Ashes - Wind In The Ashes Part 38

"So Ben Raines is really dying," a mercenary said. "Ain't that a kick in the. a.s.s?"

"Yep," Hartline said. "But this time, we're going to be the ones who kick a.s.s."

"It's about G.o.dd.a.m.n time."

Everyone, including Hartline, laughed at the truth in that remark. For years, Raines's Rebels had been kicking a.s.s all over the battered nation. And a lot of the time, the a.s.ses kicked were Sam Hartline's mercenaries.

"Never have been able to understand Raines," Hartline was fond of saying. "The man was a mercenary in his time, just like me."

Ben Raines had never been a mercenary.

He had been a soldier of fortune for a time, after his time in the Army. But never a mercenary. A mercenary will fight for any flag, any political ideology, regardless of the savagery of that particular regime.

A soldier of fortune will almost always fight with those waging war for democracy-many times for no pay, other than personal satisfaction.

There is a lot of difference between a mercenary and a soldier of fortune.

As much difference as between Sam Hartline and Ben Raines.

"What do you want done with Rich's body?"

Sam was asked.

Sam laughed. "Dump the little s.h.i.+t in the ocean!"

The word spread like a raging, unchecked woods fire: Ben Raines is dying.

In less than a week, the rumor had spread all across the torn nation: Ben Raines is dying.

Only a few of Ben's most trusted Rebels knew the truth. The majority believed him to be near death.

Sam Hartline's fly-bys confirmed it. The spotters reported large groups of Rebels gathered around Ben's command post standing and sitting quietly. Waiting.

But still Hartline was not certain; not yet convinced in his own mind that it all wasn't some clever ruse on Ben's part. Sneaky son of a b.i.t.c.h! "Wait," he told his people. "When the b.a.s.t.a.r.d is cold in the ground, that's when we'll move."

Then the word came, buzzing out of the radios: THE EAGLE IS DEAD.

Hartline sent a team into California, ordering them to get as close as possible and check it out.

Report back.

They reported back, grim satisfaction in their report: Ben Raines is dead. The Rebel movement is in chaos. Ben Raines is being buried in the morning.

And Sam Hartline leaned back in his chair and howled his laughter.

"Get the boys ready," Hartline ordered.

"We're gonna kick those Rebels clear into the sea."

On the South Carolina border, a young Rebel captain said, "We can't get much accurate intel out of there, Ike. This Khamsin, whoever he is and wherever he came from, is one h.e.l.l of a top-flight soldier. But we have found out one thing that's firm."

Ike looked at him.

"He's got three divisions," the captain finished it.

"s.h.i.+t!" Ike breathed. "I hope you're talkin' short divisions?"

"A little over thirty thousand personnel, Ike."

Ike shook his head. "I don't suppose there's much point in talkin' about artillery and tanks, right, Captain?"

"He's got it all, Ike."

"You know where this puts us, don't you?" Ike asked.

"Between a rock and a hard place, I reckon."

Ike nodded. "Well, me and Ben have been in tougher spots." But he couldn't recall a one.

"General Raines? ..." the captain started to speak.

"Let it slide, son," Ike quieted him.

"Just believe."

"Okay, sir."

Ike looked back at his teams. They were split up into twenty 6-person teams. "It's still up to y'all," Ike drawled. "I ain't orderin'

n.o.body in that don't wanna go. Is that understood?"

The men and women of the Rebels squatted and stared in silence at him. "Let's go," Ike said softly.

Cecil had called his section leaders, company commanders, and platoon sergeants together. Dan Gray stood beside the tall, well-built black man with the salt-and-pepper hair.

Dan knew what was going on in Cecil's mind, for the same thing had been buzzing in his mind since Ben had told them of his plan.

Ninety-nine percent of the Rebels believed Ben to be dead. Now, with hard intel that Sam Hartline and his army was on the move toward the Rebelsstrongholds, Ben was suddenly going to appear.

And that was only going to further the myth that Ben was larger than life. Not quite human.

A G.o.d.

"One of the risks of this plan," Ben had said, just hours before his "funeral."

Cecil stood on a raised platform and looked at the Rebels in the room.

"What do we do now, General?" a senior sergeant asked.

"We follow Ben Raines," Cecil said.

A low murmur spread around the room. Cecil let them talk for a moment before waving them silent.

"Rebels," he announced. "Let me try to explain. All that has happened over the past week was just a ruse. A plan of Ben's to pull Sam Hartline and his army into our territory. Ben is very much alive and well."

"No!" a Rebel shouted. "That's not true."

Ben walked out of a side room, his appearance bringing the room to a dead silence.

He climbed up beside Cecil and looked at the shock-numbed crowd. "As you can all clearly see," he said. "I am very much alive and doing quite well."

The Rebels stood and stared at him.

"I apologize for tricking you," Ben said.

"I'm sorry to play with your emotions in this manner.

But we had to pull Hartline and his people out of their stronghold. We've done that. They're on their way right now. Our forward recon teams report the mercenaries have neared the border and are barreling toward us." He looked at Cecil. "Join your battalion, Cec. Close it off behind us. Good luck."

The men shook hands and Cecil quickly left the room. A light plane would fly him to his battalion, located on both sides of Interstate 5, near Youreka.

Ben looked back at his Rebels, still staring at him in open-mouthed shock. "Wait until noon before breaking the news to your sections that I'm still alive.

That will put Hartline and his people south of Cecil's position. They won't be able to turn back even should they hear the news.

"Now you listen to me, people. We've got a hard fight facing us. And it's just beginning. We have no choice in the matter. We have to fight, and we have to win. First against Hartline, then against Colonel Khamsin and his IPA. And we're going to take losses. Plenty of them. Hard losses. We're going to lose loved ones and close friends. But it's either that, or live as slaves. I refuse to bow down to any person. That's why we're Rebels.

"There isn't going to be much rest for us. It's going to be one fight after another, for G.o.d only knows how many years. I'm not looking forward to it, and I know that none of you want to fight for the rest of yourlives." Ben sighed. "Maybe someday we can all settle down and live in peace. I have to keep that hope alive. But I, and you, must keep this thought in mind at all times: We are all that stands between freedom and slavery. It's up to us. No one else. Get with your teams and prepare to fight.

Move out!"

The room emptied, with most of the Rebels glancing back over their shoulder to look at Ben.

Ben was calmly folding and tying a cammie bandana around his forehead.

He looked at Colonel Gray. "Let's do it, Dan."

Chapter Thirty-five.

The news cut through the camp like a bullet. Even though no member of the Rebel Army that was present when Ben appeared out of the grave had spoken of it, somehow the other Rebels knew.

The somber cloud that had invisibly covered the camp lifted and a fresh new spirit filled the men and women of the Rebels.

Cecil and Dan had already received orders from Ben as to how the attack was to be carried out, and they had informed their people long before Ben made his exit from the grave. Now the camp hummed with a new, fresh melody; a warlike song to be sure, for war was all that many of, these Rebels had ever known, many of them having been with Ben since back in '89.

Ben walked among the Rebels as they feverishly broke camp, moving out to pre-a.s.signed positions.

He spoke to as many as possible, stopping to chat with a few of them.

"This time we finish Sam Hartline, Charlie."

"You bet, General!"

"Kick-a.s.s-and-take-names time, Wes."

"Right, General!"

"Watch your b.u.t.t now, Claire. It's time for you and Eddie to be thinking of having some babies."

"Oh, General!" she blushed. One of Dan Gray's Scouts, Claire was as good a soldier as any in Ben's command.

"Bob, you got your lucky coin with you?"

"d.a.m.n right, General! This time we finish Sam Hartline once and for all, right?"

"That's right, Bob. Simon, you were wounded about two weeks ago. What the h.e.l.l are you doing with this bunch?"

"Gettin' ready to kick the h.e.l.l out of that schtoonk, Hartline, that's what."

Ben laughed. "Give him h.e.l.l, Simon."

And so it went, up and down the lines of trucks and Jeeps and the lines of tiger-stripe or lizard cammied men and women who made up Raines's Rebels.

A thin line, the thought came to Ben. How few of us there are. But we have grown, he thought, his eyes finding the two Georges from Red Bluff and Chico. Harris and his people from Redding. Pete Ho and his bunch from Ukiah. John Dunning and several hundred fighters from Santa Rosa. Some of the newer fighters would be mixed in with Ben's regular Rebels; others would be held in reserve, just behind the lines, to take the place of any Rebels wounded.

Ben watched his people move out. The tanks and artillery had moved out early that morning, when the first news of Hartline's advance reached the base camp.

Lora walked up to him and kicked Ben on the s.h.i.+n.

"Oww! Jesus Christ, Lora. What was that for?"

"It isn't nice to have people think you're dead and gone, Ben Raines. I cried a whole bunch over you."

"Yeah? Well, you just brought tears to my eyes, too. I guess that makes us even."

"Oh, yeah. Well ... guess so. Ben?"

"What, Lora?"

"I never did liked Sylvia. Never trusted her." She slung her carbine and turned to go.

"Wait a minute! Where are you going, Lora?"