pull a pistol out of your purse and point it at me.”

“I don’t own a gun,” the woman said haughtily.

“Good for you,” Ben told her. “That makes our job all that much easier.”

“Control tower is ours,” Lara said, after listening to her headset for a few seconds.

“Any trouble?” Ben asked.

“None.”

The two other security guards in the main terminal stood quietly with their hands in the air while Ben’s people took their weapons. They had no intention of becoming dead heroes. The young guard who had his pins knocked out from under him lay on the tile floor and moaned in pain.

“I thought I heard a shot a moment ago,” Ben said.

“One security guard got stupid,” Belle told him. “All it got him was dead.”

“Pity,” Ben said.

“Yeah,” Dan replied. “I’m deeply touched.”

“You people are savages!” a man yelled. “Nothing but filthy savages.”

“Another Osterman supporter,” Lara remarked.

“You damn right, I am!” the civilian yelled. “She’s the

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greatest president this country has ever had. And she’ll have you traitors hanged.”

Ben yawned. “I thought you socialist/democrats didn’t believe in the death penalty.”

“We do for people like you.”

“Karl would be so proud,” Ben told him.

“Huh?” the man said. “Karl who?”

“Marx. He would be thrilled with your form of government, I’m sure.”

“I’m no damn communist!”

“No? Well, you’re sure doing a great imitation of one. Fooled me.”

“Airport is secure,” Lara said before the civilian could respond. “For the moment,” she added. “The local Federal police will be here shortly.”

“They sure will,” a woman said. “And then we’ll see how tough you fascists are.”

“Yeah,” a security guard said. “They’ll take care of you damned militia trash.”

“Right,” Nora said. “I’m sure they will.” She laughed in the guard’s face.

Ben had placed a squad of his people on the road leading into the airport. They were waiting, backed up by two M-60 machine guns.

“Ernie all set?” Ben asked.

“He’s ready,” Lara said.

Ernie was a former air controller who had been fired because of his openly stated views against Osterman and her socialist form of government.

Lara held up a hand. “Planes lining up for landing. Ernie says there are several dozen of them.”

“Probably more than that,” Ben muttered. “Cecil and Ike have overreacted … again.”

“They’re just worried about you, Ben,” Lara replied.

“They should know by now I can take care of myself.”

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“And you like to lone wolf it, don’t you?”

Ben smiled. “I rather enjoy it, yes.” He looked over at the wounded security guard. A freedom fighter who had been an EMT before views of Osterman and her policies got him into trouble was looking after the man’s wounds.

“Fifteen minutes to touchdown, Ben,” Lara said.

“Let’s get these civilians some coffee and settled down,” Ben suggested. “It’s going to be interesting when that commercial flight starts calling in for landing instructions.”

“We can divert it.”

“Is it prop or jet?”

“Prop.”

“Oh, hell, let it land. We’ll let these people get on their way.”

Lara looked at him for a moment and then shook her head and laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny?”

“You! You’re the calmest man I have ever met. Nothing seems to shake you up.”

Ben smiled at her. For the past few days sexual tension had been building between them. Ben had done his best to ignore the feeling-for he had learned the hard way that getting involved in the field was not a smart move-but the feelings just kept building between them.

“This guy’s gonna be OK,” the EMT called. “But he’s going to need some surgery to get a couple of slugs out of him.”

“Call an ambulance for him,” Ben said. “Hell, the whole damn town will know we’re here in a few minutes. No point in delaying medical treatment for him.”

“Right, General.”

Five minutes later the huge cargo planes began landing and taxiing off the main runway. The cargo masters went

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to work, quickly unloading personnel and equipment, and that was a job that was going to take most of the night.

“Good God!” Nora said, gazing in awe out of the terminal window. “I’ve never seen so many planes in all my life, and Ernie says there are dozens of planes circling or holding some distance out.”

“We’ll have more than a toehold up here when this night is over,” Ben said, after listening to Lara’s headset for a moment and then acknowledging the message. “Ike sent in several battalions of troops and armor and artillery to back them up.”

“Several battalions!” Chuck breathed the words.

“Yes. Come on. Let’s get out onto the tarmac and greet the troops.” Ben smiled genuinely. “And I’ll let you meet my son.”

“That would be an honor, General,” Chuck said.

On the tarmac, Ben waved at a young man standing off to himself watching the proceedings. Buddy Raines walked over and shook his father’s hand. “Good to see you’re doing well, Father. And I like the beard. Looks good on you.”

“I’m about to shave it off, boy. Damn thing itches. Buddy, I want to introduce you around.”

After the introductions, Ben asked, “All these people from your brigade, son?”

“Yes, sir. Three thousand of them.”

“Ike order you in?”

“Yes, sir. You know he did.”

Buddy Raines’s 508 Brigade was made up in part of his old Special Operations Battalion. The Spec Ops were the bad boys and girls of the Rebels-Special Forces, Rangers, SEALs, Force Recon, Air Commandos, and French Foreign Legion all rolled into one. They were the most highly trained and lethal of all Rebels.

“How’s my team?”

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Buddy grinned. “Standing right over there,” he said, pointing.

Ben’s eyes followed the point, and he smiled. Jersey, Corrie, Beth, Cooper, and Anna were standing off to one side of the crowded tarmac. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ben said. “I should have guessed you wouldn’t be able to leave them behind.” He waved them over and introduced them.

“The team we have all heard so much about,” Chuck said.

“Nothing good, I hope,” Jersey replied without changing expression. Only her dark eyes twinkled with humor. “I wouldn’t want to tarnish our reputation.”

Chuck smiled at the diminutive Rebel. His eyes shifted over to Corrie, then Beth, then Anna. All lovely, and each of them as dangerous as a den of rattlesnakes. He looked at Cooper; same coldness in the eyes. A very skilled and deadly group of young men and women, Chuck concluded.

Chuck cut his eyes to Buddy Raines. My God, the man was solid! He had heard that Ben’s son was powerfully built. Now he knew it for a fact.

Chuck looked at Lara. She was watching the Rebels unass the planes. The men and women under Colonel Buddy Raines were all, as the saying went, “Lean, Mean Fighting Machines.”

“I think the battle up here is about to take a turn for the better,” Lara said, her voice just audible over the roar of planes landing and taxiing in.

Buddy had sized up the situation between Lara and his dad very quickly. Of course, the younger Raines knew his father well. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I suspect it will. And I suspect it will do so very quickly.”

Chuck’s people stood and watched as tanks and trucks rumbled out of the massive transports. “Incredible,” Belle said. “Just incredible.”

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“How about us finding something to eat?” Cooper said. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Jersey responded. “I swear to god you have a gut full of tapeworms.”

“He’s a growing boy,” Beth said.

Over the sounds of huge transports landing and taking off, the sound of machine guns could just be heard. Buddy arched one eyebrow and asked, “Trouble?”

“I think the Federal police have arrived,” his father replied. “And probably wish they had stayed home,” he added.

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The town’s Federal police lost eight officers in the first four vehicles to arrive at the airport before they realized they had driven into a situation that five thousand officers would have been unable to contain. But by then it was far too late to turn back. The freedom fighters had closed off all avenues of escape, and for the lead vehicles it was a slaughter. Only a few shots had been fired by the town’s federally trained, Osterman-supporting officers. The Federal police dien did the only prudent thing: they surrendered.

Chuck’s people brought the survivors of the night ambush to Ben. The federal officers stood in awe, looking at the heavily armed Rebels unassing the big transport planes.

“What’s it going to be, people?” Ben asked the scared group of federal officers.

“What do you mean, General Raines?” asked one of the older officers.

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“We’re sure not going to keep you around, feeding and caring for you. Hell, we don’t want you. You’re not going to be facing unarmed citizens any longer. Come daylight, anyone who wants a gun can damn sure have one. And the first weapons to be given away will be yours, and from the police armory. So you’d better make up your minds which side you’re on.”

“How about us not taking sides, and just enforcing the law?” a man suggested.

“That’s no good. You’re federalized, and you swore an oath to support Osterman and her policies. How could I trust you to keep your word on that?”

“You just don’t really understand how drastically crime has gone down since privately owned guns were banned,” a woman officer said.

“I’ll match our crime stats in the SUSA against yours anytime, lady,” Ben responded. “And nearly everyone in the SUSA is armed. How about it?”

She glared with open hate at Ben, and did not respond.

“Scratch that one for sure,” Ben muttered.

“You bet,” Jersey said in a louder tone. “Shall I just shoot her now and put her out of her misery?”

“Now you wait just a minute!” the older Federal cop said. “Everyone is entitled to an opinion.”

‘ ‘Not when your opinions start interfering with my constitutionally guaranteed rights,” Jersey said.

“Damn little militia whore!” the mouthy female Federal cop muttered.

Jersey heard her, and her eyes narrowed.

Ben stepped out of the way as Jersey handed her CAR to Cooper and stepped forward.

“This is going to be interesting,” Ben whispered to Lara. “Watch.”

“Haul your ass out here, bitch!” Jersey said.

“Are you going to permit this?” Lara questioned.

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“Sure. Why not? You can bet no one is going to interfere. Not if they have any sense. Jersey is pretty and shapely, but tough as a boot.”

Lara looked at him strangely and said nothing, just shook her head in disbelief.

“I won’t lower myself to your level,” the Federal cop said very haughtily.

‘ ‘Well, la-di-da!” Jersey said, putting one fist on a shapely hip and mincing about a few steps. “The bitch has a big mouth and no guts to back it up.”

Several of the freedom fighters laughed nervously, not understanding why General Raines was allowing this to continue. Buddy Raines stood back from the main knot of people, a slight smile on his lips.

“Come on, bitch!” Jersey waggled her fingers at the Federal cop. “You call me a whore, I’m gonna kick your prissy Federal ass for you.”

The female Federal shook her head. Jersey laughed at her.

“Now stop this!” the older Federal cop said. “We’re your prisoners, General. I believe there are rules that captors must abide by.”

Jersey stopped right then and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, it was worth a shot. OK, lady. You don’t get your ass kicked tonight.”

Ben stepped forward. “Lock them down somewhere until we can decide what to do with them.” He turned to Chuck. “What are your people finding in town?”

“Confusion among the Osterman supporters. Great joy among the conservatives.”

“The Federal police?”

‘ ‘They’re being rounded up as we speak. Some resistance on their part. Only a few casualties. None of our people have been hurt.”

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‘ ‘Weapons being distributed among those willing to fight for their freedom?”

“Yes, sir. Several hundred have already lined up to be armed. We’re expecting several hundred more as the word spreads. About fifty of the first group have volunteered to act as police for the community.”

“Good enough. And good work. Compliment your people for me, Chuck. A job well done.”

“Thank you, General.”

Walking away, back to the rear of the main terminal, Buddy fell in step with his father. “I have a question,” the younger Raines said.

“Ask.”

“What the hell kind of government did this Osterman person set up? It makes no sense to me. It isn’t pure socialism, isn’t pure communism. I don’t know what it is.”

Ben laughed. “I don’t either, son. It’s a combination of liberalism, socialism, and … something else that doesn’t have a name.”

” Ostermanism? “

Ben chuckled. “That’s as good as any, I suppose. But I do know it’s Big Brother all the way.”

‘ ‘What is so damned attractive about it? Obviously, something is. Millions of people openly embrace it.”

“Cradle to grave care, Buddy. No one has to take personal responsibility for anything they do. Any act that is considered illegal or immoral by conservative-thinking people is not the fault of the individual committing the act. It’s society’s fault. Used to be a comedian years ago who humorously summed up that kind of thinking when he said, ‘The devil made me do it’ “

“Really.” Buddy’s reply was very, very dry.

“That comedian didn’t realize how prophetic his words would turn out to be.”

“Ridiculous!” Buddy said contemptuously. “Society alone

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can’t make anybody do anything. I thought the people living outside the SUSA were through with diat sort of nonsense.”

“I thought they were on their way to being through with it. I guess we were wrong.”

“So what comes next, Pop?”

“We start retaking this section of the USA, boy. We rearm the people and set up militia groups-or whatever they choose to call themselves-as we go.”

“And when we pull out?”

“We’ll hope-and pray, if you’re the praying type-that the people we arm will stand firm and back up their beliefs with bullets.”

“They didn’t before.”

“I think that maybe this time they will. The odds are better, at least.”

“They will never adopt the laws of the SUSA, Pops.”

“I don’t expect them to. No candy-assed, left-wing liberal could live under our laws. Our laws are too simple for them. Too much responsibility is placed on the individual in our society, son. That goes against the liberal belief of no one taking the blame when they fuck up.”

Buddy laughed in the night. “You have such a delicate way with words, Pops.”

“I do, don’t I? Gets the point across, though.”

“It certainly does that.”

Madam President Claire Osterman was clearly in mild shock after her military advisors had briefed her and then exited the new Oval Office … quickly.

In four days time-since the arrival of Rebels from the SUSA at the Plattsburg airport-Ben Raines and his ragtag militia and survivalist trash had managed to seize control of almost everything north oflnterstate 90, with the excep-186

tion of Syracuse, Schenectady, and Utica. And they were knocking on the doors of those freshly rebuilt cities.

“That rotten, right-wing, no-good Republican son of a bitch!” Claire yelled. Leaping out of her chair, she jumped up and down, occasionally pausing to pound on her desktop.

Her staff, standing outside in the corridor, could hear her cussing, and Claire was a pretty good cusser.

Claire calmed herself and sat down in her chair. She took several deep breaths and looked at the reports on her desk, left there by the advisors. They told a grim story.

Groups all over the nation were rising up and seizing control of the smaller towns.

“Goddamn militia trash!” Claire muttered. “Whacko gun kooks.”

She read on. The Federal Police were overwhelmed, unable to cope with the worsening situation.

Claire closed the folder. She could not force herself to read any more.

One thing she knew for certain: It was all Ben Raines’s fault.

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“I don’t want any innocent people hurt or killed,” Ben warned the freedom fighters. “And I sure as hell don’t want any children hurt or killed. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” Chuck said. “We’re in agreement with that one hundred percent.”

“How in the hell can a grown man or woman who works for and supports Osterman’s policies be innocent?” a woman from another group asked. “That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Me neither,” a man agreed. Others sitting around the office nodded in agreement. The man went on. “They’re not for us, so they must be against us, right?”

“But they’re not taking up arms against us,” Lara told him. “That’s the difference, Pete.”

“Hell, they don’t have any weapons to take up against us,” Pete responded with a smile.

That got a laugh from the others in the meeting room.

“But if they did have access to weapons, they’d damn

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sure use them against us,” a woman argued. “You can bet your butt on that. So as far as I’m concerned they’re the enemy.”

About half of those in the room nodded their heads in agreement.

“That may well be,” Ben said. “I’m sure many of them would take up arms against us, and probably will if given a chance. But for now they’re just unarmed civilians, and I will not tolerate any of them getting hurt. That’s the way it’s going to be, people. Any one of you who takes their group and goes off on their own against my orders will be kicked out of this organization and receive no help from the SUSA, and I will publicly disavow that group. You will be nothing but terrorists, and I will order you shot on sight. Now, damnit, is that clear?”

It was. Perfectly.

“All right,” Ben said. “You all know the objective. Let’s move out and get into place.”

Everyone in the various groups had been polygraphed or PSE’d. Four people had broken under the pressure and admitted they were working for the Feds. They had been executed. It was harsh punishment, but it was a harsh time in the land. Those men and women under Ben’s command were not working to turn the USA into a second SUSA. They were simply working for the restoration of a few rights guaranteed them by the Constitution of the United States.

And, to a person, they were prepared to die fighting for the return of those rights.

“All right,” Ben said. “Let’s do it.”

The brand new, just completed and staffed and equipped federal building was deserted from eight o’clock in the evening until six in the morning. Buddy’s own people had made sure of that.

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Ben checked his watch: seven forty-five. The cleaning crew should be leaving any time now. His own people were ready to move into place. First the water would be cut off to cripple the sprinkler system. Then his people would move in, a couple at a time, on the outside, planting explosives around the building. Then, at the last moment, vehicles would be moved into place, blocking all streets, preventing fire engines from getting to the building. Just as the explosives blew, mortar crews would begin lobbing in HE rounds. The building might not be totally destroyed, but it would suffer extensive damage, and millions of records would be lost.

“There go the first of the cleaning crew,” Jersey whispered to Ben.

Ben lifted his night binoculars and watched the men and women exit the building. “Two more crews to go,” he said.

“Everyone is sitting on ready,” Corrie told him. “Mortar crews waiting for the word.”

“Won’t be long now.”

The minutes ticked by until finally all the cleaning crews had left the building and the doors were locked for the night.

“Get the explosives in place,” Ben said. “And set the timers.”

That would present no problem, for the streets were nearly deserted due to the rationing of gasoline. “Cut off the water,” he ordered.

The same scene was being played out all over the USA, in a dozen states.

A few minutes later Corrie said, “Water is off, Boss.”

“Seal this area.”

The vehicles were moved into place.

“Streets are sealed,” Corrie reported.

“Everybody clear?”

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“Clear.”

“Mortar crews ready?”

“Ready.”

Ben looked at his watch and counted down the seconds. The explosives went off with a tremendous crack. Glass from the building windows flew in all directions. The first six rockets from the mortars landed, and that only added to the noise and confusion.

“Pour it on!” Ben said.

“Federal Police on the way,” Corrie told him after hearing from a spotter located blocks away.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ben replied. “It’ll be their last run.”

Two dozen 81mm and 60mm mortar rounds had smashed into the building, and more were on the way when the first Federal Police car came screaming into view. The siren stopped abruptly as a rocket from a shoulder-held launcher turned the patrol car into so much burning, smoking junk. There would be no survivors from the rocket attack.

The Federal Building was now on fire, flames beginning to dance around and smoke pouring out of the shattered windows.

Ben took a final look and said, “Let’s get out of here. That building is ruined.”

Corrie gave the orders and Rebels and freedom fighters began backing away. Buddy’s spec op people would fight a rear guard action until everyone was clear.

“FPPS people coming,” Corrie said.

“Black Shirts?” Ben asked.

“Yes. A lot of them.”

“We stand and fight,” Ben replied without hesitation. “Pass the orders. Let’s give Osterman and her American gestapo a hard lesson.”

A few seconds later, local freedom fighters stationed on

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rooftops began dropping grenades down onto the cars and trucks carrying the Black Shirts. Others opened up with automatic weapons fire. Still others waited with rocket launchers to finish off any who might break clear of the gauntlet.

It was the beginning of a very bloody night in the city.

The hammering of gunfire and the crash of grenades and rockets reverberated throughout the section of the city, and Rebels and freedom fighters fought it out with the Federal Police and the Black Shirts. Until now, Osterman’s people had met only slight resistance from small disorganized groups, which for the most part were not well-armed and were sorely lacking in leadership. But this was very different: this was hard-core guerrilla warfare in America.

Ben and his team rounded a corner in an alley and came face-to-face with a group of Black Shirts. The Rebels instantly hit the ground and opened fire. The Black Shirts, not nearly so well-trained or experienced in combat, hesitated. That hesitation cost them their lives.

Ben opened up with his CAR, and his first burst knocked several of Osterman’s Black Shirts spinning and down to the concrete of the littered alley, kicking and groaning and bleeding.

Cooper lobbed a grenade that took out several more of the Federal Black Shirts and Lara, Jersey, Corrie, Anna, and Beth finished the very brief firefight in the alley.

“Get their radios,” Ben ordered. “Let’s listen in.”

The Rebels learned very little. There was not much on the Federal frequency except the excited and frequently frantic yelling of Black Shirts as they confronted teams of Rebels and freedom fighters.

“Where the hell are the local cops?” a Black Shirt yelled.

“I think they’re staying out of this,” came the reply. “At least many of them are.”

“The yellow sons of bitches!”

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Lara looked at Ben in the darkness and smiled knowingly.

“The police are wising up,” Ben said. “I had hoped they would.”

“If it will just spread nationwide,” Beth said.

“Some will stay out of it,” Ben replied. “Others won’t. Time and blood will tell the story. Let’s go. Our work here is finished for this night.”

The night the freedom fighters took the offensive, fifteen new federal buildings were destroyed in the USA. Not one civilian was injured or killed. Millions of records were destroyed, and the night’s activities dealt a crushing blow to the morale of Osterman’s people.

Claire Osterman had felt her socialist/ democrat party, her FPPS, and the federalized police had any situation that might develop under control. She could not have been more wrong. She had forgotten that many Americans have a habit of shoving back when pushed. A certain type of American will take only so much pushing before they start talking violence and forming resistance groups.

Millions of those types of Americans had given up on the USA and moved to the SUSA. There were still hundreds of thousands living in the USA who felt the Osterman administration had strayed too far away from the Constitution, and they wanted a return of many of their lost rights.

About ten percent of those still living in the USA were willing-or rather, had the courage-to shed blood to see the return of those rights. Those were the men and women who made up the freedom fighters. The other ninety percent were good talkers and complainers, but short on guts. As one Cajun had told Ben, “Those folks have alligator mouths and hummingbird asses.”

Along the thousands of miles of battlefront, the Rebels

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were holding firm. The Federals had advanced in a few places, only to be thrown back within hours. The Rebels did not want any land of die USA. They only wanted to be left alone and to live tfteir lives in peace.

“But if this crap continues for any length of time,” Ben told Buddy over coffee, “I will order an offensive launched against the USA. I won’t put up with this much longer.”

“President Jefferys feels the same way, Father. He told me so personally.”

“I know that Cec is getting itchy about this matter. But I want to give the USA enough rope to hang uiemselves.”

“That isn’t very original, Fadier.”

Ben smiled at his son. “I’ll try to do better next time.”

“Thank you. What’s next for us?”

“Wait and see what Osterman does. I have a hunch she’ll pull some units off the line down south and send them up here to try to stop us.”

“They’re certainly spinning their wheels down there,” Buddy said with a grin. “They gain two miles, we throw them back three miles.”

Ben nodded his head in agreement. “If she does send troops up here after us, they’ll be mercenaries. The USA’s troops are badly split about fighting us.”

“Some units are, yes,” the son gently corrected the father. “But many others have had years of brainwashing, and are totally opposed to our way of life.”

“And all that was happening right under our noses,” Ben mused softly. “I guessed as much all along-oh, hell, what am I saying, I knew it for a fact-but never gave it a whole lot of thought.” Ben sighed. “That is, until it all reared up and smacked me in the face.”

“And here we are.”

“Better here than in Africa,” Ben said.

“I heartily concur.”

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“Ike on the horn, Boss,” Corrie said, sticking her head into the room.

Ben walked into the makeshift communications room and sat down behind the equipment, taking die mic. “Go, Ike.”

“Ben, congrats on the operation die odier night”

“Thanks, Ike. Everydiing went off witiiout a hitch, as planned. What’s up where you are?”

‘ ‘Tired and pretty well demoralized Federals in several places, Ben. We’ve got militia and other resistance groups fighting the Feds in Oklahoma, Missouri, Kentucky, and West Virginia, and they’re really giving the Feds fits.”

“I heard about that. Groups are rising ťp all over die USA, Ike. But diat isn’t why you bumped me. Come on, ole’ buddy, what’s on your mind?”

“We’ve just received pretty good intel that Madam President Osterman has people all over the world busy recruiting mercenaries, Ben. Thousands of diem.”

“What does Mike say about it?”

“It was his people who reported it.”

“Then it’s firm, Ike.” Ben paused for a few heartbeats. “Well, die news doesn’t come as any surprise. She really doesn’t have any odier choice. Her options are severely limited. Our problems are going to come if she can get some sort of air force put together.”

“She’s not having much luck diere. Eyes in die Sky tells us that China is involved in dieir own civil war, and it’s a bad one. There are millions dead, and it’s just getting started.”

“You’re building up to somediing, Ike. Come on, what’s really on your mind?”

“I’m thinking it may be time for us to go on die offensive.”

“I’ve been mulling over diat very diing,” Ben said. “It’s

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almost, but not quite, time for that. It all depends on what Osterman does next.”

“And if she does fuck up?”

“Depends on the severity of her action. If she hires these mercenaries she’s after-and I’m sure she will if she can find them-then we’ll go on a rampage. We’ll head straight up into the heartland of the country. Search and destroy, scorch and burn.”

Ike whistled softly. “You have been giving it some thought, haven’t you, Ben?”

“If she gets dirty, we’ll get dirtier. She just doesn’t know how mean I can be.”

Ike laughed. “But I do, ole’ buddy. Are you thinking hit teams?”

“That is something I’ve been giving a great deal of thought. But it isn’t time yet for that.”

“I agree.” Ike paused again.

“I thought as much. Pick at least ten teams and start training them, though. If it comes to assassination, we’ll go after the movers and shakers in Osterman’s administration.”

“Will do, Ben.”

“Eagle out.”

Ben hooked the mic and stood up. Buddy had been listening, a grim expression on his face. “You think it will come to that, Father?”

Ben nodded his head. “Yes, I do. I’d be willing to sit down with Claire Osterman and try to hammer out some form of compromise, but it would be meaningless. She wouldn’t keep her word, wouldn’t be satisfied. The left-wing liberals never do, and never are. I know. I’ve been watching them operate ever since I was a young man. Years back, the conservatives worked out a compromise concerning gun control, but the liberals wouldn’t let it alone. They always wanted more and more and more.

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Everything has to be all their way. They just kept pushing until … well, you know what happened. You’re a student of history.”

“Yes, I know what happened. And because of that knowledge I would be very dubious of any agreement with such a person as Osterman, or with anyone who is a supporter of hers. They are simply not trustworthy.”

“The bastards are power hungry, too,” Ben added. “Among other things.”

“I think I’ll leave before you really get wound up,” Buddy told him.

“Good. Go away. I have work to do.”

Chuckling, Buddy left the room.

Ben smiled and sat down behind a desk. He opened a map and began studying it. He would like to push further south in New York State, but knew that would be very risky. The population increased dramatically the further south one went. However, he also knew he might not have any choice in the matter. He could not keep his people static.

One of the problems Ben faced with the local groups was that they all had a lot of axes to grind. Retribution against those people in their communities who openly and solidly supported Osterman and her socialistic policies could very easily get out of hand.

Ben couldn’t blame the local resistance groups one bit for feeling vindictive toward those men and women who happily and willingly wiped their asses with the Constitution and then shoved it in the faces of those who dared to disagree with that action.

Ben sighed and leaned back in the chair. He closed his eyes for a moment.

A moment was all he was allowed. Corrie walked into the room. “Boss, the FPPSjust arrested half a dozen members of a local militia group. Osterman just made the announcement the trial was going to be a short one.”

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“And then?”

“The six will be hanged for treason.”

“No, they won’t,” Ben stood up and reached for his CAR. “Get Chuck and Lara. We’ve got some planning to do.”

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The six freedom fighters were being held in a downtown jail in New Syracuse, in a very heavily guarded facility. A team from Buddy’s spec op group checked out the prison and reported back.

“It can be done, Father,” Buddy told his dad, “but not easily.”

“You don’t think it’s a setup?”

“I don’t believe so. The place is literally crawling with Black Shirts.”

“We don’t have time to try to get a blueprint of the place. It’s so new that if anyone tried that would be a dead giveaway that something was up.”

“It’s going to be loud and risky, Father,” Buddy warned.

“Can’t be helped. Osterman’s supporters have to be shown that we will do exactly what we say we’ll do. These people are under the command of the army of the SUSA. They’re Rebels. And we take care of our own.” Ben stood

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up and slammed a fist onto the desktop. “So let’s do it, Buddy.”

“My people are ready to go. Do we take any of the local groups?”

“Only the most experienced among them. This is not going to be any place for amateurs.”

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible. We can be there in a few hours. Pick the fastest route to the city and send teams of your people ahead to neutralize any roadblocks.”

“I have to point out anything like that will tell the Feds we’re on the way.”

“Can’t be helped. Let’s do it, boy.”

Standing back a few yards from the father and son, Jersey smiled and said: “Kick ass time!”

Buddy’s people did not finesse the taking out of the Fed roadblocks. They blew them wide open with rockets and rolled on through without giving the dead and wounded a second glance. Ben and his group were right behind the lead team of Scouts, pushing the Scouts hard.

The dozens of teams of Rebels and resistance fighters rolled dirough small towns on their way to New Syracuse. They met no trouble from the local police.

One local chief radioed to the FPPS HQ in New Syracuse: There is no way in hell I’m going to sacrifice any of my people to the Rebels. These people are out in force and out for blood, and by God it isn’t going to be mine or my mens’.

I am ordering you to throw up roadblocks and halt this Rebel advance, was the answer.

I have four words for you, the police chief radioed back to the Black Shirt. Fuck you. I quit!

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That sentiment seemed to be shared by all the local police.

The FPPS pulled as many guards as they could from around the jail and threw up roadblocks on the highways leading into New Syracuse from the north. They did not have the force or the will to match the fury of the Rebels. The Rebels and the freedom fighters tore through the roadblocks and slammed their way toward the jail.

The citizens watched from their homes as hundreds of Rebels and resistance fighters poured into their newly rebuilt city.

The men and women who made up the FPPS were bullies, but they were not fools. Those who were guarding the jail carefully laid their weapons on the ground and stood quietly with their hands in the air as the jail was completely surrounded by Rebels and resistance fighters. Many of them muttered somewhat brief but very sincere prayers.

Not a single shot was fired as the Rebels took control of New Syracuse.

Ben walked through the crowd of surrendered FPPS people until he was face-to-face with an older man who had been pointed out as the commander of the detachment.

“Your name?” Ben asked.

“Jim Barnes.”

“Well, Jim, you and your people got smart this night. We’ll see if the smarts continue. For now, get those six freedom fighters out here.”

“Freedom fighters!” the commander of the FPPS blurted. “You call these terrorists freedom fighters? Are you serious, General Raines?”

“Yes, Commander. I am very serious. Get those men and women out here. And they’d better be walking and without injury.”

“If they were hurt, General,” Barnes said, “they were injured while being arrested, not while in custody.”

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“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“You work for Osterman, Jim. Do I have to say more?”

“I work for the United States of America. I enforce the laws of this government.”

“I don’t intend to stand in the middle of the street debating the dubious merits of socialism with you. Get those prisoners out here-right now!”

Jim waved his hand, and four men and two women were brought out of the jail. The crowd of local civilians that had gathered around the jail began cheering. Commander Jim Barnes flushed in anger at the jubilation.

“My, my,” Ben said. “You’re not as well thought of around here as you might have suspected, Jim. Doesn’t that make you wonder about your everlasting allegiance toward Madam President-For-Life Osterman?”

The commander of the local FPPS glared hate at Ben. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and shut his trap.

“Destroy all the records,” Ben said, turning to Buddy. “Then collect all the weapons, ammo, and other gear.”

“And then?” Buddy questioned with a knowing half-smile on his lips.

“Blow the damn building!”

Commander Barnes paled at that. He muttered something under his breath.

“Something on your mind, Jim?” Ben asked, once more turning to Commander Barnes.

“That facility cost several million dollars to construct, General Raines. Taxpayer money. Aren’t you going a bit far by destroying it?”

“Osterman went a bit far. We’re just correcting her actions, you might say.”

“At the risk of being shot by your terrorists, let me say that I will enjoy watching you hang.”

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“You’re at the end of a long list of eager prospective spectators. But don’t worry about being shot. That won’t happen unless you try to escape.”

The Rebels and militia and other resistance members were busy loading up guns and other equipment from the jail. Commander Barnes watched them work for a moment, then returned his gaze to Ben. “A lot of blood will be spilled because of this night, General Raines.”

“I hope it will all be the blood of those loyal to Osterman.”

“Some of it will be, I’m sure.”

Boxes containing computer discs were carried out of the building and tossed onto a growing pile by the side of the jail. Gasoline was poured on the pile. When the fumes had dissipated, the mound of records was set on fire. Flames immediately began leaping into the night sky.

“Do you have a hobby, Jim?” Ben asked.

“What? A hobby? Why… yes, I do.”

“And that is?”

“Computers. I’m something of a nut about computers.”

“That might be a good vocation for you, don’t you think?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes I am. It just might be a good time for you to retire and start a new career.”

Barnes shook his head. “I like my present job, General. I enjoy bringing traitors to justice.”

“That’s too bad. I really thought I detected a spark of decency in you.”

That remark got to Barnes. “I’m as decent as any man! Who in the hell are you to judge me?”

“You work for Osterman. You can’t be very decent and do that.”

The FPPS man flushed and clenched his hands into fists. Then he slowly relaxed, and a very thin smile creased his

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lips. “That’s good, General. Very good. But it won’t work. You can’t provoke me enough into taking a swing at you. As much as I might want to,” he added.

“I wasn’t trying to provoke you, Commander. Not into starting a fight, that is.”

“You could have fooled me. What the hell were you trying to do?”

“Make you see that what you’re doing is wrong. It’s wrong to oppress people.”

“I don’t believe I’m oppressing anyone. I’m just following orders, that’s all.”

Ben’s smile was tinged with sadness: “Just following orders,” he repeated softly. “Are you a student of history?”

“I enjoying studying history, yes. Why? What has that to do with now?”

“Everything. But I guess you don’t see it. Probably never will. And I’m sorry about that.”

“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.”

Corrie motioned to Ben, and he walked over to her. She whispered to him, then backed off. Ben shook his head and cursed under his breath. “Get done with it here, people!” he shouted. “Shake it up!”

Lara walked up to him. “What’s happening, Ben?”

“Osterman has hired her mercenary army. They’re on their way. Our intel just confirmed it.”

“And that means?”

“We’ve got a hell of a fight facing us, Lara. We’ve got a few weeks before they can all get here and get lined out. Then the shit really hits the fan.”

“How many men could she have hired? And where did she find them?”

“A full division, I was just informed. And they won’t be green troops. Where did she find them? All over the world. The USA is pretty closer to normal as far as government, industry, jobs, so forth. Seventy-five percent of the world

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is still in a state of chaos. Men and women will grab at a chance to make some money fighting.”

Buddy walked up. “I just heard, Father. Ike bumped me.”

“He sound worried?”

“Not in the least.”

“He wouldn’t be. I don’t think that damned ex-SEAL ever worried very much about anything in his life. All right, let’s get it wrapped up here and clear out. The building cleaned out?”

“Down to the walls and the floor.”

“Blow it and let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve got a lot of planning to do, and not a whole lot of time in which to get it done.”

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After chatting with Ben for a few minutes, Cecil ordered every citizen of the SUSA to go on high alert. High school classes were canceled so the older kids could help on the farms, bringing in the crops. Factories again were running twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Citizens drew emergency rations. The SUSA got ready for possible invasion.

Ben left a team of Rebels in upstate New York and flew back to Base Camp One with his team and Buddy. Within an hour after landing, he was in a meeting with President Cecil Jefferys.

“The brigade commanders will be coming in later today,” Cecil told him. “We’ll schedule a council of war for tomorrow afternoon. I thought you and I had best hit the high points today.”

“As soon as we know for sure where the staging area is for those mercenaries, we hit them with air strikes and missiles,” Ben said. “I’ve alerted the missile crews, and

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they’re on high alert. Our fighter pilots are chafing at the bit to go. I’m tired of screwing around with Claire Osterman. If she wants to get down and dirty, that’s fine with me. I’ll show her dirty like she’s never seen before.”

Cecil looked at his longtime friend. Ben’s face was grim, and his eyes hard and mean. Cecil could remember only a few times in their long association when Ben had appeared like this. He nodded in agreement with Ben’s words. “I knew that someday it might come to this,” the President of die SUSA said. “But I kept hoping it wouldn’t.”

“Osterman and her goddamned socialist/democrats just won’t let us live in peace,” Ben replied. “God knows we have tried to get along.”

“I will certainly agree with that,” Cecil said. “I don’t know what else we could have done.”

“What’s die mood of the people, Cec?”

“Ready for a fight. If Osterman’s mercenaries and her Federal Army invade SUSA territory, they’ll meet resistance such as they have never before known.”

“Has Osterman begun evasive movements?”

“Oh, yes. We don’t know where she is. She has stopped all public appearances, and is in hiding somewhere. We believe she is underground-literally.”

“She has got to show her ugly face sometime. We’ll nail her when she does.”

“Then we’ll have Harlan Millard to deal with, and he’s just as bad as Claire Osterman.”

“Or worse,” Ben added. “I know it. But the people of the USA have to realize that the SUSA is here to stay. We’re not going anywhere. They have to elect leaders who will try to get along with us. If they don’t, we’re going to be at each other’s throats forever.”

Cecil slowly shook his head. “Won’t happen, Ben. Not

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in our lifetime. Maybe never. If we somehow manage to get Claire Osterman out of the picture, Millard will step in. Shove him out of the way, some other liberal/democrat/ socialist will step up, and here we go again. Up in the USA it’s worse than it was just before the collapse and the Great War. Since you’ve been gone I’ve been reading the newspapers and monitoring the television from the USA. It’s sickening. I’ve never read and heard such propaganda in my life. They’ve changed history to the point where it’s unrecognizable. It bears little resemblance to the history you and I learned. I received a shipment of textbooks from the USA last week. Talk about political correctness taken to the max …” Cecil shook his head. “We’re fighting more than guns and bombs, Ben. We’re combatting an entire generation of people who have been brainwashed into believing the government can solve all problems. Not only can, but should solve them. We’re fighting a philosophy that is embedded in the brains of millions of people.”

Ben listened, letting Cecil vent his spleen. Ben knew all that Cec was saying, but he also knew that being president of a large nation, just like being the commanding general of a huge army, is sometimes a lonely job.

Cecil wound down and looked at Ben for a moment, then smiled. “I’m preaching to the choir, Ben. Sorry about that, ole’ buddy.”

Ben returned the smile and waved off Cecil’s apology. “We’ll talk more when Ike and the others get here. What are you and yours doing for dinner this evening?”

Cecil grimaced. “Having a formal dinner with a representative from Great Britain.” His face brightened. “Say … I didn’t know, of course, that you would be here. How would you like to attend?”

Ben quickly rose from his chair. He smiled and shook

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his head. “Sorry, Cec. I’m, ah, meeting with my brigade people this evening. But I sure wish I could be there.”

“You’re a liar, Ben,” Cecil said with a laugh. “And not a very good one, either. All right, all right. Get out of here. I have work to do.”

Ben left before Cecil could change his mind and insist he attend that stuffy damned dinner. Cecil was good at those formal affairs. Ben hated them.

Ben’s team was waiting in the hall, and together they walked out of the unpretentious building that served as the capitol of the Southern United States of America. Nothing was very ostentatious about the SUSA. Here, practicality took the place of pretentiousness. The philosophy of the SUSA worked for those who chose to live there, and it worked without fanfare or pomp.

The mood of the nation was much like the manner of dress-casual for the most part. Ben Raines was, unargu-ably, the most powerful man in the SUSA-Cecil Jefferys would be the first to agree that Ben’s voice was heard above all others-but Ben seldom wore anything other than BDUs or jeans when he was home, sometimes khakis.

Ben paused in front of the capitol office building and studied the scenes all around him. People were going to and from work, to and from shopping. No weapons were visible, but Ben knew for a fact that plenty were close by, ready to be grabbed in case the warnings went up.

“They’re ready, Boss,” Jersey said, watching Ben’s eyes. “And they’ll fight to the last man or woman for the SUSA.”

“It might come to that,” Ben told her. “For when we punch a hole up through the midwest, Osterman’s people, some of them at least, will come pouring into the SUSA.”

“If they do, they’ll damn sure wish they had stayed home,” Corrie said.

“And kept their noses out of another country’s business,” Cooper added.

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“Occasionally, you do make some sense, Coop,” Jersey said. “Usually when you agree with one of us.”

Ben smiled as they walked along the wide sidewalk. That was something that was required for any new street or development anywhere in the SUSA: sidewalks. (For those not familiar with the term, a sidewalk is a strip of concrete that runs along both sides of a street. It’s for people to walk on, and kids to ride bikes on, even occasionally knock adults down-accidentally. During the latter part of the last century, for whatever reason, many developers seemed to forget all about sidewalks. Ben was determined that was not going to happen in the SUSA.)

Ben and team came to a small park not far from the capitol building. Ben paused and then walked into the park and sat down on a bench. A woman was sitting on the bench across the rock walkway between the benches, watching her young son at play. She looked up at Ben, then quickly took another longer look. She paled as she recognized the founder of the SUSA and the commanding general of its army. She quickly rose as if to leave, motioning for her son to come to her.

“I don’t bite, ma’am,” Ben said with a smile.

She cut her eyes at Ben, flushed, then smiled. Then she laughed and sat back down on the bench. “It’s not often we see the father of our country in the flesh, General Raines.”

“Father of our country?” Ben said. “Well, that’s a very interesting title to hang on me.” Ben knew that was how many referred to him. He didn’t like it, but there was really nothing he could do about it.

“What happens next with this Osterman woman, General Raines? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind at all. I said to my commanders that the next move was up to her. She’s made it. I haven’t made

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up my mind yet how to respond.” Not quite the truth, but Ben wasn’t about to show his hand to anyone just yet.

“Kill her,” the young mother said bluntly. “Kill her and all her top people.”

Ben stared at the young woman for a moment. “Just like that, ma’am?” he asked softly. Others in the park, recognizing Ben, began to gather around, under the cold and very watchful eyes of Ben’s team. Ben’s ever-present security detail was scattered throughout the small park.

“Just like that, General. She and her socialist/democrats started this crap, not us. We never interfered in the way they ran their government. Nobody in the SUSA gives a damn what the USA does … as long as they keep their noses out of our business.”

“It isn’t time for assassinations,” a man spoke up. ‘ ‘There may come a time for them, but that time has not yet arrived.”

“Oh, the hell it isn’t!” another man countered. “It’s past time. Those are our sons and daughters and brothers and sisters on the line fighting. If killing Osterman and her supporters will end this war and let us get back to some sort of a normal life, I say do it.”

Ben sat on the park bench and listened. In this small crowd, it was running about 99% in favor of killing Osterman.

It didn’t surprise Ben at all.

The crowd began to pick up in number, in opinions, and in volume. Ben’s security detail got a little nervous, and about half of them moved closer and worked their way into the crowd, surrounding Ben and his personal team.

“General,” a man said, “if that Osterman bitch sends troops to cross over our border in force … I say you use everything that’s in our arsenal.”

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