Ashes - Survival In The Ashes Part 7

"Twenty-three hundred men able to fight, sir,"

Lan's XO reported to him later that afternoon. "And most of them belong to us."

"Khamsin?" "Four hundred troops."

"Kenny?"

"Two hundred and fifty troops."

Villar snorted bitterly. "And we are left with less than three full battalions."

"Your orders, sir?"

Villar sighed. Earlier he had watched the clouds of black smoke darkening the sky south of their position, and knew what it was: bodies burning with the town. "Karl, I just don't know."

Ben went back across the river on the ferry's first return trip. It had been a most fruitful morning. The Rebels had captured more than five hundred vehicles; more than two hundred of them Volvo and Mercedes trucks. Ben ordered them carefully gone over and stored. These would be the vehicles they would take to Europe; it would be easier to find parts for them over there than for American-made trucks.

With Khamsin's army crushed, that meant they would more than likely leave from some port in South Carolina. As soon as Ben could spare the people, he would have the trucks driven out to South Carolina, fully loaded with supplies for the voyage.

He cleared his head of those thoughts. That was in the future. For now, he had an army to destroy. And his son's mother to kill.

Ben stepped outside into a still dark but already busy morning around his CP just south of the city.

He could tell by the way his people moved that they were in high spirits. They had come out of what at first appeared to be a brutal fight without losing one single troop -Chase had already closed the hospital, packing everything for the move west -- and the Rebels had handed the enemy a devastating defeat.

They had reason to be in high spirits.

And the scuttleb.u.t.t was that General Raines was taking three battalions and heading for Europe, just as soon as Sister Voleta and her nuts of the Ninth Order were defeated. All in all, they concluded, it shaped up to be a very interesting summer.

Ben sat down on the curb, a cup of coffee in his hand, and watched the loading of equipment preparatory to their pulling out of the city.

Jerre came out and joined him on the curb. She studied his face for a moment and then said, "You don't seem as happy as the troops, Ben."

"Voleta is not going to be as easy to defeat as Villar, Jerre. For one thing, she isn't as arrogant as he appears to be. Another reason is that she's been fighting me for a long time. She knows better than to ma.s.s her people as Villar did.

We'll be fighting nasty little pitched battles.

Ambushes. And we'll be fighting along a one-hundred-and-fifty mile front. Probably two fronts, for that b.i.t.c.h will have people behind us as well.

It isn't going to be a piece of cake, Jerre. Anything but. It's going to be long and b.l.o.o.d.y and nerve-racking."

"By long, you mean? . . ."

"End of summer before we're through. Then a four-thousand-mile boat ride to Ireland."

"Why Ireland?"

Ben smiled. "Because we're going to hit it before we do England."

"Smarta.s.s!" She grinned at him. Her smile faded. "What do you expect to find, Ben?"

"Trouble."

Dan had crossed over into Illinois by ferry, taking with him four hundred and fifty handpicked infantry personnel. He took a section of Dusters, half a dozen main battle tanks, three mortar carriers, and heavy trucks carrying spare parts for all equipment, food, treads for the tanks, tires, and ammo for all weapons.

"You get your b.u.t.t in a bind, Dan," Ben told him, "you get on that horn and radio in. I can have birds in the air within the hour."

"Will do, General. Ta-ta, now." He saluted smartly and wheeled about, yelling at the top of his lungs for his people to mount up.

"Let's split, people!" Ben yelled.

"Split?" Rosebud said, looking at Thermopolis. "General Raines actually said let's split?"

"I think he's really a hippie in disguise."

"d.a.m.n good disguise if he is. He sure fooled me. Are we in this for the duration?"

"What do you think?"

"Have you asked the others?"

"Yes."

"And they said? . . ."

"They always wanted to see Europe."

That topic was put to rest by the arrival of Emil Hite and his band of followers. Emil rolled up in his hea.r.s.e-there was a bed in the back so he could take a nap when he felt like it-and got out, his people grouping around him. Emil faced Thermo-polis.

"Are we ready to go do battle with the wicked witch of the west, Therm?"

"We're gung ho and ready to go, Emil,"

Thermo-polis told him. "That's the spirit, Therm. We've been a.s.signed to the center of the column. We're off, Therm."

"Right, Emil." In more ways than one, he silently added, then felt a small pang of guilt for thinking it. Emil wasn't that bad a person. He was just a con artist and always would have one scam or the other going for him; always harmless scams that never really hurt anybody. But the little man would stand and fight when he had to ... one could not take that away from him.

Emil waved his group to their vehicles and they drove off, to take their positions in the miles-long column.

Leadfoot, Beerbelly, Wanda, and their bikers pulled in behind Emil, with Emil twisting in the seat to keep a close eye on them. He wasn't too sure about the bikers.

Thermopolis and his crew got in their VW Bugs and vans and pulled in behind the bikers. Thermopolis rather liked the bikers, seeing through their facade and knowing that despite their toughness -- and they were a tough bunch commost of them were just full of horses.h.i.+t and quite likable when you got to know them. And the bikers liked Thermopolis and the hippies. They knew a kindred spirit when they found one; although the kindred spirits of the over-the-hill hippies were of a gentler nature than the bikers.

Downtown St. Louis began to explode and burn as the Rebels moved out. Rebel sharpshooters with .50-caliber sniper rifles were stationed all along strategic points surrounding the city. They took a fearful toll on the Night People as the creepies ran to escape the explosions and flames.

Ben and his personal team were the last to leave the burning city. He halted his short column on an overpa.s.s on Interstate 40 and got out, to face the east and the smoke and flames. The killing gunfire of the Rebel snipers could be clearly heard over the roaring of the wind-fed and unchecked flames.

"The wind is out of the west," Ben said. "So the river will stop the flames from spreading any further."

"You seem especially sad to see this city go, General," Jersey observed.

"I used to spend a lot of time in St. Louis as a teenager, Jersey. But they all have to go, I'm afraid. Like it or not. Every city in America has to be brought down. The creepies have to be flushed out of their holes and killed. We've learned that they cannot be rehabilitated -- no matter how hard we try coms that doesn't leave us much choice. Corrie, is Tina in place in Jeff City?"

"Yes, sir. She encountered no resistance along the way. She has your command post set up and waiting"

"Cooper, we'll take the old river road, Highway Ninety-four. Corrie, order Scouts out along that route and advise them to be on the lookout for survivors. People have a habit of settling along waterways. I want more outposts set up as we move along."

"Right, sir."

"Let's go."

Cooper cut off the Interstate just after crossing the Missouri River and linked up with Highway 94.

As Ben had expected, they saw no signs of human life until they were a good thirty miles west of the burning city. The creepies had been working this area hard, in their search for human flesh.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Jerre muttered from the third seat in the wagon.

"We'll defeat them," Ben said. "We've got them running scared and scared people make mistakes. In the past year we've killed thousands of them, and we'll kill thousands more before the land is reasonably safe once more. Every city has to go. Once Vo-leta is dealt with, we'll probably take a month for another search and destroy before we go sailing on the bounding main."

Cooper looked at him. "Before we do what, sir?"

"Your education is sadly lacking, Coop," Ben told him. "I think I'll ask one of Therm's bunch to be your tutor for a time. You need to be better versed in literature."

Cooper grinned. "That redhead will do me just fine, General."

"Santo was, I believe, a teacher before the war.

I'll ask him."

Cooper groaned and the others laughed.

"Scouts are stopped just up ahead, General,"

Cor-rie said. "Little town called Marthasville.

The people aren't hostile, just curious."

"Tell them we'll be along presently. How do the people look?"

"Tough and capable, Ham said."

"Very good." Ben looked at his map. "That would be an excellent spot for an outpost. We'll see if the people are amenable to that."

"Do what?" Cooper asked.

Ben sighed. "Cooper, you are definitely going back to school."

"Will it help my driving?" he asked.

It was too good to pa.s.s up. "Nothing would help your driving, Cooper," Jersey said. "It's a miracle we're all still alive."

After the laughter, Ben said, "Just remember this, Coop: in Ireland and England, you are to drive on the left side."

"We're all dead," Jersey said mournfully.

They'll do, Ben thought, his eyes touching the neat gardens and well-kept homes of the people who lived close to the small town. He had already mentally noted and approved their defense system.

The man Ben a.s.sumed to be the leader of the small group of people came forward, his hand outstretched. "You pa.s.sed by us several years back, General. When you and the Russian were slugging it out. I'm glad you made it this time."

Ben shook the hand and came right to the point. "You've heard about our outpost system?"

"Yes, indeed. And we're ready to join you. We know the rules."

"And do all the people here agree?"

"Ninety-five percent of them."

"What's the trouble with that five percent?"

"They say they'll educate their kids the way they see fit and nothing you or anybody else says is going to change their minds."

"Take any child younger than twelve and tell the adults to hit the trail."

The spokesman smiled. "That might not be as easy as you think, General."

Ben returned the smile. "I a.s.sure you, Mister Leathers, it will be very easily done."

Ben accurately pegged the people inside as soon as he saw the falling-down homes they lived in, with animal skins tacked to the sides, drying out. They had big four-wheel-drive vehicles parked alongside what were once called luxury cars in the driveway.

"Their degree of learning, whether they finished high school or not, is near a sixth-grade level comif that much," Ben said. "They don't like anybody not of their skin color and religious beliefs.

They're cruel to animals and beat their kids at the slightest provocation. If they read at all, it's some old hunting or fis.h.i.+ng magazine or book.

They are inherently lazy and fond of saying something like: 'Hit's G.o.d's will," if anything goes wrong. And they place the blame for all their many misfortunes on everybody except themselves."

Leathers looked startled. "How in the h.e.l.l did you know all that!"

"I've been studying them for years, Mister Leathers. They're commonly called trash. What's this man's name?"

"Bannon. Ed Bannon."

"Ham, get on a bullhorn and tell Bannon to get it out here."

Bannon had been watching from a dirty window of his shack. But solider boys had never impressed him much before and this long drink of water with a funny-looking hat on his head, standing beside Leathers didn't impress him either. He stepped out onto the rotting porch and Ben noted that the man was ma.s.sive.

urr I'll take "at thar horn and jam it up your a.s.s, boy!" Bannon yelled at Ham.

Ben's voice stopped Ham as he started toward the man. "I'll handle this, Ham. Back off." Ben walked into the front yard, littered with wornout tires, rims, various engine parts, and several very weary-looking and malnourished hound dogs.